The Woman Was From Life
by Oya.

Hardwick sipped his black tea, enjoying the morning air. Between jobs, but not yet broke, Hardwick treated himself to breakfast nearby at Zapata's Cafe. He wore a tan tank top, revealing his defined biceps, and he sketched in a small book.



Peripherally, something was distracting Hardwick. He looked over to his left, and there was a beautiful woman in an orange dress âa crinkly thin fabric that can be seen through. She had short dark hair and a long neck. Elegant. Hardwick liked the skin of her arms, light tan and soft looking. Her breasts were visible through the dress, no bra, nice nipples. Hardwick felt his pants tighten.



She picked up a menu. Hardwick checked out the rest of her. Her dress was long. She wore orange sandals with heels, and her toe nails matched. He wondered if she wore panties and if sheâ'd ever been ...



She could've been Hispanic or white or a light-skinned black woman, he couldn't tell -- it all sounded good to him. He was clearly a black man. His skin was chocolate brown. He had a stern and sexy look.



He had underestimated her, thinking she hadnâ't noticed him checking her out. After the waiter took her order, she pulled out a small pad and began to write. Hardwick motioned for the waiter.



"I'm paying her tab," Hardwick told him quietly.



"She is very beautiful," the waiter said and went back inside the cafe.



###########



"Thank you," she said, standing next to Hardwick. She was done eating and was on her way to wherever. He let his eyes run down her body. She was everything he liked. Even her voice sent heat waves through him.



"You are very welcome. You are also welcome to join me for a drink, my treat of course."



"Kind of early, but I guess it's okay."



"I'm Hardwick. And you?"



"Sheila." She found him to be extraordinarily handsome, and he smelled good too. His voice was deep, and she liked that in a man.



###########



They sat across from each other in a booth, drinking wine. He tried not to stare at her nipples though he wanted to lightly bite them. Donna Summers was playing on the jukebox, and inside the bar it didnâ't look like daytime. He reached across the table and caressed her arm from her shoulder down to her hand. It felt satiny to him. His palm felt warm and rough on her skin. Warm and rough on her skin. She liked that in a man too.



"Are you an artist?"



"I like to think so," he said. "Have you ever modeled for an artist?"



Sheila blushed. "A long time ago for a short time."



"How was it?"



"At first, ok. But then it got weird. Started as a small workshop run by a painter. But then it expanded, and all these people were seeing me undressed and I always felt concerned about running into them in the supermarket or someplace."



"You weren't that comfortable with it?"



"Not then, and not with so many people."



"I'd love to draw you. You can be dressed if you prefer." Please don't prefer that, Hardwick thought.



Sheila smiled. "Maybe."



Maybe what? Maybe dressed? Maybe undressed? He looked at her and tilted his head.



"Maybe you can draw me," she said. "And maybe I'll undress for you."



###########





In his Washington Heights apartment, the walls were covered with drawings framed with brown leather handmade to look like belts. All of the drawings, some in pencil and some in charcoal, depicted womenâ's behinds. As Sheila walked further, she saw that some included a clothed male with a belt in his hand or the model across his lap in a position to receive a spanking. Hardwick watched her face.



"You have people posing like this?"



"Just the woman. I draw the other figure from my mind. But the woman was from life."



He showed her some where the female had clothes on. However, in each drawing, some piece of clothing was coming off. Either the blouse was unbuttoned, or the shorts were pulled down beneath the buttocks. It was like someone was pulling her clothes off. Sheila became aroused at the thought of posing for such drawings. And Hardwick was just the man sheâ'd want to do this for. It had been a long time since she felt like this.



###########





Sheila leaned forward on his balcony on the 21st floor and faced the street. From behind, Hardwick arranged her so her dress was way up on her waist. She wore only an orange thong. His face contorted, his cock grew, he turned pages of a large pad furiously.



"Take the dress off now."



Sheila turned and faced him. She removed her dress and stood in her thong and high-heeled sandals. Her tits almost sent him in a frenzy. He drew quickly, then insisted she turn and face the street.



"Take down the thong." She did without facing him. "Let it stay at your ankles." She obeyed his every command. "Step out of the thong." He drew her from behind with her thong on the floor next to her and the high-rise across the way in the background. Then he walked over to her, picked up the thong and used it to bind her hands behind her. He smacked her lovely behind once, just enough to tingle. "Step inside now." He took her by her shoulders and gently bent her over his desk. Her hands were still bound behind her. "Spread your thighs apart now." She obeyed his order. He sat on the floor behind her with his pad and drew. Then he stood and untied her. He took her by her arm and walked her to his sofa. He sat and pulled her face down across his lap. Her deliciously round naked behind was before him, and he spanked until her cheeks were pink and she was squirming and groaning.



He savored the sight. The woman was from life.