studied it from cover to cover, her teenaged mind becoming obsessed with the human body. Now when she looked at people she didn’t just see their outward appearance, but their bone structure and consequently she saw beauty in every face she observed.
Two hours later, she was still constructing Drusilla’s face on the canvas. Even though she’d been doing this for years it still amazed her, and felt somewhat miraculous, when from a blank slate an image emerged. She laughed, seeing that naughty expression in Drusilla’s eyes, which captured her personality. She had to admit that she had begun thinking of Drusilla as her own grandmother. She missed her grandmother, Renata, so much and in many ways Drusilla reminded her of her. Not so much how they looked but their indomitable spirits. She supposed that with age came wisdom.
It was getting dark outside when she began cleaning up after herself, sealing the tubes of oil paint, washing the brushes and removing the drop cloth from the floor.
After a soak in the tub she dried off and rubbed lotion into her skin. Completely nude, she stood in front of the full-length mirror. Her brown skin was mostly unscarred except for an inch-long scar on her right knee from when she was seven and fell from a tree she’d climbed in spite of being told not to by her parents. Her best friend at that time had been a boy named Pietro and he had loved climbing trees. She might not have defied her parents if he hadn’t accused her of being afraid of heights. She had to prove she wasn’t. Unfortunately, she got dizzy after climbing thirty feet into the tree and wound up losing her balance. The lush lawn had cushioned her fall for the most part, except for the knee which sustained a deep gash.
She carefully regarded her body in the mirror. She was neither obsessed with perfection nor too critical of herself. Her body was strong and healthy. That mattered most to her. Not that that attitude hadn’t been hard won. She’d gone through a period when she was self-conscious about her body. Many models who were always being judged by how much they weighed, and were stripped naked in front of designers, dressers and myriad other people in the fashion business, had to distance themselves from rude comments. If you were smart you began to take all snide remarks for what they were: thoughtless and petty. Her brown, long-limbed, fit body with its pert breasts and nicely rounded bottom would pass muster.
* * *
Her cell phone rang a little after seven. Eric said, “Are you dressed yet?”
Ana knew what that meant: he was taking the Harley for a spin tonight. She looked down at her slinky red dress. “No, I’m still trying to decide what to wear.”
“How would you like to go to Mario’s in Queens tonight? We love the place and there’s room to park the bike on the street.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ana said cheerfully. She didn’t feel much like wearing heels tonight anyway.
“See you in twenty,” said Erik, his voice husky.
Ana hung up the phone and went to her walk-in closet and began putting together an outfit conducive to a bike ride through the city.
She emerged ten minutes later wearing black jeans, black leather boots, and a red cashmere sweater. Just because she was going to be on the back of a Harley didn’t mean she couldn’t feel girly.
She’d checked the weather forecast earlier and it was going to be in the forties tonight. She chose a jacket with a warm lining and a knit cap to go over her simple braid down her back. A spray of her favorite perfume, which she walked through while it was still a mist in the air finished her preparations for tonight.
Erik was there on time, and when she opened the door her breath caught in her throat. He looked good in a suit, but he absolutely made her melt when he wore leather. His muscular body was made for jeans and biker boots. His black leather jacket was open and she couldn’t help running her hand inside it to caress his pectorals
Back in the Saddle (v5.0)