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“Ah, here you are, Jane, I’ve been looking for you for weeks!” I looked up to see the strawberry blonde from the park. The park I had been avoiding for two weeks. The girl I’d been avoiding. Her smile was mysterious, like the Mona Lisa’s. Her accent was impossible to place, sort of French with a little British and maybe a little Swedish intonation. She smelled of fresh cut grass and flowers. “You don’t like the other part of the park any more?” I blushed crimson. I’d felt too guilty to go back after that day. That night, I had been disappointed by my husband for the first time. I’d spent the next few weeks trying to get interested in him, but I felt distant, distracted. He was beginning to question my excuses, my being tired every night. I was too tired even to fake orgasms. What had I done? I found my voice, or at least my whisper. “No, I just needed a change in scenery.” She hesitated. “Was Marie too much for you? She can be a little … direct.” She smiled languorously at me. I turned even redder and looked away. “No, I just, um, had second thoughts.” Actually, I had had hundreds, no, millions of thoughts. What was I thinking, having sex with a stranger? A woman? What was wrong with my husband? What was wrong with me? Why was I thinking about the artist all day? Why was I thinking about the blonde currently standing over me all day? “I can imagine. Marie can make thinking … difficult.” Escort elvankent “Marie? Is that her name? She was incredible, an artist sexually as well as drawing.” “I could see from her drawings a big change in you.” “I’m sorry?” She laughed, gently. “You look different now than you do in her drawings of you from before she took you to her studio. And, of course, the after picture is very different.” She gave me a tentative smile. Would I never stop blushing? I looked at her face. She was staring at me, almost as if trying to see that sated-and-aroused look in my eyes. “May I sit here with you?” I swallowed. “Yes. I guess so. What’s your name?” “Elizabeth.” She pronounced it almost like “Eleezabet”. She sat with me, not too close but close enough that I was aware of her breathing. Of the scent of her hair. Of her breasts rising as she breathed. Of her nipples barely visible through her pale green silk top, peeking out under the lapels of her blazer. “Marie, she can be so infuriating. One day all she wants is to draw me. The next day she is using me as bait. Sometimes she will make love with me, but usually she just wants to watch me with someone else.” She was blushing, too. “I would watch you.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “I mean, if you would let me. If you wanted me….” I looked away. “To watch you, I mean.” She took my hand, brought emek escort it to her lips. “I would want you to do more than watch.” I could hardly breathe. “I’ve been imagining touching you since … since I first saw you last summer.” She smiled, shyly. “I know. I’ve been posing for you as much as for Marie.” I stared at her. “How did you know?” “I could see you wanting me. Sometimes I caught you staring. Sometimes your breathing.” She looked down, smiling. “Your breasts are so beautiful when you’re aroused. Your skin, too.” I sat thinking for a long time. Then I took her hand, kissed it. “What do we do?” She touched my face, then kissed my palm, my fingertips. “What would you like for us to do?” “I wish I knew. No, I do know, I wish I didn’t want you so much. It complicates things.” “I know. You are married, and I am living in a room in Marie’s studio.” I looked at her, a little startled. “She doesn’t stay there, but usually goes home to her husband at night.” “Her husband?” “Yes. You don’t know this about her?” She smiled a little sadly. “I am not surprised. He knows nothing about me, or you, or the other women she has had in the studio.” I pondered this for a long moment. “Where is she now?” My heart was pounding. “Who knows? She may be home, or seducing someone in the park, or in the studio.” I stammered, “we could go to your room.” “Do you want eryaman escort bayan to see Marie?” “I don’t know. Not really.” She thought a bit. “Frank will know if she is there.” “Frank?” “The doorman.” “He knows a lot about what happens in that building.” “He does.” She smiled ruefully. “He owes me a favor. Let’s ask him if she is there.” Taking my arm, she steered me to Central Park West, to Marie’s building. As we came into the lobby, for an instant Frank looked surprised, then the amused look came back over his face. Elizabeth looked up toward the ceiling, and gave him a slightly questioning look; he shrugged and shook his head slightly. She took my hand and led me to the elevator. As the doors closed, she caressed my face and hair. We stood there, she looking in my face, my eyes downcast, trying not to stare at her breasts. Cupping my chin, she raised my gaze until I met her bright blue eyes. She leaned in to brush my lips with hers, lifted my hand inside her blazer to her breast. I closed my eyes as I tugged her crinkly nipple through her top. I gingerly touched her lips with my tongue, was met with the soft tip of her tongue just touching mine. She tasted sweet, jasmine tea with just a bit of honey. We only broke away when the doors started to open. She led me across the tile floor to the only apartment door on the floor, fumbled a little with her keys, and let me into the entry foyer. She hung my cardigan beside her blazer in the hall closet. We turned away from the studio and into the kitchen, where she wordlessly busied herself making tea, rinsing raspberries, readying a tray. Taking it, she led me to a lovely small bedroom off the corridor, just before the studio.

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