Artist Ch. 03

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Angela White

“Ah, here you are, Jane, I’ve been looking for you for weeks!”

I looked up to see the strawberry blond from the park. The park I had been avoiding for two weeks. The girl I’d been avoiding. Her smile was mysterious, like Mona Lisa’s. Her accent was impossible to place, sort of French with a little British and maybe a little Swedish intonation. She smelled of fresh cut grass and flowers.

“You don’t like the other part of the park any more?”

I blushed crimson. I’d been too guilty to go back after that day. That night, I had been disappointed by my husband for the first time. I’d spent the next few weeks trying to get interested in him, but I felt distant, distracted. He was beginning to question my excuses, my being tired every night. I was too tired even to fake orgasms.

What had I done?

I found my voice, or at least my whisper. “No, I just needed a change in scenery.”

She hesitated. “Was Marie too much for you? She can be a little … direct.” She smiled languorously at me.

I turned even redder and looked away. “No, I just, um, had second thoughts.” Actually, I had had hundreds, no, millions of thoughts. What was I thinking, having sex with a stranger? A woman? What was wrong with my husband? What was wrong with me? Why was I thinking about the artist all day? Why was I thinking about the blond currently standing over me all day?

“I can imagine. Marie can make thinking, well, difficult.”

“Marie? Is that her name? She was incredible, an artist sexually as well as drawing.”

“I could see from her drawings a big change in you.”

“I’m sorry?”

She laughed, gently. “You look different now than you do in her drawings of you from before she took you to her studio. And, of course, the after picture is very different.” She gave me a tentative smile.

Would I never stop blushing? I looked at her face. She was staring at me, almost as if trying to see that sated-and-aroused look in my eyes.

“May I sit here with you?”

I swallowed. “Yes. I guess so. What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth.” She pronounced it almost like “Eleezabet”. She sat with me, not too close but close enough that I was aware of her breathing. Of the scent of her hair. Of her breasts rising as she breathed. Of her nipples barely visible through her pale green silk top, peeking out under the lapels of her blazer.

“Marie, she can be so infuriating. One day all she wants is to draw me. The next day she is using me as bait. Sometimes she will make love with me, but usually she just wants to watch me with someone else.” She was blushing, too.

“I would watch you.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “I mean, if you would let me. If you wanted me….” I looked away. “To watch you, I mean.”

She took my hand, brought it to her lips. “I would want you to do more than watch.”

I canlı bahis could hardly breathe. “I’ve been imagining touching you since … since I first saw you in the summer.”

She smiled, shyly. “I know. I’ve been posing for you as much as for Marie.”

I stared at her. “How did you know?”

“I could see you wanting me. Sometimes I caught you staring. Sometimes your breathing.” She looked down, smiling. “Your breasts are so beautiful when you’re aroused. Your skin, too.”

I sat thinking for a long time. Then I took her hand, kissed it. “What do we do?”

She touched my face, then kissed my palm, my fingertips. “What would you like for us to do?”

“I wish I knew. No, I do know, I wish I didn’t want you so much. It complicates things.”

“I know. You are married, and I am living in a room in Marie’s studio. She usually goes home to her husband at night.”

“Her husband?”

“Yes. You don’t know this about her?” She smiled a little sadly. “I am not surprised. He knows nothing about me, or you, or the other women she has had in the studio.”

I pondered this for a long moment. “Where is she now?” My heart was pounding.

“Who knows? She may be home, or seducing someone in the park, or in the studio.”

I stammered, “we could go to your room.”

“Do you want to see Marie?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

She thought a bit. “Frank will know if she is there.”


“The doorman.”

“He knows a lot about what happens in that building.”

“He does.” She smiled ruefully. “He owes me a favor. Let’s ask him if she is there.” Taking my arm, she steered me to Central Park West, to Marie’s building.

As we came in the lobby, for an instant Frank looked surprised, then the amused look came back over his face. Elizabeth looked up toward the ceiling, and gave him a slightly questioning look; he shrugged and shook his head slightly. She took my hand and led me to the elevator.

As the doors closed, she caressed my face and hair. We stood there, she looking in my face, my eyes downcast, trying not to stare at her breasts. Cupping my chin, she raised my gaze until I met her bright blue eyes. She leaned in to brush my lips with hers, lifted my hand inside her blazer to her breast. I closed my eyes as I tugged her crinkly nipple through her top. I gingerly touched her lips with my tongue, was met with the soft tip of her tongue just touching mine. She tasted sweet, jasmine tea with just a bit of honey. We only broke away when the doors started to open.

She led me across the tile floor to the only apartment door on the floor, fumbled a little with her keys, and let me into the entry foyer. She hung my cardigan beside her blazer in the hall closet. We turned away from the studio and into the kitchen, where she wordlessly busied herself making tea, rinsing bahis siteleri raspberries, readying a tray. Taking it, she led me to a lovely small bedroom off the corridor. She set the tray on the secretary desk.

I looked around. The soft carpet was a pale cream color, cut with a complex geometric pattern. The bed was a dark wood with a canopy in lace, a flowery duvet, creamy soft pillows. A graceful elegantly simple love seat was near a window. There was one drawing of her, framed, on the wall over the divan. Even in pencil, you could see the flush of her skin, the taut breasts, the immediate post-orgasm breathing, the sweat glistening on her, the light dew on her pale pubes that meant someone had been kissing her there just moments before. “Did Marie do that?”

She smiled enigmatically. “The drawing, or the orgasm?”

I blushed again, deeper than ever, and sighed. “I could tell who did the drawing.”

“The drawing only. The orgasm came from a stranger. I never saw her again.”

“Did you want to?”

She smiled, sadly. “I don’t know. No. I was thinking of you as she was doing it.”

She approached with a few raspberries. Placed one on my tongue. I held it there for a moment, with my eyes closed, and she leaned in to kiss me, sharing the berry as we crushed it with our tongues. Once again she placed my hand on her breast, squeezing my fingers harder on her nipple. Her other hand was skilfully undoing the buttons on my blouse, slipping up my bra to touch my nipple. I could scarcely breathe, desperate to keep my eyes open and see her, but they kept closing to kiss her deeper.

Just as suddenly, she took a step back to look at me. I was aware of having one bare breast, one with the cup just bearly hanging on, a little raspberry juice on my chin. All I knew was I wanted to see her. All of her. Touch her. I fumbled with the mother-of-pearl buttons holding her blouse closed, opened it to see her pale breasts, the flush on her chest, the nipples and areolas rose colored, standing, demanding attention. I slipped the silk away from her collar bones, stroked her underarms and arms as I let it fall to the floor. Although I was reluctant to let her turn away for even a moment, I turned her to the side so I could undo the button and clasp holding the zipper in the olive skirt, slid it down her legs, and drew down her slip and panties.

A golden ray of sunlight fell directly on her light downy pubes, and the scent of her as her panties were lowered seemed to fill the room. She undid my skirt, slipping it and my underclothes down my thighs in a single smooth movement, and then, with the barest of touches on my hip, guided me to the love seat, never unlocking her eyes from mine. Taking my fingers to her lips, she playfully licked and suckled each finger in succession, then guided my hand to her damp curls as she leaned bahis şirketleri in to kiss me. So soft, so fine. I stroked her hair and touched her thighs, wanting to devour and touch her, take her gently, possess her, kiss her everywhere.

Awkwardly I tried to kneel between her thighs without breaking the kiss or moving my hand from her sex. She smiled gently and slipped my panties off my calves and helped me into position. Her nipples tightened still further as I touched them, and I bent to take one and then the other in my mouth. Her heart was pounding, as was mine, making her nipples quiver as I moved from one to the other. My breasts almost leapt into her hands as she licked her fingers and circled my areolas.

Tentatively I kissed down her belly and rubbed my face in her soft reddish blond curls. Her surprisingly muscular thighs opened further for my exploration. She smelled of fine soap and excitement as I kissed and licked her thighs, tentatively touched her hair with my tongue, kissed her lips.

I looked up into her eyes. She smiled encouragingly, almost reading my mind as I realized I don’t know the first thing about how to do this. “Here,” she said, using her fingers to split her own lips, pointing to her glistening clitoris with one of her thumb. “Touch here.” As I touched her softly, I heard the softest of sighs from her. I met her eyes as I ran my tongue over her button, inhaling her scent as it subtly changed, less flowery and more tangy, musky. Her taste was spicy and a little salty, and she smiled as she moved closer to the edge of the love seat so I could lick her deeper. She caressed my face and hair with one hand as I reached in to open her lips further. Her hand was now bringing my face closer, and I licked her a little harder, which made her gasp.

“Oh, Jane, so nice. So nice. Ohh.”

I licked her, suckled her clit, tried to remember what Marie had done to me, what I had imagined doing to Elizabeth all these weeks. Her breathing became more raspy, she was groaning with pleasure, touching my head to encourage me, now almost crying my name. “Ohhh, Jane, ohh, ohhh, ohhh, aaah, ohhhhhh.” Her hips were vibrating, legs pressing on my shoulders, and finally she let out one long sigh and gently touched my forehead to tell me “no more.” Pulled me up to her face, kissing me fiercely. Slowly her breathing returned to normal.

She smiled and kissed me gently, got us up off the sofa and guided us onto the soft, cool duvet. She laid me on my back and sat back on her heels to admire me, touch me all over. My skin was all gooseflesh and electricity as she touched my neck, my hard tingling nipples, my damp pubes, just slightly grazing over my clit peeping out. Responding to her gentle pressure, my legs slowly drifted apart, as if they had minds of their own.

She leaned in to touch me with her mouth. Just the lightest feather touch on my clit. “Ohhh, Elizbeth,” I murmured.

Suddenly, I heard a slow rhythmic clapping sound from the doorway. Marie was standing there, watching, applauding quietly. There was no mirth on her face.

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