Chapter 7 - Life after sex

Almost an hour after we got out of bed, we were finally sitting down for breakfast. I had put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Alex, on the other hand, must have been even lazier while getting dressed, as she wore gym pants and a sweater.

It was kinda late and Alex had gotten out of the shower quite sooner than I had to make us something to eat. On the table, I saw a big bottle of freshly made orange juice, two big cups full of tea, assorted pastry and some scrambled eggs.

I sat down glancing at the eggs: I never could stomach salty food in the morning, but as soon as Alex saw me, she started laughing.

«Don't worry,» she said, «those are for me.»

I smiled at her, once more reassured she knew me even better than I thought possible.

We ate, merrily joking about each other and just taking it easy, without pressure, tension or any kind of hurry. When I had finished eating, I asked, dreading her reply: «I'm sorry, but aren't we supposed to have work?»

She looked at me, puzzled. After a while she smiled and waved at me, telling me to wait for her to finish eating.

«I forgot you're amnesiac, I'm sorry. I keep seeing you, the same Amy as you have been every day of our life and...»

She suddenly got to her feet and came towards me. «It's Sunday, today, so no work for me. But you never had any timetable. You paint when you can, thinking about your paintings when you can't. You try and try to make me jealous of them, but I know I have something they could never give you.»

Her smile told me this ``thing'' had probably been involved in our earlier shower activity. I felt my cheeks flush. As I stood there, trying not to remember too much, she sat on my lap, facing me and hugging me. «But I still feel like they're robbing us of our precious little time toghether, so I usually try to seduce you all day long, as you try to ignore me and paint. Which leads to you shutting yourself in your studio all day long, until it's dinner time.»

«That sounds sad.» I really meant it. Every single detail of the life Amynta and her shared seemed to come right out of a picture-perfect young couple's life, except for the body shapes and exceptional sex, that usually is argument of manly storytelling, not of picture-perfect description.

She kissed my neck lazily. «Nah, not so much. It's not like you literally shut yourself in, more like you ban me because then you wouldn't get any work done. I try my best not to disturb you, but after a while I can't take it anymore, so you take a break and we cuddle a while, or something. It's more like a quiet sunday afternoon than a deadline-induced painting-frenzy. You have those too, but it's much rarer.»

«Do you try to seduce me even during those?»

«Only when you've been painting too long and you really need a break.»

«How thoughtful of you!» I said, as I tried to convey fake gratitude with my face. I must have succeeded, because she hit my arm.

«I'll let you know it sucks having your big, soft ass strutting around the house and not having permission to touch it.» As punishment, she groped my butt. «Sometimes you are such a tease...»

Hearing that from the woman who had been titfucking me just a little while ago, and who was now sitting on my lap, groping my butt and using my breasts as a pillow made me laugh.

«Hey!» she sounded really pissed off.

«I'm sorry, but hearing that from you, the one who has her way with me each and every time she wants sounds really silly.»

She smiled as a cat with milk on its whiskers. «Well, that may be true. But it still sucks when you play hard to get.»

«Don't you ever?» I asked, out of curiosity.

«Nah. Why should I waste even a single chance to fuck you silly?» I shivered as she said that. Thing is, it didn't make me uncomfortable, but it did make me feel hot. «Besides, it wouldn't make you angry, just scared. You'd think I was sick.»

I laughed again. «You're right.»

«See? So, come on.» she slapped me on the ass, standing up. «Off to work with you. I want you to paint a lot so I can have you for myself for the whole evening.»

«All right, all right. I'm going. But I'm not sure I'll be able to get anything done.»

«You never are.» she said, smiling. «Don't worry, I'm sure it'll all come back to you.»

I went in my studio and looked around for a while. I spent a long time studying the big portrait I had probably been working on before the switch, but I was unable to touch it. I was so scared to ruin it, I couldn't even get too close.

After a while, I noticed there was a desk against the wall farthest from the door. On top of it, I found a lot of sketches and preliminary drawings. Most of them were quite similar to the portrait, but they were made using slightly different techniques, or in a different position. Seeing all of those drawings, at different stages of completion, somehow seemed to make more sense to me.

I took a blank page -- I knew where to find one -- and decided to start from scratch. I turned the easel towards the desk and started sketching a copy of the portrait. Slowly, I felt tha lines, the shades, the gestures come back to me. I looked at a detail af the painting, and I knew how to recreate it.

An hour later I heard knocking. I stretched and stood up while looking at the fruit of my labour: it was pretty good, I had to admit. It still wasn't as good as the other sketches, and far from being as detailed and rich as the painting, but it was good nonetheless.

«Come in.»

Alex cautiously opened the door. «Are you sure I can come in?»

«Yes I am! Why would you ask something like that?»

«It's just... I'm never allowed in while you work. I'm too distracting, or so you say.»

Seeing Alex behave so modestly was weird. She was always so sure of herself, so in control, but now she was asking permission politely, almost as if she were scared of me. «Well, while that may be true, I'm working on your portrait, so I'm gonna have to look at your beautiful face anyway.»

My flattery seemed to have had some kind of effect, as she fell silent for a while. «Don't get cocky, now. As I already said, flattery will get you nowhere.»

But even as her voice had regained its usual confidence, she still trod quite slowly through the cluttered room.

As soon as she reached my side, she looked at the painting. «You didn't make any progress?»

«No, I haven't. I'm still trying to relearn how to paint. I made this, instead.» I said, sitting down and pointing at the drawing on my desk.

She looked at it, comparing it with the painting and the other sketches. As she stood right next to me, I couldn't resist pulling her to me, making her sit on my thighs as she always did. I hugged her close to me as she kept on looking.

«I swear I don't know what you're waiting for.» she said, finally putting down the leaf, and resting her head against my breasts. I should have felt uncomfortable as her shoulders squeezed my tits, but it somehow felt right, as if my bosom were made specifically for her to rest against. She put her hand on mine, and looked right up at me, waiting for an answer.

«This sketch is not as good as the other ones. I still have to practice, even if it doesen't look like it.»

«Well, you're the painter here.» she said.

«So, what was it?» I asked.

«What?»

«Was there something you needed to tell me?»

«Oh, no, nothing. It's been almost two hours, so I just wanted to see if you were doing well. I'll get out right away if you want.»

She looked up to me again, but I kept her close to me. I looked her in her eyes, and suddenly I had the greatest idea.

«Stay right there,» I said, «I'm going to draw you like that.»

She didn't seem to understand what I had in mind. «What?»

«I'm gonna make you a portrait right here, right now. Just as you are. That way, you'll get to see me at work.»

She seemed to have some objection, as she still looked weirdly at me, but in the end she relaxed against me, and closed her eyes.

«Is this pose all right?» she asked.

«Perfect.»

I picked up another clean page and looked at Alex. I tried to take in as much of her beauty as possible even before my pencil touched the paper. I followed the curve of her cheekbones from her forehead to her chin, I compared the width of her arms, neck and body, carefully memorizing her proportions, I caressed her arm, from her elbow up to her fingertips, looking for the lines that made up her figure.

Then I started recreating all of those, every line flowing through my fingers, ending up frozen in the drawing that slowly changed its shape, trying to match that of the women who was leaning on me right now.