Sisterhood - Portrait of a Girl

Leah wondered whether she might be in love. She wondered too whether she was even supposed to be. From time to time when she noticed herself beginning to ruminate, to get carried away trying to work out how she ought to feel or to behave, she shook herself. All of this was new, all of it was exciting. She should enjoy it. She was enjoying it. A lot.

Whether Julie loved her was something she tried not to think about. The idea felt still too precarious, like hubris, as if entertaining it would somehow provoke some unspecified entity, perhaps the Goddess, into undoing it. Julie wanted her, that much she could safely admit to herself. She had now four entire days and nights of lazy, easy sex, punctuated only by short periods of rest, to convince her of it. Not the same kind of energetic, primarily lust-fueled sex that she had enjoyed at the Summer Ball with other girls, though there had been a bit of that too. There were kisses, caresses, kind words. They bathed together. It felt like the kind of sex that two people in love would have.

But the situation, the manner in which it had unfolded, was completely unlike any romantic relationship Leah had been through before. It occurred to her that it was not entirely unlike an arranged marriage, one that had turned out happily. The events, the reassuring milestones, were all in an order opposite to that with which she was familiar. First had come the public declaration of their partnership, then she had been thrown together with a girl she hardly knew, then the sex, and only now finally were they slowly getting to know each other.

Leah wanted to get to know Julie, with a consuming curiosity. She had waited at first, not wanting to rush or to presume. But then Julie had been surprisingly reticent for a girl who was otherwise so effusive, so apparently confident around others. It seemed to Leah as if Julie were deliberately holding her at a slight distance when it came to her life and her person. She wasn't aloof, or cold, they talked and laughed together, and they exchanged some personal tidbits about themselves, quirks, preferences and so on, especially about sex, what they liked, what made them come quickly, what held them on the edge. But Leah wanted to know about things that went beyond their roles and their situation in the Sisterhood.

And so eventually she had resolved to take the initiative. She recalled the exact words she had said, while they lay in bed earlier that morning, 'Go do something you enjoy, something else, but take me with you'. She recalled them so clearly because she had silently rehearsed them for most of the night. They had sounded really good in rehearsal, but then she had choked a little on the last few words, worried suddenly about how it sounded, her commanding Julie to give her something. But to Leah's giddy relief, Julie's face had shone with an unmistakable delight.

And so here they were. At Julie's art studio. Julie liked to paint.

"I mean, it's not mine," Julie laughed, "Not really. It's just that hardly anyone else ever uses it."

Leah took an expansive look around as they entered. They were high up, in the attic space beneath the eaves of the building. At one end of the room, the drapes were drawn aside to reveal a pair of floor-to-ceiling French windows. These gave onto one of the stone terraces that flanked certain parts of the house. Beyond the terrace she could see the gardens. One window was ajar. Leah felt against her bare legs the subtle current of the cool morning air, not quite a breeze but a slow pouring of fresh air, gradually displacing the stuffy heat that had accumulated under the roof. The same current ruffled at the fringes of the many thick white sheets that lay draped over items of furniture. Some were identifiable as armchairs, trestles, or tables, others were indistinct lumps. A few of the sheets were spattered with dots and daubs of dry paint.

Leah turned to look at Julie. She wanted to see Julie's face here, in a place where she was usually alone. Julie was standing beside a large easel, ready laden with a stretch of blank canvas stapled to a tall, narrow mount, but she was looking right at Leah, not at anything else.

There was a quiet mischief in Julie's big brown eyes. She smiled, and nodded towards one corner of the room, "Over there."

Leah looked and saw where the thick drapes were crumpled aside at the edge of the windows, part of them hanging over what looked like a waist-high stool. "What's over there?" she looked up at Julie, unsure.

"Nothing in particular," Julie nodded again, "Just a place for you to stand. Go stand over there, I meant."

It dawned on Leah what Julie's instruction must mean. She walked slowly over and set her hand on the stool, then turned around, "Should I... You want to... draw me?"

"That too," Julie grinned, "Afterwards."

"After wh-" Leah had only the time to open her mouth and begin speaking before Julie strode swiftly over and planted her hands on Leah's cheeks, then her lips across Leah's open mouth.

Their kiss was preceded by a moment of stillness, during which Julie lingered and drew a deep, trembling breath through her nostrils. Then as they both began to twist their faces against each other in a sudden rush of excitement, Julie's hands slid over Leah's shoulders and pulled down the loose red dressing gown she wore. Leah shook her arms to cast it off and let it fall at her ankles, then she reached to tug open Julie's gown in turn.

Julie shrugged and let the gown open, baring her broad shoulders and the tops of her small, firm breasts, but then she held fast. She clutched the gown around her, and slid her lips down over Leah's chin, then her neck. Julie sank slowly to her knees, planting a trail of moist kisses on Leah's body as she went. Julie's lips brushed over one breast then down Leah's stomach, and Leah shivered with the slight ticklishness of her touch. The prickling across her skin melted to a slow, throbbing warmth as Julie's mouth came to rest nestled in the strip of soft short hairs between Leah's legs.

"Is this a... uh," Leah grunted as a first flush of excitement pulsed up inside her, "A... belated good morning?"

"Mmm," Julie pursed her lips and pressed forward, nudging apart the outermost folds of Leah's pussy with a gentle pressure, "I'm, um... Let's say this is me prepping you for the portrait."

Leah laughed, "Are you going to draw me with an embarrassing orgasm face or something?"

Julie spoke softly, her mouth against Leah's opening, "You always look so cute."

Leah felt a pulse of wetness seep out to meet Julie's lips. She steadied herself against the stool and brought her other hand to the back of Julie's head. It felt safe, warm, to hold her there, reassure herself that Julie wouldn't pull back just yet. Leah burrowed her fingers into Julie's thick brown hair. It was tangled, and felt slightly oily against her fingers, still unwashed since their long night in bed.

"Hello," Leah looked down, giggling. She saw Julie's head craned upward, eyes looking right into hers, lips buried in the slit of her pussy. On the floor, Leah saw Julie's firm, tanned calves laid out behind her where she knelt. Sticking up into the air were the long spikes of those tall red high-heeled shoes Julie always wore.

Julie's tongue extended, pink and moist, then disappeared between the slight rise of Leah's spread folds. She felt it press and slowly slip inside her, stroking. Then Julie withdrew, nuzzling her head back against the hand that held it.

"I know that you're mine," Julie whispered, gasping, "But I feel like you're not mine yet, not really. I want to make you mine."

"Please," Leah groaned, her body suddenly wracked with the insistent throb of thwarted pleasure.

"Maybe even more than that, I want to make you happy," Julie turned her head, and for a moment her bright, confident smile faded. She looked sheepish, hesitant.

Leah shushed her, "You do already."

"Good," Julie laughed. She lurched to one side, swung out one leg and began staggering to her feet, "Because your cousin Caroline said she'd kill me if I didn't."

"Really?"

"She actually had her hands on my neck," Julie stood. She put the fingers of one hand to the side of Leah's neck, as if to demonstrate, but then brushed them affectionately against Leah's skin. "It was kind of hot," she whispered, laughing.

Leah closed her eyes, savoring the gentle glow of frustration between her legs. She leaned forward, and felt Julie's lips meet hers again. She opened her mouth with a muffled gasp, and let Julie press her tongue in and over her teeth.

With a sigh, Julie pulled back once more. Leah opened her eyes lazily to watch Julie striding over to the easel, her dressing gown back on her shoulders.

"That's it," Julie purred. She fumbled hurriedly in one pocket of the dressing gown, then the other, before retrieving a thin pencil. She held it up, sweeping a few strokes in the air as she gazed at Leah. She looked excited. "You're beautiful. Just like that. You're always beautiful. Now, don't try to smile."

Leah pursed her lips. She could smell on them the moist, mealy scent of her own excitement, where Julie's kiss had smeared it onto her. "Don't smile?"

"Don't try to," said Julie firmly, "You're already smiling. Just relax and keep thinking about whatever you're thinking about now. You don't need to look at me if you don't feel like it."

Leah stared upwards, at the rough stone wall just over Julie's shoulder. She sighed, inhaling deeply. She held her thighs together, holding on to the warmth that had gathered in her pussy.

"Yes," Julie murmured. She set her pencil to the canvas, "I'm just going to sketch you for now, capture you quickly, like that. While you're mine. Later or tomorrow we'll come back and..." her brow twisted in concentration as her voice trailed off.

"And?"

Julie smiled, "And I'll finish you off."