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Vanessa Wordsmith spent much of her free time trying to make sense out of the strange life she was leading. During the week she was a popular teacher leading her senior history students through amazing lessons from the past.
But, during the weekends she was engaged in historical 'adventures' with six neighbours in her apartment building. Some dusty history books left behind by an old man moving to his last home provided her with both lesson material and plenty of sex.
After being brutally forced by a barbarian horde, Vanessa complained to Old Man Talmann. He reminded her that history was sometimes agreeable and sometimes not. He couldn't change the story just because she didn't like it.
Time travel was hard enough to understand, but the men in the building was even more difficult. Vanessa tried to return the old books to Talmann because having wild sex with the neighbours made it uncomfortable to live among them. He explained that they already had died and were back to escort her through time.
Now Vanessa was freaked out. She realized that she was fucking the living dead!
****
It was time to move on at school. Vanessa had almost completed teaching the Crusades and looked toward another unit. She had always been interested in art and culture in past societies, so decided to spend the following week exploring the Renaissance period, especially its artists and their masterpieces.
She mentioned it to her students on Friday and was met with groans and rolling eyes. To them, art was simply boring, uninteresting. Vanessa had her work cut out for her. She decided to start with ideas about beauty in the period, to compare with today. From there, she would pivot into art, which she knew highlighted the human body during the Renaissance.
On Friday night, she poured herself some wine and curled up with one of the old books that Talmann had left behind. It didn't take long to find material about beauty five hundred years ago. Some things never really change:
.... "The Renaissance woman dyed her hair- almost always blonde- and added false locks to fill it out. Perfumes were the mania in sixteenth-century Italy: hair, hats, shirts, stockings, gloves, shoes, all had to be scented. A well-to-do woman's dressing table was a wilderness of cosmetics, usually in fancy containers of ivory, silver, or gold. Rouge was applied not only to the face but to the breasts, which in the larger cities were left mostly bare."....
[Will Durant, The Story of Civilization, Volume 5, NY: Simon and Schuster, 1953, in 'Renaissance Woman', p. 583.]
Vanessa was finding it easier to succumb to the Power of Words each time that she read from the old books. At first, they had echoed in her mind for a while before spinning her away to the past. Now all she had to do was open her imagination to the magical words and she would fall under their control.
As Vanessa read this passage, she imagined herself as a beautiful young Renaissance woman preparing to look her very best. Today, the famous Venetian painter Tiziano Vecelli (Titian) was coming to her elegant home to begin a portrait. Her beauty would be preserved for all time by his oils. Vanessa had coloured her hair and applied all manner of cosmetics to enhance her appearance.
Now she stood nude while her lady's maid cinched her tightly into stiff undergarments which would make her slimmer than ever. Next came the dress, the perfect one for her sitting with this great artist, scooped very low- daringly low- in the front, in the style of the day.
Her scented and rouged tits were fully displayed, their smooth mounded form exposed almost to the nipples. Another tug and the top curve of her dimpled pink areole peeked above the embroidered edge. Perfect.
As the Renaissance lady waited for her painter, she imagined strolling in the piazza, all the men staring at her chest, undressing her with their eyes. She could almost hear their appreciative comments as she arched her back to show them what creation had given her- and supportive lingerie had improved. More of her erect nipples were showing than she had ever dared to reveal before.
The haughty painter, Titian, finally came, garbed in the sixteenth century style worn by gentlemen. Tight stockings sprouted from his buckled shoes, and disappeared under his short velvet outfit. He wore a foppish hat and had a carefully manicured beard with a moustache. Beneath this disguise, Vanessa eventually recognized building superintendent Alex, one of the resurrected dead.
For the next few hours, he had her turn this way and that as he made sketches from which he would develop her portrait. Vanessa was very proud of her magnificent body and hardly flinched as the petulant artist used both hands, moving her body to best display her assets. It was exciting to pose for him like this, and he recognized that she was enjoying it. So, he asked:
"Madam, I plan to paint a masterpiece, and I need a model. Your great beauty inspires me to ask you to pose in my studio. I would be honoured if you would accept."
"Tell me what you plan, and I will consider it."
"It will picture Lucretia, a beautiful married woman of Rome. Her husband is away from home, and she is accosted by Sextus, son of the king, who will blackmail her unless she gives herself to him. My painting will show the act, and your fine body will be nude for all to see. You will be immortal, as perfect in a hundred years as you are now."
His appeal to her vanity was very convincing, and Vanessa considered posing as Lucretia. The thought of being naked in front of this great artist was exciting; however, to live forever on his canvas was appealing too. While Alex finished his portrait sketches, she decided to accept. The building superintendent, turned great master, was delighted.
What followed over the next few weeks was confusing to Vanessa. It seemed as though reading from the books had blurred the line between past and present, dream and reality. In the evenings, she rode the elevator down to the superintendent's apartment, where she would pose nude for him by the hour.
She did it several times, arriving almost as if some strange force had brought her there. He would usher her inside, and the Renaissance would merge with the present as she lay naked on his bed, revealing herself fully to his digital camera in preparation for Titian's masterpiece.
Looking through the lens, he saw beauty for all time. Her flowing hair framed an inviting face, with expressive dark eyes and painted red lips. Vanessa's mounded tits featured deep pink nipples which seemed to be permanently erect with excitement- she had never done anything like this before.
From there, her body smoothly tapered to a flat stomach, then flared into womanly hips, between which her pussy was just partly visible. Long legs completed the delicious picture.
"Lucretia, turn your head to one side now so I see only part of your lovely face. The next shots will be more revealing. Yes, that's it."
"Now bring up your left knee while keeping the other in front of you. Rest back on straight arms and arch your back to show me your tits. Perfect."
Vanessa felt like she was under superintendent Alex' spell when she came to his apartment like this. There was something about the man that overcame any reluctance and made her want to reveal every part of herself when he called for it.
He was a relative stranger, yet she knew him intimately. After all, he had fucked her in ancient Rome and during the Crusades. She had vigorously sucked his cock in both places, and he had filled her with his cum. He knew her well.
