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This story was originally written for a friend, and has been sitting on my computer. It seems that it told me it didn't want to stay there.

Carrie lifted her head up to gaze at the man before her. Then she looked down at her paper and drew in a face outline, which she connected to an upper body and so on. Usually those who volunteered to be subjects for paintings and portraits were paid by her for their time, but this man refused her money, to which she said,
"Well, if that's how you'd like to do business, it's fine by me."

"What, um, should I..." The man scratched his head in confusion.

Carrie smiled. "Just take your clothes off and grab a bed sheet." She gestured to a rainbow colored pallet of sheets on the carpet. "But I need to see your skin first, before you get the sheet. It's for the right color. You can put your clothes over on the couch."

The man turned his back to her and pulled off his T-shirt, dropped it on the floor beside his sock-feet, and unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. Carrie watched him with glazed eyes. He had removed all clothing and stood, presenting himself to her.
"Um, you wanted me to pick a bed sheet?" He said, unsure of the intentions being planned in her mind.

She snapped back to attention and rose from her stool to look him over. When face to face, she turned him around to look at his skin, running index fingers over his back, then turning him back around and looking at his face. She raised her hands slowly to his face, running fingers through his beard and over the apples of his cheeks. He closed his eyes. Her fingers went over his eyebrows, then back down his face and to his masculine shoulders.

"I think a navy blue would do." She said and retrieved the navy sheet. She draped it over the couch on the side nearest the window. "Sit there and wrap the extra around your lap and look out towards the window." The man obeyed and took his seat and pose.

For the next few hours Carrie drew this man sitting there, looking out the window. She was more and more drawn to him with every glance she took of the man. He was everything she wanted, in the looks department. His mind was a totally different story, that she feared she would never read. But she persuaded herself not to become interested in the personified testosterone before her eyes.

And also, the man will remain unnamed.

Mad monkey fling poo!

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The following comments are for "The Artist and The Subject"
by SingChi

The Artist and The Subject
I like this but it got me wondering maybe she should have took the chance.

( Posted by: wanda [Member] On: August 13, 2006 )

Well, this character has been hurt recently, and usually after you've been hurt you want to stay away from what may hurt you in the future. And she's kinda a mixture between me and my sister. My sister is always afraid to step up to a guy and say whatever it is that she wants to say. The part of me that this character has is the quiet preverted lust for the man.

I relise now, that I could write this so much better, I'm glad you liked it.

( Posted by: SingChi [Member] On: August 13, 2006 )

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