Jazz and Steam

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As we pulled into the parking lot of the little warehouse, a converted art studio, I felt my nerves start to give me fits. For some reason I was almost afraid to see this many people without their clothes on.

As we walked in, that fear was... not confirmed. Jasmine’s bikini was not the most clothing in the room. Well, except for a few people, they mostly were dressed... although in a strange collection of clothes.

I watched a bare-chested guy with an airbrush working furiously on a tall lady with waist length black hair. She must have been at least 6’1” and he was painting her into a Zena costume! Looking around I felt my jaw drop as I realized that most of the clothes I was seeing weren’t cloth.

Jasmine dropped her robe by the door and walked over to where several ladies in various stages of paint-dress or undress were standing talking. She looked back and seeing me standing by the door, gestured for me to come join her.

“Flower, let me introduce you to the Village People.”

The ladies laughed but when I saw the various hats they had and some of what their ‘clothes’ looked like I realized that’s what they were going to be when finished.

“This is Tonya, Samantha, Jennifer, and our little Indian princess is Rosette. Ladies, this is Lavender, but just call her Flower.”

There seriously must have been a two-for-one blue light special on hugging me going this week. That several of the women were bare breasted come to me in the seconds after they turned me loose. Blinking I looked at Jazz’s face and saw her smiling.

“Flower here has just come out. In fact she’s never done more than kiss a girl.”

Suddenly I was being applauded. After the reaction of my family it was almost too much.

Jazz saw this and reached back to take my hand. “Come on, nude people! Lets get this show on the road!” she called out to the others in the warehouse.

One of the artists came over to her and I just caught part of what Jazz told him. I took a seat and watched him begin to turn her into the sexiest black swan I had ever seen. He had done feathers with paint that I could have sworn would have let her fly. Then her top’s strings were undone, and I saw both of those silky black n*****s; my breath started to quicken.

“So what do you want to be?” asked a voice to my side.

Turning, I saw one of the artist had his cart next to me.

“I could make you a white swan.” He looked over at Jasmine. “That way you two would match.”

My pulse raced. Looking over at Jazz, I saw her eyes on me. Her fingers went to her hips and with slow deliberation she slipped the two knots. I saw her standing not nude but... naked in front of me. My lips parted and I licked my lips when my eyes saw a perfectly trimmed triangle of wiry curls.

“Well?”

Looking back at the artist, I found myself nodding. My hands went to the bottom of my T-shirt without thought.

As he went to work on my skin, the cool feeling of the paint like powder hitting me I found myself watching the lovely black swan that was taking shape in front of me. Our eyes met and I saw her give me a long slow look up and down.

I blushed. The artist liked it and painted the pink in. I could have told him it was a waste of time. I didn’t think that blush was going to leave my face for years.

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