FIC The days after the first kiss, part 11 (Spencer) G

Author: astabasta
Rating: G
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Spencer
Summary: Spencer's first art lesson with Emily.

Spoilers/Warnings: None

"...and this is where I play," Emily says as she proudly enters the last room on the tour of her parent's house.

Mesmerized, Spencer walks into the middle of the garage that has been transformed into an art studio. Hundreds of paint tubes and containers line the wall shelves; blank, partially and fully painted canvases of various sizes rest on easels, lean against the wall or lie on the floor. Paint is splattered in places it shouldn't be.

"How did you get your parents to let you do this to their garage?"

"Well, by the time I was six, they got tired of me painting and drawing all over their walls so they banished me to the basement. When I outgrew that, they threw me in here."

"This is so...," Spencer is suddenly distracted by an image that she recognizes. "Have I seen that before?"

"Ya, I sent you a detail of it the other day. The upper left hand corner to be exact."

"How did you make all of these? I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I'll show you," Emily says as she takes jars of paint from the shelves, pours and mixes them. "Take your clothes off."

"What?"

"And your shoes, too"

With her back turned, Emily doesn't even notice that Spencer is paralyzed by the directness of Emily's instructions.

"I'm sure there's something in there that'll fit you," Emily says pointing to a box piled with paint-splattered clothing. "The bathroom's down the hall."

When Spencer returns, a blank canvas rests on an easel and several saucers filled with different colored paints are arranged on the table. Mellow rock music plays from a boom box that Spencer had not noticed amid all the clutter.

"You look good in anything, don't you," Emily says at the sight of Spencer in disheveled attire: spotted floodwater pants, an over-sized T-shirt, and bare feet. "Come here, give me your hands."

Emily takes Spencer's outstretched hands into her own and massages them, concentrating on every touch she applies: pulling on each finger, kneading Spencer's palm, rotating each wrist and interlocking her fingers with Spencer's.

"A little warm up," Emily says, briefly looking up a Spencer, then returning her focus to the hands. The warm breath of Emily's words touch Spencer's face while Spencer's hands just about melt under the pressure points that Emily is applying to them. Spencer notices how freckly Emily's face is, how dark her eyebrows are compared to the color of her auburn hair; notices how pale her skin is, how cute her nose is, how naturally moist her lips are. How different she is from Ashley. She doesn't wear gloss. Emily suddenly looks up at Spencer and their eyes meet. Emily smiles and looks back down at Spencer's hands intent on giving her a good massage. Spencer breaks out into a sweat.

"Are you ready to get your hands wet?" Emily asks as she leads Spencer to the table of paints. "So I thought finger-painting would be a good exercise for us to begin with. You know, free you up a bit and help you think beyond a bowl of fruit."

Remember when you were a kid and it was so cool just to get your hands dirty and squishy in all that gooey paint? No restrictions, no coloring in the lines, only ultimate free expression even if the end result did look like a dark mess of colors."

Spencer touches each saucer of paint with one tentative finger as if she's identifying each color for the first time. She touches her finger to the middle of the barren canvas and paints a vertical streak of color down the center.

"Okaaaay," Spencer says. "Let's try something different. Close your eyes and spread your hands open, palms down."

Spencer follows the direction with her full attention and trust. She senses Emily moving about her then feels Emily's body press up against her back; first her breasts again Spencer's shoulder blades, then Emily's pelvis on her behind. Spencer's eyes flash open like she's been struck with a bolt of lightening.

"Keep your eyes closed," Emily giggles. "Relax."

Relax!?

When she closes her eyes, Spencer becomes very attuned to the music playing in the background and aware of how sensual its lyrics are. Emily places each of her hands atop Spencer's and guides them down to the saucers of paint. An unsettling warmth seeps from Emily's palms to the back of Spencer's hands and from Emily's arms along her own. Sploosh!, Spencer's hands are submerged into cool sticky fluid that oozes between her fingers and bubbles under her skin. Splat!, Spencer's palms land flat against the surface of the canvas.

"Now smoosh it around," Emily encourages. "To the rhythm of the music."

Over the next few minutes, Spencer lets Emily's hands guide her own all about the canvas as they sway to the music and smear colors haphazardly, carelessly, limitlessly.

"Now open," Emily commands.

Spencer assesses her work, "That's pretty lame."

"That's not the point," Emily says. "How did you feel when you were doing it?"

"Pretty good," Spencer blushes. "Playful. That's it. It felt playful. Fun."

"You'll get better at this," Emily says endearingly and dabs paint on Spencer's nose. "If you let me give you some lessons."

"I'd like that," Spencer answers placing a spot of paint on Emily's nose.

"Then I'll see next weekend."

"I don't think I can pay you."

"Don't worry, we can figure something out," Emily says thoughtfully. "You know, some way to pay me back. Something that could work out for the both of us."

Emily strokes a rainbow of color across Spencer's cheek. Spencer feigns shock as she feels the sticky fluid cover more of her face than she expected. As Spencer raises her hand to deliver a similar mark to Emily's face, Emily grabs hold of Spencer's wrists. They giggle as Spencer tries to get out of Emily's grip, pushing and pulling at each other. In their struggle, Emily pushes Spencer against a table, their bodies barely a hair width apart. Emily moves in closer. Their shortened breathes falling rapidly and warm on each other's faces.

"Em?"

Startled, Emily turns sharply, releasing Spencer's wrists.

"Does your friend want to stay for dinner?" Emily's mother asks, standing in the doorway that leads from the garage to the house.

"Dinner?" Spencer asks surprised. Her cheeks are bright red from her struggle with Emily and from the sheer fright of almost getting caught. But we weren't doing anything. Were we?

"Thank you, but I have to leave," Emily says. "My family always has dinner together."

"You could start dinner without me, Mom," Emily says. "I'll take Spence home."