Jasmine clutched the brush tightly up near its neck as she put the final scattered strokes into the evergreen forest - a lush but subdued backdrop to a fantastical portrayal of fire-breathing dragons and serpents. She added an acrylic veneer to smooth the backdrop. She leaned back and took a long drag from her twiddle stick as Coltrane's piano, blasting through her large speaker in her small studio, descended into a mournful diminuendo.
She sat herself down and leaned back in a bean-bag chair, laying her head back, stroking her black, tightly-curled hair back from her forehead, her beautiful coffee-colored skin blending around full, pouting lips with large, full eyes decorated by glorious eye lashes. Wearing a sweatshirt and tight leotard, the sensuous curves of her long legs were nestled underneath the tight-fitting garment - she stretched her legs out, stroking her thigh up and down with one hand.
A local gallery was displaying a few of Jasmine's more ambitious designs in the following week, and she had been working day and night to finish her last couple of paintings before the show, living on ramen noodles, Kentucky bourbon, and reefers. Amid her bohemian vibe, she snatched a glance at her smart-watch, that and her phone being the reach of the modern world she couldn't escape. Ever since a high school career marred by drug binges and years of training at the Rhode Island Institute of Design where she supported her tuition by working nights as a waitress and dancer at a Warwick strip club, Jasmine had always yearned for a life of art, of music, and of literature that grappled ferociously with the cut-and-dried techno-yuppiness of many of her age-group. She was still proud, however, that she'd managed to avoid Twitter and Facebook, but knew she'd surrender to those too eventually. Although artsy, Jasmine had a cute little-girl streak in her that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard her friend the tattoo artist tried to hide it with his masterpieces on her exquisite arms.
Her grumbling belly was happy when the knock came at the door. She smiled and rushed up to open it and thrust herself into her boyfriends' embrace.
"Hey, honey-doll, you productive today, my girl?" Stuart kissed her gently on the lips and stroked her arms, letting her reach up for a longer, deeper kiss. Jasmine's mother was black and her father was Jewish, but from her mixed-race household she launched herself into the world of black culture, every one of her several boyfriends over the years being taller, black men who - coincidentally - tended to be in the computers/IT profession - useful friends to fix her all-too-often computer mishaps.
"Not a bad day at all, sweetie," she grasped his hand and they headed out onto the street to find some dinner. "I'm almost done with this painting, and that larger sea-creature one I was showing you the other day takes only a bit more work, should be a day."
"Awesome, can't wait for your show, you'll be so pretty showing off your pieces - gotta help you pick some stylish, demure, yet sexy outfit for that!!" he laughed out loud and she giggled as she gave Stuart another kiss.
They relaxed at a bar over beers and then had a quiet dinner in another local dive bar. At the end of dinner, he suggested they take a trip out to a local movie premier the next night.
"But Stuart, remember? I told you I'd be busy tomorrow night. You coming this time, baby? Please!!"
Stuart sat rigidly back in his chair, his smile slowly evaporating from his face. Jasmine wore a frown, knowing what he was about to say. "Jasmine, dear, I've told you how I feel about all that stuff you still do,"
"That 'stuff' is something I've been doing for years, you know that. We have fun, it's a release!"
"C'mon," he chuckled, "I told you I'd get you an XBox or something! For your 'release'" he grinned as he gave her the air-quotes. "It's just, like-"
"I know what I'm doing, babe, you know I'm good-"
"Just not safe! I don't wanna get a call from one of these loony lady friends of yours telling me you got hurt!! You really could."
"I know I could, dear, we all know we could get hurt - but that's part of the rush it gives me! That's why it's so exciting and empowering!"
"And then you're all - like - like-"
"Kissing each other?" she smiled at him with a flirtatious wink, "kissing each other ... and stuff?!"
"Precisely, it's not normal!"
"You had your homo moments too, dear, I know that. And Stuart, we don't live in Victorian England, lots of people do this stuff, have all sorts of desires and games they play! The unlucky ones just get to play in their mind-"
"Where it's safe and no one get's hurt."
"But it's not real. This is real. That's why it's so awesome. And you know I want you to see me at it, how many times have you ducked out."
"I went that one time and saw those other girl friends of your-"
"Those weren't my friends!! I told you I hate them. They're not very good anyway."
"I don't care good or bad, I just don't like it and-"
"Would you go if I told you it would turn me on?! To have you there, seeing me all dressed up for the show?! Sweetie, you'd like it, I promise you, you'd like my outfit a lot this time! You'd love it!"
Stuart studied his hands on the table, groaned, but smiled a bit. "Probably would, but would hate it once that bell rang."
Jasmine and Stuart sipped their after-dinner drinks and ice cream while watching sitcoms in his apartment before heading to bed early. Jas tried to unload her finest charms in bed to entice him to come watch her the next evening, but Stuart held firm. This would have to be her scene alone, without his support. She was disappointed, but defiant.
After a long day back in the studio, interrupted by two long walks around the nearby park to clear her head while sipping a mocha latte and listening to grunge rock, Jasmine ate a small snack of nuts and headed to the arena.
Her counterpart across the ring this evening would be Jen, a tall, thin brunette with wide smile, long, dark-brown hair, pale, freckled complexion, and the most marvelous, tight, bubble-butt Jasmine had ever seen. They greeted each other with a smile and hug in the parking lot - Jen had been Jasmine's classmate at RISDE, before giving up on a job designing backgrounds for webpages and embracing her passion for dance, now working as a dancer and main choreographer for a northeast university dance troupe. Jen had arrived at the arena wearing her tightest of mini-skirts and a tank-top which spent its energy nestling her breasts up and out for their viewer's delight. Jasmine, after her long day in the studio, welcomed her school-friend wearing torn jean-shorts and a ragged blue sweatshirt.
A half-hour later, the crowd erupted. Jasmine made her way in toward the ring, black sheer hose up to her waist with no panties, revealing her naked bush and ass underneath, and above? She lifted her breasts up for the crowd so they could cheer her topless form. She smiled and waved, jumping up into the ring, rolling under the lowest rope, jumping up to shout and wave to the onlookers.
Jen chose a more flirtatious look, prancing in toward the ring in a white lace bra, short red-plaid kilt-skirt (no panties, in proper kilt fashion), her long white legs naked flowing gorgeously down into knee-high black leather boots.
The girls greeted each other happily in the center of the ring, collapsing into a long, deep french kiss and tight hug before standing hand-in-hand to wave to the cheering crowd.
Jen leaned over to kiss Jasmine gently on the cheek, whispering into her ear, "Love you, babe, hope you enjoy this, I know I will."
Jasmine kissed her back, "Great to see you, I can't wait - I'm going to beat your fuckin ass so bad, you've never had the shit beaten out of you like I'm going to right now. Gonna break you!"
