The volunteer woman Renji was following pushed open the heavy door to the painting room. She stepped in first and he followed.
'Woah.'
It was a vast, pristine white expanse, obviously funded by Mr. Hoshizawa's money. The walls soared high, and the lighting was modern, glowing softly over the polished hardwood floor.
On the left were tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the space with natural light and offering a view of the manicured gardens outside. Even the one Renji had been hiding behind.
Linseed oil and fresh paint was the scent that filled the air, while the gentle clatter of brushes and the rustle of canvas created a soothing atmosphere.
Easels stood in neat rows, each station equipped with a rolling cart stocked with high-end acrylics, watercolors, and oils in every hue imaginable, their caps gleaming like jewels.
Painters worked at their separate lines, hunched over canvases as they painted, others prepared palettes with meticulous care.
Renji was led to his own booth, a cozy corner station with a sturdy wooden easel, a pristine 24x36-inch canvas propped up, and a paintboard loaded with an array of brushes.
"Here you go," the woman said, gesturing with a smile. "All yours. You can get to work when you're ready."
Renji nodded, setting his schoolbag down. He inspected the brushes. Their tips were fine, with broad flats, and new filberts, his tray of vibrant paints looked neat enough.
Just how he liked it.
Other painters glanced his way, some with raised eyebrows, others with quick nods as they welcomed the new recruit.
A friendly voice broke the silence as a stocky man with a paint-splattered beard leaned over from the next booth.
"Hey, new guy! Name's Taro. Welcome to the madhouse! Don't mind the mess; it's all part of the art!" He chuckled, returning to his chaotic swirl of reds and yellows.
Renji didn't say anything to him. After reading multiple hentai and manga, he'd learned to be unreasonably wary of old men.
He stared at the canvas.
'What the hell am I gonna paint? It's been months since I touched a canvas. What if I suck? That sample I showed them was my best work; if I don't make one as good as it, they'll think I'm a fraud!'
His stomach churned, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared at the blank canvas. It felt like the whiteness was mocking him.
But then he thought of something, something he knew Mrs. Hoshizawa won't be able to ignore.
Renji smiled at his own genius and dipped his brush into a yellow paint.
Hours blurred. Renji was almost done with his painting.
His fingers ached, smudged with paint, as he added the finishing touches.
Around him, other painters moved on; Taro was already sketching his next piece, a chaotic cityscape, while the blue-aproned woman worked halfway through a floral still life, her tongue poking out in concentration.
Renji wiped his brow, pulling his head back to admire his work.
Then he heard the door creak open.
At first, Renji assumed it was just another volunteer. But then he smelled something wonderful; an intoxicating, expensive flowery perfume, rich with jasmine and rose.
It arrested his senses.
His eyes widened, his heart skipping as he froze. Only one person in this place could wear such a beautiful perfume.
A volunteer's voice cut through the hum, "Go on with your work, everyone. Mrs. Hoshizawa is just here to admire, like she always does."
Renji's pulse thundered in his ears. 'She's here… actually here! I knew it! I was right to pick the painting job. My plan's falling into place. Please, let her pass my booth!'
He pretended to be focused on his work as his gaze crept toward her.
She was gliding past the other stations, her presence magnetic.
It was astonishing to Renji that someone so sexy and MILFy could walk with such grace.
There was a sway in the way she moved. Her fat, round ass strained against her skirt. Renji was jealous of the fabric of her clothes.
It got to hug every curve of her voluptuous body.
Even her hair, as purple as unripe grapes, cascading behind her like a silken waterfall, resting on her big ass.
Her blouse stretched over her voluptuous breasts, their fullness a cock-rising tease beneath the modest covering, the outline of her nipples faintly visible as she breathed.
Even her thighs, those thick and powerful thighs. They flexed with each step, the skirt riding up slightly to reveal a hint of toned calf.
And she was so beautiful too.
Renji's cock twitched, a hungry ache building as he watched, entranced.
Distracted, his brush slipped, and caused a jagged streak of orange to mar his painting.
"Shit!" he cursed under his breath.
That outburst caught Hana's attention. Her warm lavender eyes turned to his direction and met his.
'Oh fuck.'
Renji snapped his head away, cheeks burning, his heart pounding like a drum.
Slightly amused, Hana paused, tilting her head with a gentle smile, her voice soft and motherly. "Is everything okay?"
He slowly turned his head to her and nodded rather quickly, "Y-Yes…"
His voice sounded like a mouse. He gripped the easel, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Hana's smile widened, sensing his nervousness, her motherly instinct kicking in as she approached his booth.
Renji's heart beat even faster.
'She's coming… she's coming! Oh God, she's right here!'
Her perfume enveloped him, the scent fucking his heart.
When she stopped beside her, his slender frame couldn't hide the fat ass that protruded from behind, and the heavy breasts that protruded in front.
But rather than saying anything, Hana was only staring. Her lovely eyes were locked onto his painting, wider than they usually were.
She was shocked.
Her lips parted in awe as if she'd glimpsed heaven.
Renji's art was beautiful. It was a sunrise blazing over the peak of a lonely mountain, golden rays piercing a violet sky.
Cunning Renji. He had planned this.
He had smartly imitated the name of the organization and painted a sunrise shining over the peak of a lonely mountain.
He knew it would attract Mrs. Hoshizawa. Touch her on a personal level.
Hana mumbled, "It's beautiful…" stepping closer, her gaze unwavering, her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer.
She leaned in, her purple hair brushing the canvas's edge, her stunning face alight with admiration.
The organizer woman, hovering nearby, chimed in, "That's the new volunteer, Renji. He's apparently a very gifted painter."
Hana's eyes softened, her voice a velvet caress. "That he is. This is beautiful."
She looked down at Renji, his body stiff with anxiousness, his knuckles white on the brush. "You look so nervous," she said, her tone warm. "Why, when you've made such a beautiful piece?"
Renji cleared his throat, his voice shaky. "Thank you…" He shifted, avoiding her gaze, his mind reeling from her proximity.
She tilted her head, her smile curious. "Is it because it's your first time here, or just your first time painting in a public space?"
He swallowed, forcing a weak grin. "Both…"
She giggled.
It was such a sweet sound. Light and motherly, her breasts jiggling slightly under the blouse, the motion sending a jolt through Renji.
He fell hard for that laugh. But he also couldn't stop peeking at her curves: those thick thighs, that fat ass, those luscious tits.
He wanted to bury his face in them.
Hana's eyes dropped to his uniform, and she finally noticed the Seihou High badge.
"Oh my," she exclaimed, her smile widening. "You go to my son's school."