Suddenly I had a bad feeling. “Okay,” I said, my tone cautious.
He beamed. “I’ll paint you, but I’m not going to touch you.”
What the—
“Why would you do that? Surely that has to be the whole point of being an artist’s model? I get to fool around with the artist? Isn’t that a time-honored tradition?”
He chuckled. “It may very well be, over in your realm, but here? Tonight? No. There will be no touching—until I finish the painting.”
I gasped. “Please, tell me you’re a fast painter.”
He grinned. “Oh my, no. I’m notoriously slow. After all, time stands still here, so I can take as much of it as I want, can’t I?”
I was beginning to regret agreeing to this, but I wasn’t about to back out. “Okay, do you have a room where you paint, or are we just going to do it here?” I had visions of me posing on the rug in front of the fireplace. At least I’d be warm.
He rubbed his bearded chin. “Iwasgoing to ask you to pose on my bed. That way, when we’re not together, I can remember you there.”
I really liked that idea. It was even better than last year’s Polaroids that were pinned to my headboard. I stared at them every night before I switched off the light.
“The bedroom it is, then.”
We went into his bedroom, and I undressed. He disappeared for a moment, returning with his paints and easel, and a fresh canvas.
I stared at it. “Any bigger, and it’ll be life-size.”
He chuckled. “I need a canvas this big to make sure I have enough room for your penis.”
I burst out laughing. “In my dreams, but you sure know how to make a guy feel good.” I held my arms wide. “So… How do you want me?” My dick stood to attention, and I glanced at it. “And you can go back to sleep. He isn’t going to play with you.”
“Lie on the bed,” he instructed. I clambered onto it. “Yes, on your back. One leg bent, your foot on the mattress, your legs spread.”
I did as he requested, aware of my cock rising into the air.
He laughed. “I can see I’m going to need more flesh tint.” He tilted his head. “Are you warm enough?” I assured him I was. “Then let’s begin.”
I coughed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He stared at me for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oops.” He undressed, taking his time.
“It occurs to me you could remove your clothing with a click of your fingers,” I observed.
He grinned. “But where would be the fun in that?”
I glanced at his cock, pointing toward me. “At least you have somewhere to hang your cleaning rag. Or balance a paintbrush, if you’re so inclined.”
“I’m naked because you asked, okay? And now I’m going to forget that, and concentrate on painting you.” His gaze drifted lower, his lips twitching. “I suggest you do the same.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. He has a mind of his own.”
Santa’s eyebrows shot up. “Hedoes, does he?”
I gave him a frank stare. “Are you telling me you don’t refer to your dick as him?” I grinned. “I bet you do. I’d bet you even gave him a name.” Then I snorted. “And I know what it is.”
“I donothave a name for my penis,” he protested.
I wagged a finger. “Aw, come on, you can admit it. There’s only us two here.” I gave him a confident smile. “It’s Rudolph, isn’t it?”
His mouth opened and closed, and his cheeks pinked. “Okay, painting time,” he said in a strangled voice.