textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/caricatu.txt

Caricature
by scott

The street fair seemed like a cute idea. It was that kind of
neighborhood, the suburbia of green lawns, cats, dogs and kids. I
strolled aimlessly through the crowds, basking in the warm
ambiance and doing my best to forget Jeff. Being on my own
wasn't turning out to be a cakewalk, but it was infinitely
better than continued pandering to his whining indecisiveness and
adolescent behavior.

I hadn't been planning to actually buy anything, but the sign
caught my eye. "Caricatures!" it screamed in vibrant fluorescent
colors. "While U Wait -- $10.00." It was an interesting idea, and
I *did* have that empty spot on the wall now, but would it be
appropriate for work?

"Hi, Mrs. Thatcher! Thinking of getting your picture done?" It
was Tommy Parks, the kid who lived next door and mowed my grass
every week. As always, he wore only faded jeans and an equally
worn leather belt -- I often wondered what he did at school or
during the winter. A few more years and he'd be starring in his
own Diet Coke commercials.

I struggled to switch my brain into conversation mode, but he
evidently grew tired of waiting. "You gotta get one, they're
really cool! Com'on, my mom is the most awesome artist, I'm gonna
get one, too!" Bonnie Parks, an artist? She'd always
struck me as slightly weird, but I wouldn't have figured her for
this. It looked like my input wasn't really needed, anyway.
Tommy, apparently convinced I'd agree, had taken me in tow and it
was a case of follow or be pulled off my feet.

A trio of giggling girls, drawings in hand, was just clearing the
booth as we arrived; they looked happy enough with their
purchases. Bonnie looked up as Tom crowed, "Hey, Mom! Mrs.
Thatcher wants you to draw her! I told her you'd do a totally
awesome one for her!" She smiled, I managed a breathless "Hi!"
and plopped onto the chair. Tommy moved to where he could get a
view of the easel and tucked his thumbs into his belt.
I thought some light conversation might be in order, but Bonnie
just fixed this intense stare on me. I felt like she was looking
right through me, and after a few minutes I was feeling
distinctly uncomfortable and starting to squirm. Just when I
decided something must really have been wrong, she blinked,
picked up a pen, and began drawing furiously. Some minutes later
she laid the pens aside and began detaching the drawing paper
from the easel. A grinning Tommy came to trade spots with me and
I walked over to see my picture.

My purse dropped to the ground, and my jaw very nearly with it.
I'd expected some cartoonish drawing, but what I was looking at
was pornographic! It was me, all right, as perfectly drawn as if
I'd been photographed. But instead of sitting in my demure
sundress, I was on hands and knees, completely naked! I was
facing slightly away, legs spread, and you could see everything!
There were some discolored marks on my behind that could have
been smudges, and I was looking over my shoulder with a strange
expression that for some reason reminded me of Jeff. I looked
like a total slut; the picture was a complete distortion of me.

"I thought this was going to be a caricature!" I gasped. Bonnie
looked away from her examination of Tommy and favored me with a
brief smile. "Oh, but it is, my dear! *Anybody* can do a
physical caricature. But how many artists can capture the real
you inside so everyone can see it?" She turned back to her easel
and started drawing again. "But I'm not *like* this!" I
objected.

"No, it's perfect," cooed an unfamiliar voice. Some old lady had
come up and was looking at my picture! My face flamed and I tried
to hide the drawing, but she snatched it right out of my hands!
"Bonnie, I swear you get better every year. Don't you think so,
Sue?" She was showing it to another lady, who was nodding in
agreement! I was sure I'd die of shame, I wanted to run and hide,
but I couldn't leave without my picture. Now there was a whole
crowd of people, looking and me and Bonnie's
drawing!

I could feel me knees trembling when finally Tommy snatched the
paper from this girl who couldn't have been more than 10 years
old, earning a dirty look from her father, and returned it to me.
"You look like you've had a little too much sun, Becky," he said
to me, and began tugging on my arm. "That's 'Ms. Thatcher' to
you," I chided absently. "Yeah, sure. Hey, you wanna see my
picture?" He shoved it in front of my face.

God, another nude drawing. But this one was much different than
mine. He stood confidently erect, feet slightly apart, hands on
hips, a pose that was immediately familiar. There was a cruel
expression on his face, and he was rampantly erect! I felt
myself getting wet just looking at it. His penis was huge, it
couldn't *really* be that big... could it? Everything else was
drawn so accurately, but a boy wouldn't have one like that...
would he? I found myself glancing at his jeans as we walked.

I realized I'd walked through my front door, with Tommy still
right behind me. "Can I have my picture back, Becky?" Guiltily, I
looked up from the picture I'd been staring at and forced myself
to look at his face instead of his crotch. "'Ms.
Thatcher,' Tommy." Was there a bulge there? He grinned. "You want
to see it, don't you, Becky?" I tried to moisten my lips with a
tongue suddenly gone dry.

Casually he unfastened his belt and slowly slid it free of his
jeans. He began unbuttoning his fly. "Ah, T-Tommy..." I
stammered, then ran out of breath. The pictures and my purse slid
from my hands. The picture *was* accurate. "I think that will be
'Mr. Parks' to you, Becky." My vocal cords seemed
paralyzed, but my cunt certainly wasn't. He stepped out of the
jeans puddled on the floor, toward me.

"Go on, Becky, you know what to do." I watched him slowly run the
leather belt through his hands, then fold it in half. What did he
mean? His expression hardened until it matched the one Bonnie had
drawn, and he took another step forward. Suddenly I understood.
Quickly, I pulled off the sundress and removed my bra and damp
panties, then turned and crouched on the floor, breathing
heavily. It had never been like this with Jeff.

I clenched my behind, waiting for a blow that never fell, and
turned slightly to look over my shoulder. Bonnie was looking at
us through the front window. She smiled knowingly, and I felt a
wave of heat run through my body and collect in my crotch. Maybe
she *was* a better artist than I gave her credit for. There was
only one thing still wrong.

"Please, Mr. Parks?" I whispered. Tommy smiled and raised his
belt.