The Artist!

Ella stepped from the carriage into the street. It was dark and she was grateful for the little protection it gave. Nobody need know she was here. As much as she wanted to throw off the shackles of propriety and shock the world rigid. She really only wanted to dip an un-slippered toe in. Unfortunately her whole leg was currently treading water nearly up to her stockinged thigh.

The front door opened slowly. A stocky built man with greying hair and a matching tightly clipped beard gestured her forward. Pulling the hood of her cloak around her face, she lowered her head and entered. He led her through a dimly lit hallway to a room at the back of the house,  gesturing to a dark velvet chaise-longue over near the fire. Then he bowed, turned and walked back to the door closing it as he left. All without speaking a word.

Ella’s eyes adjusted to the shadowed lighting. A rich tapestry of golds and reds hung on one wall.  Unable to make out the patterns from where she sat, she stood and walked towards it. A woven orgy swam before her eyes. She put a gloved hand to her mouth, open in both in shock and interest. Women, men, some clothed some not. Bending a little, to chance a better look, she instantly stilled as the door behind her suddenly opened.

Jason Claremont hid a smile as he looked at the raven haired beauty stood before him. He knew she was shocked. He could tell from the blush that was rising along her cheek and the almost undetectable shake of her hand. His years working for the Crown had taught him well, for he read her emotions immediately. She was shocked all right, but there was something else, something he hadn’t expected and it excited him no end. In fact the uncomfortable way that his breeches stretched across his groin meant his excitement had already taken hold.

Ella never moved her hand from her mouth. her arm rigid, as though she’d lost all feeling. She watched the dark brooding figure walk further into the room. He grabbed a decanter from a table and pulled out two glasses, he didn’t speak. She gazed at his shirt as it pulled tightly across his back before discreetly moving her eyes down to his thighs.  Thick muscled thighs that fought the confines of his ebony trousers. A trail of warm fire seemed to creep from her toes; then shift from one leg to the other, discomfort and comfort at the same time. He came closer. She stopped breathing.  Then he handed her one of the glasses.  She lifted the ruby red liquid to her lips and inhaled the heady mix of oak and honey before swallowing swiftly.

Jason watched the delicate trace of  liquid settle on her lips. They were large, overly large but they suited her face. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top and he wanted to trail his tongue along it, wanted to suck on the flesh and pull it into his own mouth, tasting the wine, maybe he’d draw blood, a heady mix. His crotch became unbearable. He turned to the fire and took a drink.

“Shall we start Ella” he said finally and gestured to the screen in the corner.

Ella followed his eyes, dark beautiful, passion filled eyes. She placed the glass on the side, nodded then walked to the screen.

Stood before him now, she was completely naked. The delicate shadows from the open fire dancing over her small but perfectly shaped breasts. He thought of his mouth touching her skin, his tongue trailing from her neck, along her throat, slowly down over the rise of her chest. He’d watch her nipples harden as they turned a delicious shade of deep velvet red then he’d use his teeth to tease and pull and suckle till she screamed out his name and begged him for more. But that would be later.

“Lay on the chaise, Ella, we can start then” a slight husk to his voice causing him to cough. He struggled to regain his composure but didn’t want her to see how affected he was, not just yet anyway. Ella untied her hair, letting the inky dark curls fall loosely over her shoulders. He walked towards her and she felt the familiar dampness edge between her legs. He adjusted her hair slightly, lifting her left arm above her head and bending the right slightly behind her back.

“That’s good, now don’t move” his voice suddenly more controlled, he was in work mode now.

Ella watched his brow tighten as he reached for the canvas. The concentrated glow mirrored in his eyes. She knew that look. She would just have to think of the menu planning for next week’s dinner party. That should keep her still for an hour.

She smiled to herself watching her ‘soon to be’ husband’s hands work their magic. She loved him deeply but really wished he wanted to paint fruit instead of her. This lying about naked lark was getting a bit much. Although the added passion that came after, was such glorious compensation. Then she remembered, she must ask him where he got that bloody awful tapestry from, it would have to go. Once she’d had a proper chance to look at it that is!

2 thoughts on “The Artist!

  1. Helen, I am touched by your ability to convey raw and intensely honest emotion in your writing. I struggle with PTSD and I carry guilt from my past, I came upon my parents obituaries recently (they passed 5/6/yrs ago respectively) returning to lament over their memories i came upon you. You are a blessing. Thank-you, Jean Midgley, Oakland, Ca

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