The Art and Science of Love
17
Stony Silence
SATURDAY MORNING of Memorial Day weekend, I met Donna at what would be her new home. During the course of the prior month, she’d become good friends with Mrs. Dickinson, who had become an enthusiastic co-conspirator for the portrait. I had a signed permission slip to work in the house over the weekend.
I moved my easel and charcoals into the space and got myself situated while Donna prepared her scene and costume.
“Are you ready?” she asked from the top of the stairs.
“Whenever you are, Donna.”
“Okay. Well. Then here I come.”
What crept silently down the stairs was an image from a 1940s horror film. Or perhaps a pulp novel cover.
She wore a filmy peignoir with nothing under it. She had high-heeled slippers and a gun clutched in her hand. The peignoir appeared to have been pulled on in haste, belted, but not completely closed. One shoulder was bare where it slipped down. She stopped a few steps from the bottom and looked out past my left where the gun vaguely pointed.
“Wow!” I said. “Just stay exactly like that for a moment.” I hastily drew a charcoal sketch on my first page. Before I’d sketched Ardith, I’d put in an entire ream (500 sheets) of Strathmore 300 Charcoal Paper. It was a nice heavy 64-pound paper and was cut in 25x38-inch sheets. The laid finish took charcoal and soft graphite extremely well. And I’d discovered I really needed the larger sketch paper when I was working on paintings the size I’d recently been doing. Ardith’s museum portrait would be thirty inches wide and four feet high. Her warrior painting would be twice that height. I’d carefully measured the display space in the Barretts’ new home and had determined I could fit a framed portrait as much as three feet wide and four feet tall over the fireplace.
In the time it has taken me to describe the technical aspects of my drawing paper, I’d already completed two sketches of Donna. I moved my easel between sketches to capture her from a different angle. I liked what I saw. Which was pretty much everything.
“I write romantic thrillers,” she said as I completed the second sketch. “I might want to use this painting as a book cover for my new work, On My Own.”
“May I try positioning you a little differently?”
“Certainly.”
The position of her feet, both on one step, baffled the tension. When I had her shift her left foot down a step, the tension in her pose increased palpably. So did the exposure of her private parts, which had no other covering. I wondered if she’d chosen the trimmed style that left just a triangle of pubic hair pointing directly at her slit. In the process of shifting her weight, the robe had slipped down farther off her right shoulder and exposed her breast.
“I’d like to get a sketch in this pose. Raise your chin slightly. Tell me, are you terrified of what you might find when you come down the stairs or confident that you can handle it?”
“Confident. I probably won’t want to be so completely exposed on the book cover, but show me what it’s like.”
“Believe me, it’s stunning. Now, gun raised to the right in your left hand. Right hand on the banister. You’re not left-handed, are you?”
“I can shoot with either hand.”
That gave me pause. She certainly held the gun comfortably and having moved up close to position her, I could tell it was no stage prop or toy. I fell to work sketching in far more detail than my first two.
“Tell me about your heroine.”
“It’s summed up when she confronts him about his knight in shining armor complex,” she said. “I’m much stronger than you, Percy. Oh, you can outlift me with brute strength, but you are weak in fortitude. A woman would die a thousand deaths waiting for you to rescue her. I’d much rather depend on myself.”
“That’s definitely a confident woman,” I said.
“The heroines in my novels rescue themselves when they are in trouble. Sometimes they rescue the man as well. We aren’t weak women who need a man to come to our aid,” Donna said.
“At the same time, you are sexy and passionate, able to love more deeply and defend more valiantly.”
“Have you been reading my books?”
“I confess I have not, but I believe I will. You can pull yourself together and let’s take a break for a few minutes. There are a couple of other poses I’d like to try that will better capture those characteristics and be a little more subtle in your exposure.”
We worked the entire day. I had a selection of poses to choose from and might very well paint a second image—one of the more exposed—for myself. It was getting dark. We’d eaten a light dinner Rita had packed for us and discussed the dynamic of the character in her new book. What I was missing was the dynamic of the dark and somewhat spooky night.
“Can you continue to work for a while?”
“All night if you wish, Doc. I’ve come up with some additional concepts for stories while we have been talking. I find it… stimulating,” she said. That was an interesting choice of words.
“I’d like to try backlighting you a bit and now that it’s dark out, I think I can work with a limited light. Let’s put a lamp at the head of the stairs. I won’t include it in the sketch, but I’ll try using it for lighting. I’ve a couple of clip lights that I’ll use to light my sketch pad.”
We returned to our positions and I arranged her the way I wanted her on the stairs. Donna had become quite free with how she encouraged me to touch her. I found that positioning her peignoir over her breast might take two or three minutes as I smoothed it out against her nipple.
The result of the new lighting and pose was even sexier than when she was fully exposed. Backlit like she was, her body was silhouetted in the filmy robe. We definitely got the pose and lighting right for her figure, but her face was too dark. I sketched anyway and on a sudden inspiration, turned one of my drawing lights around to face her. It was just enough light on her face that I could capture the detail of her face. Being just slightly below her, the shadows did interesting things as well.
By ten-thirty, I was satisfied. Donna approached my easel and I set all the day’s sketches on it. I pushed myself back and she immediately perched herself on my lap to review the sketches. Perhaps it was the easiest place to see them from, but I could have moved.
She made a running commentary about the sketches and how she’d felt as each was being drawn. When we got to the series in which she was fully exposed she pulled my hand up under her peignoir to her breast.
“My heroine is strong enough to control an interaction or to abide by the consequences if she is unable to. The murderer lurking below might see her exposed, but it will make no difference in her confidence. She does not need clothes to face danger. And should he get the drop on her, she will endure his hands on her body, delving into her most intimate depths, biding her time until she can turn the distraction of her body against her foe and subdue him.”
During this narration, she’d guided my hand down her torso and between her legs. She let me play there for some time as her arousal increased and she continued to page through the sketches. At last she reached the backlit sketch with her face in low light. She turned her face and kissed me as I worked on her sex with my fingers.
“This. This one. You have captured me the way I wish to be seen.” She mounted quickly to a low-pitched keen and her pussy tightened around my fingers. “Go. Go paint me, Doc.”
She dressed. I picked up my supplies. We left the house.
I stayed up the rest of the night working on the prepared canvas. I caught a couple of hours’ sleep just before dawn and Rita woke me with coffee and breakfast. She kissed me soundly and said she was spending the day with her sister. I returned to the studio and began applying layers of heavy paint for the background in which the staircase and background were distinguished by strokes of my palette knife rather than color. In the foreground emerged the woman, backlit as if she were, herself, a ghost on the stairs. Her face glowed with confidence—the expression, one of determination. Hints of the shape of her breasts and nipples were carved out of the filmy gauze of her peignoir but the hand on her gun was steady and sure.
In addition to the portraits, I had two additional paintings to do: Ardith as the warrior goddess and Donna as the exposed heroine. It took me the next two weeks, while the paint on the portraits cured, for me to finish the paintings. I was ready for a break… I thought.
Rita woke me early Sunday with coffee but immediately wagged her butt toward me as she headed for the shower. I followed. She stayed at her own end of the shower, though, quickly rinsing and drying herself. I followed suit and dressed in the clothes she laid out for me. We got in her Cabriolet, but it was still much too cold to have the top down.
“Will you trust me to handle today? Put yourself in my hands and let me guide you where you should go?” I smiled. The first request made me think she wanted to negotiate terms, but I quickly realized she was staging one of her experiments. They were always interesting, to say the least.
“Your wish is my command,” I acquiesced.
“Then let’s put this on,” she said. She put a sleep mask over my eyes and sealed it with a vinyl head mask that left me completely blind, though this time I could hear and my nose and mouth were clear.
“You’ll have the use of your senses of touch, smell, hearing, and taste, but not sight, during this experiment. I’ll lead you to each sculpture and you will be able to explore the artist’s work through your hands and body.”
We drove about twenty minutes to the gallery and she led me into the building. She seated me in a comfortable lobby chair and whispered that she would return as soon as she made sure everything was ready. By my estimate, it was only nine a.m. and most galleries didn’t open on Sunday until one. We’d have the gallery undisturbed until then. I wasn’t sure how many patrons came to a sculpture exhibit blindfolded, but I was willing to let that thought pass.
While I waited, I let myself observe my environment with my other senses. I could smell a mixture of paint and wood. The paint smells were a few days old. I tried to think what the wood smell reminded me of and suddenly thought of a warehouse. My ears told me the space was large and open, but it didn’t tell me much about the surfaces. I shuffled my feet a bit and finally managed to wedge my shoes off and run my sock-covered toes across the floor. It was surprising. It felt like cold, smooth marble. In a few moments, a hand touched my shoulder. I started. I hadn’t heard her approach.
“Good. You already have your shoes off,” Rita said softly. She wasn’t exactly whispering, but she was only using enough volume to be heard, letting me judge again the vastness of the room. She slid my socks off my feet as well. “This will give you another level of sensory input that you don’t often use.”
Rita led me to sculpture after sculpture, sometimes turning me around in a circle two or three times so I couldn’t make a map in my head regarding where each piece was located. I could quickly tell the difference between bronze and stone statues as she named each one. Western rider. Winged Messenger. Regina. Then she led me to a sculpture she titled Veiled Lady. She always placed my hands where she wanted me to start, then let me explore fully on my own. My hands were placed on soft fabric. I started.
I explored further, expecting to find an actual person beneath my fingers, but soon discovered it was a veil attached to a sculpture. Very funny. On to Contemplation. Good Governance. Justice. Sapphic Kiss. On this statue, Rita placed my left hand on a stone breast and my right hand on the neck of a statue. Of course, I moved my hands toward the face, as by the title this seemed to be the place of focus. I traced across the cheek to the lips and felt…
Lips. A pair of very human lips were pressed against the stone of the statue. I let my fingers roam from the stone woman onto the very soft skin of the woman kissing her. Her hair was short. My right hand returned to the head of the stone figure and I discovered she had short hair as well. The living woman did not move a muscle as I traced with one hand down her neck and over her bare shoulder. The other hand mimicked the motion on the sculpture. The bare shoulder gave way to a bare back and on down to a delightfully soft bottom.
As my right hand explored the stone, feeling again the breast where I had started my journey, I crossed the living torso and found a very soft and appealing, warm and sensuous woman’s breast pressed against it. I wondered if I would be allowed to continue this exploration and was pleased that as I caressed her breast, there was no movement aside from the expansion of her chest with a deep breath and the sound of a muffled moan from her lips.
Rita then took my hands and pulled me gently away.
“You are not using all your senses,” she said softly. She lifted my shirt over my head and I felt her unbuckle my belt. My trousers fell to the floor and she pulled my briefs down with them, pulling them out at the waist to avoid my tumescence. Now naked, I thought I would be returned to the human and stone embrace I had been exploring, but instead, Rita spun me around in circles and led me on to another statue she titled The Lovers.
I was keyed now to find flesh beneath my fingers, but instead, my hands were stroking the back of a marble figure. It was male. I don’t know how I knew this at once as I hadn’t touched either the chest or genitals, but I knew by the feel of the stone, I was touching a man. This was confirmed as I moved my hands around to the front of the statue and encountered his stone partner. She reclined as he bent over her. I ran my hand down to where they were joined. Thinking of Rita’s instructions to use all my senses, I joined the embrace of the stone lovers, pressing my body into them and joining my lips to their shared kiss. There was a cold mineral taste as my tongue slipped out to touch where their lips were joined. Rita drew me away again.
“That brings us to The Three Sisters,” she said. That’s a classic theme. Three sisters standing naked in a circle, their arms touching, either dancing or chatting or engaging in some other antic. Sometimes they had water jugs. Sometimes they were pictured with instruments. She led me to a sculpture that was life-size. The cool stone felt incredibly sensuous beneath my fingertips as I stroked the statue’s face, shoulders, and torso. The stone breasts were delicate and the artist had detailed nipples beneath a tunic that left one breast exposed. I was amazed at how well I could ‘see’ the figure through my hands.
I followed the extended right arm of the statue until I encountered a joined hand. This hand, however, like Sapphic Kiss, was flesh, not stone. I let my explorations continue, fully expecting to find the same short hair of the woman in that vignette. I was surprised to find long, straight, silky hair. I immediately thought ‘Asian’ as I felt the bangs of a traditional cut. I stroked down the delicate strands of the hair on her unmoving form and as I reached the end, the back of my hand stroked over an exposed breast. Small, delicate, but with a nipple almost as hard as the stone sculpture to her left. I let my other hand gently stroke her side and discovered the same short tunic, pulled up over one shoulder and a breast. The side was open and I slid my hand behind her, across the bare skin of her back. Still she did not move.
I raised my left hand to her face again, gently tracing the contour of her lips with my thumb. Then I pressed my lips against hers. I could taste the soft mint flavor of her mouth. It was relaxed and her lips were parted slightly, but as I ran my tongue between them, she did not part them further or respond with her own. I continued my exploration with my fingers and my lips, down her extended arm and, despite her immobility, I heard a tiny whimper from her mouth.
The next ‘statue’ in the trio I recognized by both touch and smell. My lovely assistant Rita was obviously dressed in the same garb, one breast exposed and one barely concealed beneath the flimsy fabric. She held still, but when I bent to suck her tiny exposed nipple into my mouth, she let out a gasp and I felt her hand move to hold my head in place. She guided me to her right with her hand on my head and I left trailing kisses as I moved back toward where the stone figure should be. With two fleshly sisters, I had no real desire to return to the third made of stone. But I found no statue at the end of her fingers.
Instead, my hand grasped open air while my prick was engulfed in a warm wet mouth. Lowering my hand to my waist, I felt the short-cropped hair of the woman who had partnered with Sappho. Now, she was stroking my shaft with hand and mouth while I stood weak-kneed in front of her. My hands were gently removed from her head from behind me and I felt two naked breasts pressed against my back as I was turned.
This time, my hands were moved like a puppet to reach around to the firm small breasts I found in front of me as a delightful round ass backed up against my turgid cock. Still moist from the sucking I’d received, my prick glided up and down between the cheeks as I felt hands stroking my own body and tweaking my nipples. This time there was no static positioning, but active reception of my probing tongue. I was sucked into the mouth that, by the taste, had recently been removed from my cock.
A hand was dragged away from the breast it was stroking and to my left, I found it nestled in a soft wet pussy. I began to smell the scent of arousal all around me as I stroked through the folds. The goddess in front of me turned in my arms and slid down my torso, kissing her way down to my cock, where she inhaled it.
At the same time, I was pushed back to lie in a stony embrace of a statue while another hard but fleshly nipple was pressed between my lips. Moans came from both above my head and from my left where I continued to tickle a clit between my fingers. From the third sister, I heard only the slurping of my cock in her mouth.
And so, it progressed. There were more hands than I thought possible from three women as they continued to turn me around, moving me into scenes with various sculptures, only to discover delightful breasts and pussies, kisses from their lips and caresses of their skin. At one point, I found myself lain across a marble goddess with my cock slick against the cold stone and then I was turned and it was pressed between hot wet pussy lips.
I was settled onto some kind of stone bench, leaning back against the ungiving breasts of a stone woman, while a woman of flesh and blood mounted me and cried out her ecstasy in my ear before sliding away from me again. I was laid back on the bench and mounted at both mouth and cock by two of the goddesses while I felt my toes receive a tongue bath. The sounds and smells of sex, the taste of a pussy in my mouth, the remote mint of a tongue thrust between my lips, the feel of taut, supple skin contrasting with stone beneath my fingers.
And the constant movement. I had no idea how many mouths nor how many pussies my lips and cock had parted. I had no idea where I was when encouraged to embrace bronze or marble statuary. Stone gave way to skin. Bronze slipped into silk. Without my eyes, I was being overwhelmed with sensory input.
I came. I was licked and kissed and caressed back to hardness and I came again. I lost track of my own orgasms and had no hope of counting those of my partners. In my head, stone, bronze, flesh, and fantasy all blended into imagery I couldn’t begin to comprehend. My mouth was kissed by lips and tongue and then passed to another and another. Sometimes there were two sets of lips pressed against mine. At one time, I was sure at least three tongues slid across mine and each other’s.
So overloaded were my senses, I eventually passed out. I’m sure I was conscious, but I was too overwhelmed to be aware.
I awoke to a voice whispering in my ear.
I was in my own bed with no idea how I got there. My entire body still tingled. I was afraid to open my eyes for fear the sensations would dissipate. I was still (again?) naked. I felt a soft hand on my cheek and knew Rita was with me. Her whispered voice came as if from far away as she withdrew.
“Paint.”
And then she was gone.
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