Naked Portraits Pt. 04

"I have a twenty burning a hole in my pocket right now," Jared said with a smile. "Since it's your money, I'll buy you a drink," he said to me. Tired and not in the mood for a noisy bar, I politely refused and went back to work.

A half hour later, in the middle of reading Stephanie Santos' sorted tail for the second time, a knock came at the door. Probably more of Jared's group looking for the party, I figured as I threw opened the door. I was stunned to see Stephanie from my group standing in the hallway. She had on a simple pink clinging top tucked into faded jeans. Nice figure I thought and then I did my best not to notice how the nipples on her petite breasts poked at the material of her shirt. Her pale Asian face appeared unadorned except for glossy pink lipstick. Her silky almost blonde hair seemed to shimmer in the hallway light. My appreciation for Asian women has increased tenfold since meeting Gwen and I thought that Stephanie looked angelic. But unfortunately, she spoke.

"You one big liar," she said in her jarring local accent a couple of decibels too loud, and in an octave that was just plain unnatural for a human being.

I blinked at the odd accusation. "About what?" I asked confused. "If it's about my story, it was listed as fiction."

Not waiting for an invitation, she stepped into the room. The vivid graphic image of an aluminum bat pinging off a human skull filled my imagination. Was her story autobiographical? I wondered again and was tempted to leave the door open. But bravely (or foolishly) I didn't give in to paranoia and closed it.

"Az what I mean, that story not fiction," she said in thick local pidgin as she sat on my roommate's bed. "You and that other guy fucked that crazy Japanee girl in the mirror for real."

"The girl in the mirror was crazy not the one in the real world," I corrected her. Then I blinked and added vehemently, "And I made the whole thing up!"

"Bull shit," she returned and then asked, "You old enough to drink?" I blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation

"I'm only twenty," I confessed.

"No matter, I know the bartender," she said with an unwavering look that made me uncomfortable. "So young to be writing sexy tales like that. Guys sometimes have to be Hubert's age to write good sex."

I graciously accepted the compliment. Well I was almost sure it was a compliment.

"I buy you drink and you can tell me mo' lies," she said.

It didn't occur to me to refuse her invitation.

The hotel bar and restaurant was packed with people from the writer's workshop and Stephanie and I squeezed in at the bar. The bartender gave Stephanie a high five and never asked for my ID. Over beers, I learned more about her. She was thirty-three so I was off by twelve years for I thought she was closer to my age. She admitted to being of Portuguese and Japanese mix. I told her what Hubert had said about her racial mix and it made her laugh. I expected her laugh to be harsh and obnoxious, but instead, it was deep, soft and sexy. She told me she worked for a security firm here on Maui and before that, she was a deputy sheriff for Maui County. As she spoke, she light up a Marlboro red.

"Can I have one of those?" I asked and nicked a smoke from her. I had sort of quit smoking the moment I hit Hawaii when I found out how much a pack of cigarettes cost. I'm surprised anyone still smoked in the islands; heroine and crack cocaine were probably cheaper to buy. After three Coronas, I worked up the courage to ask, "Is all of your story fiction too?"

Her eyes went cold and my heart jumped. Then she laughed her husky laugh. "Made um all up," she said.

"Fuck you," I said but couldn't help feeling relieved (and just a wee bit disappointed too). I grabbed at the pack of cigarettes and stole my second of the evening. She flicked a pink Bic lighter and I took hold of her hand to steady the flame. The physical contact was electric. A part of my anatomy that needs no mentioning, responded predictably. I crossed my legs to cover up and asked, "So everything in your story was all made up then?"

"Only one part was real." She flicked a long ash into the ashtray. "One night, when I still worked for the county, the sheriff and me was called to a domestic disturbance at the Wailuku Hawaiian homes. We encountered a drunken couple arguing in their yard. We separated the two, sending the wife in the house. But suddenly she came back out with an aluminum bat in her hands. She got in one good whack on her husband's head before we got it away from her. He wasn't seriously hurt but we called the paramedics just to cover our asses. We arrested the wife for assault with a deadly weapon." She pause to take a long draw on her cigarette. Then in a voice strangely gentle she continued. "The sound the aluminum bat made banging off that guy's head stayed with me for a long time." After a few seconds of quiet, she shrugged, and then asked out of the blue, "You wanna do it?"

It was obvious what she meant. The expression on her face said she took no prisoners and I wondered how many men have run from that very look? A tiny part of me wanted too run too, it was the same part of me that was convinced she was the bat-wielding wife in her story.

Yeah, I wanted to do it, but didn't have the courage to say it aloud so I simply nodded. We crushed out our cigarettes in the ashtray, drained our beers and exited the bar.

"I have my own room," She said as we waited in the lobby for the elevator.

"Good."

"Got rubbers?" she asked.

"No."

We turned away from the elevators, crossed the lobby and stepped out on the street. We saw a local drug store and strolled in that direction.

"I'll go get the rubbers. Any preference?"

"Any brand, large."

"Bragging?"

"No," I said with a shrug.

"Yeah right," she said sarcastically.

I shrugged again.

She stepped in close and brazenly gripped my pent up rock hard erection and ran her hand along it to judge the size. Her eyebrows went up, she batted her pretty eyes several times, and then went into the store returning two minutes later with a tiny bag that she kept clutched in her hands as we walked back to the hotel.

We stepped in the elevator with an elderly tourist couple. The elderly couple hit the third floor button and Stephanie pressed the twenty forth floor button. The old couple got off on their floor. The moment the door closed, Stephanie dropped to her knees and started to unsnap my jeans.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I asked.

"Pretty obvious I think," she said as she slid my jeans down just enough so she could see my erect penis straining in my briefs. She reached under the elastic band with her right hand and sprung me free.

"Wow, so big haole boy," she whispered.

"Um, I think they have security cameras in here," I said looking around at the upper corners of the elevator.

"Camera's on the panel above the buttons, "Stephanie said casually still on her knees in front of me.

"Fuck!" I barked as I pulled my underwear and pants back up. Stephanie stood just as the elevator chime at the top floor of the hotel. She gave a soft throaty laugh as hit the ninth floor button. Apparently she had taken us to the top to get a look at my dick. She watched me arranged myself as best I could. On the way down, we picked up passengers at two stops. We exited at the ninth floor and then followed her to her room. The moment the room door closed I stepped toward her for a kiss, but she effectively strait armed me, took a step back, pulled her pink clingy shirt over her head, pealed her jeans down her slim pretty legs and stood before me in no nonsense white cotton bra and panties. Taking her cue, I started to pull my shirt over my head too.

"No don't," she said.

What the fuck? She's not changing her mind now? I thought in carnal panic.

But her next move was encouraging. She undid her bra exposing her small pretty breasts. The areolas around her pale pink nipples matched her lipstick and I absently wondered if that was intentional. I sat down on the edge of one of the bed to watch the show.

Hawk would love this, I thought at the sight of Stephanie sliding her panties down. The patch of hair between her legs matched the light brown hair on her head. She was slim with a wiry, tight, muscle tone. She turned her back to me and I admired her sweet slim ass. Then shockingly, she shimmied into a sexy black dress with spaghetti straps.

"Um, we plan on going out?" I asked, wondering what part of 'you wanna do it' I had misunderstood. Liquoring me up, buying condoms, exposing my dick in an elevator, and then getting naked in front of me all added up to my definition of 'you wanna do it.'

She straitened her dress then tossed me a condom. "I don't have pockets," she said in her jarring local accent then backed it up with her velvety laugh. "Follow me haole boy."

I hadn't failed to notice that she went full commando, wearing no panties and bra under her dress. She led me pass the elevators, turned a corner then walked down a longish hall with no doors that ended in a lone elevator at the very end. Stephanie hit the down button. The elevator arrived and we stepped in.

"This elevator is mostly used by room service to deliver meals," she said. "The kitchen closed at nine so not too many people use it at night." She smiled. "I like doing it in elevators and places like this. I scoped this one out the first day I was hear."

She hit the twenty fourth floor button and we watched the numbers on the panel ascend. The door opened onto a empty hallway with a bend to the left exactly like the one on Stephanie's floor. Stephanie slapped at the button that said kitchen. Before the door fully closed, she dropped to her knees, unsnapped my jeans and pushed them down, along with my underwear far enough to spring my dick erection. The motor of the elevator softly hummed and the pull of the extra 'G's felt interesting on my exposed balls.

"Condom," Stephanie said holding her hand out like a surgeon.

Worried about how our earlier elevator ride had filled with people quickly, I slapped the condom into her open palm. She tore the little packet open with her teeth and applied the latex sheath. My eyes flickered to the control panel where she said the security camera was located.

As if reading my mind, she remarked, "Gonna be an interesting night in the security booth huh?" With the condom applied, she ran her fingers along my full length. "Some big you."

I didn't say a thing because I felt she was addressing my dick directly and not me.

She held out the empty condom packet in her open palm, I took it and clumsily stuffed it in the back pocket of my lowered jeans. My eyes went to the control panel again, I couldn't help it.

Stephanie stood up and turned to face the door. She pressed up against me just as the elevator landed on the ground floor. The door slid open onto a well-lit functional white hallway. Near the elevator was a set of windowed double doors leading to what had to be the hotel kitchen; several serving carts lined the walls. Except for a low electric hum, the hall was silent and mercifully empty of people.

Stephanie hit the twenty-fourth floor button. As we ascended she brazenly wiggled her ass against me. "Put it in," she said bending forward.

I hiked her skirt over her pretty ass and guided my erection to her wet, slick opening. Worried that her small build would be a problem, I moved slowly and carefully. She gasped as the head of my cock went in. Half way in, I stopped to assess how she was doing.

"Go," was all she said. Gripping her slim hips, I gently pushed all the way in. "Go!" she said again, this time with urgency. I pulled out slowly and plunged back in slowly. She gasped and I felt her entire body shimmer.

The elevator chimed, we both froze and looked at the number on the panel readout, we were on the twenty-fourth floor. The door slid open to an empty hall. Stephanie slapped at the kitchen button; we descended and I went back to work.

"Fast," she said. I obliged and moved in and out of her as fast as our position would allow. My hands roved under her hiked up dress and found her small breasts and pinched both her hard pink nipples causing her to shout in her grating voice, "All right yeah!" Her orgasm hit as the elevator door opened onto the kitchen hallway. Understandably preoccupied, she didn't bothered to see if anyone was there. I did though, expecting to see hotel security waiting to demand that we cease and desist in our public display. The hall was empty.

"Take me front ways," she said in a panting voice. I pulled out of her; she straitened out, turned to face me, hiked her dress up, guided my hands to to the back of her thighs and I lifted her up as she wrapped her legs high on my hips. I turned us and rested her back against the elevator wall closest to the control panel. She shimmied up higher on my body and wrapping her arms around my neck. She said, with her nose touching mine, "Put it in."

I gripped my erection with my right hand to her wet opening. She lowered herself as I pushed up. Once in her, my guiding hand was free to roam over her tits under her dress. Wanted to see her breasts, I slid the dainty little spaghetti straps off her shoulders. She helped by threaded her arms free reducing her dress to a band of black cloth around her midsection. Greedily, I explored her exposed little mounds with eager hands. But all too soon, I needed my hands for support and dropped them down under her thighs. With a serious expression on her pretty elven face, we were off to the races again.

She slapped at the number twenty-four on the control panel with the palm of her right hand. "Get me there befo' the top," she said somewhere around a laugh and a gasp. I wasn't sure if it was a request or a demand but I met the challenge.

"Oh fuck! Yeah!" she yelled as she came, her voice painfully loud in the enclosed space of the elevator. Five seconds later, the door slid open onto the twenty forth floor.

I reached over and hit the ground floor button and we descended. My legs and back muscles were burning from exertion and I lifted her off my dick and lowering her to her feet. Without bothering to adjust her dress, she dropped to her knees, snapped off the condom and stuffed it into a pocket of my jeans pooled at my ankles. She took the head of my erection into her mouth; one hand grasped the shaft as the other worked my balls. She freed her mouth and looked up at me and said, "I like it when my lovers cum in my mouth in elevators." She took me back into her mouth, stopped again and added, "Taxis too," and then went back to her warm wet chore.

In fascinated bliss, I watched as her hands and mouth worked my dick and balls with expert precision. Then, to my horror the elevator chimed. I looked up and saw that we were at the 19th floor. I looked down at Stephanie; she rolled her eyes up at me and gave a tiny shrug but didn't stop her intimate work. The door slid open and a lone middle-aged Asian guy in a bright white chef's jacket, standing behind a shiny chrome food cart stood before us, his eyes grew wide.

"I thought that the kitchen was closed?" I said stupidly trying to sound casual.

"The bar has a small kitchen for late night snack orders," the guy said. After a pause he added, absurdly polite, "Sorry, I'll use the the guess elevator."

With a grateful nod, I hit the close button. The guy and his cart disappeared from sight, and the elevator descended.

My dick popped out of Stephanie's busy mouth as she let out a loud husky laugh, and then she went back to work. No one greeted us at the ground floor and back up we went. I exploded in her mouth at around the twentieth floor and not a drop was misplaced.

The elevator chimed and the door slid open. The hall was empty. Stephanie freed me from her mouth and stood up. Not bothering to fix her dress, she tipped toed and pulled me in for a salty kiss. I pivoted us just so I could see her pretty little ass in the mirrored back wall of the elevator. The kiss broke. She looked at the control panel and hit the number nine. As we ascended, she fixed her dress and I pulled my jeans and underwear up, adjusted, zipped and buttoned up as best I could. As the door opened onto the ninth floor, she kissed me again long and soft.

In her coarse voice she said, "That was the best elevator fuck I ever had." With a hint of sadness she added, "I gotta go, my boyfriend picking me up in the morning. If he knew about this he would kill you." And on that note, she gave me a sweet parting smile and stepped out of the elevator.

I saw her again at late morning the next when the writing group met for the last time. With the sweetest of smiles, she handed me my story. As the mediator spoke, I read what Stephanie had written in the margins on the front page.

Real stuff makes the best fiction don't you think?

**********

"He certainly has developed a thing for Asian girls," I said trying to sound neutral as my brain sizzled in the hot greasy fat of jealousy.

After the proverbial pregnant pause, Hawk asked, "How you feeling?"

"You're one to ask that?" I said angrily then regretted it immediately.

"Need me to leave?" he asked.

"No. This is your place silly. I'll go to my studio." I got up and grabbed my backpack. At the door, I kissed Hawk's lightly on the lips. "Don't tell Matt about any of this until I work it out okay."

He nodded then said, "I'm a fucking idiot for outing him."

My eyes looked in the mirror on the back of the door and I asked, "Did you read that story he wrote for the writer's conference about us in the mirror?" I asked.

"Yes," Hawk said. "I liked it but it was kind of disturbing.

I left without another word.

Chapter 30 New Sanctuary and a Skeleton in the Closet

A grid of gray squares, a monochromatic answer to Mondrian's colorful grids, sat on my studio easel. It was inspired by the grid painting from the undergrad show by the girl named Blue. While her painting looked liked solidified fragments of space and time, mine looked like a fucking beach towel, and an ugly one at that. Clutching a brush in each hand, I pressed my knuckled fists to my forehead, squeezed my eyes shut and said aloud, "I can't paint in here anymore!"

I was being irrational of course. My little studio had nothing to do with my current block, it was the tiny space between my ears causing all the trouble. Irrational or not, I needed to get out. I approached a large canvas facing the wall stashed in the furthest corner of my shoebox shaped studio. I pulled the canvas out and swapped it for the gray beach towel on my easel.

In the painting, a female figure knelt facing forward, hands between her breasts fingers laced. She looked like she was praying. The figure's skin was pale whitish pink with a hint of blue. Her pubic hair stood out in dark contrast against the pale skin as did the blackish-blue nipples. The background was a deep black-blue and the figure's jet-black hair was just discernible from the background. The figure appeared ghostly, almost glowing in a way against the dark background, the trace of a Mona Lisa smile touched her mouth.

Fear of my mentor, Erma Beaumont, knocking at my door for a spot inspection flushed through me. The fear was beyond irrational, because in all the time I've been a graduate student here at Honolulu University, Erma has never once visited my studio. Embracing my paranoia, I took the time to conceal my painting with craft paper using lots of masking tape. I felt stupid as for the trip to the large painting classroom was a very short walk from my studio door. I tossed tubes of paint and my bundle of brushes into a beach bag. On a whim, I grabbed Sally's Willendorf fetish bronze and tossed it into my makeshift kit. I left my tiny studio and made a bee line to the painting department classrooms. At the last moment, I bypassed the painting studio and slipped into the figure painting studio further down into Kang Den territory.