Artistic Impressions Pt. 03

She reclined on the sofa, this time facing him. With her head propped up on her upturned hand she stared back at him. He stood up, shamelessly, perhaps even defiantly, fully exposing his front and his still excited appendage. She stared at it for several minutes as he began his sketch. She was a vision of sensuality, with her firm, flat stomach, and her sumptuous breasts stacked one on top of the other in a long cleavage. Her upper arm lay on top of her right hip, attempting to draw the eye's attention there, away from her marvels of womanhood. She saw his eyes focus there. She turned her wrist to dangle her hand over the triangle of bikini bottom covering of her crotch. Satisfied that she had his attention there, she pushed the tips of her fingers down under the upper side of the material. They did not move any further in, but showed through in outline to point the direction of the eye towards her intimate sex. It was her refinement to the pose.

Jeff hurried to finish the sketch. He was convinced that she was teasing with him, but in a subtle, confused fashion. He went over to her and showed her the sketch.

"Goodness, my breasts look so big. Is that how they really are in repose?"

He nodded, his mouth dry from prolonged arousal.

She affected a shiver, a conceit to justify her next suggestion.

"It's getting cool. I think we should do another sketch in the bedroom."

She got up and stood almost touching Jeff. Both stood motionless, too nervous to make a provocative move. She reached for her dressing gown instead. He took it from her hands. He thought she was using it as a shield to limit her exposure.

"I'll carry it."

She froze, uncertain how to respond with her body comfort blanket taken away from her. She moved towards the iron staircase with a stiff posture, which spoke of her discomfort. Jeff watched her depart, studying the sway of her hips, and the beauty of her lines from her shoulders down her long, smooth legs. The triangle of cover over her bottom tilted as a mocking reminder that she was still effectively clothed, whilst he was naked. She had not yet shown him all of her body. He speculated whether she ever would.

She walked quickly, and he had to hurry after her. It felt absurd as he hurried nakedly through the suite lounge and down the spiral staircase, his cock slapping from to side against his inner thighs.

She took the dressing gown from his hands in the bedroom, and put it on, but she did not fasten its belt. She reclined along one side of the bed facing him in the same pose as upstairs on the roof. The lower half of the kimono fell down, open. She placed her hand on her hip, pushing the upper side of the gown off that side. Her front was almost wholly exposed in the bikini.

"I would like you to sketch me like this," she murmured.

"Would you-" he began, then paused for courage, "- untie the back strap of the bikini top and loosen the lie of the fabric."

Her expression was discouraging. He ploughed on.

"- because that would imply that you are teasing with a partial reveal, and makes the subject more complex and interesting."

She thought about that for quite some time before obliging him, saying, "I'll do it for artistic purposes, but I won't strip for you."

She reached behind her back and untied the back strap of the top. She lifted the triangles carefully away from her breasts but still covering them from his vantage point, then let them hang. Her upper breast was now exposed at the side but the material still covered her nipple and areola. The covering was held it in its shifted position by the side tie trapped under her arm.

"A quick impression of that pose will do," she said.

He sensed her reluctance, and hurriedly finished the scenario with far fewer strokes of the pencil. The result was more impressionistic but surprisingly good. He showed it to her. She smiled radiantly. "I see what you've done. I look as if I'm teasing you.

"Now another pose. I think I can develop that theme whilst keeping my modesty."

Careful not to disturb the anchor tie holding her top partially in place, she tugged at the exposed side bow at her hip. The two lengths sprung apart but she held them to stop the fabric falling away from her crotch. She carefully lowered the upper tie, causing the triangle to drop somewhat until the upper edge just concealed her pubic area. He saw wisps of trimmed pubic hair peeping out from the side.

Her eyes stared at Jeff with meaningful, strictly limited intent. "You see, I can hint at tease whilst remaining essentially covered."

He vented a deep sigh of disappointment and sketched rapidly. She liked the resulting outline as much as the first. His frustration had inspired his sketching. Frustratingly for him, she retied the bikini straps before shrugging off her dressing gown.

"I will pose lying on my back like this. You will have to stand close to sketch me from above."

Was she really posing, or simply upping the tension with art as an excuse?

He frowned. "May I arrange the bikini to make it more interesting?"

She considered that. "You may, but do not make me nude. I trust you to follow my wishes."

He knelt beside her and reached his hands round her sides to untie the back strap again. His hands shook as he arranged the angles of each triangle more acutely to show more of the sides of her breast. The backs of his fingers touched her breast flesh as he did the adjustments, and her body jolted.

He was bolder with the bikini bottom, untying its sides and pulling it lower down on her crotch so that most of her trimmed pubic hair was exposed, and the material looked to be lying at a haphazard angle lower down her thighs.

She made a sharp intake of breath, to register her concern, but made no move to adjust the arrangement. Indeed, she drew up one knee and rested it across the other and turned her head to the side. She would not look at the viewer, for that would imply complicity. Jeff splayed out her hair to suggest that her head had fallen in that position. He stood on the bed to improve his angle of view from above. She lay in that position without moving as he sketched quickly.

He came to the frustrated conclusion as he drew that she was not prepared to strip for him for sexual reasons but she was prepared to pose 'artistically' within reason for the draftsman. That felt to him like a form of prudish hypocrisy. He sighed again, slowly losing patience with this pretence. The sketch was finished quicker than the others, and with bolder lines.

He stood over her, feet either side of her hips, holding the sketch over her away from his pulsating cock. She turned and looked up to examine both, visibly squirming with arousal at the monstrous appendage bobbing excitedly above her.

After a few moments' consideration, she whispered, "Would you pass me my dressing gown?"

His eyes widened, but not with excitement.

"I'm tired of playing this game."

He threw the dressing gown at her. "Put it on!"

He turned away petulantly.

"OK," she said softly. When she was fully covered he grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the wardrobe, wrenching open the double doors and searching the contents. The untied bikini bottom had fallen to the carpet beneath her kimono. He turned to her. "Find the sexiest outfit you have here and put it on."

She faced him with trembling lips. She stuttered, "I -- can't."

He thrust his hand between her thighs through the closed front of the kimono. His upturned fingers found her sopping cunt and rubbed backwards and forwards against it several times. Her body jolted. He moved against her. "You want seeing to, don't you? You want it, I know. You've seen how big my cock is. You must have been fantasising of it inside you. I saw it in your eyes, many times this evening. You've been teasing me, whether it was your intent or not. You know full well how your body turns me on. Well, I'm a voyeur. I don't mind admitting it. Now, you're going to perform for me, to make up for all this artist pretence. Choose an outfit and be quick about it. I won't watch while you change."

She faced him, wide eyed, but not with fright. Her heaving bosom betrayed passion; it might have been of sexual arousal or anger.

He left the bedroom, muttering, "You have five minutes. Then I'm out of here, for good."

He freshened up in the bathroom, wrapped the towel around his waist, and stomped up the spiral staircase. His heart pounded, his body was shaking, and his legs felt like jelly. He had stunned himself by his ultimatum. He had lost control. He wondered how she would react. She might use the telephone to report an assault. Whatever, he would wait out the consequences. The evidence of the sketches was all the evidence he needed of her complicity.

He decided to wait her out. He fetched himself a soft drink from the kitchenette fridge. After a minute's study, he had the entertainment system in operation. He found a music station on the television, the sound playing through independent speakers. The selected channel was playing late-night hip-hop videos. Voluptuous, half naked women were gyrating around band members as they performed to a sexy, funky beat. The music wasn't to Jeff's taste, but the vibe suited his mood. Two music videos later, and well after the five-minute deadline, Alessa appeared, dressed in a white mini pleated skirt and cropped denim top. She was wearing white high heels. The ensemble surprised Jeff in its casual sexiness.

"Wherever would you wear that?" he asked in surprise.

"I have been known to go clubbing," she replied defensively. She tried to smile but it ended up as a nervous grimace.

"Well, pretend that you're there now, in the club. Dance for me."

She took the remote control from his hand without question and dimmed the room lighting down to wall lights.

"Not too gloomy, I want to appreciate your body as you dance."

She opened her mouth to reply but seemed to think better of it. She began to dance half-heartedly. Jeff had to admit that even her minimal, half-hearted moves were stirring enough. Her body looked far sexier in that short skirt than in the bikini. As she dipped her knees and tilted her hips, the pleats of the skirt bounced up to reveal her hips and exquisite bottom cheeks. He didn't mind that she had put back on the bikini bottom she had worn earlier.

But it wasn't enough to stem his irritation. He couldn't enjoy her performance in his fractured mood.

"Why did you ever think that we could go into business together? I couldn't cope with your sexy body and puritanical mind."

He stood up.

"No, don't --" she urged. "I need you. I'd be all alone without your help. I never want to be on my own again."

Her appeal mollified his irritation. His mood changed to guilt. He could never blackmail or coerce a woman. He replied in a low voice, "You shouldn't need to buy company by doing something you don't want."

The table was turned. He no longer wanted to force her, but she was pleading him to stay.

"Please, let me at least entertain you a little. It will help lift my mood to dance."

He had misgivings about staying now but sat back on the sofa. So, she was lonely, perhaps isolated in her shyness. Possible explanations for her being with Frank sprang to mind, and helped to explain her conflicting attitude towards Frank.

"I'm sorry I pressed you. You're perfectly entitled to maintain your dignity and modesty."

"What would you want from me?" she murmured, perhaps fearful of his answer.

He thought deeply before replying. She had implied wanting some sort of relationship, so far undefined. She hinted at loneliness. He liked her a lot, and he fancied her even more. But he knew he couldn't settle for less than all. To pretend otherwise would be dishonest.

He seized his cock, for comfort as much as anything. "Any relationship I had with you would have to be full on. I'd rather run a million miles in the opposite direction than continually be teased by your sexiness and stunning beauty, yet suffer your refusal to show yourself."

She had a quick answer.

"If we worked together, in an office, you'd have to behave respectfully."

"But away from the office, is that what you want? Why did you really agree to me sketching you? If you had refused, Frank would have accepted your refusal. You might still be with him. Be honest with yourself."

She was barely moving now, her mind whirring. She stopped abruptly, and headed into the kitchenette. She returned with a bottle of gin and a tumbler. She poured herself a generous double of neat alcohol.

"I'm drinking far too much these days. I'm very nervous."

She downed it in two long gulps, a feat that would have been beyond Jeff. He guessed this was another prop to help her deal with her issues.

She placed the empty glass on a side table and resumed her dance. The subdued lighting helped to warm the atmosphere. A single black dancer with a superbly sexy figure in a scanty yellow bikini, was dancing energetically around a seated black man, twerking her bottom at him and gyrating her hips. Alessa turned to watch it from the side as she danced. She appeared engrossed in the woman's figure.

Jeff asked, "What do you think of her body?"

"It's very sexy. I like black women's bodies, especially their bottoms."

"What do you like about black women's bodies?"

"I like all women's bodies, but there's something special about some body types. I also like men's bodies as well. Is that perverted?"

Jeff smiled. "You're hardly perverted. I've never met someone so repressed as you before."

She frowned. "I like sex, or at least the romantic ideal of it. I don't lack a sex drive. I'm just not comfortable showing my body, and I don't sleep around. What do you like?"

He sighed with frustration. "Sex is often on my mind. I work to clear it from my mind, and keep it at bay. I like to look at women, and I'm most turned on by revealing clothes and erotic nudity. I suppose I must be a voyeur. You can see why we wouldn't be suited to each other. You don't like to show off your body."

She had almost stopped moving. "How do you feel about me?"

She was evidently grappling with complex thoughts.

He took a deep breath. "I barely know you, but I like most of what you've told me about you. I find you interesting and --"

"But...you dislike my prudity. Do you like what you see?"

"Your prudery; it drives me crazy with desire, but it doesn't feel good to be teased like that. Teasing has to lead to satisfaction or it's unfair or cruel. Your body is stunning, and you're truly beautiful. You're holding back with me makes me feel very insecure with you.

"But -- I think I understand your fear of loneliness and isolation. Can you see how that need for company might force you into doing things you'd rather not?"

A smile broke out on her face, as if she was pleased at his words.

"Can I trust you?"

"I'd promise you nothing I couldn't deliver."

"Would you be good to me?"

"I'd do anything for you as my lover. I think you're fantastic."

"Would you be sympathetic to my feelings?"

"I think I'd do anything for you if I cared about you. But that takes trust on both sides for that to develop, and it doesn't happen overnight."

His answer seemed to lift her mood. Her dancing resumed and became more animated. She faced him as she tilted her hips and flicked up the pleats of her skirt, now by design. She was getting into the music and the sexy vibe. When the track ended she continued dancing, her moves becoming more provocative as a new music video began. The late-night vibe was definitely getting sexier.

Her face looked strained. Jeff had seen that look before on other women, a look of intense, unbearable arousal. She stepped closer to him, gyrating her hips sinuously. She put her palms on his legs and bent her knees, opening them wide to tease him with hints of her sex. She straightened up and turned sideways lifted a side of her hem. She extended her fingers theatrically and plucked at the ends of the bikini side strap, just like a stripper would. The bow came undone. She let Jeff's mind dwell on the possibilities of her bared hip and its implications for what might be to come, before dropping the hem back into place. She turned the other way to show the other hip, untying that bow and baring the flesh. She bucked her hips, and the untied bikini bottom dropped to the carpet.

She gyrated her hips more energetically and flipped up the hem to flash her bare haunches at him. On her faces was a dreamy smile. She was getting into a sassy mood that showed no hint now of embarrassment.

She turned her back on him and pushed the skirt waistband down off her hips and down her legs, revealing her splendid, unclad shapely hips and bottom. She turned to face him again now wearing only the short denim top. Her hand was clamped firmly over her crotch. Her beautiful face was screwed up with intense passion. It was a priceless pose. He wished he had a camera to record it.

She tilted her hips as she danced to the background music, then paused as she unzipped the denim top with her free hand. Jeff's heart fluttered at the improving prospect that she was at last going to deliver all that he desired. The sides were pushed apart by the lateral pressure of her sumptuous breasts to reveal their inner sides and a hypnotically enticing natural cleavage.

Jeff groaned with extreme arousal at that hint of perfect breasts.

She turned her back again and shrugged back her shoulders, allowing the denim top to slip from her back and down her extended arms. The moment he had almost given up any hope of experiencing was almost upon him. The top hung there for many tantalising seconds before she released it from her wrists. She was finally naked. Jeff's wish had been fulfilled. Her body was a rare example of flawless flesh and a perfect shape. Jeff had to stop himself wanking his pressured cock with almost unbearable anticipation.

She turned to face him again, one arm across her breasts, and the other hand again at her crotch. Her slightly compressed breasts overflowed above and below her slender arm and delicate hand. She was impossibly sexy and beautiful, and this must all be unreal, a dream.

Alessa's eyes were ablaze with a feral glow. She no longer looked bashful. She was moving now with confidence in her body, and her trust in Jeff.

She swung her hips, but appeared uncertain how to proceed, dinking her them repeatedly, but keeping her important places covered. She finally turned away from him again, and raised her arms high in the air. Then she danced with hypnotic hip moves, and graceful armography above her head.

He could see generous side boobs wax and wane as she gyrated her hips and tilted her shoulders. Something fluttered in his chest. He concentrated hard on what he now saw, desperately hoping to be able to remember it for eternity, as a very special moment in his life.

She turned to face him, gradually lowering her arms until they rested on her hips. She faced him, now totally naked, but proud of bearing, to gauge his reaction. Her eyes were smiling and her lips parted.

He stared open-mouthed at her delightfully fulsome pear drop breasts. Their hue was golden in the subdued light, their shape heavenly representations of supreme womanhood. Her enlarged nipples were framed with dark brown areolae, belying her British origins, and hinting at exotic ancestry.

He could only sit rigidly upright, frozen in position, staring at the most wonderful and erotic sight that he had ever witnessed. Then he slid his bottom off the towel on the sofa and lay on the floor in front of her, holding his throbbing cock aloft.

She looked down at him uncertainly. Then she remembered him towering over her earlier that evening, and how she had felt staring up at his rigid cock and wrinkled balls. She stepped forward to straddle his sides, bending her knees and dinking her hips as she resumed her sensual dance. She was suddenly laughing uncontrollably. He could only imagine that it was from emotional release and mounting arousal.