Da Vinci's Women Part I

She leaned over his shoulder and looked at his drawing. The clack of the cart selling meats and wine in casks was the only sound. The veins in his forearm, shades of blue and red, pulsated under the thick hair of his arm. She ran her fingers through the greasy locks of his grey hair and began massaging his shoulders.

"Thank you," he said. The gravel in his voice and the sweet smell of pipe and ale from the night before came with his breath. They had eaten a hen with onions and wine after the sun had set. The candle had dripped slow and burned out while they made love. "Why don't you sleep?" she said. "I will sleep when I'm ready."

"You will go to hell," she said.

"There is no hell."

"You don't know that."

"Foolish woman," he said. "Go back to sleep." He put the pen back in the quill with the black ink rippling and got up. Lifting his robe he urinated into the pot in the corner. "Come to bed," she said. "I will for a moment." The sun had risen and had lit up her belly.

"Come to bed."

He let his robe drop and walked to her. They made love and he fell asleep on his back. She covered him with a sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. Looking at his work she said a prayer to her mother and to God. She prayed for forgiveness and laid back next to him to sleep away the morning.