May gets forgotten

May felt like the frog in boiling water as she watched them. Amelia’s poses were captivating, raw sexuality. It was as if she was transforming into a work of art before May’s eyes.

“May, you want to join?” Amelia called. “Everybody should enjoy being art.”

“Ha, no thanks,” May shot back. “I think I’ll keep my clothes.” Her ears felt hot. She couldn’t decide whether this was crossing its own kind of line, or if she could just fold it into the sin of yesterday’s events. A voice in the back of her head kept telling her to get up and leave, but it seemed that it was going to fall on deaf ears.

“Suit yourself.” Contrary to her alleged purpose, Amelia struck another pose, turning over and arching her back to push her incredible ass up into the air.

Elliott was immersed in his work, his brush moving expertly across the canvas as he captured Amelia’s essence. He didn’t say a word, much less turn to look at May. She was an afterthought in this place where she had thought she was the reason for coming together.