“A what?”

“You know that gap between a woman’s legs that’s all the rage right now?”

“You mean a thigh gap?”

“Yeah!”

He shook his head, “You have a crotch notch.”

“No I don’t!”

He arched an eyebrow. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

I frowned, “Well, can you make it bigger? I really want to sell it.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” he asked, irritated.

“What? I want a huge crotch notch.”

He arched his other eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Yes! I hate how my thighs touch together.

“Every woman’s thighs touch together to some degree.”

“But mine touch more than normal.”

“No they don’t,” he argued patiently.

Why was I being so picky and neurotic? Oh yeah, because Christos was going to paint me nude for the world to see. Can you blame a girl for wanting to look her best?

“Fine. I can make you look like you have sticks for legs, if that’s your preference.”

“Huh?”

“Your crotch notch is fine. I love it. No one is going to criticize my painting for having an underwhelming crotch notch. Besides, the way I’m going to pose you, no one is going to be able to tell what kind of crotch notch you have. They won’t even be able to see your crotch.”

“What? Why not?” I demanded.

“Because I’m going to make you hold a horned Viking helmet over it,” he smirked.

“What? That sounds horrid!”

“Hey, the helmet was your idea.”

“But not over my crotch notch!”

He rolled his eyes and smiled his dimpled grin. “Are you trying to make me insane?”

“No, I, uh. I don’t know,” I sighed.

“You told me to figure out a way to make the Viking helmet work. That’s my solution,” he smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I don’t want a helmet over my lady bits, that’s for sure,” I chuckled. I sighed, “Gosh, what is it with the thigh gap, anyway? It’s like it didn’t exist a few years ago.”

“Blame it on stretch pants, booty shorts, and crotch selfies. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Once that pussy cat was out of the bag, it was never going back,” he grinned.

“I wonder if women who wore Poodle skirts back in the day had to worry about having a crotch notch?” I asked thoughtfully.

“Nope. All they had to worry about was whether or not their poodle was as big as the next girl’s.”

“Are you saying it used to be the woman with the biggest poodle won? And now it’s the notchiest crotch?”

“Sad, isn’t it?” Christos said ironically. “So, are we going to paint your portrait, or do you want to obsess about your non-existent imperfections for awhile longer?”

I wrinkled my nose at him sarcastically.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said, “I can always paint you with clothes on. It’s up to you.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “But I think you’d be making a big mistake. I’d hate to think you missed the chance at being the world’s most famous nude portrait. Because that’s what I’m aiming for.”

“Oh.” I definitely liked the sound of that.

“Imagine,” he grinned, “a work crew of guys wheeling your painting into The Louvre, taking down the Mona Lisa, and hanging your portrait up in its place.”

I smiled, “That could work.”

He chuckled, “Yes it could. Then The Louvre would finally have an impressive painting instead of that tiny little Mona Lisa.”

“You sure are cocky,” I said.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. Jerk,” I swatted his arm.

“Okay, strip.”

“Mmmm. I like it when you tell me what to do.”

“Good,” he smirked his sexy grin.

I dropped my robe to the ground. “Do with me what you will…” I purred.

Of course, we had sex in the studio.

Spiridon had left for the afternoon so I could feel like I had some privacy while I posed nude.

Christos and I had sex on the dais all the other models had sat on before me. I didn’t ask Christos if he’d had sex on it, because it was possible he had, with Perfect Paisley or someone else from his past. All I knew was I was queen of this domain now, bitches! Oh, and I made him put down clean blankets first. Just in case.

Christos fucked me on my throne while I held sway over my domain. Christos came inside me like an art rockstar.

Then I gave him a blow job while he sat in front of his easel. I paused to make a joke about his cock being a tube of flesh colored paint.

“But it isn’t flesh colored,” he said.

“Yes it is,” I argued. “I’ve inspected it carefully many times.”

“I meant the paint. The paint inside my paint tube is pearlescent white.”

“Is that even a color?” I asked doubtfully.

“It is. Look it up. You can find it online. It’s a common craft paint.”

“Yeah,” I purred, “But are any of those paints edible?”

“Wow,” he chuckled, “you get dirtier and dirtier the more I get to know you, agápi mou.”

“And you—” I pressed my finger against his muscled abs, “—love it.” Then I teased the tip of his cock with my tongue before going back to work on him.

He slouched against the back of his chair and moaned. I tickled his testicles with my fingers as I brought him to another studio shaking orgasm. I slowed my head movements as his spasms diminished. I milked every last precious pearlescent drop from his cock.

When Christos finally recovered, he said, “Are we going to do any painting today, or just the fucking?”

“I vote for fucking,” I grinned, before kissing his cock again.

Christos stood up from his chair, squatted in front of me, and lifted me by my ass until my wet folds were in his face. He started licking hungrily.

“Christos! Put me down!”

He didn’t. He just kept licking. I don’t know how he held me up so high for so long. But I glanced down several times at his rock hard shoulders. He was stronger than an ox. After awhile, I stopped worrying about whether or not he might drop me because the intense pleasure between my legs stole away every concern I’d ever had.

After I don’t know how many orgasms, we eventually did start on the painting.

Christos didn’t bother to put his clothes on after we’d made love.

“Are you going to stay nude while you paint me?” I asked.

“Sounds fair to me?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you,” I bit my lower lip.

“Do your best,” he smirked.

Christos set me up in a standing pose on the dais. “I’m going to do a charcoal rough of you first, on paper. Just to see what I think of the pose and the lighting.”

“Okay.”

“Do your best to hold still,” he said.

“I will,” I smiled.

Little did I know that standing still for so long was really, really hard. “I think I’m getting a cramp,” I said after what seemed like four days, but in reality was probably twenty minutes.

“Let’s take a break,” he smiled.

“Break? Can’t we be done for the day?” I pleaded.

“Not if we want to get the portrait done. I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what’s cramping, and I’ll massage it out.”

“I have a feeling everything’s going to be cramping by the time we’re finished.”

He smiled, “Okay, then I’ll massage everything.”

“Deal.” I walked around to look at his charcoal sketch. “Holy shit! You did all that in just twenty minutes?” It looked like a rough black and white photo of me. Some of it was still unfinished, like the hands and feet, but the face was totally me. “How’d you get my face finished so quick? It looks just like me!”

“I have your face burned into my brain. I see it in my mind every time I close my eyes.”

“You can remember it that well?”

“Beauty like yours is impossible to forget,” he cocked his dimpled grin.

When my break was over, he asked, “Do you want to try the pose with a Viking helmet now? I’ll do another sketch and we can compare them.”

“We don’t have a Viking helmet,” I said.

“Yeah we do, up on that top shelf over there.”

I loved how we were using the word “we” to refer to things in our studio. I followed Christos’ gaze and noticed a Viking helmet sitting between a gladiator’s helmet and a knight’s helmet, the shining armor kind. “Where’d you get those?” I asked.