As we ate, we discussed plans for the following day. Laura was determined to finish her canvas, and Amy wanted to carry on picking my brains to get ready for her placement.
"I'm sorry, Pam," I said. "Tell you what, the day after tomorrow, all studying, painting, seriousness of any kind is banned. We'll all go out somewhere for the day, then I'll bribe these two to go out to the cinema for the evening and you and I can have the place to ourselves."
Amy and Laura pantomimed knowing expressions. "That's enough, you two," said Pam, smiling. "We did have a life before you two girls gatecrashed, you know."
After breakfast the next day, Laura disappeared back into the dining room, while Amy and I went through to the extension and picked up where we'd left off the previous day, working steadily all morning. Pam made us all sandwiches for lunch; she was careful to let Laura take her plate at the dining room door, so as not to risk catching an unintended glimpse of Laura's canvas.
When Pam came back through to the extension to collect our plates, she said, "I think I'll pop into town myself this afternoon, have a look round. Perhaps I'll find something to go with that lovely necklace, Tim."
"Great idea," I said. "Might it have something to do with tomorrow night, by any chance?"
"Could just be," said Pam smiling. She left, and we heard the car door shut and Pam drive away.
"Ready for a break?" asked Amy, her face giving away what she had in mind.
"Definitely," I replied. "How about upstairs?"
Amy nodded. "Can I go up first, though?" she asked.
"Of course. How long shall I wait?"
"Mmm, count to.... two hundred, slowly," she said.
"Gosh, that's quite a long time. You could have hidden anywhere by the time I finish."
"Oh, I don't think you'll have any trouble finding me," she said, her voice already full of promise.
She walked back through to the house, and I started to count.
"A hundred and ninety-eight, a hundred and ninety-nine, two hundred." I was tempted to call "Coming ready or not!" but I decided it would distract Laura.
I climbed the stairs, and first looked in the girls' room. No sign of Amy. I checked the bathroom, but it was empty. I went into the master bedroom, but the bed was disappointingly vacant. Then I realised that I could hear the sound of running water from the en suite bathroom. I walked over and looked round the doorway. The generously-sized corner bath was filling, and Amy stood, unclothed, with one foot on the raised side of the bath.
"Mmm," I said. "Leonardo missed a great subject by being born too early to sketch you."
Amy dimpled. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she said.
"I'm hoping so," I said. "Looks like the water's deep enough now."
Amy nodded and turned the taps off. "You first," she said. I quickly undressed, then stepped into the bath and lowered myself onto the submerged seating. Amy followed, sitting opposite me and stretching her legs out.
"Remember the first time you ever turned me on, in the hot tub at Mum's house?" she asked. "Actually, that's not really true – you turned me on before that without even knowing it."
"Really?" I said. "Tell me more."
"It was the previous summer – you and Pam had come to visit – and I was just beginning to recognise what being aroused felt like. When you came through the door, before you even got near me, I felt it, then you came over and gave me a hug, squeezing my breasts right against your chest. I'm sure you did it just to be friendly, but I'm still surprised you couldn't tell that I was suddenly very turned on indeed."
"I had no idea," I confessed.
"I couldn't talk to Mum or Sally about it, so I just wrote in my diary."
"Hmm, that'd make interesting reading," I said. "Will you show me?"
Amy went even pinker than the warm water had already made her. "Maybe," she replied. I wondered if her embarrassment was related to what she'd written about me, or whether she'd recorded other thoughts and fantasies.
"Anyway," she said, "when you visited last Christmas I'd already decided that I'd risk showing you how I felt."
"Well, now you know some of my previous story, you'll understand why I didn't put up any resistance," I grinned.
"I was so relieved when you weren't angry with me," admitted Amy. "And then when we got in the hot tub, I was wondering how we were actually going to start – how I could get you to begin touching me without it seeming contrived. Your way was perfect."
"I'm glad," I said. I stretched out a foot and touched her ankle.
She smiled. "Nothing wrong with using a tried and tested solution."
"Of course, variety can be helpful too," I said. I reached for a bottle on the side of the bath, and put a little liquid onto my fingers. I reached over to her and gently slid my soapy fingertips over her breasts and onto her nipples.
She gasped, and said, "Mmm, you're right."
I caressed her leg with my foot, and continued to touch her breasts, sometimes using my hands to cup them and rub the slippery soap over them, then gently bringing my fingers together till both her nipples were sliding through my fingertips.
"I think I want you in me now," she said.
"OK," I said. "Turn round." She shifted position, kneeling on the wide submerged shelf with her back to me and parting her legs to give me full access. I stood, my hips level with her, and positioned my tip at her entrance.
"Mmm," she said. "Enter me."
I slid myself into her, penetrating her as deeply as I could. Then I stroked her back with my still-soapy hands.
"Move in me," she begged, her voice taking on the throaty quality I knew meant she was extremely aroused.
I started to slowly withdraw then thrust again, my hands now holding her hips in a gentle grip.
She started to gasp, and I moved more quickly.
"Do you and Pam do it this way?" she managed.
"Sometimes," I said. "Would you like to watch us again?"
"I'd... like... tha..." she tried to say, then "Ohhhhh!," she climaxed, her muscles rippling around me, triggering my own orgasm, and I used my hands on her hips to draw us together, penetrating her as fully as I could while spurting into her depths.
I withdrew from her, and drew her into my lap as I sat down again in the water. She put her arms around me, and we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
"I think the water's going a little cold," she said.
"Hmm, we'd better get out," I agreed. "Probably Pam will be back in a bit."
We dressed, and were back in the extension, me drawing flowcharts rapidly and Amy making notes, when Pam returned.
"Still at it, you two?" she said. "Laura was just cleaning her brushes, I assume that's a good sign."
"Must be," said Amy. "Let's go through and see if she's ready to reveal all."
Laura was in the kitchen putting her damp brushes tidily away in their case when we went back into the house.
"Hi," she said. "Do you want to see?"
"Is it really finished?" said Amy. In answer, Laura walked to the dining room door and pushed it open. "Go in and look," she invited.
Amy was first in, and Pam and I followed. Laura had positioned the easel so that her canvas was illuminated by one of the ceiling spots, and all three of us stopped in our tracks as our eyes fell on the picture.
As I'd anticipated, the image was of a girl, nude, reclining. The viewpoint was from behind her right shoulder, so her face was not seen. In front of her, almost as though she floated above it, was an azure sea, strangely lit, not warm or tropical, but not stormy or forbidding either; simply calm. Above her, a blue sky at the horizon, fading to darkness above – not the velvet of space, but a flat, almost dull black.
There was nothing soft or sentimental about the picture, every line was sharp, the light somehow penetrating, the colours bright. It was totally realistic in one sense, yet utterly unworldly.
Though the girl's face was not shown, somehow the way she was depicted conveyed a profound impression; she was an unfallen Eve, and Mary face to face with the angel, and yet – to Tim's eyes – unmistakeably also Amy herself. Although the girl was unclothed, there was nothing erotic about the painting.
We stood transfixed, as though time had stood still. Then, as if waking from a dream, I said, "Laura, that's remarkable. I can see where you got at least part of your inspiration from." Laura nodded.
Amy looked puzzled, and Pam said, "I'll show you later – I have an art book with the picture in that Tim has in mind."
"Does it have a title, Laura?" Pam continued.
Laura thought for a while, and shook her head. "Not yet," she replied.
"Your show is the day after tomorrow, isn't it?" asked Amy.
"That's right," said Laura.
"Are you all prepared?" enquired Pam.
"I am now," smiled Laura. "This was the last piece, and the centre of my show."
"Great," said Pam. "Well, let's have something to eat, and we can talk about where we want to go tomorrow."
