by L. J. Hamlin
Paint a Story on Your Skin
By L.J. Hamlin
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2019 L.J. Hamlin
ISBN 9781646560479
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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To Dodger sister, for the many times you've listened to me ramble ideas. Love you. Thanks a million.
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Paint a Story on Your Skin
By L.J. Hamlin
Mike Barber walks into his small gallery, whistling tunelessly. He’s in a good mood. Today he has a few local artists coming in to show him their work for one of his upcoming shows. He wants to give the young artists in his area an opportunity to show their work, and it obviously never hurts the business to connect with new artists.
He goes to his office in a back room and takes a seat behind the desk, his bad knee creaking painfully. It’s an old football injury, and he’s lucky arthritis has only recently set in. He’s forty-six; he shattered his knee in his twenties. It doesn’t always hurt, but the weather has started to turn as it moves into October, and the damp and the cold make the pain in his knee flare.
Mike’s lucky, though. He has a job that means his bad knee is hardly ever an issue. He’s not on his feet all day. The only time he has to stand, really, is when he puts on shows. But today, for example, he can sit in comfort as long as he likes and do the exercises he’s been given to do at his desk by his physical therapist.
His first job is to open his laptop and turn it on, cracking his knuckles while he waits for it to load. A habit his mother always told him would lead to arthritis in his hands, but there he doesn’t have a trace. It’s been five years since she passed, but Mike still remembers her hands, which were curled with arthritis at the end, paining her with every little movement.
Once his laptop is ready, he opens his emails. He has a ton of them, a combination of things. There are work emails, more from friends, and the usual spam. He deletes the emails asking if he wants a larger penis because he has no problems in that department, thank you very much. The next to go straight into the trash are the ones about hair loss. He doesn’t have that problem. He keeps his dark brown hair short out of choice, but it covers his head perfectly.
He puts off looking at his business emails by watching a video a friend sent him of a cat getting caught going through its owner’s drawers.
Work can’t be put off forever, though, and he starts going through the remaining emails. It’s not like Mike hates his job. He loves running his own gallery, loves getting to be around art and artists all day. But some of the admin can be a little boring, much like in any job.
He’s been working at the gallery since high school. He’d gotten the job through his artist father, and eventually bought it when his father wanted to sell a few years ago. He’s never had a job that didn’t involve art, and he likes to think he’s become quite knowledgeable. Not that he has any artistic talent himself. He couldn’t even draw a good stick figure if he tried.
Mike falls into the rhythm of working, and before he knows it, there’s a knock on the door. His secretary Dia pops her head around the door.
“The first one’s here. My son went to high school with him. Such a nice boy. Be kind to him, Mike. Don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s got talent and skill,” Dia says, using the tone that only develops after years as the mother of five.
“When do I ever judge a book by its cover?” Mike asks. He’s used to artists. Some are like the next man on the street and others are more eccentric. He doubts that’ll change with this appointment.
“I know, but be nice, all right?” Dia warns. He might be her boss, but Mike has no illusions as to who is in charge.
“I’ll be nice. Let him in, please.”
His first appointment is with a young man called Tommy Baker, who responded to an ad Mike had put in the local paper. They’ve only talked via email.
Dia disappears for a second and then lets a young man into the room before leaving with a smile.
“Hi, I’m Tommy.” His smile is surprisingly sweet, considering is appearance.
He’s a little shorter than Mike, and he’s six foot six. Tommy is tall, thin and covered in tattoo’s and piercings. Mike can see several in each ear, as well as gauges in his earlobes, a hoop in his nose on the left and a bar in his right eyebrow. He’s in a T-shirt and jeans. Mike hopes Dia took his coat, otherwise Tommy isn’t dressed for the weather.
That’s not what really gets Mike’s attention. It’s the tattoos covering Tommy’s arms, fingers, hands, all the way up to where his T-shirt starts, disappearing beneath the material and reappearing on his neck in swirls of beautiful colours.
“Hello, Tommy. I’m Mike. Take a seat.” Mike gestures to the seat opposite him, trying not to stare. Tommy has long hair, dyed black curls falling to his shoulders, a streak of bright, unnatural red on the left. He has piercing blue eyes, and Mike realizes he’s noticing more than just casually how attractive Tommy is. He’s a handsome young man.
Not at all Mike’s usual type, and far too young, even if he did turn out to be gay.
“You brought your portfolio with you?” Mike asks, pointing to the large black folder Tommy has with him.
“Yes. You said in your email to bring some examples of my work, so I did.” Tommy bites his lip, and he’s fidgeting slightly in his seat.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before. Tried to show my work outside of stuff related to art school,” Tommy admits.
“Well, try and relax. I’m not that scary.” Mike smiles.
“Thank you.” Tommy smiles back, and again Mike is struck by how sweet his smile is. It lights up his whole face, showing off sharp cheekbones. He’s stunning, could probably be a model. It makes Mike hyperaware of himself, of the gray in the scruff on his face he didn’t bother to shave.
He’s being silly. It’s not like he plans to make a move on a young artist in his office. It doesn’t matter if Tommy thinks of him as old. But there’s something about Tommy finding him too old to be attractive that stings.
Maybe it’s just that he always thought he’d be settled down by now. Sure, he’s doing great in business, he has great friends, but at night he goes home to an empty house. He’s sure young Tommy doesn’t have those kind of worries, not at his age.
“Well, show me your work, then,” Mike suggests softly, wanting to put the nervous Tommy at ease.
“I’ll admit I spoke to Dia before coming in, after she showed me your ad in the paper. She said you were open-minde
d,” Tommy says, clearly hesitating to put down his portfolio.
“I’m open-minded. I see a lot of different styles of art,” Mike assures him.
“My style isn’t what I worry about being an issue. I do pencil and charcoal drawings. It’s the content that some people don’t really like.” Tommy sighs.
“I promise to give you a fair shot, Tommy. I look for talent. Whether you draw kittens or turds, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s how you create them.” Mike has seen a lot of art, and he believes that anything can be the subject of art, in the right person’s hands.
“Okay. I’m sorry for being like this. I’m just really nervous. Some of my professors say the content is very artistic; others say it’s vulgar,” Tommy says, putting down his portfolio on the desk, and Mike is intrigued.
Mike opens the folder, revealing the first page, and his breath catches in his throat. Dark bold lines, delicate shading, the page shows real skill. Tommy has drawn a man, a beautiful man completely naked, in perfect detail. Mike doesn’t know how anyone could see this work of art as vulgar.
“You have real skill, Tommy. This is impressively drawn. It’s beautiful. Do you draw a lot of nudes?” Mike asks, turning the page to another man, posed differently. He’s not as chiselled as the first man, carrying a few more pounds, but just as beautiful.
“Yes. I believe the human body is a beautiful thing. I want to capture that. I draw men and women, any age, as long as they’re legal,” Tommy explains, just as Mike turns the page to find the drawing of a lovely young woman. The detail in her hair, her long elegant limbs, is breathtaking.
“Looking at these, I’d have to agree with you. I’ve seen life drawings before. I know everyone at art school does them. Is that what got you started?” Mike asks.
“No. A boyfriend I had asked me to draw him something beautiful. I thought he was beautiful, so I asked if I could draw him. He made a joke about the titanic film, asked me to ‘draw him like a French girl’. I said okay. Then we decided to really do it. I drew him, and we both really liked it. He let me use it for a class. After that I got a little bit obsessed. I think bodies are incredible,” Tommy explains, casually mentioning his sexuality. Mike knows he’d being a fool, but a part of him is pleased to find out that Tommy is attracted to men.
“Do you have trouble finding models?” Mike asks, flipping to other pages. There are bodies of all shapes and sizes, all shown in a new light.
“Sometimes. People can be shy about their bodies. I get that, I do. I wasn’t always body confident. But I see bodies for what they are now, and they’re wonderful things. Even our imperfections—they make us who we are, they tell stories. I just…It’s something I really see beauty in.” Tommy shrugs slightly, like he’s unsure of himself.
“These are beautiful, so I’ll have to agree with you. Not sure I could ever get my clothes off and let someone draw or paint me, not personally. I’ll leave that to young guys like you,” Mike says, rubbing his jaw self-consciously.
“Young bodies aren’t the only beautiful ones. And it’s not like you’re old, dude. I’d draw you. You have intense eyes, a good jaw line, broad shoulders. You’re very handsome. You’d be interesting to draw,” Tommy says simply, like he’s not just declaring that he’d like to draw Mike naked.
“You don’t want to see me naked, trust me.” Mike laughs, because come on, Tommy’s twenty-one. He’s practically a kid compared to Mike. A handsome, skilled kid who could get anyone to pose for him. He had no reason to resort to an old man like Mike.
“You seem to be one of those people with self-esteem problems. Trust me when I say you would make a great addition to my portfolio.” Tommy somehow makes the words sound filthy, like he’s talking about notches on his bedpost, not pages in a portfolio. But then he smiles, so warm and sweet and innocent, and Mike doubts Tommy was being dirty minded when he spoke.
“Well, for now I’ll have to turn down that offer. I don’t think Dia would want my ass hanging on the walls, and I intend to have your work in my gallery.” Mike has already made his mind up. The drawings are incredible. They’ll sell with ease. It makes sense to him as a businessman. It isn’t based remotely on the fact that he has a silly crush on this young artist.
“For real? You want to show my stuff? In a real show?” Tommy looks stunned.
“Yes, I do. But we’ll have to warn people not to bring children to the show. I think these drawings are artistic, but they might not be child friendly.” Not that Mike thinks children would be upset by them, but he doesn’t need the headache of angry parents complaining about the show.
“Thank you. This is really exciting. What do we do now?” Tommy asks.
“Well, between us, we’ll need to pick five pieces. If you whittle down all your work to your favourite ten pieces, then we’ll meet again, and I’ll pick my favourite five out of that. Then I’ll get them framed and sort out the prices for sale, my commission on sales.” Mike explains.
“Okay. I can do that. When do you want to meet again? I’ll start deciding as soon as I go home. I’ll do anything I can to help things along,” Tommy says in an excited rush.
“If we say the same time next week? I know it can take time to decide what pieces you like the best.” Mike surrounds himself with art, and is around a lot of artists. He knows from that how much a lot of artists care about their works, so it can be hard for them to pick favourites.
“I can do that. Should I make an appointment with Dia? Or just turn up?” Tommy asks.
“Best to tell her you’ll be coming back. She gets touchy if I do things too casually.” Mike rolls his eyes.
Tommy smiles. “I know her son Jimmy, so I know her pretty well. I can imagine she might give you hell for not being organized.”
Mike nods. “I’ve met Jimmy a few times. He’s a good kid.”
“He’s my age. We’re not kids.” Tommy snorts.
“Compared to me, you are.” Mike shrugs.
“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking?” Tommy asks.
Mike sighs. “I’m forty-six.”
“That’s not old. Sixty is old. Seventy is old. Being in your forties is the new thirty,” Tommy says firmly.
“I’m literally old enough to be your father,” Mike points out, feeling highly depressed about that little fact.
“Is that your subtle way of asking me to call you Daddy?” Tommy asks.
Mike’s mouth falls open in shock, and a split second later, Tommy puts both hands over his mouth, eyes wide. “I can’t believe I said that. And to someone I’m working with. I mean, I’m kind of working for you. Oh, my god, please still let me be in the show. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate. I just have kind of a twisted sense of humour.” He drops his hands to his laps and stares hard at them, cheeks stained red.
“Of course, you’re still in the show. I’m not that sensitive,” Mike says, trying to shake off the thought of what it’d be like to hear Tommy call him Daddy. That isn’t one of his kinks, but he’d be willing to try it if that meant he got a chance to be with someone like Tommy.
“Thank you. I just…I guess I got comfortable and forgot who I was talking to. I mean, is it okay to talk to you like that?” Tommy bites his lip, sucking his lip ring into his mouth, and Mike is pretty sure that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen anyone do.
“You don’t have to be formal with me. It’s not like I’m your boss. We’re just working together. And I like to be friends with my artists. I want to give you an opportunity to do well here, while making a little bit of money myself. I don’t see why we can’t be, well, friends,” Mike says, even though he’s not sure you could call the thoughts he’s been having friendly.
“I’d like that. You seem like a cool guy, and I don’t want to constantly worry about watching what I’m saying.” Tommy sighs.
“I’m not going to kick you out over a sex joke. I’m not some delicate little flower.” Mike laughs.
“No, you don’t seem delicate,” Tommy says, blue eyes
flashing slightly, and Mike doesn’t know what to read into that.
“Well, I’m sorry to have to rush you out, but I have other people coming in. It was really nice meeting you. I love your work and I look forward to working with you,” Mike says, offering his hand.
“Thank you. I’ll tell Dia I’ll be back.” Tommy shakes his hand, the silver ring on his right hand cold compared to the warmth of his skin. The tattoos on his hands are beautiful lines of colour, and Mike would love to get to see more of them.
“I’ll see you next week,” Mike says as Tommy takes back his portfolio.
“I look forward to it.” Tommy smiles, standing up. His smile makes him look kind of like an angel, whereas his tattoos give him more of a devil vibe. It’s an interesting combination.
“See you soon. Call in if you have any problems,” Mike offers.
“Thank you. I will.” Tommy leaves the office, and Mike watches him walk out the door, his tight jeans showing off his ass. Mike feels like a dirty old man for noticing, but he doesn’t look away.
It’s not long before Dia is letting in the next artist to be interviewed, and Mike tries to keep his mind off Tommy, but his thoughts keep drifting back to that sweet smile, those cheekbones, everything.
Mike finds a few good artists with different styles for the show, and by the time he goes for lunch, he’s pretty happy. He’s confident the show will be a success. He leaves the gallery and goes to a coffee shop up the street that does great muffins. He doesn’t ever eat a lot for lunch, too worried about the dreaded middle age spread.
He’s at the counter placing his order when someone taps him on the shoulder. Mike turns and finds himself face-to-face with Tommy.
“Hey. I saw you walk in. I have a table over there. Do you want to join me?” Tommy asks, pointing to a table littered with an open sketch book and a cup of coffee.
Part of Mike thinks that would be a bad idea, but the other part is saying what could be the harm?
“Sure,” Mike says to Tommy, then turns to the waitress. “I’ll have my order to eat in, please”
