The House of Elyot

1888 Part 9

Posted on: March 2, 2011

Artist’s models behaving badly…

“Alex, she is a lady.  She makes her Début in the spring, for heaven’s sake.  Leave well alone.”

 

“Jessie, you entirely mistake my intentions.  I would like to pursue a friendship with her, that is all – if I have your permission.”

 

He frowned at her and she pouted back.

 

“Besides, you have no claim on me.  No woman does.  I am free to see and mix with whomever I like, as are you.  Now, do you want to go upstairs, or shall I go home now?”

 

“No, no, don’t go home,” said Jessie sulkily.  “You want him to stay, don’t you, Vyvyan?”

 

“If that is your desire, my Savoy Venus,” affirmed Vyvyan, ruffling her hair.

 

“Then let us…retire.”  The momentary storm cloud passed over Jessie’s countenance, replaced once more by coquettish sunshine.

 

Alex, Vyvyan and Jessie took their leave of their three friends, who were by now befuddled and argumentative with drink, linked arms and ascended the Persian carpeted staircase together.

 

Swanson’s had a sideline intended strictly for those in-the-know – the letting out by the hour of of the third and fourth storey rooms.  For a discount, a customer could rent one of the sumptuous chambers for a full night, with breakfast included in the tariff.  The rooms were popular with many different flavours of clientele – the Swanson’s staff were famously discreet, so many a married grandee of the political or financial world could be found there, and it was even whispered that male couples would not be turned away.

 

It was Vyvyan who reached the curtained door first, unlocking it and flinging it aside, with a bold gesture to his lover and his friend.  They pitched inside, arms still linked and giddy with giggles, running across the varnished boards to fall in a tangle on the generous four-post bed.  Vyvyan shut the door and watched with an air of ironic detachment while Jessie and Alex writhed and rolled passionately atop the counterpane, noting the way they entwined, how their clothing tumbled and rucked, how their faces reddened and eyes glazed.  He allowed them a full two minutes to kiss and murmur before calling time on the display with an ostentatious clearing of his throat.

 

“How do you want us tonight, maestro?” asked Alex lazily, grinning up at his audience whilst keeping his red-haired captive pinned down at the shoulder.

 

“I’m still working on that same study,” frowned Vyvyan.  “I want to portray a mood of languid satiety – the lovers lying exhausted but with a post-coital halo.  I just can’t seem to get the look in Jess’s eyes right.  I need to see it one more time.”

 

A throaty laugh floated up from Jessie, squirming and writhing to elude Alex’s grasp in precisely the most teasing manner she could muster.

 

“Vyvyan, I swear you will be working on that study until Alex and I are in our dotage.  Why don’t you admit that you are a voyeur?”

 

“Jessie, all artists are voyeurs,” responded Vyvyan loftily, fumbling inside his jacket pocket for his sketchpad and charcoals.  “Even Alex, with his fine words and high poetic ideals.  He’ll be finding a way to describe your naked beauty in such a way as to elude the good offices of the Lord Chamberlain before too soon, mark my words.”

 

“Do not tar us all with your lurid brush, Stanford,” grinned Alex.  “I can separate sex and art – you cannot.”

 

Vyvyan mock-glared at his friend, pretending offence, until he shrugged and opened his book.  “You are grievously mistaken if you think there is any art that does not in some part owe its existence to sex,” he muttered.  “Now I think I would like you to start with a kiss, please, once you are undressed.”

 

Alex pulled Jessie up to a sitting position and began lowering the bodice of her loose velvet dress so that inch after inch of pale arm and cleavage was slowly revealed.  As the material slipped down, he planted a trail of kisses from her throat to her collarbone, interspersing each with conversational asides to the artist.

 

“I’ll (kiss)  take our Jessie (kiss)  exactly as I (kiss)  see fit (kiss).  As I understand (kiss), you are interested in (kiss) painting (kiss) the aftermath (kiss), rather than (kiss) the act itself (long kiss).”  Now Jessie was naked from the waist up, her dress and camisole draped loosely about her middle.  “I would not dream of telling you your job, Stanford,” he continued, looking over his shoulder squarely into the eyes of his friend.  “So please do not do me the disrespect of dictating mine.”

 

Jessie, her chin resting on Alex’s shoulder, nuzzling at his neck, sighed.  “Yes, Vyvyan, do please just let Alex do what he does…so well….”

 

Vyvyan grunted and made an annoyed hand gesture with his charcoal, then he sat himself on a comfortable chair and settled in for the performance.

 

Alex made short work of removing the remainder of Jessie’s apparel, and then he himself was naked in a trice, kneeling back down before Jessie to give her an unmistakable message of intent.

 

Jessie, reclining against a bank of silk pillows, curled her lips into a smile that mingled awe with brazenness.  “Every time I see you naked, I am shocked anew,” she purred, moving over on to her knees opposite the blond Adonis whose desire for her was so rudely evident.  “It is a dreadful shame that Vyvyan cannot just paint this monstrous beauty and have done with it.”  She moved a hand forward to cup the taut sacs that swung between the muscular thighs, then, with reverence, she curled the fingers of her other around the stiffened pole that drew the eye upwards towards Alex’s broad hairless chest.

 

“I’m flattered you think it worthy of immortalisation,” smirked Alex, hooking an arm around Jessie’s waist and pulling her inwards so she had to shuffle closer.  “Perhaps a plastercast?”

 

She snorted and squeezed at both of her prodigious handfuls, causing Alex to shut his eyes and moan.

 

“On your back, you little temptress,” he growled, flipping her down and pushing her thighs wide apart with one knee.  She cradled his neck, smashing his face down against hers so that they ground together in a fierce kiss.  His hands plucked and pinched and slapped at her body, his erection making an impression in the flesh of her hips and stomach, then his hand was down at her apex, fingers tugging at her downy copper curls, sliding along the mons until they found heat and wetness, taking refuge there in her welcoming opening, kneading and probing and prodding.

 

Jessie gasped beneath his crushing lips, always remembering how much she loved this contrast with Vyvyan’s more tender attentions, rotating her pelvis against his hard flat stomach and pushing herself down against his palm, singlemindedly devoted to the pursuit of her pleasure-crisis.

 

Alex released her mouth for an instant, moaning, “Oh, you sweet, wanton, sweet…oh, I’m going to devour you!”  His mouth plunged ravenously against her soft neck, sucking it up, his other hand pinching at a nipple until she began to whimper, brokenly, quietly at first but gathering in volume until it was a constant abandoned “Ooooooh”.  Vyvyan leaned forward, taking in the bucking hips, the slapping of her palms against Alex’s sides, her frantic head shaking, her heels digging into the mattress.  Her face was so far removed from the angelic veneer he saw on a daily basis when she was like this – it was if a demon of some kind had made its imprint on her features and all that could be read was this wild lust.  He could still not decide if Jessie was an angel with a lewd devil inside her, or vice versa.

 

Her climax passed, Alex rolled over on to his back, pointed at his still-magnificent erection and drawled,  “That’s all very well, Jessie, darling, but what are you going to do about this?”

 

She laughed, still panting, and waited for her breathing to steady before saying, “It would be a shame to deny him,” and making to swing a leg over her lover’s middle.

 

Vyvyan cleared his throat.  “Ahem, Jessie, my dear, if you plan to straddle him, I must request that he lie the other way around.  From this vantage point, I shall see no more than your posterior view – which is, of course, very fine, but I need to see your face.”

 

Alex obliged, wriggling around until his feet touched the headboard, then guiding Jessie carefully either side of his thighs and pulling her gently down, slowly, very slowly, until his cock was fully sheathed in her slick sleeve.

 

Vyvyan’s hand grew idle as he watched the spectacle of Jessie, splendid young breasts bouncing, tracing a lurching back and forth path on top of Alex’s pole.  Alex gurgled appreciatively whenever she leaned far enough forward to brush him with her nipples, then sighed with satisfaction when she sat back upright, shoulders back, fiery hair fanning out in all directions, plastered to her face, trailing over her arms, half-shielding her firm bosom.  Her determination was ferocious and he helped her on her mission, holding her buttocks to assist her into the angle that would send them both speeding rapidly over the edge.

 

“Ah…yes…you beautiful whore…fuck!”  Alex’s voice tailed to weak bleating while Jessie howled out her second intense orgasm of the session, the pair of them slipping sweatily against each other, flopping down in complete enervation.

 

“Yes,” muttered Vyvyan, finding for a fleet second that expression of depleted ecstasy on his lover’s face and trying to translate it into as few swipes of charcoal as possible.  “Yes, my love.”

 

For an enchanted while, nothing could be heard but the scribble of Vyvyan’s charcoals while Alex and Jessie lay in a sleepy embrace.  Then silence fell, heavy and thick until Jessie raised her head, half-yawning, and said, “Please do join us, dearest.”

 

Vyvyan placed aside his sketches and undressed; his body was shorter and thinner than Alex’s, but there was one part of it that beat his weary friend for length and girth at this moment.

 

“Oh, sweet love,” cooed Jessie.  “Let me help.”

 

Vyvyan lay back and shut his eyes for the first time, no longer needing his observational skills for the feast of sensation ahead.

 

 

2 Responses to "1888 Part 9"

Wow! Delightful 🙂

If it wasn’t for the period setting, though, I’d have to say you owed ‘splendid breasts’ to Jilly Cooper 😉 As it is, I’ll let you away with it!

I’m the first to admit I love a bit of Jilly, but I don’t think I’d use ‘splendid breasts’ in a contemporary. Unless I was writing about goings-on in Rutshire, of course ;).

Thank you, my dear – I’m delighted you’re enjoying the (hansom) ride.

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