Portrait of a Lady

So, that was that.

I went up to my room and showered, tied my hair back and chose my clothes carefully. I wore the long blue skirt again because it always felt right. On top, I wore a translucent cotton blouse. I studied myself in the long mirror. I could see my nipples, hard beneath the fabric. I was on the brink of choosing another but decided, fuck it, let her see I'm offering myself. I was, after all. Why be coy?

"You studied your work for a very long time."

She was in the kitchen, wearing the outfit she wore for the sitting. Her feet, like mine, wear bare.

"I like to examine it."

That eyebrow lifted again. "Really? I got the impression you were trying to make up your mind about something. Anyway, I've poured a gin and tonic for us both. Let's go and sit on the terrace."

She picked up the two long glasses and carried them out through the open kitchen door and to the table with a sun shade, creamy canvas and large, offering shelter from the brightness.

"I love sitting here. It's so quiet. I've never been a city girl really. London's a swamp and politics is a sewer."


"So why do you do it?"

"Because I want to help clean that sewer. And don't let anyone tell you it's one party that is dishonest or whose members are corrupt or useless. There are some very, very good, decent people there. But it's the quest for power that fucks the whole place up, infects almost everyone. Those who make it to the top, they're the worst because they fight dirtier, have power over others."

"Can you succeed?"

She shrugged. "It depends what you mean by success. I can, have achieved a little. I know that because I'm loathed. Not by all, but by the top people. So," she turned and smiled at me, raising her glass, "I must be doing something right."

We talked until the sun began to fade and then we went inside to a meal that she'd left in the oven, a delicious coq au vin. Replete, we moved into a sitting room I'd only glimpsed before. It was large but somehow cosy and furnished with three large sofas arranged as three sides of a square, with tables at the ends of each. There was a ceiling chandelier but it was unlit. All the lighting came from low lamps, set around the walls. Deep purple curtains, floor to ceiling, covered the windows on two sides of the room.

We sat side by side, and she poured armagnac into two balloon glasses. "Water?"

"A dash, please."

"Good girl. People only refuse water if they don't know anything abut good spirits." She chuckled. "Are you in good spirits?" I nodded. "What was it you were making your mind up about?"

"Are you always sure you're right."

"Not always."

"You asked me if I was ready."

"I did."


"That is what I was considering."


"Good. It's an important question. And?"

I put my glass down and kissed her. Actions, I thought always speak louder than words.

"What convinced you?"

"The portrait."

"Oh, how?"

"Because it matters so much to me."

"That's a good answer." Her hand rested on my breast. "It's little things. I bet when you normally wear this blouse, you wear a t shirt or camisole under it to conceal your nipples. But tonight, you're showing them to me, letting me see how aroused you already are, even though all we've done is kiss." She squeezed my nipple gently. "Do they get harder?"

"They do."

She kissed me again, her hand still playing with my nipple, making it harder. She shifted so she was able to handle the other nipple and maintain our kiss. It went on and on, our mouths working together. Our tongues didn't fight, they cooperated, moving to accommodate each other, first in my mouth, then in hers. She deftly unbuttoned my blouse and, for the first time, i felt her hand on my naked breast. Her nails stroked along its underside, that sensitive skin immediately below and to the side of the breast. She want back.

"The whip hurts there, doesn't't it?"

"It does, yes."


"Is that where it hurts the most?"

"No."

She put her finger to my mouth. "Don't tell me. I want to find out for myself. Will you allow that?"

"Yes, I will."

"We are not going to hurry. Can you find time to come and stay again, soon, before the summer recess ends?"

"Yes."

"It wont interrupt your work."

"I can work around it."

"You can work here if that would help?"

"I don't think I could bring my clients here, not with that picture of you in the hallway."

"It's a picture of us, isn't it?" I nodded. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I had the party chairman stay a month or so ago and put a picture in his bedroom. I hoped it would shock him. He's a thoroughgoing homophobe." Her eyes glinted with fun. Abruptly, she stood up and took my hand to pull me off the sofa. "Come with me, I"ll show it to you."

She led me up the stairs, to the first door on the passage that led to my room. Her bedroom. It was large and had curtains similar to those in the sitting room. Standing behind me, one hand on my shoulder, she pressed a light switch and a single lamp illuminated a picture of a naked woman, explicitly masturbating. Her back was turned to the camera, bending forward, her arse revealed and a finger penetrating her cunt. Over her shoulder, out of focus, was a naked woman, watching.

"Like it?"

"I bet he didn't."

She laughed, and as she laughed, so she eased my blouse off my shoulders. She slid her arms around me and cupped my tits, her thumb and forefinger of each hand squeezing my nipples. Her mouth was at my ear. "Look at the picture. Are you watcher or the watched?" I said I was the watched. She let go of my left nipple and her hand went up to cup my chin, lifting it so my head went back onto her shoulder. Her finger entered my mouth and she left it there, about two knuckles deep. I let my tongue caress it.

"Are you a screamer?"

"Yes. If it hurts enough."

"Then, when the time comes, I'll just have to make sure it does, won't I?"

I didn't get a chance to answer. She turned me around and kissed my mouth, hard. Her fingers were then at the zip on the side of my skirt and she undid it, then the button and moved her body back enough to let it fall to the ground. I wasn't wearing any knickers. She didn't stop kissing my, but her hand was between my thighs, covering my cunt, not moving, just covering. I was, of course, wet. I'd trimmed my pubic hair before leaving home. I'd wanted to look tidy. Then she crooked her finger and opened my lips, her nail gently scraping my inner skin. She turned me again and stood behind me, her finger now deep inside me.

"Look at the picture." Her finger slid inside me. "I'll want you to do that for me, show yourself to me. Can you do that?" I nodded. "Put your finger in with mine." I reached down and pressed my finger in beside hers. She pushed me so I was bending forward and then removed her finger. She left me like that as she moved to stand beside the picture, facing me. "Work your finger." As I did, she began to undress. The red shirt first, opening, revealing her breasts to me, their nipples hard and longer than I'd imagined. It was no wonder they showed through the shirt. The trousers came down and she wasn't wearing knickers either. Her hair was a thick, black triangle, untrimmed, wild. She stood there, naked, watching me. "Turn around and bend further. Put another finger inside." It was a few minutes and then I felt her hand on my arse. I hadn't heard her move. I was startled and straightened and looked over my shoulder. "Get back as I told you." Her hand on my back pushed me further down. Then I felt her finger at the top of my arse crack and slowly, agonisingly slowly it ran down my crack, over my arse, over my perineum and then entered me along with my fingers.

She whispered to tell me to take my fingers out as hers left me too. "Turn around." I did. "Kneel for me." I did that too. "Bring your head close and watch."

My face inches from her she began to finger herself, opening herself, entering herself. She took her time, until she took her finger out and touched it to my lips. "Take it, taste me." Lips open, I took her finger and tasted her, sweet, a hint of musk.

"Good, very good. Stand up. Bed time. Together tonight. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Harriet."


"Say it, be explicit."

"Yes, please Harriet, I want you to fuck me."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get into my bed."

It was beautiful. She was slow, gentle, exploring me, letting me explore her. No 'toys' just two bodies, fingers, hands, skin, mouths and tongues. The only sign of her dominant nature came when I was right on the brink and she told me to wait, and wait, and wait. Her timing was exquisite and our orgasms, if not simultaneous were very, very close.

Afterwards, we lay together, my cheek resting on her breasts, her fingers in my hair.

"Well now, it was as good as I could possible have hoped."

"it was beautiful." I kissed her breast.

We slept, but at some point in the night she woke me and we did it again, and it was just as good that time, as indeed it was when the light of the morning filtered through the gaps in the curtains.

"Let me go and make us some tea?"


"No. You've got work to do and so have I. We'll shower and have a quick breakfast and then we can start our day."

"Yes, Harriet."

"You have no idea how I like hearing you say that."

She wasn't good to her word though. The shower we shared took far longer than strictly necessary. I did wonder if I'd be able to keep up with her appetite. I intended to give it a good shot, though.

I'd nearly finished the painting. There were still a few days work to be done but I'd do them in my studio. As I was washing my brushes and tidying up she arrived bringing a couple of glasses of wine. I had no idea of the time.

"Have you done?"

I nodded. "All done. A bit to do when I get home but it should be finished by the end of the week."

"Will you bring it down with you on Friday?" It was Sunday and I'd be going home the following day. "You will come down on Friday, won't you?"

"I'd love to, and yes, of course I'll bring it. Do you want me to choose a frame or would you prefer to do that yourself? Or, of course, no frame at all?"

"I'll leave that up to you." She came close, handed me a glass and did the arm around the shoulder thing studying the portrait. "Are you pleased with it?"

"Yes, I am. I need to make a few final adjustments, but on the whole I am."

"Tell me about those adjustments."

I took a brush and, using the 'wrong' end, I pointed to a few things. The light is wrong here, the shadow too short there. Her hair was difficult in a couple of places and I wanted it right.

"I've done us a light supper, I hope you like seafood?"


"I do, very much."

"Good. Get yourself showered and changed. I'll come up in a few minutes, I want to see what you have to wear."

I showered, dried myself off and, naked, walked out of the en suite. She was there, in a purple jump suit, calf length, a shirt-like bodice and a wide, black leather belt. "Show me what you brought."

So, I opened my case and laid out the remaining clean clothes. A white dress with large red flowers printed on it, a silky blue camisole and a short pale grey skirt. I had a selection of knickers but, typically, no bra.

"The skirt and camisole." I reached for a pair of knickers but she told me not to. So I slipped on the camisole and skirt. The atmosphere had changed. She came close and stroked my face. "Good. Time for supper."

When I got down to her kitchen she'd changed into a thin cream dress. Her nipples were clearly visible through it. The seafood platter was set on the table, a bottle of Muscadet stood beside it, condensation running down the glass.

We ate, the food was simple, delicious served with crusty bread.

"Come with me."

I followed her into her sitting room and she sat and indicated I should sit in a chair facing her. We talked for a while, sipping more armagnac between comments until, abruptly, she put her glass down and said, "Come, on your knees here." She was pointing to the carpeting front of her.

She pushed her arse towards me so that it was only half on her chair, opened her legs to reveal her naked cunt under her dress. "Kiss me, lick me, show me how good your tongue and lips can be. Keep your hands by your sides or behind your back. Just your mouth."

I did. I used my full repertoire, licking, kissing, squeezing bits of her between my lips, swirling my tongue over her clit. I was loving her reactions. Little purrs, soft moans, fingers in my hair. A phone warbled and, to my surprise, her fingers gripped my hair, holding me in place. and she answered the bloody thing.

"No, Grace, I am not alone. Lauren Noakes is here. Yes, that's right, the artist. I've commissioned her to do a portrait of me. Let's call it my vanity project. She's working really hard." She paused. "She's very good, conscientious, focused." Her fingers gripped me tighter and she gave a sort of groan and I felt a sudden increase in her wetness and her thighs tightened around me. "No, no, sorry. I was just taking a sip of brandy. I think she's finished for now." Her hand released me and, as I looked up, she pointed to my chair. "Of course you can see it when it's done. I'm hoping she'll bring it down next weekend. Come for lunch?" She was still sitting, her legs wide, a glisten on her lips, a smile on her face. "Of course you can meet her. You might even want her to paint you too. Excellent, see you on Saturday."

She rang off and set the phone down on a small table beside her chair.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Surprised."

"Lift your skirt up, I want to see you."

She stared at me for a while, then reached and took my hand. "Bed. I want to fuck you. Go to your room and wait for me."

I took my empty glass to the kitchen and went up to my bedroom. She hadn't said to undress but I did, and slipped into the bed. She arrived, naked but for a leather harness and strapon. She got into bed with me, took my hand, and guided it to her dildo. "Hold it, stroke it." I did. "Do you like it?" I said I did. "I love to wear it. It's not because I want to be a man, have a cock, it's because I love penetrating a lover, taking her. When did you last have a strappy inside you?" I told her it was about six months. "Nobody should have to wait that long. Lie on your side with your back to me." I rolled and she told me to lift my knee forward. When she was satisfied and I was expecting to feel her enter me, she began kissing my neck, moving my hair aside with gentle fingers. She kissed my ear, bit my earlobe then licked a little way down my spine and a finger slowly stroked my wet cunt. She ran her finger backwards to my arse and circled it. Hot breath on my ear, she said, "You'll give me this too, won't you?"

"Yes, Harriet."

"Will that be a first?"

"No."

As I uttered that word, she entered my cunt, making me give a small gasp of surprise. "So wet, so ready. Just as you should be." She pushed deeper and her hand gripped my shoulder. "I've wanted this."

She found her rhythm and fucked me, gently but firmly, her grip on my shoulder unchanging until, making me sigh, she pulled out. "Get on your knees."

I changed position and she knelt behind me, pushing back into me, pushing my face down onto the pillow. One hand gripped my hair, the other lifted my hip as she wanted me. She was rougher now, harder, faster and twice she slapped my buttock, firmly. It was all too much. I lost track of time, felt her strength and her power until, unbidden, unexpected, my body betrayed me and I arched, lifted and screamed as my orgasm overwhelmed me. She didn't stop, even though she must have known I was spent because I"d slumped. She pressed down on me and fucked me until, with a roar of pleasure, her orgasm came too, a long, enduring one that made her grip my hair and shoulder tightly until she calmed. I felt wet between my thighs, and couldn't know or care if it was hers or mine.

I felt her withdraw, slowly pulling out of me. She rolled onto her back and said, "Clean me." I went down on her, licking and sucking, her knees high and spread to give me access. I lapped at her and decided the wet was hers, so much of it, everywhere.

As I packed my things into my car the following morning, she came out and held me. She kissed me. "Friday?"

"Yes, Harriet."

"What time can you get here?"

"Whenever you want me to."

"Get here about lunchtime then. I ought to be free by then, but," she said with a smile, "if I'm not, a little waiting, anticipation, will do you good, won't it?"

"Yes, Harriet."

She hugged me close, kissed me again then told me to, "Fuck off and finish my vanity project."

I smiled all the way home.