I opened the envelope propped up against my computer, glancing around my office even though whoever had left it was long gone. I stifled a chuckle at the gift certificate enclosed. Apparently my co-workers had decided I needed a little therapy. The homemade gift certificate read: “Happy Birthday ‘Kota! All work and no play makes the Lakota a grumpy bitch so we’ve all chipped in to get you some Art Therapy. This Saturday at 6pm sharp, please show up at the following address. Dress sloppy, you’re going to get very messy. Love, hugs and kisses – your beleaguered friends.” I would have rolled my eyes but there was no one in the room to appreciate it. I hadn’t been that much of an ogre to work with… had I?
Saturday at 6:15 sharp I knocked on the door of the address I’d been given. The door flew open immediately and a man with rumpled hair greeted me by saying “You’re late.” He leaned against the doorframe and frowned at me. I didn’t care. I was too busy picking my jaw up from the ground. Ohhhh, mama! He was dressed in a pair of kaki pants that hung off his hips and … well, that was it. The hair on his chest decorated a sigh-worthy chest and arrowed its way downward, disappearing behind the waist of his kakis. My eyes roamed down and back up again. I may have whimpered. I probably did if his grin was any indication.
“Come on in.” He said, “I’m Rikki Tikki by the way.”
He winked and turned away. Following him, I surreptitiously wiped any possible drool off my chin. Oh, damn. He looked as good going as coming, I thought eyeing his ass.
“So, huh, you’re my art therapist?” I asked. I’m real smart like that. A regular Einstein.
“In a manner of speaking,” Rikki replied, looking over his shoulder at me. “I’m going to relax you and show you a good time.”
“Oh yeah?” I perked up, picking up pace as I followed him. Mmmm-hmmm, I’d love to play with the mongoose’s snake. I didn’t know how “relaxing” it would be, but I just knew I’d have an exceedingly good time. Bless those beasties I worked with. I was going to recommend them all for raises.
“With paints.” Rikki interrupted my lusty thoughts. He looked suspiciously like he was trying not to laugh.
“Paints?” I pouted, following him into a room that was obviously an artist’s studio. Against one of the walls was tacked a large, loose piece of canvas. In front of it sat several cans of colorful paints and a handful of brushes.
No longer bothering to hide his amusement, Rikki chuckled, “Yes, paint. We’re going to loosen you up with some creative fun.”
“Damn.” I muttered under my breath. “I can think of other ways to have fun creatively.”
Rikki’s lips twitched.
“I guarantee Lakota, that this will be a session you’ll never forget,” he promised, walking up to the large piece of canvas.
Well, yippee. Here I was, all hot and bothered, with a bona fide hotty in scoring distance and I was going to spend my Saturday evening painting.
Oh well. What the fuck. I stepped up next to him and reached for one of the brushes. His hand grasped mine, stopping me. Startled I looked up at him.
“This can get pretty messy,” Rikki said. If you want to drive home in those clothes, you might want to change into something else.”
“I didn’t bring anything else.” I frowned. “Do you have anything I can borrow? A t-shirt or something?”
Rubbing his hand along his jaw and definitely hiding a smile, he shook his head and with mock regret said, “No, sorry. Not a thing. Sometimes I’ll paint in my underwear to keep my clothes from getting stained. I don’t mind if you want to try that.”
I stared at him for a moment in shock, and then burst out laughing.
Stepping up close to him I ran a hand along his arm and purred, “Why Mister RikkiTikki, what a positively scandalous idea.”
He cocked an eyebrow and waited.
“I LOVE it!” I squealed, immediately tearing off my shirt to reveal that I had on a black string bikini top. My shorts followed quickly and I tossed them out of the way. Hands on hips I watched him as his eyes took the scenic tour of my body. If the darkening hunger in his eyes was any indication, he liked what he saw. Yay me.
“Your turn!” I said, dancing from foot to foot as I waited for a peek at what those pants hid. Anticipation had my mouth watering.
“Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” I sighed lustily as he unsnapped his pants and drew the zipper down. He shoved his pants off, along with his tidy-whities and stood bare-assed and cock proud in front of me. I was going to recommend my friends for the Nobel Peace Prize.
“Come to mama.” I whispered softly, struggling with the goofy grin that wanted to splash itself across my face.
“Now you can pick up the brush,” Rikki said.
“Huh?”
“The brush. We’re ready to paint.” He nodded toward the brushes with his chin and turned away toward the canvas.
Well, hellfire and damnation. He still wanted to fucking paint? Cruel. Mean. Evil. That’s what he was. Sulking, I huffed over to the brushes and grabbed one. Shoving it perhaps a mite too hard into the paint bucket, I splattered my legs as I withdrew the brush. Tossing Rikki a narrow-eyed glare, I turned toward the canvas and slapped the wet brush against the canvas.
“There. I’m done.” I declared, waving at the mark I’d made with my brush. “That’s a pictogram symbolizing…”
“Oh come on Lakota. You need to unleash your passion on the canvas. Let go of those restraints holding you locked in place. Free yourself in the art!” Rikki whispered in my ear, coming up behind me. Turning around I eyed him for a second then wiped the brush down his chest.
Rikki looked down at himself and then up at me, a grin forming.
“Pretty!” I cooed, tilting my head to admire my handiwork. Then I squealed as wet paint landed on my chest from Rikki’s brush.
“Ha! War is it?” I giggled, reaching around him to dip my brush into a bucket.
The paint battle that followed left us both covered in a rainbow of colors.
“Do you know you have handprints on your ass?” Rikki snickered, tossing his brush into a bucket of water.
“Well, what do you know! Wonder how those got there?” I said, waggling my eyebrows at him. “Guess I’ll just have take them off.”
“Umm… okay.” Rikki agreed, nodding vigorously.
Wiggling my hips I slid the bikini bottoms off, then untied and dropped the bikini top as well. Rikki took a step closer.
“Is this part of the Art Therapy, Doctor Rikki?” I asked, lowering myself to the floor.
“The best part is always the finishing touch to any work of art,” Rikki said, lowering himself on top of me. “Let me show you.”
Spreading my legs to make room for him, I said, “You know, I may need regular therapy sessions. I have a very, very stressful job.”
“I think that can be arranged.” Rikki murmured before nipping at my breast and sliding a finger across my clit. Groaning I arched into him. Reaching between us I wrapped my fingers around his cock and stroked the length of him until he moaned against my nipple.
Art Therapy. My new favorite relaxation tool.
~wicked grin and stretching~
