It was 10:00 o'clock before Rachel and I awoke the next morning. We could be accused of sleeping in but for the fact that we were awake a good deal of the night. We had made love twice more after our sex in the shower. So it really isn't sleeping in if you have only had four or five hours of sleep. Right?
We staggered out to the kitchen. Rachel was wearing the t-shirt she had donned at dinner the night before (and then shed during the Three Stooges/Rocky Road session) and I was wearing a pair of boxers.
"I think I'm going to be late for work this morning," I said, as I began making a pot of coffee.
"Who's going to know?" she asked.
"Angel."
"Oh, you're right," she said in a sleep-laden voice. "She keeps very close track of her steady customers. If I don't show up on a day when I'm supposed to get the coffee, she interrogates me the next day about what sort of no-good I've been up to. She has a very suspicious mind."
"She has a dirty mind," I said.
Rachel chuckled, her voice coming slowly to life. "Yes that too. It's one of her most redeeming characteristics."
"After her tits and her ass," I said with a smirk. "And her mole, wherever it is."
"My, aren't you snarky this morning. You sound like a guy who got laid last night."
"Got laid? I think what we did went well beyond getting laid. It was more like our own personal two-person orgy."
"Orgy? How can two people have an orgy? It's a definitional problem. You have to have at least three, and half a dozen is much better. Trust me. I have experience with this."
"Okay. I guess you're right, but I feel like I fucked as much as if it had been an orgy."
"Oooooh! Is poor Stevie's little peter all tuckered out? Maybe I can revive it," she said as she reached for my boxers."
"Back. Back, you brazen hussy," I said as I danced away. "I can't believe you want more after last night."
She laughed at me. "Actually what I want is a cup of that coffee you are brewing, and then I have to go to work. Who knows—we might actually have a crowd of customers waiting at the door this very moment."
"More likely a horny homeless guy," I said as I poured her a cup of coffee.
I poured myself a cup and we sat at the kitchen table. "So seriously Rachel, I need to know. What did Sandy tell you to do when you talked to her by phone yesterday?" My insecurity about my infidelity, banished by lust the night before, had returned. "Did she just tell you to bring me chicken soup? Or did she tell you to come over here and fuck my brains out?"
"Well, neither one really. What she told me to do was to take care of you. So I did."
"Hmmm. I see. Seems like you took a good deal of liberty in the way you interpreted that statement. I mean maybe she did mean chicken soup." I was even more worried now than I was before the conversation started.
"Now Stevie, you shouldn't be worried about this. The only thing that Sandy might be jealous about is that she wasn't here to join in our play. I'll talk to her today and make sure everything is okay." She tossed back the last of her coffee and stood up. "Meanwhile, she said, "I've got to go deal with our nosy barista and the hordes of customers at the front door to the bookshop, and
you
have some drawing to do. I want to see those pictures. You better make me look as good as Sandy."
"Okay Rachel," I said. "You take care of Sandy and I'll do my drawings." I sounded a lot more confident than I felt. "But one more thing, Rachel. Are you going to wear something more than just my old t-shirt to work? Perhaps a thong?"
She turned back towards me and put her hands under her t-shirt clad breasts, holding them out to me and pulling the bottom of the shirt up at the same time so her pussy was exposed. "Don't you think I could sell more books in this outfit?"
"Well," I said. "I would love to see Angel's reaction when you stop to pick up your coffee, but I'm not sure you can get there without being arrested."
"I s'pose you're right. I know I had some more clothes on when I came over here last night. I'll just have to look around for them."
"Try the studio."
"Oh yeah. That's right. I had to take my clothes off so you could take pictures of me masturbating, you dirty old man."
"You know Stevie," she continued "Maybe what I should do is just keep some spare outfits and a toothbrush over here. Sandy wouldn't mind. There's room in her closet, and she's in London all the time anyhow."
Now I was just plain frightened. What had I gotten myself into? I had no response. I just sat at the table, my head in my hands.
Rachel cackled as she left the room, knowing that once again she had gotten the better of me.
I spent a full day making sketches of images from the photos of Rachel I had taken the night before and from a few images simply burned into my brain by lust. At the end of the day I sat in the arm chair (yes, the one Rachel had been masturbating in as I took pictures of her) and I surveyed my day's work, now taped to the walls. Some of it had real potential, I thought.
That was enough work for today. I went out to my favorite Italian restaurant and had a good dinner with a bottle of Valpolicella and tottered home a little buzzed. I was exhausted, mostly I think from lack of sleep the prior night, but I did acknowledge that I had worked hard at my day's sketching. I fell into bed and slept hard until nearly 8:00 (late for me).
After breakfast, I called Rachel and told her I wouldn't be in. She whined a bit and even suggested we could have more sex in the back of the bookstore. I didn't want to tell her I was still worn out from the screwing we had done before, so I told her I was doing pastels of her that would someday make her as famous as Goya's
Nude Maja
. She seemed to buy that, or more likely decided that if I was willing to say something that fanciful she wasn't likely to change my mind. As I hung up I felt okay about it, since I was going to spend the day doing pastels of her. The famous part was a bit of stretch, but whatever. I had to do what I had to do to get time for my art, if that's what it was.
After saying goodbye to Rachel, I worked hard the rest of the day and for most of the next day. About four o'clock I finished up the last of the pastels. I was really excited about them. There was one of Rachel slouched naked in the armchair, her legs spread and both hands furiously masturbating her sex. Her head was thrown back, and although a portion of her face was obscured by her red curls, you could clearly see that she was in the midst of a furious orgasm and totally enjoying it. There was no background to the picture. Just a redheaded woman in an armchair pleasuring herself. I thought it was even better than the drawing I had made of Sandy's orgasm.
The second drawing I had finished was a single large sheet that showed only the heads of the two women, again each obviously in the midst of an orgasm. Sandy's face was in the upper left of the sheet while Rachel's occupied the lower right. In these pictures, Sandy's long blonde hair obscured a portion of her face while Rachel's unruly mop of red hair was thrown fully back, leaving her face and neck fully in view. I had added a couple of strands of bright purple to Sandy's golden hair, as though she was a twenty something who had dyed a single lock or two of her hair an unnatural shade to declare her independence. Both women's eyes were closed and their faces twisted with the intensity of their orgasms.
I decided that I definitely liked these two drawings and I wanted to show them to someone. But who? Then I had an idea. I went out to the kitchen and retrieved my iPad. When I brought it back to the studio, I used it to snap pictures of both drawings. While I was at it I took pictures of several other finished pastels and some of the sketches that were hanging on the wall. My iPad was now a mini-portfolio. I grabbed my wallet and headed out the door, iPad in hand. My objective was my local bar. I felt a need for a Scotch and a little time with Lisa, my favorite bartender.
It was late afternoon, and the place had not yet filled up with the after work crowd. I took my usual seat at one end of the bar.
"Well, hello stranger," Lisa said as she walked down the bar towards me. "I was beginning to wonder if your women problems had done you in." She already had a glass with ice in one hand along with the bottle of Macallan 12 in the other.
"No," I said smiling at her inquiry about my women. "I'm still alive. One of them went to London and the other . . . well, let's just say life with the other has been interesting."
Lisa was leaning on her elbows on the bar now, her chin in her hands and her delicious looking boobs threatening to fall out of her low scooped neck line. She had a thick mane of dishwater blonde hair that was falling in her face. She pushed it back and asked, "So do you want to tell me about them, or shall I just bring your sketch pad?"
"Oh no. No sketch pad needed," I said.
"Does that mean the one that went to London is gone for good?"
"God, I hope not. She's my wife. I think she's just there for a few days on business. She should be back tomorrow afternoon."
"And the other one?"
"Rachel? I haven't seen much of her for the past few days. I've been working." That was a bit of a lie depending on how far back the term "past few days" went. If it included that night of the Rocky Road/Three Stooges fest, I had seen about as much of Rachel as a man could see.
"Is she the redhead?"
"My you're inquisitive today," I said.
"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy. It's just that in one of those sketches you showed me she looked like someone I used to know."
"Oh, really. Let me show you a couple more drawings I've done. I told you I've been working. I've been doing drawings of both Sandy and Rachel. It isn't exactly work, since I can't figure out how I'll get paid for them, but . . ."
"Sandy?" Lisa interrupted.
"Yes Sandy. She's my wife. The one who is London."
"Hmm. Interesting. I used to know a couple of girls when I was in college that went by those names. They were cousins, but they didn't look alike."
"Where did you go to college?" I asked. I was intrigued now.
"Penn State."
"My, my what a small world. So did the Sandy I'm married to and her red-haired cousin, Rachel."
"Really?" a smile lit up Lisa's face. "Do you have that sketch with you that you showed me before. I'd like to take another look at that."
