“I knew you’d have a good time,” Alice said, smiling so hard her gums showed. “How did your portrait come out?” Amazing. Although the features were similar to hers, no one would recognize Marnie as the model. Tor had drawn her in such a way she looked like a woman from the distant past, perhaps the eighteen hundreds. His use of peach-colored paper— mingled with brown, yellow and gold chalks—had added to the portrait’s dated feel. He’d finished the drawing after they’d enjoyed each other orally again and snoozed for a few minutes. The second time Marnie had posed, she was on her bed, the lamp illuminating her face. “No boobs in the drawing, please,” she’d said to him. Tor had given her a slow, sexy smile. “Someday, I want you to pose nude. A sketch just for us.” His words had sounded so promising, Marnie had grinned. “Maybe. But only after you ink me.” Before he’d left her apartment, Tor had promised her an original design for the tats and to have the other two versions of her portrait done by the next time they saw each other on Sunday—the only morning he had free before his shift at the parlor.
