The Artist's Muse

"You have an exquisite form," she breathed to ease the tension built up by several pregnant minutes of silence in the room.

"Riding my horse has kept my body in good shape," he agreed.

Returning her intense gaze, his eyes seemed to blaze over her body, she felt he was undressing her from her thin negligee.

She imagined how his long capable fingers might run over her soft thighs and touch her at her most sensitive place. Closing her eyes for a moment she saw him squeeze her ample breasts, lightly at first, pinching her nipples. Her body aroused, she paused from her work and let out a sigh, breaking the fantasy. Although she had only let a few men into her heart and fewer into her bed, there was something mysterious and so sensual about the way his gaze took her whole body in, understood her needs. She wanted him.

Looking down at her page, Letitia didn't notice until Roland was standing right in front of her. "That is so sensual, the way you focus when you are drawing me," he said as if reading her mind. He ran his hand across her shoulders, settling on the seat beside her. His lips blazed a trail up her collarbone and over her lips, his fingers resting on the lace edging of her bodice for a moment. Parting her mouth, he kissed her lightly and then with more ardor as she felt his hand sliding up her nightgown between her thighs.

These new sensations caused her knees to buckle and her whole core tingled. As he kissed her deeply, his finger slid over her mound, lightly at first, producing a rich heady sensation. Letting the pleasurable emotions overcome her, her head fell back awash in feeling. He continued to kiss her mouth and their tongues met as he slipped a finger and then two into her core. He moved his hand slowly at first and then faster, "you feel so tight," he said.

"How long has it been since you've made amour?" he teased, his eyebrow lifting quizzically, his fingers quickening.

"Too long," she gasped as her hips arched to meet his hand. As his long fingers plunged into her she slid her hand along his thigh, until she reached his manhood. Judging by his erect state, she could tell that he wanted to press his wholeness into her. Her skin quivered with these newly caused sensations as she tightened her body around his dexterous fingers, "Mon dieu Roland," she purred.

"Oh," she said, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. Her nipples were taut hard peeks and Roland moved from her mouth to her breasts, licking them lightly and then suckling them. Never had a man paid such attention to her breasts. This was much more satisfying than just drawing images of lovers in abandon.

He placed his mouth over the left nipple and then the right. His dark locks fell against her sensitive skin and she relished the feel of his mouth as he continued to suckle on her breasts. They slid onto the ground as the candlelight flickered above them.

"You are a goddess sent to tempt me aren't you?" Roland said, his voice rich and commanding. She ran her fingers over him, her hands reveling in the feel of his smooth skin. Her hands glided over his smooth chest and then she wrapped her hand around his length, feeling it grow longer and harder under her attentions.

"I don't know if I will be able to stop myself," Roland said, his blue eyes holding her dark ones. She breathed in his earthy scent of cedar and sage. "Perhaps it's best," she said, licking her lips and then kissing him on his neck, "if we stop then." She smiled and then rolled of off him. She stroked through his breeches, "I need to keep my muse in top shape, not dampen his energy."

With a large sigh, Roland rolled over onto his stomach and watched the curvaceous form of Letitia. "You are just going to leave me in this state of want?" his voice husky with need.

"Goodnight Roland, come again tomorrow at midnight, for your next portrait sitting," she said, throwing his tunic and waistcoat at him. With a groan he got up and she watched as his muscular frame glistened in the candlelight.

The ink from Letitia's pen flowed for several moments after Roland had left her chamber. Recalling the way that he had traced his fingers possessively over her neck, breasts and thighs and their near coupling, she reveled in the sensations. She had felt an immediate attraction to this demanding man. She nibbled on the quill and watched the candle flame flicker with the draught that snuck in through the twisted stairway. Rain pattered against the glass and the flashes of lightening in the distance thundered softly. A storm was brewing in the inky sky.

Chapter Four

His feet in the stirrups on his favorite steed, Roland felt the weight of the world under his heels. He needed clarity. After feasting on Letitia's body and reading her stories, he felt like he knew a wilder more passionate side of himself and her than he had ever known before. Underneath her prim façade was a woman's soul made of fire and ice, willing to ignite his body and spirit with one gaze. Her delicious body and prodigious talent alerted his senses to provide for her, to inspire her as an artist. And yet his cold, dark, past of a life, crept up behind him as he dismounted from his horse near the central café. Quartier-Latin was brimming with people. The air was redolent of roast coffee, its rich scent was intoxicating, causing his mouth to water. He recognized a few of his artist friends and waved his hand. Cool green glasses filled with liquor were downed all around the table. He joined in at once, drowning his sorrows in the potent venom - Absinthe. It burned his throat and caused his eyes to water, so potent was its toxicity on his body. The edges of the world became a bit shadowy as he sat in the café; he felt a warm wave wash over him, immediately relaxing. The gambling and drinking continued long into the night until he felt drawn back to his old mansion.

The liquor was spurring visions in his head while the vertical reality of the stone street was jarring underneath the horse's hooves. At last he rounded a corner that was familiar, the large old stones were burned and pock marked, evidence of the revolution in the streets. With a force that kept pulling him stronger and harder, he found himself putting one foot in front of the other faster and faster until he was standing in his lair. The world blurred in front of his eyes and he fell onto his bed in a deep slumber.

Roland tossed back and forth on his bed, a vision of his deceased widow Marie appeared to him. She was shimmering in her nude skin, a beautiful sight. He felt her mount him and ride him without restraint tossing her head back and forth, placing his large hands over her soft breasts so that she was fully penetrating him. She rocked back and forth over his manhood and then she transformed into the body of Letitia. A warm rush of emotion swept through him as they both rushed into oblivion. As quick as she appeared she then dissipated into the night air.

Running her fingers along her satin embroidered garters underneath her nightgown, Letitia felt the finely-worked pattern and wondered where Roland was. It was one o'clock in the morning and she had requested that he sit for his portrait at 12. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, she thought more about the master of the house with every coming hour. When would he demand to see her work? Would he be happy with it? She hoped that he would. As she wrote with her left hand, she felt the pads of her right hand trace up her nightgown and linger there at the apex of curls. The first streaks of dawn appeared on the horizon and still Roland did not come.

Chapter Five

Rolling out of bed, Roland saw the wreckage of the night before him. Glass wine bottles lay before him, bobbing in a sea of dirty clothes and old plates. The sheets of his bed were twisted, he ran his hand along his jaw to feel the sharp stubble. Pools of tallow melted on the floor creating a white sheen. A human skull on his desk stared back at him, reminding him of its' nearness and with that he felt the haunting presence of his deceased wife, Maria. Remembering her loss, he doubted whether he would be able to love again. As if all the light in his mind had been extinguished, his head felt a searing pain.

The Absinthe had left him in a stupor that was so heady he could barely remember his name. All he could recall was the vision of Letitia straddling his thighs, bucking over him, feeling her soft smooth breasts and pinching her dark nipples. His manhood was hard and needy for her. His pants tented and he had only been awake for a few minutes. He wiped his eyes of the smoke and grime from gallivanting in the city to find placed at eye level on his bedroom wall the painting of the god and goddess Baron La Croix. Their voluptuous bodies hinted of excessive pleasures in wine and love making. Pan, the god of Bacchanalia, gazed out lasciviously at him, joining the other gods and goddesses. The male Baron had bronze tanned skin, long legs, an athletic body, and dark black curls; it was as if Letitia had used his body for the model for this god of debauchery. But his face, Roland noted, was covered in a mask made of dark waxy leaves, like the Green Man, an ancient Pagan deity. They lay in a valley of flowers, a river flowing by. Their faces turned toward Roland and he felt as if they were watching him, approving of the night he had spent in mad revelry.

The longer he stared at the painting, the more he felt an insatiable desire to see Letitia; it was as if she had cast a spell on him through painting the image. He decided to go to the garden and work out his anxieties in the dirt.

The next morning Letitia rose and longed for some fresh air. She found the flowing, drifting sound of the water in the brook like a melody for her nerves. The shafts of light in the garden slid over her body and her face felt the warm sunshine. She breathed in the smells of lavender and jasmine, the wet dew, the rich spicy scent of cedar redolent of the harems in the lower quarters of Paris, where men with a penchant for the Orient went to smoke hashish and enjoy the company of exotic belly dancers. She deigned to go there, to witness their sensuous movements. Perhaps if she could come up with a decent disguise she would be able to go there and do some research for her next art series. After the one night with Roland, all her senses were awakened to the natural world. Her heeled boots pressed into the soft soil as she wound through the labyrinth of stone and herbs that grew wild and untamed.

` The tall red bricks of the garden walls extended back and as she walked she felt the rough surface of the brick. She rounded the corner and not looking where she was going, she tripped and fell into Roland who was busy working with the vegetables.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried as she bent to pick up her sketches which had fallen all over the dewy lawn.

"No I apologize. Truly, it is my fault," Roland said to her in a slow, sweet way of talking, which Letitia found so attractive. The way that his voice rolled the letters off his tongue, it made her feel a warm pull of friction through her spine, as if elevating her body to a different plane. His dark brown hair sparkled in the sunshine.

Looking over at Roland, she wanted to run her hands over his shoulders and feel his hard muscle beneath. His eyes caught hers and she could see lines around his face, his mouth was in a firmer line, as if he hadn't slept well. He wore grey loose pants and his billowy tunic that revealed a sparse amount of black chest hair. She imagined how easily it would be to strip off his simple clothing, how quickly he might sheath himself in her. Her pulse racing, she tried to control her prurient thoughts and felt her breasts flush with anticipation.

Placing his calloused hand on her mahogany colored hand, he rubbed them together. The friction of his rough hand over her smooth silky skin was nearly too much for her feverish body to handle, she felt her core pulse. He rubbed his hand over hers again and she replied with a warm throaty sound a "hmmm."

"Roland," Letitia sighed.

"Yes," his sky-blue eyes held hers.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Nothing in particular, I just wanted to get your garden into shape here," he said with a wink and his blue eyes roamed over her, as if he wanted to possess her body and soul.

"I believe," said Letitia, "that you could get my garden into shape, if you would pose for me, here," she breathed out softly.

"Here?now?" questioned Roland.

"Yes here, the lighting is perfect, your profile would be illuminated by daylight," she said as they took a turn about the vegetable patch.

"I'll have to think about that Letitia," he said raising a dark eyebrow which only heightened the mystery behind his blue eyes, "now which vegetable is your preference? The cucumbers are a beautiful dark green but not exactly straight."

"Ahah. I see." whispered Letitia. They were gazing down at the squash and beans.

"This one is lovely too," he said pointing to a yellow curved zucchini.

"Yes," Letitia said, "I love the way it curves so naturally," and then she laughed aloud. She ran her fingers over its smooth skin with the little bumpy ridges and then adjusted her voice to a more serious tone.

"I mean it Roland, I need to paint your profile, and the daylight is the best way to see all your features."

"First, let me evaluate your features," he countered as he ran his finger over her chin. She felt as if he had done so a thousand times before. Placing a kiss on her lips, he set her heart racing. Her whole body responded to his touch and set it coveting with dark needs and she, like the Haitian goddess of love, fell into his embrace.

The grass was long and green beneath Letitia's thighs, a vivid contrast to the deep blue of Roland's eyes. Their clothes lay in a heap beside them and Letitia smiled as Roland ran his hands up her shapely calves and massaged the top of her thighs. Letitia helped him along the way, guiding his hands, sliding them to her apex, pressing his hand into her mound, allowing waves of pleasure to overcome her. She let out a little moan and gasped as he pressed lightly into her secret place. She couldn't believe that this fantasy was becoming a reality. She ran her hands through his dark hair and then squeezed his thick shoulders, bracing herself.

"Lick me at my core," she purred.

"Like this?" he said, removing his skillful hands and replacing them with his velvety tongue.

"Yes, slowly, very slowly, like you are enjoying a ripe, rare peach," she said and let out a soft sigh in encouragement. She barely recognized this goddess who had taken over her voice and was now encouraging such wanton behavior.

Roland licked her from the bottom to the top of her apex causing waves of sensation to flow through her body. Her hips arched up to meet his mouth as his tongue began to move into her, she could feel the velvety richness of his tongue, this naughty behavior driving her senses wild. She moaned in want of more. He met her gaze with his eyes - hooded in desire - and continued his assault on her senses.

He placed his hands onto her breasts as he kept his tongue darting in and out of her, causing her body to flood with want. He massaged her nipples until they were hard little pebbles, pinching them. She placed her hands over his and massaged her breasts while bringing up her mound to meet his hungry mouth. A feeling of insatiable lust swept over her as she rocked her body and hips in undulations moving forward and back in a hypnotic rhythm. Feeling him press his manhood along her thigh, she arched her hips in response.

"Mon dieu, Letitia," he said as he felt her shudder beneath him.

"Yes, Roland," she said craving more.

"I don't know if I will be able to stay in my untended state much longer," he let out a low growl. They rolled together in the long green grass, its coolness providing relief to their warm bodies. Letitia rolled so she was on top of him. Squeezing his nipples she said, "You relax, you have given me so much pleasure, now let me give you some. An officer like you..."she said running her hands along his muscular chest and abdomen. Roland's chest was like a city landscape that she had never explored. The smooth feel of his skin beneath hers was like learning a new language. The sunlight revealed his scars, and she rolled her tongue over them.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"While you were sleeping, I sketched portraits of you and I realized from all your sleep talking, that you must have been in the military for some time," she said and smiled at him, kissing her way down his abdomen.

"Sleep talking?" he blushed under her gaze and his eyes widened for a moment, while gasping as she continued to kiss him. Her thighs held him in place and she could feel the strength of his manhood press up against her. It had been so long for Letitia since she had lain with a man, especially as handsome as him. She bucked her hips playfully against him, preparing Roland for her garden path.

"I know about your secrets too Letitia. You draw erotica that would rival the Marquis de Saade's lurid descriptions. But I love that about you, your fantastic creativity." Roland's face flushed as he smiled at her.

"Well then you'll enjoy this one, called the French kiss," she said placing her mouth over top of his manhood, licking him slowly. The friction created was sending waves of energy through his whole body. He gasped, his body tight. She ran her hands along his ass, scraping his thighs lightly, feeling his warm blood course beneath his taut skin.

As she continued to work her mouth over him, Roland let out longer groans; she could feel him moving underneath her. She could feel his hands holding her head in position, drawing through her rich black curls. She loved that she could return the pleasure he had given her.

"Letitia you are an art piece, let me enter you," he said panting. She met his eyes and took in all of him. His cock was a delicious length and smoothness inside her mouth. Touching the back of her mouth, he increased his pace and pumped into her.

He groaned as she removed her mouth from him and then straddled him, holding his cock in her hand as she slowly lowered her core over his hard length. Although she did not have much experience, her creative imagination took over.

He sheathed himself in her and she groaned as she adjusted to his length. She ran her hands along his muscular chest, feeling the ripples of his smooth muscle underneath her fingertips, bracing herself on him. He felt so right inside of her, like he belonged. He placed his long firm fingers around her waist as she settled unto him. She let out a little cry as his length seemed to grow in her, stretching her core, the slick friction building inside of her body like a heat wave.

Arching her back, his manhood hit her sensitive spot inside her body. They rocked together as he thrust. Roland grasped her breasts, squeezing her nipples as he drove into her with all his strength. She clenched around his manhood, driving his cock further as he came in her. She felt warm spasms move over her belly and thighs as they both shook with the force of their union.

They held each other close for several moments, underneath the warm rays of the sun. Her painterly senses loved the contrast of their skin together; his tan bronzed body was light caramel next to her cocoa skin.

Roland's white skin sparkled in the sunlight. His upper arms were well formed and muscular.

Tracing a fingertip over his bicep, she said, "you remind me of the Greek God of arts."

He smiled, his pink lips catching hers in a kiss.

"Just like the god Apollo, handsome, dark curling hair, a beautiful comely figure." Getting up on her elbows, Letitia reached for her clothes and retied her yellow billowy dress that had been thrown away in their passion. A few paces away, the roses seemed to lie sprawled open, mimicking the position of her legs kisses earlier.