**This is an excerpt intended for readers 18 and older**
Cilla removed her clothes and lay down on the floor while Ian lit incense. He eased open her legs while he carefully moved the razor over her skin to remove the last of what he had called “the thick paint over the canvas.” She occasionally winced, not from discomfort but from the periodic realization of what she was allowing him to do.
“Does it hurt?” he asked in a low voice.
“Not really.” She did not lie.
Ian ran his broad hand over her body then, feeling it as smooth over the pillowed rise just below her abdomen, slipping his fingers inside. “You’re very wet.”
Cilla felt the flush to her cheeks. “I know.” She resisted the urge to cover her breasts, feeling more vulnerable than at any time in her life. As he touched his moist fingertips to her nipples, the warmth deepened.
“This is exactly as I wanted you to be,” he told her as he pressed her thighs back together again before opening the jar to remove the white body makeup. Even though he respected her request not to photograph her face, he started at her forehead, face, chin to neck, neck to breasts and nipples. He took his time there before moving to her abdomen and below, over thighs and knees down to her toes. It seemed to her like hours lying there. Her clitoris longed to be touched, but he would not go near it, not until finishing the decoration of her skin with white and burnishing the calligraphy along one side of her mons pubis. When he was done, the light flashed as he took the photos.
Cilla gasped, opened her eyes to look around the dimly lit office, catching her breath. She removed her hand from between her legs where she had touched herself over her tights, then felt relieved to see the shade pulled down over the window.
She had not thought of that night in years, and had never pleasured herself in her office like that, even when Tom called her and urged her to. What had the stranger done to her? With a mere look he had taken her back to a place she was not certain she wanted to go. When she saw that the time approached eight, she quickly gathered her things, rushed out of her office and on to a place familiar and safe.
