Pictures at an Exhibition

"Tell me," he repeated.

She looked down. "Maybe later, OK?"

The two moved to the next photograph.

+

A scene on a black-sand beach, a Chinese woman in a kung fu stance.

In her mid-20s, she is toned, attractive. Her body is naked, her head up and facing forward. Her black hair is unbound and very long; as her torso is leaning forward, it covers her breasts and sex. The expression on her face is one of confidence, attentiveness, supreme focus.

She is in a swallow position, squatting on her back leg, so low that the whole length of her straight front leg is parallel to the smooth, hard sand. Her front foot is pointing straight out as an extension of the leg. Both arms are extended behind her.

+

While not a karate expert, Jamie could sense the exceptional stability of the pose, the potential it offered for lightning-fast and highly fluid defensive moves. He was struck by the latent lethality of the woman, more so than any of the others they had yet examined.

"Before you ask," he said, "I suspect that yes, she is. And, no, I'm not sure what's going on."

"Not sure about what?" Fiona asked.

"I'm sure of one thing," he said, "you're cheating."

"What?"

"Supervisor or not, you can't get away with pulling rank on me like this."

Fiona looked at him, eyebrows raised.

Jamie waved a hand down his body, now clothed only in his boxers. He smiled, reached out and took Fiona's uniform shirt by the collar, tugged on it just slightly before letting go.

Her face was expressionless. "You're not serious."

"You were," he smiled. "And so am I."

"No way! You're a boy and I'm..."

"My supervisor, who ordered me to take off my uniform while we were on duty." He grinned, raising one eyebrow.

Fiona stared at him for almost a minute before her slim hands moved to her buttons and started undoing her shirt.

She shrugged out of it and handed it to him before raising her eyes to his as if daring him to say anything.

Jamie was impressed. Fiona had a good figure, hidden now only by a medium-green lacy bra.

Her head slowly fell to one shoulder. "OK?"

He smiled again, making the identical come on   motion she had given to him a minute earlier. He could almost see the wheels going around inside the diminutive woman's head. Eventually, she shrugged, undid her belt and let the uniform slacks fall to the floor. Under it, she wore bikini panties to match her brassiere.

Stooping, she picked them up and handed them to him. "Satisfied?"

"Almost," he said. "Turn around."

"Like hell!   Perv!"

"You'd better believe it, Fiona. And you force me to remind you that you started this. Turn around."

Blushing, the redhead spun slowly in place. Her firm bosom was matched by an equally firm, very shapely bum.

"Better," Jamie said softly. "Now then, where were we?"

Fiona took a deep breath, turned away from him to face the photo. "Tell me how you feel about her."

"One thing's clear," he said, "if she was in bed with you, it would be because she wanted to be."

Fiona smiled broadly. "Too right. What else?"

"She's in total control of whatever is happening, I think."

"That's the warrior you're speaking of, but what do you think of her as a woman?"

"Very desirable. Really hot. I'd want her."

"Why?" Fiona asked.

"She's beautiful, she's athletic, she's strong. Oh, hell, Fiona — I don't know what else to say. She's gorgeous and any man would want to sleep with her."

The young woman was silent.

"Well?" Jamie said. "Your turn."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Just yes." The girl was silent after that.

Jamie dared greatly, slid his arm around her slender waist and felt hers around his. Her skin felt warm, soft to his hand. He gave her a gentle hug and was surprised to feel her pull him towards her in return, strongly.

+

The next photo is in colour, showing a tall woman with long flaming-red hair streaming loose down between her shoulder blades. The woman has a high forehead and prominent cheekbones. What can be seen of her figure is exquisite.

Her shoulders and upper arms are covered in iron armour. While solid enough, it is very scanty and could not be expected to offer much protection. One gets the impression that the armour is, at best, ceremonial in pattern, like that of certain styles of Roman gladiators.

Where not covered by the armour, her skin is perfect. The one thigh which can be seen is firm, flawless. This is clearly not a woman who spends much of her time idle or indoors.

With two hands, she holds a massive two-handed sword, one visibly capable of cutting a horse in half with one blow. The flat of its blade is resting on her shoulder. It is a fearsome weapon, one demanding enormous strength to wield in battle, yet she seems entirely confident with it.

Her body is turned away from the camera, but she is looking over her shoulder towards the observer; the expression on her face suggests she has been startled and is about to explode into extreme violence.

+

"Definitely a warrior," Jamie said, without being asked.

"You think?"

"Any arguments?" he replied.

Fiona shook her head. "How do you feel about her as a woman?"

Jamie was silent.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Fiona," he said hesitantly, "I'd rather not say."

She tilted her head to one shoulder in curiosity. "Why not? Jamie, you've always answered before."

"I'd rather not get into it." He made as if to pull her by the hand to the next photo, but the girl stayed in place.

"Please?"

Jamie looked away, up to the ceiling. He took a deep breath, turned to look her squarely in the eyes.

"To tell the truth," he said very quietly, as if daring her to be offended, "I have a serious thing for redheads."

Fiona's eyes grew very wide. She stared at the boy for a long time before one slim hand came up to his chest and stroked his bare chest gently with a fingertip.

"Jamie," she said, very softly, "That's nothing to be embarrassed over."

Lowering her voice to the merest whisper. "To tell the truth, Jamie, you wouldn't have to do much coaxing with this redhead."

A long ten-count later, she turned, pulled on his hand and led him to the next photograph.

+

The picture shows what appears to be a clean and very modern bathroom. Outside the windows, telephone wires and the tops of trees can be seen in bright sunshine, suggesting that the room is well above ground level.

Kneeling facing each other in the half-filled bathtub, two nude young women are locked in a Sapphic embrace. One blonde and one brunette, they both have their hair tied back in simple ponytails. Two of their hands have fingers laced together, the others are caressing each other's bottom. The two are kissing each other gently. It is clear that this is more than mere carnality; there is genuine tenderness and affection between them.

There is however a jarring note in this image of love. A single-bladed battle axe leans against the wall beside them and a curiously-shaped sword, like a Nepalese kukri or ancient Greek kopis, rests on the rim of the bathtub. Despite the otherwise-peaceful atmosphere of the photo, and despite the plainly modern setting, both weapons appear to be anything but symbolic. These are purposeful, unadorned working arms, seemingly kept ready at hand for instant use even in this most loving of moments.

+

"Well?" Fiona asked.

Jamie examined the picture carefully. "They're either warriors, Fiona, or their interior decorator has some very odd tastes."

The petite woman giggled. "It does look a little odd, doesn't it? How does it make you feel? As a man, I mean?"

"Um..."

"Besides the obvious," she snickered. Daring greatly, she leaned over in front of Jamie and stared at the tent in his boxers.

Jamie blushed.

Fiona giggled again. "I'm sorry, Jamie, but 'the obvious' is, well, pretty obvious."

The tall boy said nothing.

Fiona leaned against his side, put an arm around his waist and gave him a strong hug.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't tease you like that."

She looked up at him. His face was fixed on the photo. She reached up and, with surprising strength for someone her size, turned his head until it faced hers.

"I said I was sorry, Jamie. Forgive me." She pulled his head down another inch and kissed his lips gently. "Please?"

Jamie sighed at the contrite expression on her face. Her eyes seemed to fill his universe.

He gave her a small hug back. "It's OK, Fiona. But I can't help it."

Another kiss came from the small woman. "I know," she said. "But it's kind of amazing."

"What? That I'm turned on by all these pictures of half-naked women?" He paused, then, "With my arm around a real one prettier than any of them?"

Fiona stepped back, her eyes on his.

"No, Jamie," she said apologetically. "When you put it like that, I suppose I'd be more surprised if you weren't..." Her eyes again flickered down at his crotch for a split-second.

Turning her back to the boy, she smiled. "But you are  a charmer, Jamie. Saying I'm prettier than all these?" She waved her hand at the art on the walls.

He looked down at her. "I said it, Fiona. I'll stand by it."

The little redhead looked solemn.

"OK, Jamie, a straight question, then — why?"    She again indicated the photograph with her hand.

"I'm not as pretty as they are and..." she said, lifting her own breasts in her bra with her hands, "I know that these aren't as nice as theirs. So why? I want to know, please. Seriously."

Jamie though for a second.

"Well," he said, "first off, you aren't armed to the teeth and likely to cut my head off it I look sideways at you."

Fiona giggled. "Point," she replied. "Was there something else?"

A sly smile fought its way onto his face. "Well..."

"Well?"

His smile turned to a broad grin. "How do I know?"

"Know what?" Fiona's eyebrows were raised in curiosity.

"That yours aren't as nice?"

"What?"

Jamie pointed a long finger at the photo of the two lovers in front of them. It then swiveled towards the Fiona. Jamie pointedly slid a fingertip under a strap of her green brassiere, pulled it a quarter-inch out and let it fall back against her shoulder with a small snap.

"How do I know, Fiona? That's those..." and he again pointed to the photo, "...are nicer?"

"You seriously expect me to...?"

Jamie held his hands up, palms forward, as if surrendering.

"Hey," he said, his voice innocent. "You're the T.A. and you're the one who's been doing the verbal exam here. And you're the one who's challenged me to defend a proposition you yourself made." He rolled his eyes in a dramatic gesture. "Come to think of it, Fiona, you're the one who's been perving out over my hardware after having first ordered me to undress."

With that, he flipped his eyes back down, locking them onto Fiona. The young woman was staring back, her green eyes wide with amazement.

"You're full of crap!" she muttered, as much to herself as to Jamie. Jamie raised one eyebrow.

"So, you haven't been ogling my package?" he smiled, almost sweetly.

"That's not what..."

"Oh, I get it," he grinned. "I misunderstood you when you ordered me to take off my uniform."

"Jamie..."

The woman stared up at him.

Jamie smiled, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "It's OK, Fiona. I understand how pampered you grad students are."

The girl stomped her foot in anger. Despite the bra, her breasts wobbled. The boy's grin grew wider.

Fiona closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She let it out slowly before opening her eyes.

"Jeez, Menks, you must play one hell of a game of poker." She gave a half smile. "But, OK, it's a fair cop."

"And?" His smile didn't change.

Without taking her eyes off of his, Fiona reached around behind her back and fumbled for the catch. When it released, her hands slid around to catch the garment before it fell off.

She wiggled her shoulders a little and the shoulder straps slid down her arms.

Jamie did his best to keep his eyes on hers, but it became a losing battle when she lowered her hands and allowed the bra cups to fall off.

Fiona's breasts were not large, but they were firm, shapely and, Jamie thought, very, very nice. He noticed with an internal smile that her pale-coloured nipples were erect.

"There!" Fiona whispered. "Satisfied?"

Jamie looked up at her eyes and said seriously, "Well, thank you for that, Ms-Fine-Arts-Teaching-Assistant-grad-student-docent, ma'am. I now have an objective basis for responding to your question."

Fiona stared at him, uncertain if he was joking or not. "And?"

Jamie smiled, leaned down again and kissed her forehead gently.

"I'll go with what I said originally, Fiona. You — yours — are far prettier. OK?"

Green eyes bored into his. "No shit?"

"Hardly any, Fiona. Most of those are just posed models. You're real. That counts for a lot in my book."

The petite woman continued to stare up at him.

Eventually, her eyes still wide, she moved to another photograph

+

A woman, perhaps in her mid-20s, leans back against a crude stone wall. She is naked except for a plumed helmet which covers much of her face. A sword hangs from a leather strap over her left shoulder. Its hilt can be seen by her right hip.

The woman has a trim figure with clearly-defined muscles and very little excess fat. She has plainly been involved in some form of violent exertion; there is a sheen of perspiration over her whole body and patches of dirt here and there. There is a long gash, still oozing blood, on one bicep.

In front of her kneels a cropped-hair man, looking rather battered. His hands are lashed behind him and he has been crudely blindfolded with a strip of rag. He is performing cunnilingus on the woman.

It is hard to read her expression because of the helmet, but her mouth is open and her nipples hard. Her hands are pulling the man's head into her groin.

+

Jamie smiled at the sight. "Must have been a pretty kinky Halloween party."

"Seriously, Jamie?"

He took a breath. "OK, very much a warrior." He grinned a little. "Definitely a woman."

Fiona elbowed him lightly in the short ribs.

"Ow!   OK, she's obviously been in a fight. The guy is clearly a captive — I get the feeling he may have just been captured. Um..."

"Um?" Fiona repeated.

"Well, there's a lot of solid history about what happened after battles in ancient times. Captured women generally were viewed as prizes, spoils of war like gold and jewellery. The more civilized societies back then often took them as slaves — afterwards. Anyway, this is a complete turnabout. Soldiers back then were almost exclusively men. This is a woman mirroring ancient behaviour with a male captive."

"I see your point. Why did the artist do it that way, do you think?"

He thought a moment. "Not sure, Fiona. I mean, it's erotic in its own right. The photographer didn't have to be that explicit to make the irony or whatever work. I take it that she... It was a 'she', right?"

Fiona nodded.

"... she was trying to make women seeing it feel more powerful. Or, maybe, she was trying to help men seeing it feel what it must have been like back then for women."

The boy shrugged.

"I dunno, Fiona. I don't know much about psychology or whatever. I'm just guessing."

"I hadn't thought of that sort of thing," the girl said. "You may be right. How do you feel about her as a woman — I mean, speaking as a modern man?"

"It's hard to see her face, but she looks pretty. And, yes, before you mention it, nice tits. But she's obviously strong. And focussed. She's a victor, Fiona, a winner. Personally, I like women who are winners."

"So you'd take her to bed if you had a chance?"

"Oh, hell yes!"

He turned, looked at the girl beside him.

"How's your understanding of the male psyche coming, Fiona?"

The young woman looked at him, silent for a moment.

When she spoke, it was soft, thoughtful. "Pretty good, I think. Look, Jamie, I really appreciate your helping me."

The boy put his hands around her waist, pulled her into a firm hug. He was very aware of her bare breasts oh his chest.

Fiona had to tilt her head well back to see him smiling down at her.

"It has been my pleasure, Fiona. It's not every shift that I get this kind of bonus." He squeezed her body harder against his.

Fiona was equally aware of his hardness pressed against her stomach, of her bare nipples against the hair on his chest. This was emphatically not what she had expected or planned when she asked Jamie for help and she really had no idea how it had come to this, but she was not objecting.

Jamie's cock twitched between them and she smiled back at him. No objections whatever, frankly. Unbidden, a decision appeared in her mind.

Her hands ran up his arms, over his shoulders and took him by the head.

"Jamie," she whispered, "do you remember what I said about this redhead not needing much coaxing?"

She saw his eyes open wide as the implications of that question hit home. He nodded, cautiously.

"Well, Jamie, how about we change that to 'no coaxing whatever'?"

Her hands pulled his head down towards hers, their lips meeting in a soft kiss which rapidly became firmer.

Without breaking from the kiss, Fiona moved her hips back, leaving a gap between them. Her hand slid softly between their bodies; the backs of her fingers ran along his length. The boy hissed in pleasure; his hands ran over her skin down to her bum. She was hardly surprised when his thumbs hooked into the hem of her panties and pushed them down. The scrap of fabric stopped just below her bare cheeks, held up by her thighs pressed together. With a mental shrug, the girl spread her legs a bit and felt the filmy panties slide down her legs to pool around her ankles. Carefully, she stepped out of them, felt a breeze on her now-damp sex.

Jamie's hands again ran over the girl's firm body, lingering on waist and bum. Fiona leaned back again to pull his still-damp boxers off his hips. They fell around his ankles, fully exposing his hardness to her exploring fingers.

His hands, warm now, glided along her skin, came to rest on her ribs, under her shoulders. His thumbs began, very slowly, to trace out the undersides of her breasts, then, equally slowly, moved in to explore her nipples. Fiona moaned in response.

Jamie broke from the kiss, looked around.

"Where?" he said. The question was obvious.

"Anywhere." Her eyes were huge.

Leaning down, Jamie scooped the girl up in his arms. Their lips locked, their tongues dancing, he carried her through the Staff Only door, through the prep rooms and into the board room. Its elegance smelled of money and leather; the only sound was a gentle hiss from the air vents.

Skirting the massive table and its phalanx of matching chairs, he made his way to a large brown leather sofa. With a slight grunt, he lowered Fiona onto it and knelt beside her.

Her fingers swept through his hair, continued down his neck and upper back.

Again the boy found her lips with his. His tongue swept lightly over her teeth, along her gums, teased and was teased in return by hers. His mind was suddenly filled with the image of her bra falling from her breasts and he buried his head in her shoulder, felt her hands clutch him to her.

Pulling back, he traced her ear with his tongue-tip and was rewarded by a sudden intake of breath from the girl.

She leaned back far enough that he could see her smiling at him. Her hand traced his jaw and he leaned into it.

"Jamie," she whispered.

He waited, then understood. Keeping his eyes on hers, he swept one hand up from her thigh, across her hip, her stomach, finally cupping a breast and squeezing gently. Her smile brightened and one of her hands stroked his chest, slipped lower.