Artistic Impressions Part 2
There is no penetration in this Part, but a good dose of eroticism. It sets the story up, hopefully, for a gratifying conclusion.
Chapter Three: The Sketch
Sandra did not know how she had ended up agreeing to pose for the sketch pad of her boss's employee. She consoled herself with the thought that at least Jeff was likeable and shy like herself.
Jeff arrived promptly at two o'clock. He had been waiting somewhere near outside for several minutes, to ensure that he could press the bell right on time. He was decidedly nervous at visiting his bosses' house and sketching his bosses' girlfriend. What if Frank took exception to his ogling her? His boss could be unpredictable at times and was very overbearing.
Sandra opened the door, wearing a navy-blue silk dressing gown. She looked very captivating with her olive complexion and dark hair contrasted with the dressing gown. His eyes were drawn instantly to the outline of her impressive bust. He had to force himself to appear to be examining her with an appraising eye, rather than a lusting stare.
She noticed his approving demeanour, but could not avoid a pang of embarrassment. She felt very underdressed. The gown was loosely tied and its collar spread outwards as she bent forward as he passed her in the doorway. It was deliberate: to let him see part of her bra, to inform him that she was not naked under the dressing gown.
He interpreted it quite differently, as deliberate provocation. His mood bucked up in anticipation.
As she walked ahead of him, she enjoyed the feel of the silk against her mostly exposed flesh within the garment. It draped elegantly over the curves of her breasts, belly and hips, and rubbed erogenously against her skin as she walked. These were new and pleasing sensations, which daunted her.
"We're going to do it in the lounge, with me sitting on an easy chair. Have you brought all you need?
Jeff nodded. He was bearing a large shoulder bag. He tapped it affectionately. "It's all in there."
Sandra led the way into the spacious room. Jeff followed, now constantly fixated on her wonderful bottom.
Frank was standing by a drinks' cabinet. He was feeling uneasy and didn't notice Jeff's stare. He endeavoured to be the magnanimous host, but his mind was plagued with the discussions he had had with Sandra.
"Come in, Jeff. Good of you to come. I think we'll all be a bit apprehensive to start with. How about a drink to settle you down? I'd recommend a brandy."
Jeff accepted gratefully. He was nervous about sketching his boss's girlfriend in her underwear. He still didn't quite understand how a chance conversation had ended up at this. Nor did he fully trust Frank to remain relaxed when Sandra disrobed. He was of course unaware of the couple's earlier costume try-out.
Sandra stood with her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, I'd like a brandy as well. I'm the one that's exposing myself." That little display of assertiveness helped to still her qualms a little.
Frank poured her a modest brandy and she drank it straight down. She pushed her glass towards him, demanding a top up.
Frank looked at her sharply, but obliged her anyway, then turned to practicalities.
"I suggest that Sandra sits in an armchair, where she can be comfortable."
Jeff looked at the chair and frowned. "But the side views of her will be blocked by its arms. There'll be little to sketch."
He looked around the room. White walls were hung with an array of pictures in gold-effect frames. The floor was cushioned by a deep pile light-buff coloured carpet. Against one wall in a corner, near a window overlooking the garden, was a '70s retro hanging chair of rattan lattice work. It was suspended from a slender, curved white steel arm. Its shape was globular and it had a white padded seat cushion. The large gaps between the wickerwork allowed the occupant be seen from all sides, and let in plenty of light all around the chair.
"What about the hanging chair. It would be perfect. What do you think Sandra?"
She stared at it, and an image came to mind of Twiggy, the sixties' supermodel, sitting in such a chair. Sandra's body was shapelier, but the pose appealed to her.
"I think that would do well."
Frank protested. He was concerned that Jeff would be seeing too much flesh; that was his privilege and rare at that. "But we decided on a pose in a proper chair."
She felt bold, willing to expose herself for a compelling display. Her stomach churned at the thought of Jeff getting an all-round view of her scantily clad figure. But she over-ruled Frank. "I'm the model. I say we use the cane chair. You can take your pictures whilst Jeff sets up his equipment."
Frank looked unhappy, but said nothing. He had been excited initially by the idea of getting Sandra into underwear, but after their sexy session this morning his desire had been satisfied. Now, he was beginning to feel jealous at the prospect of sharing a privileged view of her semi-naked body with the younger man.
"Good, that's settled," she asserted, oblivious to Frank's obvious disapproval.
The room was light and airy, so natural light would suffice. Frank went off sulkily to get his camera.
When he returned, Sandra took it from him. That was to remind him that the contents would be her property that day. Jeff had turned an armchair round to face the cane chair, and placed a coffee table beside it. He sat down.
"Are we ready?" she asked. Jeff thought her singularly velvety tone unusually seductive. A frisson of excitement rippled through him.
Frank was standing the other side of the coffee table. There was an air of anticipation in the room.
Sandra moved across to the suspended chair and paused. She stood with her back to them as she undid the belt of her dressing gown. She took her time to increase the suspense, knowing how they would both react when she disrobed. She turned her head as she let it fall to floor, to witness their respective reactions to her reveal. Frank had seen her in her underwear many times, of course. But Jeff had not.
Both men's eyes metaphorically popped out with surprise. But Frank was the more surprised. Gone were the panties, replaced by a white thong consisting at the rear of a 'T' of thin stringy straps, the vertical one of which disappeared between her shapely bottom cheeks. Her rear was practically naked, save for the two horizontal straps.
Jeff reacted differently. He had expected her for some reason to be clad in big knickers, as a protest against being forced to parade her body in front of a relative stranger. He was stunned by her revealing choice of garment. Her body looked slightly unbalanced with the wider back strap of the more substantial bra above the thin strings of the thong. But Jeff didn't mind that detail, for her body looked just perfect: encased in flowing lines from her high waist to her shapely thighs, and with no crease at the confluence of her cheeks with her upper leg.
She turned to face them, an anxious look on her face. This was her payback moment for Frank's boorishness, yet she trembled at putting her body on even this level of display.
It looked astonishingly sexy from the front too, in that lacy bra. It did not appear to be underwired, was semi-transparent, barely concealing her areolae and nipples behind artfully placed flower patterns. It was immediately obvious that the support to her large breasts was minimal, serving mainly to push them together into a striking cleavage. They appeared quite able to hold their own - literally. The bra looked quite loose, as if its shoulder straps had been lengthened. Sandra had apparently planned for comfort.
She had studied herself in that underwear set for long minutes beforehand, in front of a mirror, wondering how Jeff would react to it. She had been less concerned by Frank, who had thoughtlessly spoiled the more conventional matching panties with his cum.
It had seemed to her that with her skin tone lightly showing through she was showing more flesh than perhaps was decent. So her heart really was pounding now, at having to stand like that in front of Jeff knowing what he could see. The brandy's effect was negligible, offering no Dutch courage.
She forced herself to approach them, with what she hoped was a model's movement as if on a catwalk. It served no purpose other than to kill time whilst they got over their initial shock, better than standing still.
Frank recovered his wits to splutter, "But we agreed - the proper lace panties...!"
