“I’m going to make a painting for the groom,” Dhalia told them, dancing to the
music with no clothes on. “And when we’re done, you’re going to get to keep this
masterpiece.”
She bent over and picked up a jar of blue paint. Tilting it, she let the paint drip
down her body.
“You’ll be like, ‘Salvador who?’ when I’m finished.”
She danced, poured another jar of paint across herself, and repeated the process
with six different colors, letting the empty jar fall to the tarp. Then she began
rubbing the paint on her body, letting the colors mix together.
She lined four canvases side by side on the floor and rolled her paint- covered
body against them.
Eric hooted and hollered through the entire performance. William kept glancing at
his father who had a huge smile on his face.
By the end, Dhalia had made a painting for each of the men. Paint covered every
inch of her.
After finishing, she put her coat back on and pulled off a wig, revealing short
blonde hair. She walked over to Eric for payment.
He pulled out his wallet, handed her a wad of twenty-dollar bills, and helped carry
her things out to her car.
“Are you guys keeping your paintings?” David asked.
“Probably not,” William said, looking at the one she'd given him. The multicolored
imprint of Dhalia’s butt cheeks was clearly visible. “I think Emily would probably
throw a fit.”
“I’ll take it,” his father said.
William sighed.