Lorraine
"Is this okay?" I asked, sitting on the stool in nothing but my bedsheet, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.
Owen slowly looked me up and down, twice, before coming over and adjusting me slightly. My leg, my arm, my chin. His touch felt like electricity against my skin. I nearly gasped. He stood back again and gave me one more once over before nodding, satisfied with my positioning, not seeming to realize the effect he just had on me.
"Just let me know if you need a break or need to stretch." Owen said, taking his seat and picking up his pencil.
"How long does this normally take?"
"Depends. Minutes, hours, days. The more details I add, the longer it takes. The bigger the picture too."
"Where did you learn to draw?" I asked as he began.
"My mother liked to sketch, t
