You are my mission, impossible at first.
“Hey, thanks for doing this, seriously.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, I didn’t really know anyone else to ask, I just figured you probably out of everyone wouldn’t mind.”
She actually didn’t consider anyone else, but re-read the text about a hundred times trying to decide whether to send it, what to say….
“So how do we do this?” he asked.
“Well, I’m going to need you to take off your clothes first.”
He stopped, looking panicked. “What?”
“It’s a nude drawing, I told you that.”
“Uh, no you didn’t. You’re kidding right?” He stared at her.
Pam broke into a smile, “No.” She started laughing and then shook her head, “I mean yeah, yeah I’m kidding. It’s not a nude.”
Jim started laughing, “Wow. I was about to call off this whole thing. Good delivery, though. How long did you practice that before I came over?”
“Shut up.”
What makes you warm? The sun on your skin or a summer storm?
She broke his gaze and looked toward the stool she had set up. It sat near the apartment window, the window she had painted light blue, she hadn’t found a curtain yet…but she was looking for one that wouldn’t keep the light from coming in in the afternoon. That was her favorite part about the window, the way it warmed the apartment and made it seem almost less empty than it was.
“So, right. You sit over—“ She walked to the stool near the window and patted it lightly, “—here.” She squinted slightly as the warm sun from the window washed over her.
He stood for a moment and didn’t say anything, looking at her.
She suddenly felt uncomfortable, “Come on”, she said, patting the stool again.
Jim walked toward her, his heavy shoes making thumping noises on the wooden floor, she wondered if the neighbors beneath her could hear. He plopped down on the stool, slouching, and she tried to hide her smile. He was like a little boy, his hair windblown, him slumping, with his big lanky body that he still hadn’t completely grown into.
“Take this off.” She said, pulling at his sweater.
What makes you hot? Something that you want but you haven’t got. Isn’t that the way? Just a glame to play.
As he did, she pretended to pull some lint off her shirt as she watched him work the sweater over his head out of the corner of her eye. When the sweater was off, his hair was messed in all different directions, a few pieces sticking straight out to the sides.
She giggled.
“What?” he asked, his mouth widening into a smile.
“Your hair.”
“Oh, yeah.” He laughed and put his hands in his hair, trying to smooth it out with little difference.
“No, stop. Here—I’ll just—I’ll do it.”
He stopped and put his hands in his lap. She walked toward him, and using her fingernails combed down his hair. His hair was as soft as she remembered, and she tried not to let the excitement she was feeling just by being able to touch him like this become obvious. She combed his hair matter-of-factly, trying to make the little pieces lie down.
“Do you care if I spit?”
“What?”
“It’s just the little pieces—they’re not going down.”
“Uh, yeah sure. Whatever.”
She noticed he had closed his eyes. She reached behind his head combing down the back. There was really no need for it, it wouldn’t be in the picture anyway, but she really had no idea how long it would be before she could touch him like this again. She stepped back and looked at him. His big arms, crossed in front of him, she noticed were prickled with goose bumps.
“Cold?”
“No, it’s—it’s fine.” He looked as though he was slightly embarrassed, “So are we good?”
“Yeah. Looks good.”
“Good.”
She stepped behind her easel, and picked up her charcoal.
“Okay. No this isn’t working,” she chewed her lip.
“What?”
“You need to—do something more natural.”
Jim put one hand over half his face. “How’s this?”
“No—no, Jim—you don’t—“
He switched postions immediately, putting a hand on his lap and using the other to prop his chin in looking tensely out the window, like his own Jim-ish version of “The Thinker”.
“Jim. Stop, be serious.”
“I am!” He looked at her with a look of shock innocence.
“Do I have to do everything?”
“I’m sorry. You’re the artist, not me. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
She walked to him placing her hands on his elbows and lowering them onto his knee, making him lean forward. She walked backward a little, looking him over. His hands held together, he looked up at her, his lips pursed together. God, he was...really good-looking.
“Yeah—that’s…good.”
She stepped behind her easel again, picking up the charcoal between her fingers. She started with his eyes…God, those eyes.
“So, what is this for again?”
“My art class is making us do portraits. We have to do like ten of them, so I needed a lot of people.” That was a lie. They assignment was actually to draw a still life in charcoal, but after asking her teacher if drawing a portrait of someone would count as a still life, she got permission.
“Oh, cool.”
She looked right into his eyes. Her heart was beating so loud, she was almost sure he could hear it from where he was sitting. She drew the glint of light in his pupil and began to fill in the dark black, then lightened her hand for the green of his iris. She drew his eyelashes. The round, almond-shape of his eyes.
He continued to talk to her, though she was only half-listening. Surprisingly enough, she was getting intensely aroused drawing him. He had no idea how gorgeous he was, or the way he was looking at her.
“Stop talking,” she said, not meaning it as gruffly as she sounded, but she was trying to focus.
“Oh, uh—OK.” He said.
“Sorry, I’m doing your mouth, though. So don’t talk.”
She looked at his mouth, though she didn’t really need to. She knew exactly what it looked like. She moved on to his big ears, the ones he tried to cover up with his hair, but always peeked out. She then moved onto his round nose. The hint of stubble. The mop of hair that curled around his ears, like little wings. God, everything about the man was absolutely adorable.
Body parts are nice. I can close my eyes, think about your lips, they quiver to the tips of the fingers of my hand.
She moved on to his shoulders, noticing in more detail the way the muscles created soft lines in his shirt. When she got to his hands, she felt herself getting physcially aroused. She loved his hands, with the big veins running under the skin…they were so much bigger than hers, and strong. She reached up and moved a piece of hair that had fallen her eyes. She heard a low chuckle.
“What?” She looked up.
“Your—you have a…” He motioned towards his forehead.
“What?”
“You have a smudge.”
“Oh,” she replied, embarrassed. She mimicked his movements, rubbing her forehead with her palm.
“No—“ he laughed. “You’re making it worse. Come here.”
She walked toward him, her legs weak. She assumed it was because she had been standing for so long.
He reached up and she felt a knot in her stomach. He gently smudged the area with his fingers and then smiled at her. She watched his hands fall back into his lap.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed him. He immediately responded, pulling her close to him. She felt his hands grab around her waist, consuming her. She loved the way it felt when he held her, like nothing could happen to her that would ever hurt her.
She waited the next week in her chair with her drawing in front of her. Sarah, one of the girls in her class, ran up and grabbed it off the table.
“Holy shit, Pam. Who’s the guy? He’s hot as hell.”
“Oh, he’s just—a—“
There was a pause. Sarah smiled, “So that’s the guy.”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
Let it all go and close your eyes, body parts are nice.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The lyrics are from the song "Body Parts" by Jump, Little Children. I would download it, if you don't have it already... You'll see why I chose it. Hottest song ever, seriously.
goodmatch is the author of 4 other stories.
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