The Art and Science of Love
9
Out of Body
I WAS AWAKE, rested, showered, shaved, and fed. It was a considerable advance from the last time I’d had such an emotionally draining studio session. And I was happy.
I’d pulled myself out of my cocoon after Rita left and headed for the bathroom. When I opened the door, I smelled freshly brewed coffee. There was, however, no sign of Rita or my mystery date. I poured a cup of coffee and headed directly to my studio. I didn’t bother to dress. I have several workspaces in the studio, set up to let me work on different kinds of paintings and sketches. I sat in a comfortable chair, set the coffee on a table, and pulled a small sketchbook and soft pencil out.
I started small, trying to capture the essence of what I’d felt in the night. Sensory deprived in all but my cock. I had no control over the use of it. Even my one attempt to thrust had been rebuffed. And behind my blindfold, my eyes painted explosions of color into the darkness. In two hours, I’d moved to a larger sketchpad and the remaining half cup of coffee was cold.
I set up my easel with large sheets of rough paper and experimented with charcoal as I drew sweeping curves. The figure leaned back toward the left of the paper, just her chin showing below the upper left corner of the sheet. Her throat extended as her head was thrown back, arching into the line of her breasts. It narrowly missed the feeling I wanted. As I looked at it, I saw the problem. I’d drawn shadows against a white background. I needed to draw light. The sudden burst of imagery I saw behind my eyes as we exploded together.
On a large sheet of Bristol, I laid in a full-page background with the flat of a 4B soft graphite block until the entire page was covered. Then I pulled out an Art Gum eraser and a tortillon and began erasing the parts where highlights would burst out of the shadow. As I saw the shape emerge from the shadows, my heart began to race and adrenalin pumped into my veins.
I prepared a canvas, changing from my initial concept of a horizontal image to a square image. As I worked, I absently chewed on a sandwich and drank coffee without bothering to wonder how they had materialized in my studio. My mind was filled with the image and I could do nothing but focus on my painting. The rough sketch flowed onto the canvas and before I had even finished it, I began laying in the background. The figure would bisect the canvas diagonally. The man below her would be a faint suggestion of a dream-lover, penetrating her depths. There was just enough detail to suggest the act without being explicit. The torso twisted to her right, facing the artist slightly. Her right hand extended down to grasp at the darkness with her fingertips as the left arm was flung across her breasts, raking passion out of her ribs.
But most of all, there was the palpable texture of the darkness surrounding the figure. Each color I worked into the highlights was muted into near transparency against the pebbled Payne’s grey background. I painted that texture as if my eyes were closed and I could sense the pinpoint of each rod and cone firing to create light and color on my retina. Paint flew across the canvas and much of the area that surrounded me as I let go of the fine control of figure drawing and let the light be born from the darkness.
That was the theme. That was what I truly captured. Light borne of darkness. It was as different from the painting of Allison as it was from any of my other work, yet it was a complement as well. In one painting, flames of passion threatened to consume the figure and all it touched. In the other, passion seemed to arise from the ashes, coalescing them into lover.
I took a deep breath and awareness gradually dawned on me that I was still naked, having come directly from my bed some twenty-eight hours ago. I was spattered with paint, and I sported a rigid hard-on as I looked at my painting.
I spent Monday cleaning my house, changing the linens on my bed, and eating. Periodically through the day, I found myself giggling uncontrollably. As pained as I’d been when drawing and painting the canvas of Allison, this canvas had left me high as a kite. Around noon, I sent a text message to Rita that said simply, “It is finished.” Even that made me giggle as I noted the religious connotation. Half an hour later, I received a response: “We’ll be there at six to see. Let’s have Chinese.”
That was all it took. First, “we” were coming to see the painting. Rita was bringing my model—secret lover—with her. I would see her with my eyes for the first time. And we would have dinner. At five-thirty, I ordered from a local restaurant and went to pick it up. I arrived home just minutes before Rita pulled into her drive, followed closely by a late-model mid-class import. A conservative car, I noted as I set the table and dished steaming rice, soup, chicken, and vegetables into serving dishes. I watched from my vantage point inside to see who would step out of the vehicle.
Rita went to the door of the car and opened it, carrying on an animated discussion with whoever was in the car. The occupant seemed reluctant to come out. I debated whether or not to intervene by opening the front door, but this was Rita’s show and I was determined to let her control the way it played out.
Finally, the figure emerged from her vehicle. She was professionally dressed in a dark suit with short-cropped dark brown hair. She stood a good two inches taller than Rita and, though she was fully dressed in a shape-concealing business suit, I was certain I could have recognized her even if I’d merely glanced at her on a street corner. My eye superimposed the curves and the elongation of the torso from my painting over the figure of the woman who now approached my door.
“Doc, I’d like you to meet Dr. Kelly Thompson. She’s my…”
“Colleague,” Kelly broke in. Rita beamed. I was pretty sure Rita was about to say ‘boss.’ I instantly respected Kelly for her separation of work hierarchies from her afterhours relationship. She immediately held out her hand and I took her firm grip in mine. I nearly giggled again.
“Dr. Kelly, I’m Dmitri Peters,” I said.
“Doc,” Rita broke in.
“I’m not a real doctor,” I said. “I have an MFA in art. I can’t be Doc in the presence of someone with a degree.”
Kelly laughed. “Over the past few months, I’ve heard Rita talk constantly about ‘Doc.’ If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to just be Kelly and let you be the doctor. I can’t quite think of you as Dimitri.” Kelly’s laughter was infectious. I was already thanking Rita in my head for bringing this woman into our lives. I ushered the women to the table and we began eating, carrying on the normal chit-chat of new acquaintances.
I learned Kelly was the lead researcher on a project at Rita’s company and, while they had become good friends, they seldom worked directly together. Rita was the research assistant on a parallel project and they often found themselves in adjoining labs at odd hours. None of us mentioned the events of the weekend or the artwork waiting in my studio. Nonetheless, I was fully convinced Kelly had been the model, the secret lover, and the inspiration for the work. I was a bit nervous to find out her reaction.
I served coffee and the three of us moved to the living room. I sat in an armchair and noticed Rita and Kelly sit next to each other on the sofa. It’s a large sofa—Rita and I first made love on it just a few months ago—but the two sat closer together than was strictly necessary. Nor was it an aggressive act. Neither sat at the end with the other encroaching on her space. They sat as a couple in the middle. I thought I detected more than a friendship between the two.
“I’ve a confession,” Kelly said.
“It was my fault,” Rita broke in.
“We have a confession then,” Kelly corrected.
“I ran an experiment on you without your permission,” Rita jumped in.
“Rita explained to me what she had in mind and I jumped at the chance to help her,” Kelly added. “But I have to say I was selfishly motivated. If you are upset, please direct it at me rather than at Rita. As the senior researcher, I didn’t exactly follow protocol. I used you.”
“Please,” I said. “Let’s not level any blame until you’ve seen the results. I’m not particularly upset. Although the circumstances were, shall we say, unusual, I did give Rita my assent and trust. I was surprised but not displeased.”
“It was all about creating a safe way for you to be out of control,” Rita said. “It didn’t go quite the way I’d expected. I kind of lost control myself.”
“Well, as far as control goes, I’d say we all suffered a degree of loss,” Kelly said. “But Rita, dear, I need to put things into perspective for Doc. After all, I…” She hesitated and I moved to ease the way for her.
“You became my lover and inspiration,” I concluded. She grimaced at the words and I wondered what was up.
“Not exactly,” Kelly said. “That’s what I need to clear up. I am not your lover, nor are you mine. You see, I’m not exactly turned on by men.” Now that was a surprise. The raw passion I felt sometime in the middle of Saturday night was certainly not that of a lesbian as far as I could tell. Kelly reached over and grasped Rita’s hand, scrunching her eyes closed before continuing. “I joined Rita Saturday night as a scientist. Although her experimentation base was questionable, she’d described her intent to me in such a way that I agreed—no, I volunteered—to come and record the experiment.” She must have seen my eyes pop open at that because she hurried on. “Not on tape. Oh God! That would have been unconscionable. I was just taking notes. It gave me a sensation of voyeurism that was unbelievable.”
“What moved you from being an observer to becoming a participant?” I asked. “I have to say, none of the sensations I felt that night led me to believe you weren’t fully enjoying the experience.”
“Oh, yes. I was. But what moved me, as you say, was Rita. I’ve been attracted to Rita for some time, but I knew she was truly heterosexual. Even though she described various experiments she’d done with you, it was obvious she was not trying to entice me. Until this weekend, our relationship has been strictly professional at work and strictly as friends outside. But as I watched her… In your room… And she undressed… I was distracted. I just wanted to touch her.”
“God, did she ever!” Rita exclaimed. “You have always told me about how all your senses work together. You want to see me, hear my voice, touch me, taste me, and even smell me when we are making love. You want to be connected in every way you can. So, I set up the experiment to see if I could get you to respond, even when all your senses were isolated. I focused exclusively on the bundle of nerves between your legs. My intent was to get you turned on without letting you see or hear anything—without letting you respond with any part of your body except your cock. I’d stay away from your mouth because I know kissing is one of your biggest turn-ons. For our purposes, I couldn’t do much about your sense of smell without introducing some other scent. So, I just had to go with that as an ancillary factor. If I was doing my thesis on this, I’d have to set the whole thing up in a lab, but I wanted you to be completely unable to control the experience and thought it would be better to surprise you with it than set it all up with you in advance.”
“I trusted you,” I said simply. “That is what you asked. And it proved the right decision.”
“I was watching and, for a while, I thought you weren’t actually going to respond,” Kelly said. “I thought that was amazing because I’d always assumed men had a basic disconnect between their brains and their penises. But what was really getting to me was watching Rita. She was worshipping you. She was so beautiful and so sensual and so arousing that I couldn’t help myself. While she was still lightly stroking you and attempting to arouse you, I stepped up behind her and began… touching her.” Kelly’s voice broke a bit on that last word. “Before I knew it, I was just as naked as she was and I was worshipping her body as much as she was engaged with yours.”
I wasn’t sure what to do with the information I was receiving. I wondered if somehow during the night, Rita and Kelly had become lovers and I was now out of the picture, so to speak. But Kelly wasn’t finished.
“She guided my hand the first time I touched you. We were kissing the first time you came. My other hand was stroking her beautiful breast. I was so surprised when I felt your sperm spattering against my hand that I almost bolted from the room, but Rita… While she continued to stroke you without pause, she raised my come-covered palm to her lips and licked it clean. She was so thorough, so caring, so loving as she licked my fingers, sucking each one into her mouth that I came. Hard. I thought for a minute I’d ruined her experiment and you would know I was there but the ear and eye blocks she put on you seemed to be holding. I thought perhaps you had passed out. Regardless, from that point on, I was actively involved in the experiment instead of recording notes.”
“It was quite an experience,” I said. “I didn’t realize there was more than one person until you mounted me.”
“When you started to sit up and brought your knees up, I knew you were aware. I was afraid you would call it off. If you’d said something besides ‘Oh!’ we would have stopped,” Rita said. “But since you didn’t, I decided to make it obvious and join in. I had originally intended it to be me on you.”
“What made you decide to do something like that, Kelly? You said men didn’t do it for you.” Kelly hadn’t let go of Rita’s hand, although I was beginning to sense a little discomfort on Rita’s part. I wasn’t sure yet what was going on between them.
“I prefer women. Exclusively. But when women get together it is not unusual to use toys for pleasuring each other. With you wrapped up like you were, I could ignore the fact you were a man and treat your cock as if it were a dildo and Rita was my lover. When she added her tongue to the equation, I lost all sense of having a living man inside me until I felt you pulsing in me. That was better than any dildo I’ve ever tried.”
“I think I understand,” I said.
“You do?” Rita asked.
“Sure. Men do absolutely nothing for me, either.” Both women laughed and some of the tension went out of the air. “Really. There is nothing about a man that turns me on. I’m not repulsed by them but I don’t find myself checking them out in the gym showers or looking forward to a guy taking off his shirt in a movie.”
“That makes sense,” Kelly said. “You are just a normal heterosexual man, right?”
“Yes, except I wouldn’t hesitate to cross swords with a guy who was trying to get into the same sheath,” I responded. “I might even help a guy out to get him up and into the woman we were making love to. I’m not squeamish about semen or afraid of cocks. They don’t turn me on, but if I were in the same position with you that we were in the other night and it was a guy who was licking my balls and your clit instead of Rita, I’d still come just as hard. The thing is, it’s the girl we are both focused on that makes it a turn-on. The guy just happens to be part of the package.”
“Or has the package,” Rita giggled. “I think I understand, too. Kelly, I really like you and I’ve known for a long time you find me attractive. I guess I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I didn’t have some desire to show off for you. But I’m not gay and I don’t think I’m even bi. The casual girlfriend hugs and occasionally holding hands for security…” she held up their joined hands, “…is fine. But women just don’t turn me on. It was the two of us working on Doc that tripped me over the edge. Seeing, up close, Doc’s cock in your pussy was what brought my tongue into play. I can’t imagine I’d do that if it was just the two of us, any more than I think you’d suddenly want to make love just to Doc.”
Kelly looked down at their clasped hands and seemed to be a bit embarrassed. She loosened her grip and started to pull away. I decided it was time to move things along a little before this precious opportunity was lost. I left my chair and scooted in on the sofa next to Rita. I laid my hand on top of Kelly’s before she could fully pull it away.
“Did you know about my lessons in the art of love with Rita?” I asked. Kelly nodded her head. “And are you still wanting to run experiments on me, Rita?” Rita nodded. “Well, Kelly, it seems we have a great deal in common. We are both turned on by our lovely assistant Rita. It seems we should be able to cooperate in her seduction, don’t you think?”
“You’d still want me with you, even though…?”
“I don’t make a practice of trying to seduce lesbians,” I said. “I understand as much as is possible for me that it is part of your being and not a choice. I wouldn’t try to convert you. But your sexual orientation doesn’t prevent me from being turned on by you, just as Rita’s heterosexual preference doesn’t stop you from being attracted to her. We could do some serious tag-teaming with this young woman and, if during the course of action, you decide to use my ‘dildo’ as well, you can simply think of it as an appliance in Rita’s arsenal.” The said Rita was wiggling between us as we both leaned in toward her. Her eyes were glimmering as she glanced between Kelly and me.
“I’m pickle in the middle!” she exclaimed. Kelly and I laughed with her and each planted a kiss on her cheek.
“I have to say, I wouldn’t mind another ride on the only cock that’s ever been in my pussy,” Kelly said, blushing.
“What?” Rita and I both exclaimed at once, turning to stare at the rosy face of the research scientist.
“I’ve always been a lesbian,” Kelly said. “Until that impulsive moment Saturday night when I impaled myself on Rita’s dildo—I mean your cock—I’d never had a man inside me. I just kept thinking, ‘Oh Rita! I love your girl-cock.’ And now, I kind of wish she’d push it into me again.”
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
