Adoration

He stepped up to the couch and looked at her adoringly.  Too many times he'd watched her sleep and too many times he'd left without saying a word.  He'd slip between the sheets of his own bed to satisfy the overwhelming, unspoken desires.  But this time...it may have been the beer, who knows; this time he swore he wasn't backing down.

Kneeling beside the couch he leaned back on his heels to take in the vision before him.  Her sloping curve of a body was lying snugly nestled between the armrests of the couch.  The red upholstery (God it's ugly!) contrasted unmercifully against her skin, leaving it a creamy shade paler than usual

As his gaze wandered down her slender figure he shifted a little more weight to his knees and turned to get a better view of the unbelievable scene.  As if she was aware of his scrutinizing gaze the sleeping woman moved a little in her sleep.  The long thin thigh muscles, just under her skin, rippled slightly as she shifted in her sleep.  At once, he had to stifle a groan as the soft blanket, his blanket, slipped a little to reveal that she was wearing only a large t-shirt which had also worked it's way up and was now tangled enticingly around her tiny waist.

"Oh good Lord, your killing me babe…" He whispered softly while reaching up to brush a lock of crimson curls from her forehead.  "If you wake up while I'm doing this I hope you have the decency to kill me quickly."  He continued.

Slowly he moved the coffee table out a few inches to arrange for a better angle.  Once it was placed to his liking he perched himself on the edge of the table.  He took a final deep breath in an attempt to steel his nerves before he reached for his sketchpad and pencils.

He chose a lighter weighted pencil to start out with--working on the soft lines first, and boy were there lines, he thought.  His eyes felt as big as saucers as they took in all the shades and contours of the goddess that lay slumbering before him.

With nimble fingers he picked a darker pencil to accent the dark shadows under the (now splayed) blanket.  A few moments later the pencil finally slowed and complete silence was once again restored-no longer filled with the soft whispers of lead against paper.  He sat there for a moment checking his work for imperfections.  There were many of course, but to compare any recreation or interpretation to the "real deal" would be ridiculous.