Kitten

3. Hazel

It's final. I'm in love, hopelessly at that.

The minute I see Amahle in her sexy, skimpy robe, the last thing on my mind is creating a portrait. I want to touch her skin and feel if it's real and as soft as it looks. I want to taste the edible chocolate bar staring at me with a confusing glint in her eyes.

She's married, I tell myself as I force my eyes to stare at the rock on her finger taunting me, reminding me she could never in a million years be mine and I might as well give it up.

"Are you ready?" I ask with a shaky voice and unsteady hand.
Amahle nods, allowing me to position her with the city lights behind her back. When I'm satisfied with her gazing towards the balcony at the world below, I get to work bringing her beauty to life on paper.

From her phone, after a while, she tells Alexa to play something smooth, and surprisingly, soft and alluring jazz music begins to play.

Everything about this moment is unfathomable to me. As many portraits I've drawn over the years, none have ever been so captivating and breathtaking as the work of art posing before me.

"How long have you been drawing?" Amahle asks after half an hour of silence passes between us.

"Since I was six."

She smiles and nods her head.
"That is beautiful."

"You think so?" I chuckle and erase part of her lip that was too narrow. Amahle's lips are very appealing and just big enough to make one's imagination go wild.

"I only learned of my dream to be an architect when I was seventeen. If I had started when I was six, maybe I would be richer than I am now."

My mouth drops and again, my eyes threaten to pop out from surprise.

"You're an architect?! That is so cool. I've always wanted to meet a fancy schmancy architect."

"Well, now you've met one, although I wouldn't consider myself fancy or schmancy."
I drop my pencil and laugh hearing her accent try to say fancy schmancy the same way I did. I can't lie, even if she wasn't a smoking hot goddess, her accent would leave you to believe otherwise. She could tell me to lick her toes and I wouldn't question it.

Oh man, what the hell am I thinking?!

Licking her toes? Seriously?

I choose not to say anything for the next hour, almost two while I sketch. After a while, we take a break to let Amahle stretch her sore muscles and I sit and watch her discreetly while downing the rest of my second glass of wine.
My body fizzles as I watch the robe tease me with a full sight of her cleavage from the couch that probably costs more than my rent. When our eyes meet and my heart skips a beat, I don't know what to say.

"If you want me to put a bigger robe on, I can."

"No, you're perfect." I close my eyes and cringe when a smile grazes her lips. "I meant um..."

"Thank you, Hazel." She bites down on her bottom lip and tries not to smile but fails. Watching her struggle makes me laugh a little.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask as she sits back down to where I had her pose a few hours ago, this time with a bowl of grapes in her lap.

"You may."

"Are you married to a man or woman?"

"Why would that matter?" She asks as if I offended her somehow. I stop drawing instantly and apologize.

"I didn't mean to offend you, I was just curious as to why you're not with your husband or wife this late." I rush the words out of my mouth before she can get upset.