She laughed when she saw his smock he sat very still not daring to look up she took her hand and moved it over his beard and shook his arm. Are you so very shy. Why? She had a sheet draped like a roman robe and she sat very still not yet exposed. She stared hard at her poet. Eye make words of prose not a real painter eye dont knoe how to do you Justice his voice kept falling off she was leaning forward to catch his words very softly he was saying to her eye agreed to try this because eye love you. The portrait makers agree that women are the vainest creature lusting to be immortalized in paint or photography. Here is a camera let me take your pictures. She was like a lover she moved the sheet around he got glimpses of his vouyer heaven he almost dropped the camera. She said slyly come over here and let me kiss you. The paint lay all forgotten the pictures no longer needed. When it was over she lay naked his eyes could not stop gazing you pretty man she just kept saying over and over we no longer need pictures or a painting your love comes from your heart and fills my head with dreams. The way you look at me so loving the way you yearn and want like a school boy lusting in his heart as if you a King and I the very Queen. What do you see in me. ?
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