The brush dances lightly across my eyelid, a canvas for the art she practices daily
A tentative exhilaration simmers within me at her soft feather light strokes of color and all my focus is concentrated on that inch of skin and her voice.

close your eyes now open look up try not to blink if you can  sorry! 
you're really good with this

bubbles as airy as her touch fill my chest and a glimmer of a smile appears no matter how much I try not to move

subtly raising my eyebrows hoping to help her efforts and taking the opportunity to look into her eyes

she looks me over "do you want me to try eyeliner?" Yes
"If you want"  such casual nonchalance you'd almost think my disinterest was real.
a slow swipe of black and now, she is satisfied
you look so pretty

I tear my gaze away to look in the mirror
"unless.." my eyes flick back expectantly
"you want me to do your lips too?"
Oh god please  "Sure"
Her hands fumble for slim tubes of pigment and then
she leans forward, color between her fingertips
my lips part for the application of
raw ochre burnt orange blazing red
Such a gentle touch it’s hard to imagine
any color is transferred at all

I see her pupils widen and she is
closer and closer until
the unbelievable
kiss