Your breath catches mid way between your lungs and your lips.  Your heartbeat quickens and you worry that with his chest so firmly pressed against your back he must be able to feel it.  You can feel his muscles tensing against you with each stroke.  The sensuality of his movement just about sends you right over the edge.  

 

"Isn't that better?"  He whispers in a breathy voice.  

 

You feel as though every square inch is electrified, tingling with desire.   He rests his head on your shoulder and moves his hand back to your waist, allowing you to make several passes without his guide.  Then, without warning he steps away and picks up a paintbrush and starts painting.  Your lack of confidence makes you second guess all these sexually provocative acts and motions.  Maybe you are putting more meaning behind them than there is.   Maybe you are feeling what you want to feel, not what is really going on. 

 

He takes a position next to you, paintbrush in hand and smiling at you over his shoulder.  You marvel at his shirtless torso, barely able to keep your legs from turning to wet noodles.  You paint all the lower portions of the wall and take a satisfied breath and admire your work. 

 

"We aren''t done yet!"  Ristain exclaims with a tone of instruction.  "We have to do the high stuff next.  That's your job."

 

"No way!" you exclaim, your hands on your hips as he drags the ladder over to you, straddling it on the canvas.  

 

"Yup, all you! I have this thing with my knee"  He grins, holding the ladder and patting on one of the rungs in an invitation for you to climb.  "no ladders for me."