Massage Mat Pt. 02 Ch. 01

Beth kissed Angie's neck again. Bringing her lips to Angie's ear, she whispered, "I love you very much," as she delicately flicked her tongue around the sensitive earlobe and neck.

Angie's breathing remained calm and disciplined, but goose bumps dotted her arms and neck. Beth could see that her face had become slightly flushed.

Beth's tongue now traced a line around the angle of the jaw to Angie's mouth. As Angie remained still, Beth ran her tongue around Angie's lips, teasing. The crimson hue of Angie's cheeks intensified. Beth saw Angie's nipples protrude through the material of her t-shirt as they became as erect as her own.

Beth pressed her lips to Angie's in a delicate, slow kiss. They remained like this for several seconds. Angie opened her eyes, knowing exactly what was in store for her.

Beth's gaze immediately seized her and she submitted instantly, feeling the now-familiar sensation of being drawn out of her body. She lay back on the bed, allowing Beth to assume the superior position. Beth slid her hand into Angie's gym shorts, then positioned herself so she could straddle Angie's thigh. Angie could feel Beth's wetness as she pressed her leg up into her naked lover. Beth began rocking back and forth, pressing herself into Angie's warm, welcoming thigh as her fingers lightly caressed Angie's slit.

"You are making it difficult to meditate," Angie told her with a giggle.

"I'm taking that as a compliment," Beth replied. "Usually you're like the Dalai Lama when you get into it—oblivious to everything."

Angie's body jerked as Beth fingers began to explore her clitoris. "Ahh," she gasped. "I think I need a different type of meditation this evening. Clearly you do too. Ohhh, God. Right there, Beth."

With their eyes locked together it did not take long for Angie to lubricate and open for Beth, who quickly began to probe Angie's sensual depths. Angie slid off her shorts and grabbed Beth's hips, encouraging her to slide up her leg.

Beth moved into position, and the women began to undulate their bodies together, their eyes locked in a parallel ballet.

"It's been forever since you've wanted to trib," Beth thought. She loved having Angie sense her thoughts when they were being intimate.

"I know," Angie replied out loud, "but I need to move against you right now."

With skill born of several years of practice, Beth continued to adjust her body so they received maximum pleasure from their efforts. Angie's hands grasped Beth's hips and ass, guiding her to where she could do the most good. Soon, Angie's small, supple body was arching, pressing upward as she worked to find her release. Beth watched the sex flush spread across her chest as the nipples of her small breasts darkened and became turgid. When Beth felt her wetness flood out against her leg, she knew that Angie's time was at hand.

"Ok, lover. Look into my eyes and I'll finish you," Beth thought.

Without hesitation Angie gave herself to Beth, staring deeply into her eyes. "I'm ready," she gasped.

"I know. I love getting you ready," Beth thought, smiling. "And I love finishing you off." She brought her face close to Angie's and pressed her thigh hard against the twitching pussy beneath her. "Like this," she thought as she felt Angie's thighs grip her leg like a vice as her hips continued to heave and thrust.

"Come hard," Beth whispered out loud, encouraging Angie. The look in Angie's eyes became desperate. She was still struggling, every nerve and sinew taut with the ache for release.

Beth reached out and took one of her nipples between her fingers. Angie's teeth clenched, but she smiled, knowing that deliverance was nigh. Beth began to squeeze and twist the erect nipple, drawing it out of Angie's body as she did so.

A low growl began in Angie's throat as her body began to shake. Then she exploded. "Ha!" she shouted. It sounded like a cry of triumph as she gave herself to her wife.

"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," Beth thought as she watched Angie's violent but oddly joyful orgasmic gyrations. When it was over, Angie fell back, spent, and they embraced. Beth's mouth closed over Angie's and they began kissing, using their mouths and tongues to affirm and re-affirm their undying love and devotion for each other.

After a very long time, Angie separated herself. "I know you need it too," she told Beth with a smile.

"Oh God, I do," Beth sighed, rolling onto her back. She reached out for Angie, ready for their usual masturbation-while-eye-gazing lovemaking.

Angie, however, gently pushed her back into the pillows. "Not tonight," she said with a giggle as she slid down Beth's body. She gently parted Beth's thighs and brought her face into position.

As she gently caressed Beth's mons and began to open her she looked up. "You just lie back and let me drive," she told her wife. She giggled again. "Maybe you'd like to recall Marie-Ange?" she asked teasingly. "I bet she's amazing in bed."

When Beth started to protest, Angie cut her off. "Fantasize about whoever and whatever you want. I want you to be totally fulfilled, darling. To the top—overflowing," she assured her.

"I will love you until the day I die," Beth said, as tears ran down her cheeks. "You allow me to find who I am and then accept everything that I find. I love you so—ahhhhhhhhhhh..."

Further loving affirmations were abruptly ended as Angie's tongue began to lap at Beth's clitoris. Beth's hands clutched the sheets, as her ass tightened and her back arched, thrusting herself toward the blessed tongue.

Angie had been making love to women for a long time—much longer than Beth—and she used every trick she had learned to bring pleasure to her wife. As Beth lost herself in her erotic transports, Angie was delighted to sense that Marie-Ange was playing a prominent role in Beth's fantasy.

"Oui, mon chérie. I am here," Marie-Ange said softly, gently stroking Beth's hair.

Her nude body was even more beautiful than Beth had imagined. Flawless skin covered a slender body—Beth could see her ribs and hip bones—and small-but-perfectly-formed breasts hung pertly with small, erect nipples protruding from the dark areolas. The young woman had a dark complexion to go with her dark hair, and the contrast of her skin with Beth's whiteness was striking. Beth was also incredibly aroused by the Marie-Ange's complete naturalness—and not only in her manner. She was completely unshaven, and her beautiful body hair enhanced her primal, earthy sexuality.

Marie-Ange kissed Beth then turned to watch Angie's blonde head eagerly at work between Beth's thighs.

"She is quite—um, what is the word—talented, no?" she asked Beth, gesturing toward the woman performing skillful oral sex.

"Oh God, yes, Marie-Ange, She is," Beth affirmed. "I hope you will soon learn for yourself," she added.

"I wish that too," Marie-Ange replied eagerly. "I will enjoy that very much." She began playing with Beth's nipples. "And I will enjoy pleasuring you." She began kissing and caressing Beth, adding to the pleasure coming from Angie's expert tongue.

Beth wanted this to last forever, but she could tell that she was slipping away. It was as though she were hanging onto a rope above a vast chasm—and could tell that her grip was loosening. She grabbed onto Marie-Ange with a strength borne of sheer desperation. Marie-Ange looked into her eyes, radiantly beautiful, eternally loving and kissed her once again. The young, eager hands roamed freely over her body, further loosening Beth's grip.

It was a dilemma—the tighter she grasped Marie-Ange, the more she lost her grip. What to do? How to... And then, there was no more thinking, as Angie deftly inserted two fingers and found her G-spot.

With her last, desperate, dying effort, Beth grabbed Marie-Ange for one final embrace. The rope snapped and Beth was falling...

...no, she was flying. Soaring. Puzzled, she looked at Marie-Ange. The young woman was an angel, and her strong wings were carrying her and Beth upward, upward...

"Ohhhh God. Catch me!" Beth wailed as her body heaved and twitched. Suddenly, her back arched, pulling her almost off the bed as a torrent of fluid gushed from her and onto Angie's face. Her lover never slackened her pace. She simply continued her work, extracting all of the essence of the woman who meant more to her than anything in the world.

And Beth gave totally. Everything she had and then some.

She came to rest, realizing that she was completely exhausted. Strong arms embraced her. She felt wetness against her skin. She opened her eyes, and Angie's beautiful face was there beside her.

"Are you ok?" Angie whispered.

"mmm?" was the only reply Beth could manage.

"You ok?" Angie repeated. This time Beth managed a lengthier response.

"mmm hmmm," she sighed contentedly. Angie began kissing her and soon the revival was complete. Beth was surprised to find Angie was wet everywhere.

"You haven't done that to me since your first massage," Angie chuckled. "I think I hit the right spot again."

"Oh God, you sure did," Beth whispered.

"I had a little helper angel too," Angie chuckled. Beth blushed.

"Yeah," she confessed. "You did."

"Well, just remember that we're both named after angels," she told Beth. When Beth looked at her strangely Angie explained.

"Angela. Messenger of God—an angel," Angie said with a smile. "Although I don't like it much—Angie is so much better. And you know Marie is like 'Mary,' and the 'Ange' part is also an angel."

"My two angels," Beth said, hugging Angie close. They kissed.

"I'm a mess," Angie said gently. "Let me get a towel."

"No. You keep your gorgeous ass right here," Beth said possessively. "I need an angel to hang onto for a while."

Angie smiled. "You got one," she sighed. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Angie called Myles, she told him Beth's story and how much she admired his work.

"I'm not a teacher," he had said, "but it never hurts to talk about art. You guys are certainly welcome. Tell her to bring some of her paintings. The best ones, of course, but it's much more important to bring her really bad ones. The absolute worst."

Beth had complied with that request, so the back of their small car was crammed full of canvases.

"I am so nervous I'm going to faint," Beth said breathlessly as they pulled up next to his house.

"Relax," Angie said, reassuringly. "Unless he's changed a lot, Myles is a really down to earth guy. Just remember that he's really Myles Ziglowicz, and his dad runs a bagel shop in Queens." Beth shook her head.

"He's a magnificent artist," she said. "It will be hard to just forget what kind of art he can make and think about his dad's bagel shop."

He was standing outside, waiting for them as they arrived. In many ways he looked like an ordinary middle-aged, man—in good shape but a bit pudgy, salt and pepper hair, dark complexion—but there was something magnetic about his hazel eyes. They radiated confidence and strength, yet there was an undercurrent of deviltry there also.

Beth immediately felt attracted to him. "He's so handsome and strong. A real man's man," she thought.

Myles immediately gave Angie a big hug. "It's great to see you again," he told her sincerely as he held her close. Angie smiled.

"Same to you," she said warmly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Myles, this is my wife, Beth. She's the person I told you about. I think she's very talented."

"Hi, Beth. Welcome," Myles said, extending his hand. Beth shook it, then went back to struggling with the packages in the back of the car.

"Let me help you with those," Myles said, effortlessly extracting the stack of paintings. "Aha. These are the subjects, I see. Well, then, let's go inside and we'll have a look, shall we?" Carrying the paintings he led the way into his reconstructed farmhouse.

It was obvious that the house had been completely rebuilt on a lavish scale. It was one large room with living and dining areas and a beautiful, large kitchen set off by a sumptuous island. Rich cherry cabinets were topped with black granite, giving everything a warm yet modern feel. Open stairs led to a loft that held the bedrooms and bathrooms.

"Oh my, this is lovely!" exclaimed Beth.

"Wow, Myles. I had no idea you made this kind of transformation. It's awesome," Angie agreed.

Myles smiled. "Angie helped me find this place when I decided to move here," he explained to Beth. "I think the last time you saw it was before I bought it. Right?"

"Yeah. And it was a total wreck," Angie agreed. "This is amazing."

"Thank you both," Myles said charmingly. "But let me show you my pride and joy." He led them through the house to a door at the back of the kitchen. Opening it, he revealed a huge, glassed-in studio that had been built onto the back of the house. It was flooded with light and was large enough to hold dozens of large canvases on easels while a score or more finished paintings adorned the walls. There was a large sink and work area that was better stocked with materials than most art stores. Beth thought that she was in painters' heaven. Her eyes got as big as saucers.

Myles saw her reaction and smiled. "Yeah," he told her, patting her shoulder, "this is my indulgence. I always dreamed of having a place like this to work, so when I got a little money I decided to treat myself. I love it."

"Wow," was all Beth could muster. She walked around, marveling at the room as well as the paintings, looking like the proverbial kid in a candy store.

A clunk and bang made her jump, and she saw that Myles was removing his paintings from the walls and replacing them with hers. She instantly turned white.

"Oh no. Don't do that," she blurted out. Myles turned and saw the expression on her face.

"Oh. It's like that, is it?" he said, instantly comprehending. Turning to Angie, he said, "Angie, why don't you get lost for an hour or so." As Angie started to protest he cut her off. "Go," he said firmly. "This is just going to be between us painters." Angie frowned and paused for a moment.

"Oh. I get it," she said. "I'll see you guys later." In an instant she was gone, closing the door behind her.

"Ok. So how can I help you?" Myles asked Beth. He gestured toward her paintings. "They look pretty good up there, don't they?"

"Well," Beth began nervously, "I'm not happy with my work." She hesitated. "I think it's pretty good technically, but I can't—they don't have any..." She stopped, unable to find the right words.

Myles had been contemplating the paintings. Now he turned to her. "They don't have a soul," he said simply. He walked over and studied one of the paintings. "Is this supposed to be one of the good ones or one of the bad ones?" he asked without turning around.

Beth felt like she had been punched in the gut. She couldn't reply. She felt her face burning with shame and a hot flood of tears poured down her face.

"Oh shit!" she heard Myles exclaim. In an instant he crossed to her and hugged her. "Beth, I'm so goddamn sorry. I didn't mean that the way it must have sounded. Can you please forgive me?"

She looked up and saw that he was genuinely distressed, and that made her feel better. "I'm ok," she said, wiping away her tears. "I came here for some honest criticism. You just caught me by surprise with that one."

"Well, it was below the belt," Myles said, "and I'm very sorry. I just get so damn analytical sometimes I forget how personal this stuff can be."

"To answer your question, though," Beth replied with a wry smile, "That's supposed to be a good one."

Myles smiled too. "Ok. Fair enough," he said, leading her over to the canvas. "And to be fair it's good—in a way." He pointed to various features as he talked. "The composition is excellent, and I think you've chosen good techniques for the effects you're trying to get." Beth brightened up considerably. "Also," he continued, "you seem to have a good instinct for balance—a good variety of textures and techniques but not too many. Same thing with your palate—good variety and harmony. That's really important, Beth. Those things are nearly impossible to teach."

Beth exhaled audibly. "Well, I guess that's a start," she said.

"Yes. And it's a solid start. But it's not really much to look at when it's all said and done," Myles said. Beth sadly nodded agreement.

"That's the problem in a nutshell," she said.

"Right," Myles affirmed. He turned to her. "Beth, you don't need painting lessons. You need art lessons," he told her.

Beth looked at him blankly. "Aren't those things the same?" she asked.

"Oh hell no," Myles said disgustedly. "I suppose your teachers said they were giving you art lessons?" Beth nodded. "It's fucking criminal," he spat out. "They say they're teaching art and what the hell did they teach you?"

Beth started to explain all of the techniques she learned, but Myles cut her off. "Those are painting skills. So you can make paintings. The way a carpenter makes a table or chair. A useful piece of wall furniture." He paused. "And that's great, if that's what you want to make." He looked into Beth's eyes. "But I'm getting the idea that you're here because you want to make something else."

Beth nodded. Myles could see the emotion in her welling up. "I want to make art. I want to make beautiful things that make people feel happy. And sad, and angry, and confused, and settled and uncomfortable and everything they can be all at the same time and I want to be able to be satisfied with my paintings and I want to..." she stopped when she saw Myles smiling and nodding.

"You don't need to say any more. I get it," he told her. "It's impossible to put into words, but I get it. I struggle to do that every day when I walk in here. It's hard—damn near impossible sometimes—but it's not something I want to do. It's something I need to do. Like breathing."

Beth nodded. "You're the first person who really understands this part of me," she said softly. "Well, no, to be honest, you're the second."

Myles smiled. "Angie is pretty perceptive," he confirmed. Beth shook her head.

"Not Angie. I mean, she's absolutely wonderful and supportive," Beth added hastily. "She's all in for me doing this—and I couldn't do it without her. But she's doing it because she knows that it's important to me—and that's enough for her" Beth paused. "To be totally honest, though, I don't think she really can understand why it's so important. I—she doesn't understand it's like not being able to breathe."

Myles smiled wryly. "I think you've just helped me to understand something about Angie that I've never realized until this instant," he told her. "Thank you, Beth. It seems like you're the teacher today."

Beth smiled shyly. "In one small area maybe." She paused. "To get back to the other thing though, the other person was a lovely young woman we met in France. An art student. She gave me a book of poetry with a poem about painting a bird—"

"To paint the portrait of a bird, first paint the cage? Prévert?" Myles asked.

"Yes! That's it! You know it too?" Beth asked excitedly.

"Of course. It's a famous poem—at least for painters," he said smiling.

"Anyway. She understood my soul like no one else ever has. That is, until now," Beth told him, laying her hand on his arm. "Her name was Marie-Ange," she added softly.

"That's a lovely name," Myles told her. "Well, Beth, I would be honored to try to give you a few art lessons. For you, for Marie-Ange and for the bird you will paint one day."

"Knock, knock," they heard Angie call. "It's been an hour. Do I need to continue to be invisible?"

Beth ran to the door, opened it and wrapped her arms around Angie, hugging her tightly.

"I'm going to take that as a 'no,'" Angie gasped, "but you're going to have to let me breathe at least a little, darling." Beth's grip relaxed fractionally.