[ussbansheec] "Art Lessons. 2"
- From: "Moria McEntire" <bansheec@xxxxxxx>
- To: <ussbansheec@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2006 23:00:38 -0400
"Art Lessons. 2"
Beatrice and Elisabeth Braddock, Laura Kinney, Jamul Moorning
So this was what losing one's virginity felt like, Beatrice mused from where
she lay on Jamul's sweat slicked chest. It felt good actually. Boy was
Mary Spalding wrong. The whole world was glowing all rosey and warm. Idly,
she played with one of his nipples and kissed him lightly.
Jamul returned the kiss as he reluctantly moved them into a sitting
position. He pulled her onto his lap and then asked in a whisper, "Sculpt
for me beautiful."
Her eyes closed again and she felt a smile tug at her lips as light danced
from her fingertips. A warm man's face appeared, Jamul smiling at her, his
eyes closed in climax. With a smirk, she added substance, making it hard
and real. "Like that?" she asked, teasing and giggling.
That never ceased to amaze him. "Does it feel hollow as the last one did?"
"Touch it," she said, pressing it into his hands. "It's warm, glowing
still. It's almost humming." Her smile was bright and vibrant as she
kissed him again. Something sneaked into her mind again though. Another
question, always questions. "You did this so I'd sculpt, didn't you? You
did it so I'd be passionate."
"Yes." He answered her honesty. "But I also did it because your beautiful
and you make my heart race, you make me want to live passionately, to paint
you, to hold you, to show you the warmth and light of life."
"You want to paint me?" she grinned, feeling a childish giggle bubble up.
"Like this? Or do I have to put my dress back on?"
Jamul ran his hand over her breast. "In every way."
Betsy sighed as she pinched her nose, staring at the reports from the
school. "How d'you think they're getting on?" she asked idly, having closed
her telepathic link to her niece before coming upstairs so as not to
intrude. "They're very quiet."
Laura reached out and took the padd from her lover, pulling her closer to
herself as they sat together in their room. "Isn't art a quiet thing?"
"Now that's true," Betsy teased, kissing her lover lightly then harder.
"Maybe we should make some art..."
"Paint me," Beatrice asked suddenly and brightly. "Auntie Betsy took me to
one of your exhibitions and there was this one of a redhead nude. She is so
beautiful, so very lovely and fresh. Could you ever make something even
remotely like that of me?"
"It would be different." Jumal explained as he went for his own sketchbook.
"You and she are two totally different women, two unique souls, you possess
a striking beauty all your own." He smiled as he settled in a chair across
from her where he began to put pencil to paper.
Beatrice tried to hold as still as she could, watching him draw and dying to
see it. "Was she... did you and her... Is she your one and only?"
"She is married with several children." Jamul explained. "We did, but it was
many years ago."
"Doesn't stop her being your one and only," she said idly. "Just makes it
sad and romantic. You know, all pining and loss-filled. Also sort of
pathetic, but hey if that's the life you want."
Jamul laughed. "She is not my one and only. She was my teacher, a friend, a
lover, but not The One."
"Who is then?" the girl asked, picking at a tassle on the sofa she was
reclining on. "Is she gorgeous? Is it still tragic that you can't be
together?"
"She is who she is and nothing more or less." He answered sounding to much
like his grandmother for his tastes. "To me she will be the sun, the moon,
the rain, the desert."
"And it'll be tragic and beautiful and wonderful," she said dreamily.
"That's what it's like with artists. That's what Mary Spalding says."
He looked up at her and smirked. "Mary Spalding talks a lot but has nothing
to say."
"She's traveled all over the Federation with her parents," she defended,
slightly huffily. "She knows way more than me. Didn't even know how to
kiss til she showed me." Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling
for a moment until she said softly, "You were my first." Then she laughed
as if it didn't matter at all and it was all a trifling nonsense. "Mary
Spalding says most men are only really interested in one thing."
"Mary Spalding needs a better class of male friends." He snorted, before his
eyes softened and his voice deepened. He set aside his sketch and went to
her. "I am honored, Beatrice." He leaned down and kissed her.
Tilting her head, she blinked at him, smiling a little. "How many do you
woo?" she purred, kissing him again. "Such a beautiful, exotic man, you
must have so many lovers and sweethearts."
"I am of an age where I have had a fair share of lovers." He admitted. "But
only one at a time. I am no play boy, Beatrice. Making love is not a game,
it's to powerful a thing to be taken lightly."
She crossed her legs at her ankles and still peered at him. "Making love?
Mary Spalding says that's a really old fashioned word and that the only men
who use it are..." Staring into his eyes, she decided it didn't matter for
once what Mary Spalding thought so she bit her lip and glanced away instead.
"Are what?" He teased as his fingers danced over her stomach. There was
laughter and light in his eyes, and he ached to be with her again.
She shook her head, biting harder on her lip. "She's wrong. It's a sweet
thing to say. Not sleezy at all. I like it," she whispered, not looking at
him but at where he touched her, her cheeks reddening. "You're sweet."
Leaning down Jamul kissed her, holding her close, he made love to her again.
Laura smiled at her lover as she trailed a finger along her bottom lip. "Art
lessons were a very good idea. It's been too long since we've been able to
spend an afternoon this way."
"Hasn't it though?" Betsy sighed, kissing Laura lightly. "Think we should
check on them just once though?"
"Only because it's on the way to the kitchen and you've made me rather
hungry." Laura laughed as she disentangled herself from her lover. She
handed Elisabeth her clothes before retrieving her own. They'd learned long
ago not to offer reasons for their niece to ask questions regarding this
topic.
After she dressed fully, Betsy kissed Laura once more before heading
downstairs. "We can offer them some lunch maybe. I do hope he's inspiring
her."
Laura's nose twitched before they'd even made it to the stairs, half way
down the scent was overpowering. She growled, her claws extending almost of
their own accord.
Betsy frowned, stopping dead. "Laura? What's wrong?"
She may have been Betsy's niece by blood but the girl had become their
little girl a long time ago, and no one used her little girl. With a beastly
growl her father would have been proud of Laura flung open the parlor
doors. "Get off my kit before I gut you like a pig." She snarled, claws
raised.
Betsy took in the whole scene, her own hand filling with light that swirling
into a straight, sharp blade. "I did not pay you to bed by niece," she said
in a soft, angry growl.
Beatrice froze in the middle of their passion, her arms instinctively going
around him. "Laura? Auntie Betsy?"
Jamul refused to be intimidated. He reached for their clothes, moving
without shame. Though the women's weapons did made him nervous. At least the
doctor didn't come after him with a blade.
He moved to slow for her liking. Laura placed her left handed claws close to
his face. "Get out."
Hugging her dress to her, Beatrice let out a strangled cry. "Mummy Laura,
no!" she cried out without thinking. "Please!"
Beatrice's cry draw Laura's attention, hearing the child call her mummy when
she'd barely called her aunt Laura made her step back and retract her claws.
She looked at the girl, the emotions in her eyes cutting Laura and thrilling
her at the same time. She reached for the girl and pulled her into her arms.
"Did he hurt you, kit?"
Shaking her head firmly, Beatrice hugged her aunt-come-mother as tightly as
she could. "I asked him to," she told them both softly. "I initiated, I
forced, I controlled."
The point of the light-sword lifted to Jamul's throat. "And you were just
the innocent victim of a girl's curiosity. Poor little man." Her purple
eyes deepened as she stepped closer. "Listen to those words, Mr. Moorning:
man and girl. Man and girl."
At the moment, with the weird light sword thing at his throat, he'd have
preferred the enraged Australian redhead. "The encounter was mutual, it was
special, and she is far from being a small child. She is of age to make her
own choices, to explore emotions to long hidden." For once he was grateful
for his Grandmother's logical influence.
"Special," Betsy spat back at him. "One more notch on your paint brush?"
Beatrice held her breath, not sure why but suddenly full of fear about the
answer to that question. Special but just another lover. Special but
someone to make a pretty painting of and move on from. "Jamul?" she
whispered.
"She could never be just another notch." Jamul replied steadily. "She is
unique, a rare and beautiful flower."
"She's half your age." Laura added in, still holding the girl close.
Jamul looked between the two women. "I believe there is an old Human saying
for that statement. Something involving a pot and kettle."
Betsy let out a hiss and pushed the sword closer to him then dropped it low
to almost touch his penis. "Arrogance is not a wise choice, Mr. Moorning."
"Mum, please!" Beatrice begged, rocking slightly in Laura's arms. "I love
him."
Widening her eyes slightly, Betsy stared at him, watching for his reaction
to this naive, innocent girl's infatuation.
"She is unlike any other." Jamul admitted, not fully understanding his own
emotions. "She is here," He pressed his hand to his heart and then narrowed
his eyes in confusion, then pressed his fingers to his temple. "and here."
~~Damn, damn, damn. Can I just lop his balls off for good measure?~~ Betsy
kept her dangerous eyes on him as she said, "Until you understand how you
feel, get out. Do not return until you can tell my daughter exactly how you
feel. Do you understand?"
"How do you expect us to discover this apart?" He asked. "She's not a little
girl."
"Don't push it." Laura warned.
"Nor is she a fully functional adult," Betsy said then she added in tones
that only Jamul and Laura could hear, "And you didn't listen to what I said.
Now leave before you limp out."
He gathered his things and headed towards the door, but not before giving
Beatrice the picture he'd dawn of her, and kissing her forehead despite the
growling woman who flexed her hands. Where had those knives come from
anyway?
"I'm sorry," Beatrice whispered to him, sniffling just a little bit and
feeling like a child for it. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
He smiled and caressed her face. "And yet it was meant to be."
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