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“I’ve got a hard-on for you,” he whispered, nonchalantly. At first what he’d said didn’t register. When I realised the import of his words I looked at him. He wasn’t grinning, he looked serious.“Let’s go somewhere and fuck,” he suggested. I swallowed hard, looking round at Richard. He did not know I was there. Without turning to face Christian I shook my head, discreetly but definitely. He reached over and grabbed my left wrist, which previously had been lying on my knee and not complaining about it. I tried to snatch it back but he squeezed it, and it hurt. Looking all the while at Richard I tried to extricate my hand, but Christian was strong and the more I struggled the more it hurt. I gave in. He started to rub his crotch with my hand.“You,” he hissed savagely. There was no chance of Richard or Ben observing what Christian was forcing me to do from their current position, but if Ben moved Richard would see my hand between Christian’s legs. As bidden I began to rub, feeling his. ’ Sam left and headed up to her sanctuary. She had been so busy the last two days, she hadn’t been up there yet. Sam walked up the long flight of stairs to the attic and opened the door. It was just as she left it. Her finished paintings were either on easels or stacked against the wall on one side, her canvasses were leaning against the other, waiting to be used. Her paints were in their many draws, tubes of acrylics, water paints and pastels. Her brushes were laying in a row on the table where Sam planned her paintings. Tonight though, Sam just wanted to paint. She didn’t know what she was going to paint, didn’t want to plan anything or think about what she was doing. Squirting out colours of yellow, red, blue, orange, gray and black, Sam got a large canvas and placed it on the easel. After five hours, she was finished. Sam stepped back to look at her finished work and was both happy as well as sad by what she saw. Because on the canvas, like many others she had painted when she was.
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