Chapter Four - With Art It's Kinda Complicated...
Marie slammed her bedroom door behind her and dropped back against the mahogany wood in relief. Ah, she was free at last!
Trying to teach her lessons had been almost impossible that morning and she had received more than one odd look from her young students, no doubt puzzled as to why she kept flushing bright red every so often for no apparent reason. Thank god none of them were telepathic like Jean or the Professor! If they had of been Marie would have had no choice but to get someone else to cover, with the excuse of feeling unwell, because there was no way a child of ten could be exposed to any of the images that had been flashing through her mind all morning.
Images of Logan.
Naked Logan.
Hot muscularly naked Logan, completely at her mercy.
At least...her paintbrushes mercy.
Her eyes darted across to her bedside clock and she felt her stomach lurch in nervous anticipation.
Completely at her mercy...in approximately fifty minutes!
She took a deep breath. Could she really go through with this?
Anxiously chewing down upon her plump bottom lip she ran a hand through her hair, frowning thoughtfully. Shouldn't she just be honest and tell Logan how she felt about him? It would be a whole lot easier...
Her eyes dimmed gloomily. But if he turned her down could she live with the rejection? Could she live with the torture of seeing him day after day knowing what had transpired between them? Or worst, could she risk losing him completely if her actions provoked him into running again?
No, she decided resolutely. This was the only way. If Logan felt anything for her, a scenario like this might be just enough to encourage him into making a move. Being naked around a woman had to arouse him to some degree; he was a man after all! (and a particularly hot blooded one at that!).
And if by some cruel twist of fate he really didn't fancy her...well...she would just paint him anyway. As planned. She'd be crushed, to say the least, but nothing would have changed. Logan shouldn't suspect a thing.
She huffed childishly.
Although if that bastard didn't make a move, she might find herself throwing self-control out of the window and jumping him regardless, and she wondered how quick she'd have to be at tying him to the chair before he attempted to fight back.
With an image of a tightly bound and submissive Logan lingering tantalisingly in her subconscious, she hurried off into the bathroom to shower, wash her hair and generally beautify herself for the rapidly approaching sitting.
Logan peered down at his watch and realised that there was exactly fifty minutes to go until he had to be at the studio. Fifty minutes before his whole future with Marie could change forever. For the better or the worst.
He had never felt more anxious in his life. At least the life he had memories of. And he found it slightly disconcerting that an eighteen year old mere slip of a woman could prove to have such an intense hold over him. Forget that beautiful smile, that gorgeous body or that sassy personality; her very existence rendered him powerless. Right now he could face Sabretooth with less apprehension.
He shook his head in disbelief yet at the same time couldn't stop a hint of a smile shiver across his lips.
Only she could make discomfort feel bittersweet.
Realising that he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, he stubbed out his cigar on a tree root, stood up, rolled the cricks out of his neck and turned to set off back to his room for a shower and some mutton-chop grooming.
Alone in her studio Marie looked around her in a panic. Chair! She needed a chair! Where was a damn chair when she needed one? She hurried out into the hall and quickly scanned its length, taking note of each closed door and trying to recall the function and contents of each room.
Her eyes eventually settled on the door that boasted a rather swish gold plaque labelled: Ororo Munroe: School Counsellor.
Yes...that would do! They'd be plenty of comfy chairs in there.
Praying that Storm was in the middle of teaching a class she knocked gently and to her relief there was no answer. Hoping the door wasn't locked - there were a lot of confidential files in there after all - she tried the handle.
Phew! Unlocked!
Marie peeked her head around the door and immediately spied the perfect candidate: a well-padded, high backed chair that was positioned opposite Storm's desk. More mahogany wood, she despaired, realising that it was going to be heavy and awkward to move, but she doubted Logan would want to plant his naked ass on one of the less yielding classroom chairs.
She had dragged the Victorian monstrosity half way to the studio, scuffing an alarming amount of carpet along the way, when she suddenly heard a chuckle.
Cringing, she looked up to see Logan watching her in amusement. Leaning casually against the nearest wall, muscular arms bulging deliciously as he folded them across his equally tasty chest, he grinned. "Need some help, kid?"
"Does it look like I'm having fun here?" she spat back, embarrassingly conscious of the fact that not only would her face resemble a tomato by now from all the exertion but her shower had been a complete waste of time since she was now sweating buckets.
As he quickly came to her assistance, that infamous eyebrow of his performed its usual salute. "A throne wasn't really necessary, ya know."
"If your ass wasn't so big I wouldn't need to be lugging such a big ole chair now, would I?" she fumed and instantly regretted it. Sighing deeply, she met his gaze ruefully. "Sorry, Logan. I just get a bit irritated when I'm flustered."
"Apology accepted."
"Your ass isn't big."
"I know."
"It's nice and pert actually."
"Yeah, that too."
Marie tutted, pretending to be unimpressed. "Modest man, aren't you?"
Offering her only a smirk in response Logan lifted the chair as if it were as light as driftwood, although his face betrayed a subtle grimace at the weight. "Can ya get the door for me?"
Marie hurried across to hold open the studio door, trying not to inhale like some dreamy-eyed adolescent as he squeezed past her.
"Where d'ya want it?"
Anywhere with you, she thought lustily as she gestured innocently to a cleared space at the far corner of the room, opposite her easel and naturally lit by two small skylights. A backdrop of thin red velvet that Marie had hastily tacked to the wall only minutes earlier completed the sitting area.
Logan relieved himself of the chair with a grunt. "Fuck, that's one heavy bitch of a chair!"
Marie shrugged. "You know the Professor. He likes his Victorian décor. Frowns upon places like Ikea."
"Yeah, well he's got the dough to fund his posh tastes. Most ordinary people have to settle for Ikea."
Marie was genuinely surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd even know what Ikea was."
"Been known to flick through a catalogue or two in my time," Logan confessed half-heartedly.
Marie didn't know whether to take him seriously or not but the imagery his words conjured made her burst out laughing. "I can just picture it! The Wolverine brooding over an Ikea catalogue with a beer and cigar in some dark seedy bar - just like that one in Laughlin City!" She literally had tears in her eyes. "Sure you weren't reading one when we first met? Perhaps that was why you were so pissed with that guy - he was interrupting your sofa section!"
Logan feigned a scowl. "Want me to pose for ya or want me to turn around and walk away - forget the whole thing?"
Marie raised her hands defensively. "My apologies again!"
She did feel bad for teasing him but was also grateful for the banter because it had helped settle her nerves a little. Although now Logan was actually here in the studio and that perfect chair was beckoning, she was rapidly losing her cool again.
Logan also eyed the chair with interest. "So what happens now? Do I get a little room to de-robe in?"
"So he can be modest," Marie tried to joke but the very idea of him stripping off had re-activated the butterflies in her stomach. She pointed to a wicker screen. "You can pop behind there. I'll...er...I'll turn away when you're ready to sit in the chair." She smiled weakly. "You'll also find an ashtray on the stool. You know...like what we discussed yesterday..."
Logan looked suddenly thoughtful, then a little concerned. "Yeah, right. Thanks."
When he disappeared behind the lengths of wicker Marie seriously had to hold back a giggle. It turned out that he was marginally taller than the screen and a few inches of his hair kept poking above it in its usual crazy disarray, bobbing up and down in time with his undressing like some sort of comedic display.
To take her mind off it and the fact that every movement would mean Logan was closer to becoming completely naked, Marie concentrated on her utensils, checking that she had the adequate colours for mixing, that her jar of water was fresh, her pallets clean, and that she had a decent selection of brushes and sponges.
She finally turned to her easel where she had already stretched and prepared the empty canvas. Her paint splattered smock hung on a hook below it and she retrieved it and slipped it on. Not very sexy she accepted with a shrug, but she still didn't know how this was all going to turn out. If she was just going to end up painting Logan she didn't want to risk ruining her clothes - she had a reputation for being a very messy worker!
"Um...I'm ready..." Logan suddenly called out, voice uncharacteristically placid, from behind the screen.
Marie's eyes widened and she took yet another long breath. "I'm turning away," she reassured as she directed her gaze towards the door.
"No peeking," Logan teased.
Despite her rapidly increasing heartbeat and burning cheeks his words made her smile. "No peeking," she promised.
"Comin' thru."
She heard movement. Logan walking across the room. And then...
"Shit, hang on. Forgot the ashtray."
Her smile widened and she felt giddy from all the contradicting emotions sweeping through her.
More movement. Then Logan was making his way across the room again. She could hear the chair creak as he was presumably making himself comfortable. Marie had never envied a piece of furniture more.
"OK...ya can look now."
Marie found herself frozen to the spot. Her heart was thudding nauseatingly in her chest now and her throat had gone painfully dry.
"Marie? I'm sittin'..."
You can do this, she told herself encouragingly. You can to do this. Just turn slowly, act casual and blasé, as if you paint gorgeous hunks all the time...
"You OK, Marie?" Logan sounded genuinely concerned. There was no innuendo or teasing in his voice this time.
"Fine," she managed, little more than a squeak.
Mentally composing herself she started to turn.
to be continued...