Camille gestured with her hand in a circular motion
“Turn around and face the wall.”
Will looked confused.
“Just do it.”
He shrugged and repositioned himself on the couch accordingly. His eyes scanned the numerous pictures pinned to the wall. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their contents or placement. Many had frayed edges as though they’d been torn out hastily. He cleared his throat to speak.
“Have you been here for a while?”
He studied the bright, Day-Glo colors of the print closest to him. An image of a swimming pool under a cloudless desert sky looked back at him. There was something uncanny about it. He read the text printed across the bottom.
“*David Hockney*.”
The picture wasn’t exactly level. There was handwriting scrawled illegibly in the white border, and what looked to be thumbprints of smeared paint on the tacks in the corners.
“Yeah, several years now.”
She got up, walked to the bookshelf and plucked a large hardcover from a row of books, leaving an empty gap where it had been.
“The location isn’t great, kinda out in the sticks, but I like the light… and the building cost practically nothing.”
After looking back to be sure he couldn’t see, she inserted her hand into the gap between the books and pulled out a small wooden box. She returned the missing volume to its spot in the row and walked back towards the couch.
Will was studying another grouping on the wall—newsprint pages torn from a 50’s lingerie catalog. There were maybe a dozen of them, all affixed with clear thumb tacks stabbed through the models’ throats. They were defaced with scribbles resembling graffiti and daubs of runny, dripping paint. Will didn’t know what to make of them.
“Okay, you can turn back around now.”
Will turned, then glanced at the box in her hands. She cocked her eyebrow impishly.
“My little box of fun.”
“Ah…”
He gestured back at the wall he’d been looking at.
“I like your pictures.”
She shrugged.
“Thanks. Anything to set things in motion, you know?”
He nodded thoughtfully, then paused.
“What’s with—“
He pointed at the catalog pictures.
“Hah! Oh, *those*…”
She seemed amused.
“Those are for when gallery people come by for a studio visit. Gotta be *dark and mysterious* in this racket, ya know?”
He grinned.
“Or maybe I’m just crazy…”
She pointed at her forehead and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.
He smiled politely.
“Well I *am*, kinda, but not like that…”
She gestured at the wooden box in her lap.
“Also where *this* comes in…”
It was shabby-looking, as though it had been handled many times. She flicked the latch open with her thumb and glanced up at him as she cocked the lid.
“What do you do for work, Will?”
He looked away shyly.
“Hmm… I’ve had a few jobs since dropping out.”
She was rummaging around the box with her fingers, moving a handful of vials and baggies. She glanced up.
“What were you studying?”
He shrugged.
“Eh… something useless.”
She paused and lifted her hand above the box, wiggling her fingers in the air as though performing a magic trick.
“College wasn’t my thing.”
She reached inside and pulled out a small plastic, orange jar. He noticed little specks of pigment stuck under her cuticles.
“Hah, right. So what’s your job now, professor evasive?”
He fidgeted a bit with his hands.
“Uh… well—“
He seemed very self-conscious.
“Oh my God, just say it. What, are you afraid I’ll judge you? I mean…”
She motioned at their surroundings with her hand. She’d propped herself up with her arm over the seat back, her head leaning against her knuckles. Several of her fingers bore rings, all of them bright, pure gold.
Will looked around the room. It was shabby and unkempt, with thick, paint-stained curtains obstructing the afternoon light outside. Two massive, frosted skylights cut voids into the angled ceiling overhead. From crude, bent nails in the rafters, industrial lighting cables hung vertically, dangling bare bulbs in mid-air.
Everything had an aura of time about it. The floor was utterly battered, caked with a patina of dried paint of every color. The laceless, floppy-tongued boots on her feet looked much the same way, as well as the jeans on her legs, the oversized shirt covering her torso, and the ancient couch under the sheet on which they sat. Only the sheet itself was unsullied, its tiny floral pattern bearing a curious resemblance to the texture of the floor. The place seemed frozen in time.
A spring breeze blew through the open window, wafting the smell of linseed oil and mineral spirits. A handful of wilting flowers sat dropping in a vase atop a coffee table by the corner. Will felt very comfortable here.
“Okay… uh… I work in porn.”
Camille looked genuinely impressed.
“No shit? Wow.”
Will squirmed a little.
“And you’re so *young*… well huh.”
“Yep, had my first drink at a bar a few months ago. Well… legally.”
“Right. Hah. Oh wow that makes me feel old. That was many moons ago for me…”
Will didn’t know what to say.
“Oh my God that means you were in like… *middle school* when I bought this place. Wow that’s a fuckin’ trip.”
“When was that?”
“Uh… six? Yeah I think coming up on six years.”
“Okay, so, start of high school—they put me ahead a year. But yeah.”
“Woah, brainiac.”
She made a teasing gesture before pausing for a second, considering something privately to herself.
She adjusted her posture on the couch and reached out to nudge his shoulder.
“So uh… the porn. Elaborate.”
Will blushed and looked down.
“I just started a few weeks ago and I’ve only done a few scenes.”
She looked back attentively. It made him feel strange, both excited and slightly unnerved. Her eyes had something dangerous in them, even cruel. He’d never met anyone quite like this before.
She made an exaggerated expression, batting her eyes dramatically.
“There’s so much I want to know.”
He looked away, but felt as though he somehow couldn’t evade her. It was like her gaze met him out in the room, pulling him back into eye contact like coins into a funnel.
“Well, you can ask me anything and I’ll probably enjoy telling you, hah.”
He had the feeling of having known her a long time, despite matching with her just hours before. In the strange, directionless glow of the skylights, he felt disoriented, like being inside an unshaken snow globe.
“What kind of porn is it? Is it like some fetish thing?”
He felt his ears get hot.
“Uhh… depends how you classify things I guess—”
“So yes.”
He laughed. He found her mannerisms strangely endearing.
“Yeah…”
“Come on, out with it. What kind of stuff? I’m trying to picture you in front of a camera…”
“So uh… it’s… gentle femdom. Hah.”
“Huh?”
“Gentle female domination.”
She was studying him intently, inscrutable.
“What like women kicking you in the balls or something? Or wait… *gentle*… hmm. What’s that mean? *Gentle domination*…”
She made air quotes with her fingers.
“Well, it could mean any number of things… people go in different directions with it.”
“What about you?”
“Well for me, it’s a certain power dynamic… the woman being in the position of power.”
“Okay so… what power? Do you get fucked in your ass with a strap on… *gently*?”
She was grinning, entertaining the idea. She seemed to find it amusing.
“Some do. That’s not my thing though. But I *am* uh… hmm…”
He squirmed.
“You *are* what?”
Her eyes gleamed with a sincere and intimidating interest he was unfamiliar with. He was self-conscious, but also profoundly horny. He looked down at his palm, rubbing it with his thumb absently.
“I am uh… anally… um… *fixated*… but not like *that*.”
It felt like her eyes were boring through his head. He noticed her irises were so dark it looked like she had only huge, dilated pupils as though manic. Contrasted alongside her languid demeanor and puzzlingly youthful face, it gave an almost supernatural impression. Her attention frightened him deeply and yet he wanted to bathe in it.
“Oh come on… you’ve gotta elaborate for me. What do you *mean*?”
“I mean I’m really into women’s asses. Like… *really*.”
He opened his eyes wide, glancing away suggestively.
“Come on… don’t be vague.”
He gulped unconsciously, excited to be put on the spot like this.
“Basically I think women’s assholes are extremely hot and I want to like… uhh…”
She was smiling disarmingly, nodding slightly, hiding her intense gratification in seeing him squirm like this.
“What? What do you want to do?”
“Put things inside them. My fingers, my tongue, my…”
He trailed off.
Her eyelids drooped seductively and she formed her lips into a slight heart shape, pushing out the tip of her tongue playfully.
“You’re fucking hot when you’re bashful. You know that, right?”
He blushed intensely and looked down at the sheet on the couch.
She reached out her hand and rubbed his inner thigh, then extended her fingers under his chin and gently forced him to look back.
“Tell me…”
He sighed, surrendering.
“I want to stick my fingers, my tongue… my cock… inside. I love feeling the warmth inside her… uhm… rectum.”
His face was flushed and he could barely keep his eyes open. Her hand gently wrapped around his neck with the slightest of pressures. She could feel his pulse banging away rapidly.
“More…”
“Okay well… for example… for one scene I ate a girl’s ass… and I ended up eating cherries out of it while she literally sat on my face. She was pushing them out one by one into my mouth. And I was… masturbating.”
She was grinning widely.
“Woah.”
He looked away embarrassed. She softly squeezed his neck in her hand.
“Sorry… I know it’s kind of—“
“Insanely hot?”
He looked back at her.
She smiled warmly.
“You wanna know why I matched with you?”
He nodded.
“Well, reason one is you’re cute… and young, which is hot to me, to be honest.”
His eyebrows furrowed attentively.
“It is? I’m into that—“
“Yes, it is very hot. I’m quite a bit older than you—”
“I didn’t realize until I saw on your profile! I thought you were like, mid 20’s, max.”
She dropped her hand from his throat and blinked a couple times to herself.
“Hah. Well I’m 34.”
“That’s not *old*…”
She looked up at the ceiling for a second and sighed slightly, then looked back at him.
“Hey, so… one day you’ll be 34 too and realize why that’s not exactly the best complement, but I do happen to be kind of vain, so I’m still a bit of flattered… but don’t push it…”
His ears burned and he looked down. He felt stupid and awkward, like he’d ruined the moment.
“Sorry… I didn’t mean—“
She made a shooing motion with her hand while looking around for something.
“Oh shush… you’re just a dumb *kid*. Hah.”
He felt a sense of relief.
She slid her hand between her thigh and the couch and made a slight expression as she grasped the orange vial she’d taken from the box.
“Anyway, like I was saying… reason one: cute. Reason two is that you seemed *weird*.”
He was unsure how to respond.
“I *like* weird. And I’m not disappointed…”
He felt self conscious. She continued teasing.
“Hot, young, weird and… *oblivious*… oh to be 21.”
He scratched his eyebrow, practically hiding behind his hand as he did so.
“I like it. I like *authentic*.”
She rubbed her eye and then fiddled with the rings on her fingers pensively as her eyes zoned out for a second.
Will looked towards several large canvasses, leaning facing the wall. He wondered if she was rich. He looked back.
“Well then thank you. That means a lot to me coming from an artist.”
“Pfft.”
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him dismissively, then fished out two peach-colored tablets from the bottom of the orange jar with her finger. She put them in her palm and looked up at him.
“So mister… it’s illegal for me to share my meds—I think even a felony—but you won’t tell… right?”
He felt both uneasy and excited.
“No, of course not.”
“Cool.”
She grabbed a sketch pad on the coffee table and tore half a page out, folding the paper into a little pouch. She dropped the tablets inside.
“What are they?”
She got up and walked over to a table, fetching a chrome lighter. She fiddled with the hinged lid in her hands as she sat down next to him on the couch, their legs touching.
“Prescription amphetamines.”
His eyes widened.
“Like… speed?”
She held the paper packet against the coffee table and bashed it with the lighter repeatedly. The loud, violent noise startled him.
“Yeah, basically.”
Will looked at her questioningly.
“I don’t take it all the time, but I have a script—I have a *generous* psychiatrist.”
Will nodded. He’d never done stimulants.
“It’s fun sometimes. I like uppers. But coke is so *dirty*.”
She stuck out her tongue, making a pretend disgusted face. Will felt intimidated but curious.
She opened the paper packet and poured out the contents onto a little glass tray. A small palette knife sat close by.
“How does it *feel*?”
“What, coke? Or this?”
He glanced down at the powder.
“It feels… hmm… *inspiring*, like you’re having a really great day. I like it more than coke.”
He nodded along.
“Besides, you can’t really fuck on coke. Or at least, some guys can’t.”
His eyes widened.
“Have you ever done it before?”
“No, neither.”
She nodded.
“Well I’m going to do some… you’re welcome to partake if you’d like.”
He felt a kind of excited apprehension.
“You do what you like, but it seems rude not to offer.”
He mulled it over.
“Does it make you like… weird?”
She laughed.
“Well, you don’t feel out of control, if that’s what you mean. Or at least I don’t. But I also don’t do a lot. Don’t wanna fry my noodle.“
She gestured at her scalp.
“Hmm…”
“Usually I take it when I need to finish stuff for an opening, or when I feel like being super horny.”
He smiled politely, not sure what to say.
She rummaged around in the wooden box with her hand, pulling out a packet of rolling papers. She plucked one from the pack and held it open in her palm, scooping a small pile the size of a pea onto the center with the palette knife. She twisted the paper around the powder so it formed a little ball.
“One thing though… it’s not exactly *free*.”
His eyebrows went up.
“Like, you *do* kinda feel shitty for a day or two after. Depends how much you do.”
He nodded.
“You basically spend *tomorrow’s* happiness *today*.”
He thought about that for a second.
She turned to him and grinned, making a funny expression.
“But that’s why there’s hash…”
He laughed.
She popped the little paper ball into her mouth and grabbed a water bottle, swallowing it down in one gulp.
“Well… if you’d like…”
She got up and walked across the room to turn on the stereo as he contemplated it. He shrugged.
“Yeah, fuck it, lemmie try.”
She smiled mischievously.
“Alright. I’m not gonna give you much though, just enough.”
She reached down and spooned a small amount of powder, about a third as much, onto a fresh paper before crumpling it into a ball and handing it to him.
“If you can eat cherries out of a girl’s butt while she sits on your face, I’m pretty sure you can swallow this with some water.”
He laughed, popped it in his mouth and chased it down with a swig of water.
~ ~ ~
Will glanced at the clock to check the time. He couldn’t remember when he’d gotten there, but the light seemed a little different now.
Camille was in the bathroom down the hall, showering—he heard the water running in the pipes overhead.
He looked around pensively. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling anything. He rose to his feet.
The room seemed slightly different… brighter, or more defined, or something. The smooth shadows seemed to flicker imperceptibly. He felt an odd sensation in his torso between nausea and glee, like climbing in a roller coaster.
He began to dislike standing still. He paced slowly at first, then with deliberation, his attention shifting from each thing he found himself concentrating on. Strings of possible thoughts seemed to flow like a stream from each perception. He felt a pang of regret.
With Camille out of the room, the sudden realization that he’d ingested a mysterious powder with a stranger dawned on him like a blast of cold air. He felt panic rising in his stomach as he looked around the unfamiliar room.
“You okay?”
He nearly jumped at the sound of Camille’s voice in the doorway behind him. He turned to her.
She stood in the doorway, her hair wet, no makeup, wearing a thin green robe. The silhouette was striking, the hallway behind her bright with orange evening light. He blinked, processing. She slipped her feet into a pair of flip flops sitting outside the doorway and walked inside.
“What’s up? How ya doing?”
Her eyes were alight with confidence, her pink lips bore a playful smirk. Youthfulness seemed to radiate from her face mysteriously. His heart sounded with desire in his chest—his mind seemed to burrow into the feeling with an unfamiliar, intoxicating zeal. He could see her breasts poking into the material of her robe.
“I’m… haha. I’m very good. Very good.”
She walked over to him and pressed her body into his, rubbing his chest with her slender hand.
“Well… aren’t you going to kiss me?”
~ ~ ~
(To be continued…)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ry2jll/will_meets_the_painter_part_1_mf_fiction_mild