You have yet to rattle my composure, honey. But you’ve gotten close. Very close. For now, I hide my attraction behind the cloak of my professionalism. I bury it so you can’t see it. But it is very much alive, in my head and in my heart. And it’s all happening inside me, just a few feet away from you.
I have taken poses “for you”, but you’re unaware. I have posed standing – with poise and balance – all the time feeling weak in the knees by your presence. But you’re unaware. In a studio full of artists, I am supremely conscious of you and you alone, consumed with thoughts and fantasies of you. But again, you are unaware. So I work. And keep working. Dutifully. Like it’s just another class among the many classes I pose for – but it’s not.
I see you there. Sitting and drawing. I peek at you at every opportunity. I feel your eyes rolling over my body. My nude body. Observing every part of me. And it excites me. What are you looking at, baby? A life model? A woman? Or both? I fear that I exist only on your paper, as a subject, a practice exercise, an anatomy study. That breaks my heart 😥 Because I have needs and desires too. I am human too. I have a life off the platform. And I have thoughts about you being in that life . . .
You are serious, dedicated, and gifted. You create ink drawings that are loose and visceral. I’ve seen them. You have beautiful brown eyes. I’ve seen them too. And your smile . . . . oh, your smile 🙂
You are young. Younger than me by at least a decade. But I caught your wink, sweetie! Yes, I did. And I melted from your close, tight hug that day. I didn’t want it to end. Those two fleeting moments are all I have from you. And probably all I ever will. But maybe . . . if you ever . . . if you share my attraction . . . please . . . come to me . . . say something . . . do something. Because I will do nothing. I can’t. I won’t say a word. I’m afraid. I’m a pathetic coward.
So darling, if you want to, please, take me in your arms, put your lips on mine . . . touch me . . . caress me . . . Yes . . . It’s okay . . . I want to . . . yes . . . I say yes . . .
Dinah Washington, sing one for my honey . . . the object of my affection . .
“come to mama, come to mama do” 😉