Craving Kisses - David Bowie
You are David Bowieâs makeup artist, and he has a new makeup idea heâd like you to try for tonightâs showâŚ
âDo send her in, Iâm ready for her now.â, David told his personal assistant. She left the room after his request, and promptly fetched you, Davidâs makeup artist for the tour. As you entered, you were greeted with a pensive smile from Mr. Bowie. You made your way over to the makeup chair where he already sat, ready for you to pretty him up.
âI was wondering if we could try a slightly different look for tonightâs show. And by slightly, I mean completely different.â, David asked you, cheekily delivered and all.
Being the adaptive professional you are, you swiftly agreed, âAbsolutely, David. What did you have in mind?â
David did not initially answer you with words, but instead with an action. He reached out for a bright red lipstick residing on the countertop, and applied it to his lips. He then stood up, getting close enough to the vanity mirror, then beginning to pepper said mirror in perfectly placed lipstick kisses.
You watched, confused. And then his words came:
âThe mirror is my face. My lips are your lips.â
You froze. It was hard enough to touch his face with just your brushes, or worse, hands on a normal day. To pepper his face with kisses from your lips and remain normal about it? It seemed impossible.
As if sensing your nervousness, which to be clear was quite obvious, he spoke again.
âItâs just me, itâs just art. Nothing to be afraid of, darling. I donât bite- unless you want me to.â, he playfully added. He knew your response would be that of a flustered one. And flustered you were.
Unsure what to even say back to him, you slowly grabbed the lipstick from his hand, and started applying it on yourself. He cheered as you did such, and smugly awaited your touch.
âWhere would you like me to start, David?â, you shyly asked him.
âHere love, Iâll just point and you just pucker, okay?â, he replied and you nodded profusely. Probably a little too profusely.
The first kiss was on his forehead.
His long, pale, finger pointed to the center of his forehead, lightly tapping there until you made contact. You cautiously started to lean closer to him, your eyes fixed on his, his eyes fixed on your lips, your lips ready to pucker, his lips resting in a smirk. You could hear him whispering âAny day now, sweetheartâ, and just as he did so, you found your lips crashing into his face, a soft murmur you could have sworn was a moan escaping his lips as you did so. As you pulled back, you were certain your face was red as a tomato. Yes it was âjust artâ, but it was so intimate, so personal, your lip print adorning his face. He looked beautiful with just the single kiss on his face, but he wanted more. And he made sure you knew he wanted more, by tapping his left cheekbone next.
It wasnât confidence, instead more of an experience thing (now having done this once before) that lead this cheekbone kiss to happen much quicker than the last. You let this one linger a little longer, and David surely noticed as he chuckled slightly as you pulled away again.
You slowly started to gain a rhythm. Tap. Kiss. Tap. Kiss. Re-apply lipstick. Tap. Kiss. The more you kissed him, the more you found yourself getting comfortable around him. It seems he too could sense this, so he started pointing to face-adjacent locations for you to decorate. He started with his jaw, his ears, then his neck, to almost his chest. By now, he had thought it clear that his intentions were lustful. But yet again being the professional you are, you still managed to convince yourself that this was just another makeup gig. Just another pay check. You were about to be proved wrong.
He pointed once again to his chin, which slightly perplexed you, seeing as you had already kissed him in that spot. Not wanting to lose momentum though, you leaned in without question. As your lips approached landing, Davidâs head suddenly jolted down, ensuring that your lips met his lips, instead of meeting his chin. He smiled into the kiss, and although it startled you, your increasing desperation and hunger for him allowed you to get lost in it all. Neither of you pulled away for a while, instead you began bringing yourselves closer to one another, him grasping your face, and you weaving your fingers through his hair. When you did finally pull away from each other, there were no words from either one of you. Intense eye contact and heavy breathing told the both of you everything you needed to know.
He came close to you once again, and whispered in your ear: âafter the show.â


















