Her fingertips traced a curvaceous "Y" upon his bare skin. Payne chuckled softly to herself and rolled her hips around, biting her lip as her nakedness moved over his back where she sat, straddled.

The wetness was coming on again and Payne set her hands to work: gliding over the boy's back, gripping muscles at random and kneading them. She could feel his body become like the river, and she closed her eyes with a smile. Fingernails dug in and combed across his warm flesh; the boy moaned softly.

"You like that?" Payne inquired with a grin as she leaned forward, pressing her full, naked breasts against his back. Her tongue traced delicate patterns between his shoulder blades before closing with a kiss.

Tossing her hair out of her face, she rested her head upon his shoulder. "Put your arms front of you." The young man did so, and she brought her arms out over his, gripping his wrists and stretching her body.

The Tiger swished its tail and yawned.

Between her legs Payne began to feel that wanton throb beckoning her: the ache for penetration, the urgency for the eager tongue. She had fucked him, and it had been good -- surprisingly so. His regal mane of blonde hair had captivated her. She wanted to succumb to him, accept all his painful thrusts and marvel at his locks as they beat against his chest.

Payne's eyes opened to narrow slits as she remembered, with a moan, his mouth upon her breasts, his hair sending her skin into random fits of sensation.

The Arizona woman would come, and they would scalp him.

Above their naked bodies a tree's shadow-puppets danced upon the wall. Moonlight mingled with streetlight to paint her loft a ghoulish, nightmare landscape.

The Tiger rose and eyed its prey.

Payne padded past the French doors, and the propped, barren canvas, toward a wooden chest. She heard the boy turn his head and she smiled. "These are my tools -- to enhance sensation." He released a sound of acceptance as she carried the box toward him.

No, the boy would be no trouble at all. And when she was finished, Payne would use the blood and hair to paint his meaning.