I worked quickly and efficiently.I knew my subject wouldn't tolerate sitting here for long.It didn’t take me too long to draw.But then again—I was having fun, so it might have been longer than I thought.
Finally—I was done.
“Eccellente!” the artist said and bowed to me in an exaggerated flourish.
“Thank you,” I said with a knowing grin.
Then I turned to Stefan.“Okay, your turn,” I said, rolling up my artwork.I didn't want Stefan to see it until he was done.
“My turn for what?”Stefan stood and walked up to me.
“It's your turn now.You draw me.”I gave him a sassy smile and wandered to the chair.I didn't sit, though.My skirt was too short, and I was a little worried about what kind of view the bystanders might have.
It surprised me a little that Stefan cooperated.Part of me figured he'd refuse to do what I asked.But—he played along.And a few minutes later, he announced he was finished.
So, I strolled back to Stefan and the easel.I stood beside it and posed.“How do I look?”There were onlookers standing around.
Laughing.
I peered over at Stefan.“Are they laughing at me?Or at your work?”
Stefan's eyes landed on me.“I don't know.I think I did a good job.”He stepped away and ushered me around to look at—
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
I doubled over.
Laughing.
The lewdly drawn stick figure on Stefan's paper was—so freaking funny.The crowd behind us laughed even harder.
“Oh, my gosh, I can't breathe,” I sputtered out as I stood and took another look.“It's a miracle she doesn't just topple right over.”He knew what I meant.Everyone—here—knew what I meant because of how “top-heavy” Stefan had made his stick figure.
“I wonder the same thing about you,” he said, his eyes narrowing in on my breasts.
I playfully slapped his chest and shook my head.
“Let's see yours.”He nodded at the rolled-up paper in my hand.
My eyes went wide.
Mostly because I knew what Stefan's reaction to this picture would be.
Yeah.
I totally knew.
And at the time, when I decided to draw it—my sassiness had driven me to it.But now—I began having some hesitation.
“I'll show you when we get back home,” I suggested, hoping he'd go for that.Then, maybe on the way, my picture would somehow fly out the window and be lost forever.
Short of a miraculously timed, precise lightning strike—I was going to be in trouble.
A lot of it.
