Artistic Impressions Part 1
This story is a long read. It is divided into three parts, the second being an interlude in the sex action.
Chapter One: A Challenge
Jeff sat morosely in a pub at an office social he'd rather have avoided. The boss frequently insisted that his staff join him for after-work drinks in a local hostelry. He called it team building. Most employees were young and single, like Jeff, which made it harder to refuse.
Like them, Jeff had nowhere else to be and it didn't do any harm to ingratiate himself with his new boss in a new job. Except when Frank was being boorish.
Frank had a girlfriend, Sandra, who frequently accompanied him when socialising. She seemed like a personal accessory: strikingly beautiful, apparently subservient, and discreetly non-forthcoming about herself or her relationship with Frank.
Jeff was single, late 20s, and new to the area. He had got this job against stiff competition, in a recently new business startup. He had had to relocate to London for the job, and was staying in digs with a fussy landlady; all the more reason to stay out as frequently and as long as possible.
Frank was an overbearing proprietor, full of a sense of his own importance, and not averse to rubbing his subordinates' noses in his success. He was being particularly insufferable that evening, and other employees had made their excuses and left, leaving Jeff with nowhere particular else to go and listening to Frank's boasts about his lifestyle.
There were compensations. Sandra was something special to behold. She was a dark-haired, striking olive-skinned beauty, the sort often seen as WAGs (wives and girlfriends) on the arms of over-paid footballers. Jeff had met her a few times socially now, and he liked her a lot. For someone so beautiful, she was surprisingly shy and modest. She spoke little and never revealingly about either herself or Frank. She never initiated conversations with the staff, nor showed any particular interest in them. Jeff assumed she would probably therefore be faithful too.
Frank was addressing him. "So what do you do when you're not working, Jeff?"
The question, following fast on the heels of another of Frank's self-aggrandising comments, took Jeff by surprise. He tried to think of something impressive to say, but the truth was that he was still finding his feet after his relocation, and didn't do much of anything particularly notable at present. But there was his hobby...
"Er, I draw things, objects, buildings - anything."
That surprised Frank. He couldn't draw for toffees. He had to think of a suitable rejoinder.
"Really? I prefer to take photographs - truer to life."
That riled Jeff. His hobby helped to take his mind off the daily grind. He drew for his mind to escape from his troubles. So he couldn't let Frank belittle his pastime.
"It's a misconception to think photographs describe real life. In the hands of most people cameras can do little more than take a snapshot of a moment in time. Rarely can they tell a whole story. Whereas a picture -"
"Balls! Cameras tell it how it is. Art lies. Pictures can flatter, or imply aspects that aren't true in real life."
Jeff had to admit that was a good point, and it was close to what he had intended to say short of admitting a lie, had Frank not interrupted him.
Sandra had been observing the discussion between her partner and his newest employee with interest. She had to admit to herself that Frank often showed off in front of new people, to impress them. It often worked, but not when he had drunk too much. Then he became boorish, like now.
She liked Jeff, because he was modest, like herself, and attractive in a restrained way. He was probably a few years younger than her. She wondered whether he had a girlfriend. Meanwhile Frank was being particularly disparaging to him. She snapped out of her musings and entered the debate to defend the young man.
"But don't you think that drawings can tell a story, about internal emotions for example, that photographs usually don't convey?"
She was taking the argument to Frank.
Jeff studied her with renewed interest. Her eyes were alive, for the first time that evening, with a topic that apparently interested her. Sandra was attractive in both obvious and subtle ways. Her face looked pretty in repose, but came to life when she was interested in something. She showed a real passion for matters that interested her. Her body was something else: generous bust, slim waist, gentle curves on her hips and bottom, and long, slender legs. She looked to Jeff to be close to perfection, a concept with regard to humanity he did not believe in.
She rarely betrayed much expression when she was socialising with Frank. He tended to be overbearing in company, probably to impress through his easy domination of conversations with his subordinates, and even with suppliers and customers.
"Why don't you get us another round, honey?" Her intervention had irritated him and he was eliminating her from the field of play. Distraction was often Frank's way of extricating himself from awkward situations. Now, he was removing Sandra from the discussion after her inconvenient interjection.
She stood up with a tolerant smile. "Same again?"
Jeff nodded.
He had arrived at the pub late, usually the last to leave the offices when they were socialising. He hated leaving jobs half done when a few extra minutes of effort would bring them to a conclusion. So since the rest were usually seated when he got there, he rarely saw much more of Sandra than her upper half above the table.
As she walked away towards the bar Jeff took the opportunity to study the rest of her figure properly for the first time, from the rear. Her long legs suited her slim, hourglass shape. Her body was well-proportioned. She wore a figure-hugging dress to mid-thigh, that showed her curves yet did not look slutty. Her bottom looked decidedly shapely. Only her bust stood out as perhaps a tad too large for her frame, which might look odd or prurient in a sketch, but added to her sex appeal in real life. There was nothing sluttish about Sandra.
That was his artist's eyes, appraising a subject. Only when he had concluded that appraising study did he indulge in sensual musings about her appearance from the rear. He looked forward to being able to appraise her front when she returned with the drinks.
"...but take Sandra, for example. She's a modest woman, but her body is smokin'..."
Frank had been talking about artists as if they were passengers in any economy. What was he saying now?
"...so I bet you couldn't draw anything that makes her as attractive looking as a decent photograph."
Jeff was unsettled by that oral challenge. He sensed hidden pitfalls, however he replied.
"Er, if I was to look at her with an artist's eye, I would probably draw what those eyes and my imagination described, not what I'd get from a cursory glance or a photograph."
"Looking for some deeper inner meaning, eh? So you haven't just been fantasising over her like most men do? I see men looking at her as they pass. I like that. But she's shy and modest. She doesn't like to show off. She won't wear a bikini at the beach, you know."
Sandra tolerated his frequent, presumptuous revelations of her modesty. Her face always remained enigmatic on those occasions. Though this time she was not there to hear Frank's revelation.
Jeff was not put off by her supposed prudery. The body beautiful enclosed, or enclothed, could be more attractive for what it implied than what nudity showed.
"She's very attractive, Frank. I'm sure you're very lucky. I haven't had much experience with glamour studies. I tend mostly to draw buildings and objects."
"Aha! So you'd agree that I could probably take a better photograph of Sandra than you could draw of her?"
Jeff chuckled at such a banal question.
"Are you comparing cheese with chocolate? We would certainly produce different results. Only an objectively independent eye could decide which was better."
"That sounds like a challenge. Ah, here she comes. Maybe we should ask her."
Jeff watched Sandra approach with a tray of drinks, walking carefully so as not to spill the men's glasses brimming with beer. She returned his stare with the faintest of amused smiles.
Her appearance from the front was in fact just as fine as her rear. The shaped dress, despite its high neck, showed off the shape of her bust invitingly - inviting a red blooded male eye to undress her, to imagine her in her natural state.
"We were just saying honey, how interesting it would be to compare Jeff's drawing of you with my photograph. Which would be more accurate?"
She stood by the table holding the tray, confused at the mention of a drawing. The conversation appeared to have moved on from theory to a proposition whilst she had been at the bar. Whilst she stood motionless Jeff had an opportunity to prolong his appraisal. His artist's eye now satisfied, his crotch began to swell.
