1. Artist -- Chapter 3


    Date: 4/27/2016, Categories: Lesbian, Author: Charlotte_, Rating: 13, Source: LushStories

    wanting me. Sometimes I caught you staring. Sometimes your breathing." She looked down, smiling. "Your breasts are so beautiful when you're aroused. Your skin, too." I sat thinking for a long time. Then I took her hand, kissed it. "What do we do?" She touched my face, then kissed my palm, my fingertips. "What would you like for us to do?" "I wish I knew. No, I do know, I wish I didn't want you so much. It complicates things." "I know. You are married, and I am living in a room in Marie's studio." I looked at her, a little startled. "She doesn't stay there, but usually goes home to her husband at night." "Her husband?" "Yes. You don't know this about her?" She smiled a little sadly. "I am not surprised. He knows nothing about me, or you, or the other women she has had in the studio." I pondered this for a long moment. "Where is she now?" My heart was pounding. "Who knows? She may be home, or seducing someone in the park, or in the studio." I stammered, "we could go to your room." "Do you want to see Marie?" "I don't know. Not really." She thought a bit. "Frank will know if she is there." "Frank?" "The doorman." "He knows a lot about what happens in that building." "He does." She smiled ruefully. "He owes me a favor. Let's ask him if she is there." Taking my arm, she steered me to Central Park West, to Marie's building. As we came into the lobby, for an instant Frank looked surprised, then the amused look came back over his face. Elizabeth looked up toward the ceiling, and ...
    gave him a slightly questioning look; he shrugged and shook his head slightly. She took my hand and led me to the elevator. As the doors closed, she caressed my face and hair. We stood there, she looking in my face, my eyes downcast, trying not to stare at her breasts. Cupping my chin, she raised my gaze until I met her bright blue eyes. She leaned in to brush my lips with hers, lifted my hand inside her blazer to her breast. I closed my eyes as I tugged her crinkly nipple through her top. I gingerly touched her lips with my tongue, was met with the soft tip of her tongue just touching mine. She tasted sweet, jasmine tea with just a bit of honey. We only broke away when the doors started to open. She led me across the tile floor to the only apartment door on the floor, fumbled a little with her keys, and let me into the entry foyer. She hung my cardigan beside her blazer in the hall closet. We turned away from the studio and into the kitchen, where she wordlessly busied herself making tea, rinsing raspberries, readying a tray. Taking it, she led me to a lovely small bedroom off the corridor, just before the studio. She set the tray on the secretary desk. I looked around. The soft carpet was a pale cream color, cut with a complex geometric pattern. The bed was a dark wood with a canopy in lace, a flowery duvet, creamy soft pillows. A graceful, elegantly simple love seat was near a window. There was one drawing of her, framed, on the wall over the divan. Even in pencil, you could ...
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