Painting the Landscape of Her Body - Sex Stories

Painting the Landscape of Her Body

Miles Davis groaned smoothly across the dark room, and the trumpet built up steadily the way Gael’s own anticipation was building at the thought of her waking. Hong Kong Island’s skyline shone brightly into the room from across the water. Gael lit another cigarette, as he sat in his bamboo papasan, and propped his feet up on the window sill. He watched the boats; tiny red and white lights in the darkness moving down the waterway toward the sea. How many hours, since he arrived in China, had he spent dreaming at that window? He mused about the millions of lives which hummed vividly around him; lives lived in a world which differed profoundly from what he knew to be his own. Gael remembered the initial energy he felt pulsating through him in those first early months, stepping out of his tiny loft’s building and into the neon lit jungle of his neighborhood. A modern Marco Polo, cut off from the west for the first time in his life; though he could still see its influence everywhere he went. Hong Kong was the greatest thing that had ever happened to Gael. His favorite discovery on his journey so far though was undoubtedly Mei. She was a whole other uncharted world sleeping peacefully in his bed. She lay in his bed like an elegant Chinese box full of poems just waiting to be read. She had crashed at his place earlier that afternoon to escape the ever pressing obligations of her life. She was married to an over controlling software tycoon, forced into the marriage by her wealthy ...

... family, and until she met Gael, she had nowhere to escape the torment of her rigid and regulated life. He didn’t mind being her hiding place, and he welcomed the unannounced visit even if she went to sleep almost immediately after getting there. Tonight, nothing was going to come between them. Gael’s quiet contemplation was broken as he heard a muffled moan from the bed. She moved like river water under the sheets; lifting her arms above her head and squinting in his direction. “Are you awake? I can’t tell when your eyes are open.” “You are such an asshole!” she said playfully, “I’m just thinking why you don’t have martini made for me already.” “But my queen… All I have is whiskey, and it’s that copycat shit from Shenzhen.” “Perfect,” she said with an air of importance. He got up and poured her some. His apartment’s AC was down, so they both had beads of sweat collecting on their foreheads. “I’ve never known a woman to drink whiskey like you.” “I never know a man who sit for hours of silence while I sleep.” “Are you kidding me? There is no silence in Hong Kong.” Miles Davis’ Solea moved in the air around them. “Do you want another?” he asked her. “No. Come here,” she patted the surface of the small bed. The light on her face changed color with the ever shifting ambiance of an entire city. He walked slowly over to her, setting the bottle down on the floor and sitting on the bed next to her. “I want you to paint me,” she said softly. “I’ve wanted to paint you since I met you.” “I ...