Painless (48 page)

“Hey guys,” Justin said, lowering his book bag onto the table top as we all sat down.

“Well, if it isn’t Romiet and Julio,” Tammy Lemons sniveled.

Great. Maybe Romeo had been right. Was Tammy saying I was mannish by calling me Julio?

Romeo arched an eyebrow at me, then turned to Justin, “Justin, I have a great idea for a new comic strip. Want to hear about it?”

Gulp.

“Let’s hear it,” Keith smiled.

“Well,” Romeo smiled a Cheshire grin, “it’s about OW!!”

I had kicked Romeo’s shin under the table.

“Ow?” Micah asked. “What’s that?”

“Owl! I meant Owl!” Romeo said.
 

“An owl?” Alyssa asked doubtfully.

“Yes!” Romeo yelled. “It’s, uh, about Obie, the OB/GYN Owl! He’s a real hoot for the coot!”

“Hoot for the coot?” Micah snickered.

“And instead of figuring out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, he figures out how many licks it takes to make Tootsie, as played by Dustin Hoffman in the movie of the same name, get off! Get it? Tootsie
Pop
?”

“Dude, how high are you?” underbeard Keith asked with an amazed grin on his face.

“I want to smoke whatever he’s been smoking,” emo Micah smiled.

“I have to admit,” Justin grinned at Romeo, “it has potential.”

“Potential to suck,” Tammy sneered.

Wow, Tammy was sourballs.

“I have another idea,” Romeo said, glaring at Tammy.

“Let’s hear it,” Micah said.

“It’s called Tah—HEY!”

I had kicked him under the table again.

“Tah-HEY?” Keith asked. “I can’t wait to hear where he goes with this one.”

“Yeah, Romeo,” I growled, “I can’t wait either.” The last thing I wanted to do was make things with Tammy worse. I already had Tiffany on my case. I didn’t need Tammy too.

Romeo shook his head and glared at me, “I tah-hotally forgot.”

“All right,” Justin said, “maybe it will come back to you later. I wanted to tell everyone that I’ve finally got all the votes back for our new Wombat mascot artwork. It was a close race.” He pulled two pieces of paper out of his book bag and set them on the table side by side. One was a copy of one of my drawings of the Wombat. And the other, wow, the other was really good.
 

It showed a wombat holding a baseball bat over one shoulder. The bat was cracked in half and the big end dangled from the handle by a sliver. In the wombat’s other hand was a huge beer mug with foam frothing out the top of the glass. He had the SDU logo branded into his chest fur like on cattle. Next to him was a man lying on the ground, knocked out cold. He was obviously a professor because there was a chalkboard with chemistry equations on it behind him and a piece of chalk sticking out of one hand and an eraser in the other. A huge lump rose up from his forehead and cartoon birds circled it with musical notes coming out of their mouths like they were chirping.

It was fantastic, even if Tammy had drawn it.
 

“And the winner is—” Justin said.

Tammy? I was totally sure she had won. I would’ve picked hers over mine.

Micah drummed the table with his fingertips.

“—Samantha!” Justin finished.

What?

“Congratulations, Sam!” Romeo said.

Tammy folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

Romeo gave her a snooty look.

“Romeo,” I whispered, “don’t.”

Justin smiled, “We all loved your art, Tammy, but most of us agreed we’d never get it past administration. Violence to SDU professors is not their favorite subject matter.”

Tammy frowned, “Getting stoned while taking a dump is?” She was referring to my drawing.

Justin shrugged his shoulders, “The vote still went to Samantha.”

Tammy rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

“Samantha,” Justin said, “your drawing will now be on the front cover of the next issue of The Wombat. It’ll also go at the top of our webpage. Everyone is going to see it.”

“What?” I smiled. I couldn’t believe it. I really hoped Justin hadn’t rigged the vote because he was into me, because Tammy’s art was truly incredible.

“We loved your art,” Alyssa said to me.

“Yeah, a bunch of the other staff were bonkers for your drawing of Potty,” Keith smiled.

“I think we should make T shirts that say ‘Potty for President’,” Micah grinned.

Tammy’s mouth sagged with disgust.

It was hard to enjoy my victory when it came at the expense of someone else. I wanted to tell Tammy I was sorry, but somehow that seemed inconsiderate. “Tammy, I really like your drawing. It’s really good.”

She spat, “So why don’t you withdraw yours and we’ll use mine?”

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something supportive, but couldn’t think of anything. I closed it in frustration.

“Maybe we should open the vote up to the readers?” Alyssa suggested tentatively.

Keith and Micah gave noncommittal shrugs.

Justin nodded thoughtfully, “If we can get administration to approve Tammy’s art, I don’t see why not?”

A smug smile curled across Tammy’s lips.

Wow, way for her to steal my thunder. Maybe me and Romeo needed to write the Tampon Tammy comic strip after all. I would make the character look exactly like her so no one would wonder who it was supposed to be about. She totally had the face of a vajay-jay.

Groanballs.

===

“Do I get to have a closed set,” I asked Christos, “like they do in the movies when they’re shooting a sex scene?” I stood in my bathrobe in our painting studio. Which I thought of as ours all the time now, even though Spiridon owned the house.

“We’re not shooting a sex scene,” Christos smirked, “unless you want to. I can record video on my phone…” he said suggestively.

“No! Posing nude is about all I can manage. By the way, do we have to have the curtains open?” Not that I’d ever seen any curtains in the studio. The tall windows along both walls faced the backyard. Yeah, they needed curtains.

“I need the natural light coming in. It’s more flattering than using studio lights.”

“Speaking of,” I said, “can you Photoshop me with your painting?”

“You mean hide all your imperfections?”

“Yeah,” I said hopefully.

“No,” he said with finality.

“Why not?” I frowned.

“Because you don’t have any,” he flashed his dimpled grin.

“Oh,” I smiled. “Well, can you at least give me more of a crotch notch?”

“A what?”

“You know that gap between a woman’s legs that’s all the rage right now?”

“You mean a thigh gap?”
 

“Yeah!”

He shook his head, “You have a crotch notch.”

“No I don’t!”
 

He arched an eyebrow. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

I frowned, “Well, can you make it bigger? I really want to sell it.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” he asked, irritated.

“What? I want a huge crotch notch.”

He arched his other eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yes! I hate how my thighs touch together.

“Every woman’s thighs touch together to some degree.”

“But mine touch more than normal.”

“No they don’t,” he argued patiently.

Why was I being so picky and neurotic? Oh yeah, because Christos was going to paint me nude for the world to see. Can you blame a girl for wanting to look her best?

“Fine. I can make you look like you have sticks for legs, if that’s your preference.”

“Huh?”

“Your crotch notch is fine. I love it. No one is going to criticize my painting for having an underwhelming crotch notch. Besides, the way I’m going to pose you, no one is going to be able to tell what kind of crotch notch you have. They won’t even be able to see your crotch.”

“What? Why not?” I demanded.

“Because I’m going to make you hold a horned Viking helmet over it,” he smirked.

“What? That sounds horrid!”

“Hey, the helmet was your idea.”

“But not over my crotch notch!”

He rolled his eyes and smiled his dimpled grin. “Are you trying to make me insane?”

“No, I, uh. I don’t know,” I sighed.

“You told me to figure out a way to make the Viking helmet work. That’s my solution,” he smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I don’t want a helmet over my lady bits, that’s for sure,” I chuckled. I sighed, “Gosh, what is it with the thigh gap, anyway? It’s like it didn’t exist a few years ago.”

“Blame it on stretch pants, booty shorts, and crotch selfies. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Once that pussy cat was out of the bag, it was never going back,” he grinned.

“I wonder if women who wore Poodle skirts back in the day had to worry about having a crotch notch?” I asked thoughtfully.

“Nope. All they had to worry about was whether or not their poodle was as big as the next girl’s.”

“Are you saying it used to be the woman with the biggest poodle won? And now it’s the notchiest crotch?”

“Sad, isn’t it?” Christos said ironically. “So, are we going to paint your portrait, or do you want to obsess about your non-existent imperfections for awhile longer?”

I wrinkled my nose at him sarcastically.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, “I can always paint you with clothes on. It’s up to you.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “But I think you’d be making a big mistake. I’d hate to think you missed the chance at being the world’s most famous nude portrait. Because that’s what I’m aiming for.”

“Oh.” I definitely liked the sound of that.

“Imagine,” he grinned, “a work crew of guys wheeling your painting into The Louvre, taking down the Mona Lisa, and hanging your portrait up in its place.”

I smiled, “That could work.”

He chuckled, “Yes it could. Then The Louvre would finally have an impressive painting instead of that tiny little Mona Lisa.”

“You sure are cocky,” I said.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. Jerk,” I swatted his arm.

“Okay, strip.”

“Mmmm. I like it when you tell me what to do.”

“Good,” he smirked his sexy grin.

I dropped my robe to the ground. “Do with me what you will…” I purred.

Of course, we had sex in the studio.
 

Spiridon had left for the afternoon so I could feel like I had some privacy while I posed nude.

Christos and I had sex on the dais all the other models had sat on before me. I didn’t ask Christos if he’d had sex on it, because it was possible he had, with Perfect Paisley or someone else from his past. All I knew was I was queen of this domain now, bitches! Oh, and I made him put down clean blankets first. Just in case.

Christos fucked me on my throne while I held sway over my domain. Christos came inside me like an art rockstar.

Then I gave him a blow job while he sat in front of his easel. I paused to make a joke about his cock being a tube of flesh colored paint.
 

“But it isn’t flesh colored,” he said.

“Yes it is,” I argued. “I’ve inspected it carefully many times.”

“I meant the paint. The paint inside my paint tube is pearlescent white.”

“Is that even a color?” I asked doubtfully.

“It is. Look it up. You can find it online. It’s a common craft paint.”

“Yeah,” I purred, “But are any of those paints edible?”

“Wow,” he chuckled, “you get dirtier and dirtier the more I get to know you,
agápi mou
.”

“And you—” I pressed my finger against his muscled abs, “—love it.” Then I teased the tip of his cock with my tongue before going back to work on him.

He slouched against the back of his chair and moaned. I tickled his testicles with my fingers as I brought him to another studio shaking orgasm. I slowed my head movements as his spasms diminished. I milked every last precious pearlescent drop from his cock.

When Christos finally recovered, he said, “Are we going to do any painting today, or just the fucking?”

“I vote for fucking,” I grinned, before kissing his cock again.

Christos stood up from his chair, squatted in front of me, and lifted me by my ass until my wet folds were in his face. He started licking hungrily.

“Christos! Put me down!”
 

He didn’t. He just kept licking. I don’t know how he held me up so high for so long. But I glanced down several times at his rock hard shoulders. He was stronger than an ox. After awhile, I stopped worrying about whether or not he might drop me because the intense pleasure between my legs stole away every concern I’d ever had.

After I don’t know how many orgasms, we eventually did start on the painting.

Christos didn’t bother to put his clothes on after we’d made love.

“Are you going to stay nude while you paint me?” I asked.

“Sounds fair to me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you,” I bit my lower lip.

“Do your best,” he smirked.

Christos set me up in a standing pose on the dais. “I’m going to do a charcoal rough of you first, on paper. Just to see what I think of the pose and the lighting.”

“Okay.”

“Do your best to hold still,” he said.

“I will,” I smiled.

Little did I know that standing still for so long was really, really hard. “I think I’m getting a cramp,” I said after what seemed like four days, but in reality was probably twenty minutes.

“Let’s take a break,” he smiled.

“Break? Can’t we be done for the day?” I pleaded.

“Not if we want to get the portrait done. I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what’s cramping, and I’ll massage it out.”

“I have a feeling everything’s going to be cramping by the time we’re finished.”

He smiled, “Okay, then I’ll massage everything.”

“Deal.” I walked around to look at his charcoal sketch. “Holy shit! You did all that in just twenty minutes?” It looked like a rough black and white photo of me. Some of it was still unfinished, like the hands and feet, but the face was totally me. “How’d you get my face finished so quick? It looks just like me!”

“I have your face burned into my brain. I see it in my mind every time I close my eyes.”

“You can remember it that well?”