1 comments/ 9879 views/ 1 favorites Elizabeth 03: The Art Student By: YDB95 The sun was ablaze on the mysterious tropical island, and Jonathan was ambling down the beach admiring the waves. Rocky bluffs on one side, emerald-green water as far as the eye could see on the other, and the sand felt beautifully soft between his toes as he walked alone towards the somewhere he knew but couldn't quite remember. The sound of the waves rang out in his ears, and he could hear the seagulls crowing overhead as well, only strangely enough they sounded nothing like any bird he had ever heard. No, they sounded more like rustling sheets and light snoring. But he paid the noise little mind as he made for his destination up the beach, whatever that may be. He didn't know, but he continued doggedly toward it until he felt the wet scratchy rubbing on his thigh. Taken aback at the sensation, Jonathan looked down to see what sort of seaside creature might be licking his thigh. To his relief, he saw nothing; but the sensation of a moist furry something grew only more intense even as he failed to see what it was. As he looked around behind him to see if there was some trick of nature watching, he also felt a hand on his chest, and whipped around to see who was touching him so brazenly. There was no one there; but instinctively Jonathan reached up to his chest and, though he could not see the hand, he could now feel it. Gentle but firm to the touch, it felt lovely on his bare skin, but also maddening in his unawareness of its source. Using both of his own hands, he pressed at the phantom hand that was rubbing up and down his torso. In the midst of his vain efforts to stop the invasive rubbing, he gradually felt the beach disappear into the misty recesses of his imagination while the pale light of a spring morning seeped through the curtains and illuminated the sheets and pillows in which he was pleasantly buried. Relief and pleasure alike washed over Jonathan as he realized he was not being accosted by a bizarre invisible creature on the beach, but rather by Elizabeth in her bed. She was wide awake and pressing her nude body against his while he lay on his back, and it was her hand rubbing his chest and her wet hairy pussy grazing his leg. "Ah, good morning," he said, twisting around to return her caresses. "I'm sorry to wake you, my darling," Elizabeth cooed. "You just looked so irresistibly peaceful sleeping there, and I could resist no longer!" Though still sleepy, Jonathan felt himself getting hard at her touch. "Wouldn't have wanted to wake up later and find out you handled all this yourself, I suppose," he admitted. "Well, actually, Jonathan, I did," Elizabeth said with a mischievous grin, taking him in a full embrace now that he was awake. "I have been awake and aroused for some time, I'm not sure just why, and I did enjoy myself earlier while admiring you in your sleep. You know me, though, darling, once is never enough!" Jonathan chuckled through the woozy haze from which he was still emerging. Though he loved Elizabeth wholeheartedly, he knew full well he would never be able to keep pace with her voracious sexual hunger. It was a fool's errand to try. And Jonathan, despite his mild frustration at his sleep being interrupted, knew he would be an even bigger fool to deny such a wonderful gift as fate had bestowed upon him in the form of Elizabeth's intense love and her ever-burning desire to consummate it. And so he reached up and caressed her left nipple appreciatively, drawing a sultry laugh from Elizabeth just before her lips met his. Elizabeth gently prodded Jonathan to lie back again, and lost no time in straddling him so that her breasts hung enticingly for him to play with. He reached up and held them both in his hands while she looked down tenderly. "Ah yes, there are the caresses I was imagining all this time!" she exclaimed as Jonathan felt her nipples stiffen at his touch. She grazed his chest with her own fingers, up and down again and again. "You do look lovely in your sleep, Jonathan, but I must confess it was a bit frustrating to admire you so and have you neither look nor touch in return." "Hate to think I was frustrating you, dear," Jonathan said. "I guess I'd better make that up to you!" With that he ran his fingers down Elizabeth's belly and through her broad and deep pubic thatch, and teased her vulva playfully. It was as moist as it was well-hidden, and Elizabeth's responsive sighs made it clear how much she had longed for just such a caress. "You and your magic fingers," she whispered appreciatively between heavy breaths. "You and your hidden charms," he replied, and with that he slid one finger inside. Elizabeth gasped and exhaled in an exultant moan as he rubbed her soft inner flesh as only he could do just right. Though still sleepy, he had little trouble applying just the right pressure in the right spot, and soon he had Elizabeth worked up into a maddening frenzy of sensation and moans even as she still had him pinned to the bed. With his free hand he squeezed her breasts gently until she jerked back in the throes of orgasm. Elizabeth had not yet even come down fully from her cloud before she grasped his hard cock in both her hands and guided him inside. At this, they both let out sighs of contentment in unison, and Elizabeth began rocking back and forth on him. Her lusty vocalizations were as fresh and energetic as the morning just beyond the curtains, and Jonathan was delighted with the view of her body, so taut with arousal, hovering over him in the spare but clear light of her huge bedroom. Jonathan was still learning how to let go in bed the way Elizabeth could, but thanks to months of her tutoring he had learned a great deal. He moaned aloud as well, albeit more slowly and softly, and was only barely conscious of the sticky residue remaining on his hand as he rubbed Elizabeth's hips in rhythm. Months of her making it clear she did not mind that mess – "I am hardly repulsed by my own arousal, darling!" – had finally begun setting Jonathan at ease on such things. But then, there was precious little that could not set Jonathan at ease when he was in Elizabeth's arms or, better yet, in her vagina. As she rode his body into two more orgasms followed by one of his own, he was just as uninhibited as she. By the time his climax had subsided and Elizabeth collapsed in a joyful heap atop him, he had all but forgotten being jostled out of his sleep. Until Elizabeth saw fit to remind him. "I do apologize for not being more patient with you, Jonathan," she chirped, knowing full well how he loved her overtures to him. "Wonderful way to wake up, I have to admit," Jonathan replied, stroking her chestnut curls as she lay her head on his chest. "Quite a good start to a weekend that isn't really a weekend for us, isn't it?" "I do wish I could say I was thinking that way," Elizabeth said, now pulling back the covers; gracefully she rolled out of the bed and stood up before him. "And it is a nice consolation for us both needing to work today. But the truth is I was simply feeling randy." "You?" Jonathan quipped. "I can't imagine, Elizabeth." "Oh, stop that, you!" she half-teased, half-scolded as Jonathan took her hand and got out of bed as well. "You know you can always tell me no, if that is what you want." "If that ever were what I wanted, yes," Jonathan admitted, and with that he enveloped her in a fond embrace against the cool air of the morning on their sweaty naked bodies. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, if I embarrassed you. You know I adore how hot your blood runs. I only worry sometimes that I may not be trying hard enough to meet your needs." "Jonathan, we have discussed this before," Elizabeth reminded him. "I should be delighted if you wished to make love three times every day, but I will accept three times a month if that is what you prefer. It is for us to share, and only when we both care to!" Jonathan smiled, for he knew Elizabeth was well accustomed to coping with men who were not inclined to make love as frequently as she was, and his faith in her was complete. Elizabeth returned his smile but nevertheless felt a bit ill at ease, for the truth was that there were times when Jonathan's lesser sexual appetite was rather frustrating to her. It was nothing true love could not rise above, of course; but it was also nothing she had ever imagined for herself in her days of brushing off horny young men when she was coming up. She had learned to rebuff them with a wink and a laugh, but never had it occurred to her that she herself might one day have to cope with such rejection. She had, in her months with Jonathan, been forced to learn to temper her disappointment with respect for her true love's limits. It had never been easy and time had not made it any easier, but mornings like this made it all worthwhile. As they donned their bathrobes together for the walk to the bath, she felt her frustration ebbing away. Lovely Jonathan was worth the price of occasionally having to satisfy her own prurient needs. After showering and dressing together in steamy, easy silence, Elizabeth and Jonathan made their way downstairs to the mansion's grand dining room, which was already alive with chatter and joy on their arrival. Each Saturday, all the mansion's lodgers and their guests were welcome to join the Marlstons – whose family had owned the land from time immemorial – for breakfast. "Just our way of making home feel a bit more like home, is all," Mr. Marlston would explain to each new lodger when presenting the invitation. The servants set out a delightful buffet with omelettes and biscuits and cold meats and exotic bread and whatever sort of fresh fruit might be available in a given season, and for an hour or so the dozen or so wayfaring youngsters who had found their way to Westfordshire City and taken up residence in some corner of the mansion would feel as though they were not just borders, but family. Elizabeth had always suspected, though, that the tradition was as much for the benefit of the Marlstons as of their lodgers. No matter how uncomfortably silent the halls of the ground floor might be during the week, on Saturday mornings Mr. Marlston could be found chatting with the younger men and women about the latest trends in town rather than scowling about his business issues. Mrs. Marlston likewise set aside her prim demeanour to enjoy a laugh at the latest stories from downtown. Most remarkably of all, their children would enjoy an embrace and a bit of play with their parents for once. Whatever one might think of the food, it was not a spectacle the boarders ever wanted to miss, for through the rest of the week the Marlstons were not a particularly expressive family. Mr. Marlston was largely consumed with salvaging and growing what little remained of his family's once-vast wealth (hence the numerous lodgers), and spent most of each day in his opulent office just off the sitting room, meeting with clients and partners and often drinking more gin than he should with them. Elizabeth was often present at those meetings to provide writing and editorial assistance, and she often emerged feeling tipsy from the fumes alone. Mrs. Marlston was as chilly and brusque as her generation, sex and class would predict, and she suffered her husband's preoccupation and his drinking in begrudging silence for the most part. She also resented Elizabeth's frequent presence in his office, despite the younger woman's being a model tenant for several years by then and never sharing an inappropriate moment with him. (Elizabeth suspected her reputation for enjoying Westfordshire City's liberated nightlife played a part as well. Mrs. Marlston had never commented on any such thing, but then she rarely commented on anything with Elizabeth.) As for their three children – Joy, Thomas and Alexandria, ages six to twelve – they scarcely knew their father and had learned from a young age to endure their mother's difficult moods. Like many children of their class, they had been forced to grow up rather before their age. Fortunately for Joy, Thomas and Alexandria, their lives were not without warmth or support. Their tutor, a regal French lady named Sandrine, provided them with affection as well as knowledge and was as much a friend as a teacher. Elizabeth also offered her share of both on her occasional nannying shifts. She had accepted that role, along with her assistance to Mr. Marlston, in exchange for an affordable rent on her huge and secluded bedroom on the third floor. The extra work had been rewarded handsomely with her comfortable living quarters; but the children were the apple of Elizabeth's eye and she would have gladly sat with them for no fee. Naturally, however, she did not make any such offer to Mr. Marlston. It was just as well that Elizabeth so enjoyed her time with the children of the house, for that Saturday was Sandrine's day off and Elizabeth would be charged with watching them for most of the day. Jonathan had, accordingly, set aside the day for a visit to his office to catch up on work that had been overwhelming him during the week of late. Neither was delighted with being beset with responsibilities on the first warm Saturday of the spring, but this way at least there was the knowledge for each that the other was preoccupied as well. "Tomorrow should be a pleasant reward, in any case," Jonathan offered as they reached the bottom of the stairs. And the children were a joyful preoccupation in any event. On their arrival in the dining room, Joy, the youngest, greeted Elizabeth with an exclamation more than worthy of her own name. "Auntie Elizabeth!" The little girl scurried around the dining room table, a sheet of paper clutched in one hand, and threw herself into Elizabeth's open arms. Jonathan stood aside and adored the pair; he wanted more and more to have a child of their own every time he saw Elizabeth's little charges. "Look at my picture," she said proudly, holding the paper up for Elizabeth. It was a drawing of a tall, steep mountain with a tiny house and a flag on top, and a little girl with a big smile standing right at the peak. "Lovely, Joy!" Elizabeth said. "Is that you at the top?" "Yes!" Joy said with an enthusiastic nod. "I've decided I'm going to be a mountain climber when I grow up!" "But last week you wanted to go to sea, wasn't it?" Jonathan asked. "That's right," Joy said. "But Thomas told me girls can't do that." "He did?" Elizabeth sounded appropriately outraged in her answer, and the outrage was not entirely feigned. "I did not!" Thomas protested, emerging from a clutch of mingling guests beside the fireplace. "You know I know better than that, Auntie Elizabeth! I only told her how she'd have to share her bedroom with everyone else on the ship, and she said it wasn't like that for girls, and I said it would be if girls went to sea." He finished his explanation from a respectable distance before Elizabeth and Jonathan. Though only ten years old, Thomas would only let Elizabeth hug him in private. "Well, I'm happy to hear you did not discourage your sister on purpose, Thomas," Elizabeth said. "And I suppose you are correct that it will be like that for girls when they do start letting us go to sea." "You know I wouldn't tell her she couldn't do something just because she's a girl, don't you, Auntie Elizabeth?" Thomas demanded. "Of course I do, dear," Elizabeth said. "You're a perfect gentleman." Thomas seemed mollified, and went back to the half-finished tea that Elizabeth was sure contained at least two tablespoons of sugar. Elizabeth turned to Jonathan and laughed. "He probably wouldn't," she confirmed for him, "But I'll never know if he really means it or if it's just what he knows I want to hear." Thomas had had a crush on Elizabeth for as long as she cared to remember, though he had become increasingly adept at pretending otherwise in public. "Are you going to sit with us today, Auntie?" Joy asked. "I am, yes! Just after breakfast." "I shan't meddle with you and Jonathan then," Joy said with a serious nod at Jonathan. "Sandrine says we mustn't bother the grownups on their own time." "Well, Sandrine is a very wise lady, isn't she?" Elizabeth said, suppressing a laugh, as she knew Jonathan was also doing. She handed the drawing back to Joy. "Here you go, darling." "It's for you, Auntie Elizabeth! I want you to remember me when you and Jonathan get married and I go off to the mountains!" Jonathan could not hide his laugh completely this time. Elizabeth managed only just to do so. "Well, thank you, Joy!" After another hug, Joy was off to play with her blocks in the corner of the room. Elizabeth and Jonathan found their way to the buffet, with Joy's suggestion hanging unspoken in the air. Marriage had been mentioned before, but now was not the time. Neither knew just why, but both knew it definitely was not the time just yet. Perhaps it was simply because the past several months had been so delightful for both of them; why change things so drastically now? Elizabeth allowed that concern to retreat to the back of her mind as she set about collecting her favourite fruits and pastries and giving her morning regards to the other boarders and guests. Among those guests was a young couple – younger than Elizabeth and Jonathan by a few years – who stood at the far end of the buffet table regarding Elizabeth with a look she construed as one of bemusement. Though she had not been formally introduced, Elizabeth had been vaguely aware of their presence in the mansion for several days now, and that the woman was a cousin of the Marlston children. She stood, resplendent in a white dress, beside the pastry dishes and regarding Elizabeth with a smile as she spoke. Her gentleman friend, who was known to be sleeping in a separate room, stood silently by her side in a dark shirt and vest with his hair swept up in a dramatic fashion. Elizabeth recalled hearing that he was a budding painter who had come to the estate for inspiration, and had set up shop in a sitting room near the nursery where she would be spending the morning. His face now wore a look of shy interest that was also directed at Elizabeth. It was a look Elizabeth knew quite well, and though she kept a polite pretence of unawareness, she felt a familiar pleasant embarrassment tickle her insides. She recalled those glances quite well from her single days, and was accustomed to still receiving them on occasion even now that she was settled with Jonathan: the mark of a man who had learned of her very abundant pubic hair and longed to see and touch it for himself. As Elizabeth was not shy about displaying her body at the public baths and had been quite active in dating Westfordshire City's young men prior to meeting Jonathan, she was aware of her hairy and horny reputation; and she was defiantly proud of it. As for the knowing looks like the one she now suspected she was receiving, though a bit embarrassing, they had often been most useful to Elizabeth. Knowing her "secret" was out had vastly reduced the risk of becoming involved with a beau who found her body repulsive as so many of the girls she had known back at school had done: a man like that was far less likely to pursue relations with her in the first place. Of course, both Elizabeth and the young artist were committed to others, so his interest in her, whether real or imagined on her part, was moot. But Elizabeth, a survivor of years of bullying and the resultant self-doubt based on her intimate uniqueness, always enjoyed the knowledge – or even the idea – that she had another admirer. In the event, there was no confrontation with the young man or his lady at the buffet table, for they made a discreet but prompt retreat when Elizabeth returned their smiles. Her interest piqued, she made a plan to introduce herself when the opportunity arose. Elizabeth 03: The Art Student Mrs. Marlston was chatting with an older woman Elizabeth did not recognize just by the fruit, but she paused to greet them. "Elizabeth. Jonathan! Lovely to have you join us this morning." She shook Elizabeth's hand and pecked Jonathan on the cheek. Elizabeth took no offense at not receiving a kiss; she knew exactly why Mrs. Marlston was so delighted that Elizabeth had a man of her own now that she fawned on him every time he came to breakfast. "Good morning, Mrs. Marlston," Jonathan said with his usual polite flair. "It is nice to be here as well. We haven't made it for breakfast in a while now." "Yes, well, I know you are both quite busy these days. Some evenings Elizabeth in locked away in Mister's office so long I think she may be falling asleep in there." "Fat chance of that, my dear, I keep her much too busy correcting my mistakes!" came the booming voice of the man of the house. "Jonathan!" Mr. Marlston shook his hand, gripping it like a vice. "How are things at Thompson's? Bob is keeping you busy, I trust?" "As always!" Jonathan acknowledged. "I'm off to the office after breakfast, actually, to catch up on some briefs." "Working Saturdays, are we!" Mr. Marlston said. "Pity it's got to be done, but good on you." Turning to Elizabeth, he added, "You'd better not let this one slip away, my dear. Every loving couple has one bond that'll never let them down, and his work ethic could be yours." "Oh, he never lets me down all right," Elizabeth said, grinning through her mild annoyance as she wondered if the Marlstons had any inkling of the far more intimate bond that really had drawn them together in the first place and kept them together since. Most of their acquaintances in town knew, and word could get around in Westfordshire City (as Elizabeth suspected it just had to the young artist and Mr. Marlston's niece); but neither of the older couple had ever let on that they knew. Of course, Mrs. Marlston would never address such a topic aloud in any case. "Well, I'm glad to hear I never let her down, then!" Jonathan announced with a chuckle. "Every now and then I wonder!" Elizabeth felt a stab in her chest, and was grateful to be so good at keeping her annoyances private in public. (The bullying she had endured at school had seen to that.) How could Jonathan say a thing like that after the heart to heart resolution they had just been through upstairs? Hadn't she reassured him that her love did not depend on his fondness for sex?! There would be words with him when she next had him alone! "A word, Elizabeth?" Mr. Marlston gestured toward the hallway. Elizabeth was relieved at the diversion, though she suspected his reason for desiring privacy was not a happy one. She was correct. As soon as they were beyond the dining room door, Mr. Marlston gave her a stern look, as if addressing a wayward daughter rather than a trusted employee, tenant and friend. "Elizabeth, I know well that you have my children's best interest at heart, but I should appreciate it if you would not encourage Joy's flights of fancy so." "Mr. Marlston, it was only a drawing!" Elizabeth protested. "A drawing of a girl becoming a mountain climber!" Mr. Marlston shot back. "And last week, a sailor! What sort of world do you think we live in, that a girl can aspire to such things! Imagine the disappointment she will feel one day when she learns what a woman's true place is in this world!" "And just what place is that, sir?" Now Elizabeth was nearly as angry at him as she was at Jonathan. "The world is changing, and it shall no longer be a man's world forever!" "Be that as it may, Elizabeth, I want my daughter to be well grounded in what the future holds for her. Do I make myself clear?" "Very," Elizabeth said. "But I shall not have any part in destroying a child's dreams, and there is no reason why Joy can never be the first woman to follow any pursuit she likes! I see myself as a role model for all she wants to do and be when she grows up, and that does not include telling her anything she may love is only for boys! Do I make myself clear as well, sir?" Mr. Marlston scowled silently for a moment. "Elizabeth," he finally said in a more conciliatory voice. "I admire your spirit and your resolve. Who am I fooling, Elizabeth, I admire everything about you. That is why I have not complained before about the radical ideas you have been instilling in my children. I should be very, very proud if Joy and Alex grow up to be as independent and confident as you are, and if Thomas is as respectful to all women as he is to you. Very proud indeed. But you must understand the very real limits that are still set against women in this world – heavens, Elizabeth, surely you understand them better than I do! Mrs. Marlston and I simply do not want Joy's heart to be broken when she comes of age and learns what things she can and cannot do with her life." "Then perhaps you should let her push against those limits, sir. Someone must surely break them down one day; there is no reason why it could not be your daughter." Mr. Marlston stood silently by the door and considered. "Very well. I should only hope Mrs. Marlston can be satisfied with that suggestion the next time Joy irritates her with her prattle." "I should advise you not to tell her you heard it from me, then," Elizabeth said with a conciliatory smile. "I'm sure you are aware that your wife is less than fond of me." "Of course she isn't, Elizabeth. You are everything she wanted to be in her own repressed youth." "I had never thought of that," Elizabeth admitted. "Well, what did you think it was?" Mr. Marlston asked, opening the door and holding it for her to pass through. "Let's get back to breakfast, my friend." Elizabeth thought she detected a twinkle in his eye as he asked his final question – what, indeed, did she think it was? Did Mr. Marlston know that his demure tenant/nanny/proof-reader was also the hairy and horny belle of the baths in town? Had his wife learned of Elizabeth's shameless pride in her body? To her surprise, Elizabeth found herself enjoying the possibility that they knew. It was certainly possible, as many of his business associates had been intimately involved with women who had shared the public baths with Elizabeth, and there had been more than one of those knowing glances at her from men she scarcely knew during the meetings in Mr. Marlston's office. Elizabeth had always been too professional to pay the looks any mind; but as always, she had been very much aware of their presence and significance. Mr. Marlston would, of course, always be too gentlemanly to ever say anything on the subject, one reason why Elizabeth tolerated his occasional chauvinism. So it was to remain an amusing mystery. Such things were, for once, not foremost in Elizabeth's mind on that morning. Quite naturally, they never were when it was time for her to mind the Marlston children. Certain boundaries were never to be crossed, after all. Rather, Elizabeth dropped by the kitchen to request her usual pot of tea to last the morning, plus a few biscuits as good-behaviour incentives for the children; and then she made her way to the nursery on the second floor overlooking the huge front yard. The nursery was quite large as well, with bay windows affording plenty of sunlight, and a wonderfully open feeling that kept the children largely unaware that they were being kept shut off from the rest of the house. It also kept Elizabeth from feeling tied down on days when such reassurances were necessary. Today was not among those days, however, for her annoyance at Jonathan's comment at breakfast had not yet dissipated and she was in no mood to be out and about. It was a good morning for focusing her attention and energy on something positive instead, and as usual she found that with the children. Joy once again threw herself at Elizabeth as soon as she had arrived in the room. "Hello again, darling!" Elizabeth said, returning the hug. "Auntie Elizabeth, are you going to play around-the-world-again with us again today?" Joy demanded eagerly. "Oh, not that!" piped up Alexandria, the eldest, from her perch on the window-seat. "It's bad enough we have to be indoors to begin with. Can't we just read instead?" "You certainly may, Alexandria, if that is what you wish," Elizabeth said. "But no around-the-world-again for any of us until we write our homework, Joy, you know that," Thomas reminded his sister. "Isn't that right, Auntie Elizabeth?" "It's not your job to say that, Thomas!" Alexandria snapped. "You are both correct," Elizabeth said, her patience with the children now wearing thin as well. "Thomas, it is not your place to tell Joy what she can and cannot do. But you are correct that we must complete your lessons before we play anything." "Oh, gee, Auntie Elizabeth," Joy whined. "Just one game?" "We can play all the games you want after your lessons are done, Joy," Elizabeth repeated. "Trust me, you shall be very glad you did your work first once you have completed it." Privately she was relieved at the reprieve, for she would need the time to recall the rules to around-the-world-again, a geography game she had concocted on the spot one boring afternoon that had gone over remarkably well with the children. "I'm sorry, Auntie Elizabeth," Thomas said as soon as Joy had gone sulking off to the table where the children sat to write their lessons. He glanced over at his older sister to make sure she was not looking. She was, but she turned away with a knowing smirk so that Thomas could hug Elizabeth in relative privacy. "That is quite all right, Thomas, and thank you." Elizabeth returned his gentle embrace, appreciating how hard-won his tenderness was at that age. One benefit of Thomas being so obviously smitten with her: he had left behind his chauvinistic childishness and taken to appropriating Jonathan's refined manners and respect for women. Elizabeth could only hope that lesson would remain with him when his puppy love inevitably passed. After Thomas had enjoyed his longed-for moment with Elizabeth, he dutifully marched off to the homework table and joined Joy. His fondness for her also served as an inspiration to work harder at his studies, as his father had noted gratefully on more occasions than one. When he was settled and the inevitable could no longer be postponed, Alexandria reluctantly got up from the window-seat to join them, though she left the book she had been reading there rather than putting it back on the shelf where it belonged. Elizabeth made a mental note of the transgression, but chose to ignore it for the moment. She recalled being Alexandria's age and the angst that came with the impending departure for school all too well. Recalling that her own angst had been well-warranted, for she had been teased and taunted horribly during her first couple of years away at school, Elizabeth's heart ached for what Alexandria might well be in for. She was therefore willing to allow the girl some leeway, for the moment. Alexandria might well want an older-sister figure to confide in one day, after all. Elizabeth certainly wished she had had such an option in her own school days. A kitchen maid delivered Elizabeth's tea shortly thereafter, and she spent the morning sipping it and helping the children with their lessons as necessary. The hours passed agreeably, with even Alexandria's nasty mood passing as she focused on completing her work as quickly as possible; and as lunchtime approached, Elizabeth's own disposition had improved markedly. Jonathan's ill-advised comments were nothing they could not resolve with a private discussion when the time arrived, and they may well have meant nothing at all. At last, the kitchen maid returned with her ritual lunch announcement: "Elizabeth, you're free!" The children laughed, as they did every time they heard it, and they got up to walk downstairs to the dining room. Elizabeth smiled appreciatively at the kitchen maid, as she always did, both of them knowing the children probably did not know the true meaning of the remark. After drinking tea all morning, Elizabeth was always pleased indeed to be free to visit the water closet. "I shall never know how you can sit still all morning after this," the kitchen maid remarked as she collected the empty teapot and cup. "Practice," Elizabeth said with an embarrassed smile, as she stood up somewhat gingerly to avoid further agitating her bursting bladder. She was accustomed to being teased on that subject, for she did love her tea and wine. As the nursery was in a fairly public wing of the floor where guests were very common, it was equipped with separate public water closets for women and men. These were somewhat controversial among the guests for their relative lack of privacy; but Elizabeth was not shy about such things. She was therefore her normal pleasant self when she heard the women's room door open while she was washing her hands after relieving herself. That sense of normalcy was shaken a bit when she turned her head to see the young woman who had been regarding her so intently at breakfast now standing in the doorway. But if Elizabeth was slightly nonplussed, the younger woman appeared far more bewildered. "Oh!" she exclaimed as the door swung shut behind her. "Pardon me, madam!" She looked as though she wished to retreat into the hallway. "Pardon you for what?" Elizabeth asked. "This is a public ladies' room, and I was nearly finished in any case." She dried her hands on the towel that hung beside the basin and extended her hand. "My name is Elizabeth. You are the children's cousin, I believe?" "Quite right," said the younger woman, relaxing a bit and shaking Elizabeth's hand. "Agnes is my name. Pardon my nervousness, but I have been hoping to be introduced to you for some time and I had not planned for it to happen in the water closet of all places." Her tense expression melting into a shy smile similar to the one Elizabeth had witnessed that morning, Agnes continued, "I'm afraid your reputation precedes you." Elizabeth laughed and looked around the small room. "I see you have met my dear friend Irene, then." "Irene?" Agnes asked. "My true love's cousin, and my dearest friend," Elizabeth explained. "She loves to tease us, Jonathan and me, about all the tea and wine we drink and how frequently we visit the water closet. And it is true, we do both need to make water quite frequently, but it is nothing I am ashamed of, I assure you." "Oh, I was not aware of that," Agnes said. "And I should never be so crass as to comment on such things, with apologies to your friend. I am too fond of tea myself to be throwing that stone, for one thing. Forgive me, Elizabeth, when I said your reputation preceded you..." Elizabeth knew all too well what Agnes was too embarrassed to say. "'The hairy ones are the horny ones,' no doubt," she said. Agnes sighed audibly in her relief. "So you are aware these things are said about you in town," she said. "Very much so, and not in the least ashamed of it," Elizabeth said with the pride that came with having won that very painful emotional battle. "I do not know where you came here from or how familiar you are with Westfordshire City, Agnes, but our community is a progressive one. Here, women our age are free to be open with our intimate hunger as we so desire." "So I have heard," Agnes said, "And that is one reason why I encouraged Edward to join me here for my visit to Aunt and Uncle." "Edward is your friend the painter?" Elizabeth asked. Agnes nodded. "He's my fiancé, actually, and he refers to himself only as an art student rather than a painter because he has yet to sell any paintings. But yes, he is a painter, or shall be soon I hope. We are from a village up north that I am quite sure you have never heard of, not unless you are interested in sheep farming in any case, and I have longed to move to Westfordshire ever since I heard of the place while I was at university. I hope I might prevail upon Edward to move here permanently once we are married." Her bright face now turning a shy shade, she added just above a whisper, "I have heard a great deal of your public baths." Elizabeth had suspected as much. "That, then, is how you came to hear of me," she said. "Yes," Agnes acknowledged. "Edward and I were out for dinner a few nights ago, and while mingling at the bar afterward, I asked a couple of girls I had met if they could tell me about the baths. Word had already got out that I was staying here, and so they told me all about you." She broke into a nervous laugh. Elizabeth had no desire to make Agnes uncomfortable on the matter. "I do not need to know just what they told you about me," she said. "But it is all most likely true. There is no need for you to be embarrassed, Agnes. I am sure you have seen by now that I am not at all shy about such things." Heading off a larger embarrassment that she knew was looming, she added, "It is even quite all right that either you or the ladies at the bar have told Edward about my body. Many men in town are aware of all that." Agnes gasped. "I'm...How did you know?" Elizabeth laughed and touched her new friend's hand to set her at ease. "Why don't you go ahead with all you came in here to do, and I shall await you in the hallway? I will explain all, and we can discuss the baths as well if you like." Agnes thanked her, and she stepped out to the hallway to wait. While there, Elizabeth heard noises from the sitting room where Edward had his makeshift studio, and wondered if she ought to introduce herself to Edward while waiting for Agnes. But she concluded that would likely make poor Agnes even more nervous than she already was. And so it was that when Agnes emerged from the ladies' shortly thereafter, the two women shared a leisurely stroll to the stairwell. After a look behind to ensure their privacy, Elizabeth explained that she had seen how Edward and Agnes had both regarded her at breakfast, and why she recognized the look they had given her. "There is no great mystery about it, Agnes," Elizabeth said. "It is simply how I am known among a certain group of people, and you and Edward fit that group well enough." "I still feel an ass for betraying our fascination," Agnes said. "Pardon my language!" she added quickly. "When you join me at the baths, you will learn quickly to stop apologizing for such language and such fascination," Elizabeth reassured her with a grin. "When?" Agnes did not hide her delight. "I had hoped to ask you if I might join you at some point." "All are welcome," Elizabeth said. "Would Edward be interested in attending the men's baths, do you think?" "I should hope so," Agnes said. "He is quite uptight about all these things, Elizabeth. Indeed that is one reason why I had hoped to join you at the baths. There is so much I ought to learn before our wedding, and he as well. Not only have we not..." her voice dropped to a whisper – "consummated our relationship, you know, he won't even talk to me of it." Returning to her normal voice, she concluded, "It is all well and good to wait, but in this day and age a couple ought to be able to communicate frankly about such things, don't you agree?" "Completely," Elizabeth said. "You're going to love the ladies at the baths, dear, I can tell." "Elizabeth," Agnes said. "There is one other thing I have yet to tell you about Edward. I am not sure if I should tell you myself or have him ask –" But Elizabeth was not to learn immediately what the request was, for they had arrived at the dining room door and Mrs. Marlston swung it open before them. "Welcome to lunch, ladies," she said in her usual prim tone. "I trust we can keep the conversation appropriate for the children?" Lunch at the mansion was agreeable for Elizabeth, as she learned a great deal more about Agnes. Twenty three years old and several months out of university, she had known Edward since childhood and had been betrothed to him for one year. The only woman in her class to read law, she had every hope of being among the first to practice it; Elizabeth eagerly told her of Jonathan's occupation and the connections he could provide. As for Edward, Agnes spoke of him more like a brother than a lover; but she expressed fervent hope that the spark of romance would ignite soon enough. "He treats me like a favoured colleague," she explained to Elizabeth. "All respect and a bit too much formality. Always has, actually, even when we were younger and only friends. But I am quite sure that will change in time." After a furtive look to ensure that Mrs. Marlston was out of earshot, she added, "And I am depending on you and your friends at the baths to tutor me on bringing him out of that shell of his!" At this, the two women shared a girlish giggle that did catch the older lady's attention; but she only rolled her eyes at the pair and turned back to her tea and brandy. Elizabeth 03: The Art Student Elizabeth still did not learn of the request in which Agnes had been interrupted before lunch, however. She and Agnes became so absorbed in conversation on other matters that she neglected to check her watch, and was called away back to the nursery in mid-sentence by a kitchen maid. "Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but you are requested upstairs," the girl said. "Oh, my!" Elizabeth looked at the time now in surprise. "I am very sorry. I shall be with the children presently." Turning back to Agnes, she stood up and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. "Let us continue the conversation after I am done in the nursery. Four o'clock?" "Certainly," Agnes agreed. By the time four o'clock arrived, Elizabeth had quite forgotten the entire matter of the mystery request. Having at last remembered the rules to around-the-world-again, she was deeply engrossed in a round with all three of the children – even Alexandria being ready to play by that late hour – when Agnes appeared in the doorway with Edward standing shyly over her shoulder as usual. Not wanting to disturb the happy scene, the pair watched in silence as Elizabeth mimed her world travel and the children tried to guess where she was going. "She truly is beautiful, isn't she?" asked Edward under his breath. "Do you want me to ask?" Agnes asked. "I did build some rapport with her at lunch." "I should not send you to do my unpleasant bidding," Edward said, though it was without enthusiasm. "Can I help you?" asked the children's nurse, who had been sent to collect them. A notoriously stern woman, she did not welcome unauthorized visitors in the nursery, even should they be honoured guests of the house; and her tone made both Agnes and Edward stand a bit taller. At the sound of her voice, Elizabeth looked up and was surprised to see Agnes and Edward regarding her. "Well hello there!" Elizabeth stood hastily and smoothed her skirts out as best she could, while the children also arose reluctantly. "Children, I believe you know your cousin Agnes and her fiancé, Edward?" There was scarcely time for a chorus of "Yes" before the nurse had them filed out of the room with a curt "Thank you, Elizabeth" of her own. None of the children liked the nurse very much, and this time of day was often marked with regret on their part. Elizabeth was sympathetic as usual to the downcast look on all three of their faces as they followed the nurse off to their own rooms. Such a lonely way to grow up! But she was pleased to see Agnes again, and curious about Edward. They, too, were aware of the children's regret at leaving. "I can see why they prefer your company, Elizabeth," Agnes said. "They're lovely children," Elizabeth said. "But I must say, watching them grow up in this house has made me grateful for having not come of such wealthy stock myself. It all might have been good training for the cruel world of boarding school, but at least I got to enjoy my childhood up to Alexandria's age at least." "Ah, another boarding school survivor," said Edward knowingly, as he and Elizabeth shook hands. "Some of the nastiest years of my life, right there." "I can identify," said Elizabeth. "In any case, Edward, isn't it? I'm delighted to meet you." "And I you," Edward said. "Agnes has told me a great deal about you this afternoon, and I have to confess we had heard from your friends in town before that even." "So I have heard," Elizabeth said with an agreeable smile; she refused to be ashamed of such things anymore. "How are you finding the painting here?" she continued. "I had hoped Agnes might have the opportunity to show me to your studio today, but there wasn't time." Edward looked relieved, though Elizabeth could not guess why. "Would you like to see it now?" he asked. "I had hoped for this opportunity." "You had?" Elizabeth was surprised, but pleased. "Yes, I should like very much to admire your work." By then they were already making their way out of the nursery, which Elizabeth locked behind them. Edward prattled nervously all down the hallway about his painting and Agnes and how they loved the mansion and Westfordshire City. He never took breath even as they passed the water closets, which Elizabeth needed to use again; but she was curious as to both his painting and the cause of his agitation, and so made no complaints. At the far end of the hall, Edward had not locked the door to his makeshift studio, and he flung the door open wide and stood aside with an eager grin, silent at last. Elizabeth stepped in, with Agnes just behind her. She was delighted at what she saw: the room was awash in colours on canvas lining every wall and several of the tables and chairs that had protective cloths draped over them. Though the furniture was ungraciously adorned with the cloths and pushed every which way to make way for Edward's work space in one corner, the fruits of his labour were a wonderful sight to behold. Landscapes and still-lifes and even studies of the room itself, both in its current state and its normal more dignified one, all of them bursting with colour and bold lines that brought the images springing to life. "These are beautiful," Elizabeth said in a hushed tone, admiring each one but remembering not to touch them. "Lovely, Edward. But I see you don't like painting people?" "Oh, he has a few of those too," Agnes said, directing Elizabeth to the far corner by the bay windows. "He did these in art school, and has brought them along for a reference to work from." Elizabeth followed Agnes to the corner, where she revealed a few modest nudes of the all too typical thin and plain variety. Virtually alone among the collection, they wanted for spark and excitement; the faces of the women looked bored or even expressionless. "Not much good, those, I'm afraid," Edward said apologetically. "I'm still learning how to paint the human form, as you can see, and I need a model with a certain mind-set to work with me on that, I think. The ladies they provide us at school, to them it is only a job, not a true matter of art." "I'm afraid it shows, Edward," Elizabeth said. "I think you do indeed need someone who appreciates being appreciated, if you will." She could not resist a naughty smile as she said it, for her prescription reminded her very much of her own fondness for being seen in the nude at the baths. Edward looked at Agnes, bewildered. "I thought you had not asked her?" "I didn't," Agnes confirmed. "But it sounds to me as if you just have, indirectly." "Asked me what?" But Elizabeth had already figured out the answer to her question, and she could feel herself blushing furiously of a sudden – so that was why they had both been admiring her so at breakfast! Edward sat down on the couch at the centre of the room, the only piece of furniture not draped in cloth or stacked with paintings. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. This was a most inappropriate way for me to make a most inappropriate request. But having seen your lovely form around the house throughout my stay here, and then having heard from your friends about the unique beauty you possess underneath it all, I felt I had to pursue the opportunity, no matter how uncouth. You would make a superb model for my paintings, and as you yourself said, I am desperately in need of such a model. This was a most clumsy way of introducing you to the idea, and I am truly sorry for my behaviour in the matter. Agnes will tell you how I am no master when it comes to addressing women, and I am afraid this is simply a particularly nasty example of how I relate to the fairer sex when I want only to create beautiful art." As Edward made his apology, he could not bring himself to look at Elizabeth. And so he did not see her once again admiring all his paintings throughout the room, nor could he have known she was imagining herself among the beautiful scenes, indoor and outdoor alike, or that her face had broken into a pleasantly embarrassed smile. Agnes did see the smile, but she misinterpreted it as she was coping with her own role in the uncomfortable aura that now prevailed. When Edward had completed his remarks, Agnes added, "We truly are sorry, Elizabeth. We had intended to make a formal request in far more comfortable conditions. Now that obviously cannot be done, but I do hope we can still be friends. I would certainly still like to accompany you to the baths, and we need never discuss this at all." Elizabeth took Agnes' hand gently and then looked at Edward, who finally dared make eye contact with her. "Agnes, Edward," she said gently, fighting down a sly smile. "I do not believe I ever said 'no,' now, did I?" Though flattered and delighted at this turn of events, Elizabeth suspected Jonathan would not be pleased at the news. Regrettably, she was correct. "What is it with you all of a sudden?!" he demanded, throwing his coat on the armchair in Elizabeth's room. "First that patronizing comment about me letting you down this morning, and now you're getting naked for an audience? Christ, Elizabeth!" "Patronizing comment?! I said you never let me down, and you don't! Except maybe right now!" "It's the way you said it! 'Oh, he never lets me down,'" Jonathan mimicked, in a whining murmur dripping with sarcasm. "Couldn't have been any clearer that you were really saying I was a disappointment and you were only humouring me." "I was not saying that at all!" Elizabeth insisted. "You were the one who sounded disappointed in me, with that 'Oh, gee, I wonder' nonsense! And after you had to be reassured of just that earlier this morning!" "No one else knew about that!" "It doesn't matter if they did!" Elizabeth replied. "I knew! I knew the man I love was feeling inadequate and there was nothing I could do to fix it, and you had to announce that to the world, Jonathan! There was no excuse for that, and you know it." "And that makes it right for you to put your body on display in a gallery somewhere? For anyone who cares to look?!" "What business is that of yours, Jonathan?" Elizabeth demanded. "Who are you to tell me I can't sit for that painting if I wish to?!" She stood fuming by the door, waiting for Jonathan's response and all but daring him to invoke his male privilege over her. Jonathan no doubt knew that the unspoken challenge hung in the air. But even in the fury and frustration of the moment, he was far too much the gentleman to say such a thing. "Elizabeth," he said calmly. "You know I would never tell you to do anything. I know you would never obey me, and you know I would not assume to be your boss. You know that, and I believe that is one reason why you love me. It is certainly one reason why I love you." "Thank you, Jonathan; but you are not talking like a man who loves me at this moment." "It is because I love you that I am so very frustrated with all this at the moment." "All this?" Elizabeth asked. "All I have done is agreed to participate in an activity I will enjoy for the benefit of an artist who wants to create something beautiful." "I wish I could see it that way," Jonathan admitted. "But I cannot, not just now in any case." He collected his coat back up off the chair. "Elizabeth, I am going home for tonight. Perhaps we can discuss this on Monday." "We can discuss this as soon as you have defeated your puritanical prudishness, Jonathan!" Elizabeth grumbled as she watched him let himself out of the room. She made no move to kiss him goodbye as she normally would. And she was off to bed early that night, helped along by three glasses of red wine that at least took off the worst of the sting. Elizabeth and Jonathan had made plans for lunch with Irene and her true love, Benjamin, the next day. Elizabeth could still have joined them, as Edward had explained that the natural light would be right for posing only in the afternoon; but she was still stung by the spat with Jonathan and chose not to. Jonathan was still working through his own exasperation with Elizabeth by lunchtime. He had reservations about going as well; but he suspected Elizabeth would stay home. If she did, there was no point in his also failing to meet Irene and Benjamin; and if she did not, it would be as good an opportunity as any to swallow his pride and apologize. He knew he would be ready to do so sooner or later; no sense in wasting time continuing to act angry even if he really was. When Jonathan arrived at the café and saw Elizabeth was not there, he had every intention of keeping his irritation to himself when Benjamin and Irene arrived. But Irene of course knew her cousin well enough to see trouble in his demeanour. So, it soon emerged, did Benjamin: although he was the newest member of their circle of friends and lovers, his entry had occurred in an intense, intimate circumstance a few months prior. Unlike Irene, though, Benjamin did not know Jonathan well enough to ignore the signs of displeasure. "Hard weekend at work, was it, Jon?" he asked brazenly even as Jonathan was still settling himself across the table from Benjamin and Irene. "Benjamin!" Irene exclaimed, poking him on the shoulder. "He may not wish to talk about that! Whatever that is," she added hastily with a sympathetic look at Jonathan. Jonathan nodded with a sad smile. "Well, I don't, but I do," he said. "The odd thing is, I don't even really know what's wrong." "A problem with Elizabeth, then," Irene said. This brought laughs from both of the men, though Jonathan's rang a bit hollow. "That is so often the problem in love, isn't it? Something goes wrong and we don't even know what it is." "Well, in this case I do, sort of," Jonathan continued. "But it's a problem I thought we had under control, or not really a problem at all, even." "Oh, that," said Irene, who knew Elizabeth more intimately than Jonathan in certain ways. "Always likely to be an issue with her, really, though, isn't it?" "Oh, what?" asked Benjamin. "Sound like girl talk to you, Jonathan?" Jonathan laughed again, more genuinely this time. "Well, you know how close those two are, Ben," he said. "I suppose Irene has read between the lines what my problem with Elizabeth is because the two of them have discussed the matter at the baths." "I'm afraid we have, Jonathan," Irene admitted. "Would you rather not discuss this in public?" "There is nothing the three of us and Elizabeth are not welcome to share amongst one another anymore, now is there?" Jonathan reminded Irene; the quartet had enjoyed an extremely intimate weekend in the countryside a few months earlier. "I suppose not," Irene said, feeling herself blush with the fresh reminder. Turning to Benjamin, she explained, "Elizabeth, as I suppose you know, is extraordinarily randy almost all the time." "I had guessed as much," acknowledged Benjamin, whose own intimate hirsutism rivalled Elizabeth's. "I had rather suspected you might have," Irene agreed with a twinkle in her eye. "And you probably have also guessed by now that Jonathan does not stay nearly as hungry." Turning back to her cousin, she continued. "Jonathan, we know what it's like. In any relationship, one person is certain to want to play more often than the other." "It is simply the nature of things," Benjamin agreed. "Surely Elizabeth understands that as well," Irene said. "I know she has struggled with the same problem before; she has told me of it many times." "I'm afraid it is I who am struggling now," Jonathan said. "Elizabeth is wonderfully patient with me on the matter. But I am increasingly concerned that my own duller burn is not satisfying to her, and I cannot help but worry that I am inadequate in that regard." He stopped and took a gulp of tea; Elizabeth's influence had led to him adopting her fondness for the beverage. "Heavens, I would hate to lose her love just because I would rather sleep a bit later sometimes." "Have you told her of your concern?" Benjamin asked. "You should," Irene agreed. "We all know Elizabeth; surely this is nothing that cannot be addressed if you both try." "And I cannot imagine for one moment that you are in danger of losing her," Benjamin said. "Everyone can see how she loves you when the two of you are out and about." Irene nodded her agreement. "I'd have some inkling of it by now, I am quite sure, if there were any danger. She loves you more than she loves sex, I assure you!" By the end of the meal, Jonathan was feeling much more confident and resolved. Though the inevitable necessary heart to heart talk with Elizabeth had him a bit nervous, Irene and Benjamin had him feeling thoroughly reassured that the uncomfortable moment in their relationship had been but an unfortunate misstep. He did not, however, tell them about Elizabeth's decision to pose for the painting. Even through his irritation with her, he felt it was best left up to her to share that news. Additionally, Jonathan was still conflicted as to his own feelings on that matter. In the dewy noonday sun on the way back to his flat, though, he allowed himself to imagine the painting for the first time and found little doubt that it would be absolutely lovely. It also occurred to Jonathan on the walk home that Irene had kept one secret in their conversation. On the topic of Elizabeth wanting to make love more often than he did, she had said, "Jonathan, we know what it's like." She had not revealed whether it was she or Jonathan whose blood ran hotter. The matter of which it might be was an amusing riddle to Jonathan as he walked home and let himself in for a quiet afternoon on his own. Unbeknownst to Jonathan, Irene's comment also hung in the air between her and Benjamin in the cab back to her flat. Benjamin was far too polite to broach such a topic in public; but once they were ensconced in the privacy of her home, he could hold back no longer. "Irene," he said calmly without removing his coat, "Is there something we need to discuss about our own lovemaking?" "Whatever do you mean, Benjamin?" Irene asked, hanging up her coat. "Making love with you has been wonderful from the very first time. You know that." "Your remark to Jonathan," Benjamin explained gingerly. "That we understand how it feels when one wants more than the other. I don't recall ever arguing about that, or even discussing it, Irene. Have I been too demanding of you?" Irene looked shocked, but happy. "Oh, Benjamin –" "I have always made every effort to respect your boundaries, my dear, and never complain when you have not been in the mood, whatever the reason." "But Benjamin –" "If I have made you uncomfortable with my demands, Irene..." "Benjamin, stop it!" Irene snapped. "I had rather thought it was I who demanded too much of you at times!" With the words finally out of her mouth, she stood at arm's length from her love, looking into his eyes with a blend of adoration and frustration. As her anger ebbed away, she felt her lips curling into a smile, and then a laugh. Benjamin finally joined in on the laugh, and they embraced. When he pulled away from her, he said, "Well, this is a welcome surprise, Irene." "I can't believe you ever thought otherwise," Irene said, reaching back to unclasp her dress without fanfare, for it was inevitable now that they were going to spend the afternoon in bed. "Have I ever rebuffed you, Benjamin?" "True enough, you have not," Benjamin said. "It is only that there have been many evenings when I opted not to make an overture to you at all. A sixth sense, I suppose, indicated the answer would be no." "How could you know if you never asked?" Irene was down to her brassiere and short pants; she sauntered up to Benjamin and set about unbuttoning his shirt. "Excellent question," Benjamin admitted, reaching around to caress Irene's back as he did. "I suppose it is only, one hears so very much about how men live for these things and women merely tolerate it." Elizabeth 03: The Art Student "Benjamin! I believe I have made it clear to you that I do not merely tolerate our lovemaking, but rather I love it as well as you do!" "I am still learning," he admitted. "It has only been a couple of months, after all." Irene had finished unbuttoning his shirt before backing off in frustration at his last comment, so he pulled it off now, revealing the thick chest hair through which Irene so loved to run her fingers. "And," he added, touching his own chest. "You know what Elizabeth always says about the hairy ones. How could someone like you ever be so horny as I?" "You do know Elizabeth only heard that in a bar somewhere, don't you?" Irene demanded. "She repeats it all the time because it makes her feel good about her own condition, but that doesn't prove anything about it." "Her condition?" Benjamin was getting angry again. "So now this is a disease?" "I didn't mean it that way and you know it!" Irene threw herself back on her bed in frustration, and was beginning to wish she had not undressed. "And you know I love your hairiness, Benjamin. At least I hope you know that." "Thank you..." "All I am saying," Irene said, "Is that a dirty joke overheard in a bar is not a reason to draw any conclusions about...well, anything, Benjamin." "But it does seem to make sense," Benjamin mused. "The more hair, the more virility, you know?" "Oh, I know," Irene said. She stood up once again and undid Benjamin's belt buckle. "But who cares if it means anything? Benjamin, I love you! And I never felt neglected or overworked in bed. Is that clear?" "Yes, of course," Benjamin said as she pulled his pants and underpants off, so he now stood fully nude before her in the pleasant afternoon sunbeams. "Almost doesn't seem fair, does it?" "What doesn't seem fair?" Irene asked. "That Jonathan and Elizabeth are having this problem, and we don't when we both thought we did." "I think the two of them will come to realize they are not so mismatched as they might fear," Irene said. "It could be just as much of a miscommunication as it was with us, couldn't it?" With that, she took Benjamin's hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. "Now, enough about Jonathan and Elizabeth. I was lonely so much of the time before I met you while they were hot and heavy, I shan't be made to feel guilty if the tables are turned for this one afternoon!" Benjamin was more than willing to drop the subject, and soon he had seen to it that Irene's underclothes were dropped as well. Irene, once very self-conscious about her body in Benjamin's presence, was now perfectly giddy as he caressed her bare skin. She giggled at his touch, not from embarrassment but from anticipation. From the nape of her neck down her back and around front to her breasts and belly, his light touch fuelled her already-intense desire, for which she found an outlet by running her fingers eagerly through his thick chest hair. To think he had ever been concerned that she didn't appreciate this! Soon their play had his cock standing out at attention from its dense forest of curls, and Irene took it gently in both hands to rub just as she knew he liked it. In no time her pleasant touch had Benjamin – strong, virile Benjamin! – melting into a bundle of intense, inarticulate pleasure. As usual, Irene had no difficulty in guiding him back onto the bed, where she climbed atop him and lost no time enveloping him into her hungry body. The early spring weather was not yet warm enough for open windows, so their lustful moaning was contained in Irene's bedroom through the long, steamy afternoon. Elizabeth had joined Edward and Agnes for lunch in the tenants' kitchen in the rear of the first floor. The small talk was of Elizabeth's day job and Agnes' prospects in town and the journey from their home village: anything and everything except what was to happen after lunch. Elizabeth suspected Edward and Agnes were still a great deal more nervous and embarrassed than she was, for they did not know her well enough to appreciate her exhibitionistic streak or her nearly arrogant pride in her body. They would learn soon enough, she thought each time one or both of them let out a nervous laugh at what was to come. It was to be a long afternoon and there would be ample time for getting to know one another more intimately. For all her comfort in her own skin and her eagerness to work with Edward, Elizabeth did feel that usual twinge of embarrassment as they retired to the studio. She knew the feeling well from her visits to the baths: no matter how welcoming the warm water and dear friends, she was still taking off all her clothes in public, and the body shame of her youth, though defeated, was never to be forgotten. Factoring in a platonic male friend who would remain fully clothed and who would be looking directly at her for some time, this was to be a unique experience indeed! Nevertheless, Elizabeth betrayed no reservations as Agnes locked the door behind them and Edward proceeded to his easel to set up shop. Indeed, it was now Agnes' turn to look uncomfortable. "Would you prefer that I leave, Elizabeth?" she asked. "Hardly!" Elizabeth said. "We've got all afternoon to get to know one another more, after all." "Yes, and I would just as soon have you here for company as well," Edward said. "The better for us all, I think." To Elizabeth he added, "We set up a screen back in the corner, if you'd like to go back there to undress, and there's a robe you can use to cover up until I'm ready to paint." "Thank you, Edward, but that won't be necessary." Standing off to the side of the room but in full view of her friends, Elizabeth slipped her shoes off and began unbuttoning her blouse. "I find postponing the inevitable in these situations only adds to the discomfort rather than easing it, and of course I would not have agreed to this were I not comfortable with it in the first place." "These situations?" Edward asked with surprise, though politely he looked at his canvas rather than at Elizabeth. "You have done things like this before, have you?" "I am a frequent visitor to the baths in the city," Elizabeth reminded him. "I believe you have heard of that from my friends," she added with a grin as she removed her blouse and reached back to unbutton her skirt. "Oh! Yes, of course," Edward said. "I suppose I did not think of that in the same way I think of this. But perhaps I should have." While Edward avoided looking at Elizabeth as she undressed, Agnes did not. Standing nervously by the locked door, she was torn between admiration of Elizabeth's confidence and jealousy at her beauty and poise, irritation at her nudity in the presence of Agnes' true love and mild relief that Edward showed no untoward interest in her. As Elizabeth stepped out of her skirt, Agnes could not resist speaking up at the sight of her new friend in her lacy lingerie. "I say, Elizabeth, those short pants are adorable." "Thank you," Elizabeth said, looking down at them herself. "They're called panties. I find the name rather silly and girly myself, but they are far more comfortable than old fashioned underpants. Quite popular among the ladies at the baths, too." As usual, Elizabeth was painfully aware that her abundant pubic hair showed through the panties, visible both through the pale cloth and along the leg holes, a look she did not like. But she also recalled that both Edward and Agnes were both aware and approving of her hairiness. "I might like a pair myself," Agnes said with a shy smile. "I quite agree that the old style are so horribly dowdy." "There is a shop in the city," Elizabeth told her as she unfastened her brassiere. "I can take you there if you like. The woman there knows me quite well." "That would be lovely, thanks!" Agnes felt ridiculously bashful of a sudden, though she was fully clothed and Elizabeth was almost naked now. She was not sure why, but she did find herself once again envying Elizabeth's evident comfort with herself; surely she could achieve that as well. If only Edward would show more interest in seeing her in this light! But that would come with marriage, she had been led to believe. Edward, for his part, showed no sign of titillation as Elizabeth pulled her panties down and revealed her huge bush. Agnes would have appreciated this, but she was unaware of it in the moment as her own eyes were focused on Elizabeth. Having heard the rumours, she was eager to learn if they were true; and they were. If anything, Elizabeth's triangle was even larger than Agnes had imagined. There she stood before the younger woman and her fiancé now, unabashed and feminine and quite original, a work of art waiting to be captured on canvas. The shock of the moment having passed just as quickly and easily as it always did at the baths, Elizabeth smiled back at Agnes and pranced over to the couch, where she sat back and put her feet up. "So here I am in all my glory," she announced. "I hope it's as artistically pleasing as you had heard." "Oh, Elizabeth, you're beautiful," Agnes said, now coming to sit in the armchair she had set by the couch, just out of Edward's line of sight. With the ice broken, she was now eager for a closer look. "Thank you!" Elizabeth, having endured no small amount of misery in her school days for being different, never tired of hearing such things. "I quite agree," said Edward, who had finally stepped out from behind his canvas. "This shall be a lovely painting, indeed." He came to the couch and fussed around with the pillows and afghans, adjusting them to his liking and turning back to the window several times to assess the light. He also asked Elizabeth to shift a time or two to strike the right pose; but to the great appreciation of both women, he was careful never to touch her. Agnes allowed a nervous laugh at his close proximity and the awkward situation, but Elizabeth felt no self-consciousness. She was already enjoying the attention and the sense of stardom; and taking her role seriously, she followed Edward's directions carefully. She did allow for a glance at his trousers to admire the inevitable bulge in them; but to her surprise there was none. His face likewise betrayed no titillation, though he had agreed with Agnes that she was beautiful; rather, it was all business. It was then Elizabeth began to ponder a seed of wonder that Agnes had planted in her mind the day before, with her comments on how stiff and formal Edward's love was. That, combined with Edward's rebellious artistic posture and a certain unorthodox flair in his appearance, had planted a bit of suspicion in Elizabeth's mind, and his reaction to her body added a great deal to that idea. It would not do, of course, to trouble Agnes' mind with such concerns at a moment like that one. Though her heart ached for her new friend and the unpleasant surprise that likely awaited her, Elizabeth held her tongue as well as her pose while Edward settled himself at the canvas and began painting her image. As he would not be working on her face for quite some time, Edward told the ladies they were welcome to chat as long as Elizabeth did not move anything save her lips. And chat they did. Agnes, so young and naïve on that sunny afternoon, was still very much in awe of Elizabeth's self-confidence, and so she had many very personal questions and comments. Elizabeth answered each one without hesitation, beginning with Agnes' query about whether she mightn't be terribly embarrassed at the moment. "My friend, I find the shock of being seen in the nude passes quite quickly. Now that you and Edward have seen every inch of my body, it is not as though you are going to discover more of my secrets with each new glance!" "I should be pleased to be so comfortable as that when we visit the baths," Agnes said. "You shall be, I promise," Elizabeth reassured her. "Tell me, Elizabeth," Agnes went on, treading uneasily, "Just how did you learn to be so comfortable with your body? I must confess I am quite envious, and I hope I can follow in your footsteps." And so Elizabeth, who literally had nothing to hide that afternoon, told Agnes all about her long journey to loving her unique body. The initial awareness that she was unusually hairy down below, the rude awakening at school that confirmed that characteristic in no uncertain terms, the fruitless battle to conform to the other girls' appearance, the slow acceptance that she was different, and how she had overcome the taunts and abuse with time. Finally there was the triumphant arrival of adulthood and her move to Westfordshire City and the pleasant discovery that so many of the men here found her hidden charms irresistible. She capped off the epic with an indulgent summary of her meeting Jonathan and becoming best friends with Irene as well, and the victory over her changing room bully, Tamara, some months before, that had cemented her bond with Jonathan and Irene and Benjamin as well. Though Agnes had never met Irene or Benjamin and had only seen Jonathan from a distance, she felt as though she knew them all well when the tale was finally told. By the time Edward had to call off the conversation so he could paint Elizabeth's face, Agnes was swimming in wonderful intimate details of her friend's life story. She was also deeply inspired to follow her lead on striking out on her own terms in the wide world and bowing to no one else's expectations. Elizabeth, though naked and utterly vulnerable, was an immensely powerful woman from where Agnes sat. "Such a beautiful story," Agnes said. "You ought to write it down." Elizabeth being unable to respond, Agnes continued, "I hope you do not object if I write some of it down. I would love to have some of those stories to look back on later." Just as Jonathan had not told Irene and Benjamin about the painting session, Elizabeth had not told Agnes or Edward of her love's reaction to it. Now, unable to speak or move for the time being, she found herself thinking of the matter. She was glad she had not told Agnes, for that was one topic which she did not care to discuss with anyone else, much less have the younger woman record it in her journals. In the necessary silence that now prevailed, Elizabeth had to admit that she was still angry and rather hurt by his reaction. This too would pass, she was sure; but why must he be so insecure? Would this continue as long as their relationship did? Would it cripple the relationship? Elizabeth did not wish to dwell on that. But neither could she defeat the uncertainty in her mind and her heart, not completely. At long last, Edward set down his brush and announced, "Delightful, Elizabeth. We are done here." "You've completed the entire painting?" Elizabeth asked, neither moving nor making any effort to cover up her body. Edward chuckled, "Oh, no, that will take quite some time yet. But I have your image captured well enough that you need not lie there any longer." "A word to the wise, Elizabeth, do not expect him to show you the painting one moment before he considers it finished," added Agnes. "She's right," Edward confirmed. "No one looks at my works in progress. But I shall be delighted to show it to you once it is complete. In private, of course!" he added with a nervous laugh as he came out from behind the easel. "In private, naturally," Elizabeth repeated with a grin. "I say, it is a queer feeling indeed to imagine people hundreds of years from now might be looking at me in the nude. And yet, I find it exhilarating as well!" As if to drive that point home, Elizabeth sat up and stretched out her arms and legs, but still made no effort to cover up. "For all that, though, I should be somewhat selective as to who among my acquaintances shall see it," she added. "If it were up to me in any case." Still enjoying her turn in the intimate spotlight, Elizabeth finally stood up and sauntered casually to where she had left her clothes. Edward was washing his brushes with his back to her, and though he had ample opportunity to sneak a last look at her body, he did not do so. He did, though, invite her back for another session. "If you have the patience for another round, I'd be delighted to paint you again," he said. "I work during the day," Elizabeth said, "But some evenings this week would be fine." "Wonderful, then," he said. "Agnes, I trust you shall join us as well?" "Of course," Agnes said. "Edward," Elizabeth said. "Pardon my impertinence, but have you considered painting Agnes? Clothed, I mean!" she added hastily. Edward and Agnes laughed together, not unkindly. "We have discussed as much," Edward replied, "But I doubt my ability to do her justice, given how familiar we are with one another." "Oh, it's not that!" Agnes said. "I just don't have the patience to sit still for so long, even fully dressed." "That's a pity," Elizabeth said, regarding Agnes as she buttoned up her blouse. "I think you'd make a lovely picture, myself." Agnes looked thrilled at the compliment, and she cast a gaze at Edward. He did not respond. Elizabeth did not sleep well that night. The problem may have been a lingering rush of nerves from the painting session, or soreness at Jonathan, or likeliest of all, both. In the event, Monday morning was rainy and chilly and Elizabeth found that an all too strong match for her lethargic mood. There was also, as usual, a heavy load of work awaiting her after the weekend. That at least meant she had plenty of work to keep her mind off her spat with Jonathan. The one bright point was that she and Agnes had made plans for the baths that evening, always a dependable antidote for bad moods and bad weather. After dashing off an invitation to Irene to join them that evening and calling the courier, it was all business. She drank even more tea than usual to keep herself as alert as possible, and managed a productive morning with her personal demons mostly at bay. Just before lunch, a pleasant surprise offered the first promise of a change in her mood. A courier rapped at her office door, and Elizabeth looked up sleepily to see the man setting down a carefully wrapped parcel on her desk. After signing and tipping the courier, she opened the box to find a single red rose and a lemon tart from the bakery just down the block from her office – her favourite flower and her favourite snack. The sight brought a genuine smile to Elizabeth's face for the first time that morning. It could only be Jonathan. As she opened the note tucked under the tart, she saw that it was indeed Jonathan. My dearest Elizabeth, please forgive my insecurity. You deserve all the joy your beauty can bring you in this lifetime, and sometimes I do forget how long and hard you struggled to realize and accept that very beauty. So, too, do I forget how accommodating you are to my own needs and my limits. I am sorry I allowed myself to be so consumed with insecurity about all that on Saturday. Communication cannot always be as easy as it should be, even between two soul-mates such as ourselves, but a conversation with Irene and Benjamin set me right. Sometimes we need our friends to tell us what is right before our eyes! I can only hope you understand. Love always, Jonathan Elizabeth's heart was aflutter with relief and forgiveness, and with lunch hour approaching, she gave serious thought to surprising Jonathan at his office for a joyous reunion. She wanted to discuss opportunities for Agnes with him in any event, and with their newfound goodwill, perhaps there would be some good news to share with Agnes and Irene that night at the baths...Irene! Elizabeth read the note again. "A conversation with Irene and Benjamin"?! The insensitive fool had told their most intimate friends about the painting before she had had a chance to do so! Elizabeth trusted Irene and Benjamin completely, of course, but it was her news to share, not Jonathan's! How dare he? Elizabeth 03: The Art Student Elizabeth read the note again, the elation of a moment before now tempered with frustration. There were times when true love did not seem quite worth its cost, and she had never experienced such a strong sense of that reservation as now. She thought now of Agnes and Edward, and how stiff and formal their affair seemed to be. No passion, perhaps, but clearly they were able to stay clear of one another's business. Would she be better off in such an arrangement, or even on her own and free to sleep with any man she chose? That would certainly put an end to Jonathan's concerns about satisfying her! Elizabeth forced herself to stop thinking such things and take a deep breath. She knew the real reason for the awkward nature of Edward and Agnes' relationship, even if they did not see it yet; and she certainly did not want that of all things for herself! Perhaps a late lunch was in order, for Elizabeth found she was not in the mood to see Jonathan or any of her other friends just then. Instead she set back to her work, interrupted only by another courier bringing news of Irene's acceptance of the invitation to the baths. That was welcome, at least: it would give Elizabeth a chance to learn just how much Jonathan had overshared and how much damage there was to repair, if any. Irene's note also said she would be at lunch at a favourite café of theirs should Elizabeth wish to join, but that was out of the question. After drinking so much tea that morning, she knew all too well that Iron Bladder Irene's teasing would be worse than ever, and Elizabeth did not trust herself to take the ribbing in stride as she normally did. On that note, Elizabeth resolved to brew no more tea for the afternoon. With only a very quick lunch on her own at the automat downstairs, she spent the remainder of the afternoon as focused on her work as the morning had been. By four o'clock she was exhausted, but her angst had mostly passed. The rain, though, had not yet passed, and so Elizabeth chose an impromptu rendez-vous point under an awning on the high street, around the corner from the baths. Both Irene and Agnes would have to pass by there to get to the baths. Irene, being both closer and more familiar with the city's transit system, arrived first. "Elizabeth, dear!" she greeted her friend, stepping off the streetcar. Elizabeth was mostly over the frustration of earlier in the day; mostly, but not quite. She kissed Irene chastely on the cheek, but her friend could sense a problem. "What's the matter, Elizabeth?" Elizabeth sighed. "Nothing, I suppose. But I understand Jonathan had a rather intimate chat with you and Benjamin yesterday, and I'd have preferred that he had left certain things up to me to divulge to you." "Oh, dear, are you still quarrelling?" Irene asked. "I assure you, Elizabeth, he did not overshare in any way. Benjamin and I know you, and we understand everything. In fact, talking to Jonathan led us to a heart-to-heart talk of our own." She paused, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "And after that talk, we spent all afternoon in bed! I had hoped you and Jonathan had done the same, and I am sorry to hear otherwise." "Well, thank you, Irene," Elizabeth said. "I am delighted to hear Jonathan's problems helped with someone's relationship, in any event. But that does not excuse his divulging my private business, even to our best friends." "Oh, Elizabeth..." "Of course, even had we made up yesterday, we couldn't have spent the afternoon in bed. That was when I was sitting for the painting." She gave Irene a knowing look that was not returned. "What painting?" Irene asked. "The one Jonathan had no business telling you about!" Elizabeth reminded her. "Elizabeth," Irene said. "Jonathan said nothing about any painting! Now what is it you are on about?" "Oh, good heavens!" Elizabeth felt a rush of joy and relief, tempered with guilt as she realized she had misinterpreted Jonathan's note and he would now believe she was still angry at him. "He didn't tell you! I have sorely underestimated my love. Shame on me." "What painting?" Irene demanded again. "What didn't he tell me?" Before Elizabeth could answer, the next streetcar came to a stop just beyond the awning that was sheltering them, and off stepped a very nervous looking Agnes. With a brief reassurance to Irene that she would explain everything shortly, Elizabeth waved to her new friend. "Agnes! You found the stop. Congratulations. Meet Irene." Agnes stepped up under the awning and shook hands with Irene. "I have heard so very much about you!" she gushed. "It is a great pleasure to meet Elizabeth's closest confidante." "Well, thank you," Irene said, rather bewildered. "Forgive me, I am afraid Elizabeth has told me little about you." Elizabeth was stung, but not surprised; she had feared Irene might be a bit jealous of her new friend. "I apologize, Irene. I am afraid Agnes is a part of the story I thought Jonathan had told you that he did not really." "About the painting?" Irene asked impatiently. "Oh, it's going to be such a lovely painting!" Agnes said. "Are either of you ever going to tell me what you are talking about?!" Irene demanded. Elizabeth had already been thinking, in light of discovering her error about Jonathan and the painting, that she ought to practice her diplomacy skills; now she realized she had better do so immediately. "Yes, of course I will, Irene," she said, taking her friend's hand gently in both of hers. "Forgive me; I had thought Jonathan had told you, and I had every intention of telling you myself when I realized he hadn't, but that was also the moment Agnes arrived. This all happened very suddenly over the weekend, and there was no opportunity for me to tell you before now." "Tell me what?" But Irene's voice was more conciliatory now. "Agnes is my landlord's niece, Mr. Marlston's niece, and her fiancé is an art student. They have both been staying at the mansion for some time now, but we did not meet formally until this weekend." Her face breaking into a wicked grin that Irene knew well, Elizabeth continued, "Although we had not met, Agnes' fiancé – Edward is his name – has apparently been eyeing me for some time as a potential subject for a painting." "It's true," Agnes cut in. "We had seen her around about the house, and Edward was hoping for an introduction and trying to think of an easy way to ask Elizabeth. But of course there is no easy way to ask." Now it was Irene's turn to grin at her old friend. "Ah, I see. This Edward painted you nude, no doubt." "You heard already?" Agnes asked, surprised. "No," Irene corrected. "But I know Elizabeth!" Elizabeth was laughing with equal parts relief and pleasant embarrassment. "Yes, Irene, I sat yesterday for a nude painting. And I have agreed to at least one more, perhaps tomorrow night." "And while she was posing, she told me all about you and Benjamin and your adventures," Agnes said. "I hope you don't mind, Irene, and I am honoured to meet you!" "I don't mind at all," Irene said, though she did look rather less than happy about the matter. "And I find it all strangely appropriate that this Edward should have asked you to pose for him, and not at all surprising that you accepted. I am certain the painting is beautiful." Irene had a great deal of experience in witnessing others who admired Elizabeth's unique beauty. "It isn't finished yet," Agnes said. "But it will be beautiful." And on that note, Elizabeth and Irene guided their new friend around the corner and down the side street to the baths. Elizabeth had foreseen the risk of Irene's jealousy toward Agnes; and sadly, she had foreseen correctly. As they checked in at the desk and made their way to the changing room, Irene was cordial but never quite polite; and Agnes responded in kind. Fortunately, Elizabeth had settled upon a clever and convenient way to allow her two friends to bond at her expense rather than vie for her favour. She was able to put that plan into action as soon as the three arrived in the locker room, and that time arrived not a moment too soon. Despite her having refrained from drinking any more tea after lunch, the effects of her earlier binge were still very much present – now more than ever after the lengthy streetcar ride from her office. "Oh, heavens, I need to visit the water closet, quite badly," she said as soon as they had arrived in the changing room. "Imagine my surprise!" needled Irene, though it was in a less edgy tone than she had used since Agnes arrived. "Yes, I'm sure neither of you expected that," Elizabeth said as she opened her locker and set her handbag inside. She then unbuttoned her blouse just as brazenly as she had done before Edward and Agnes the day before. "You have already experienced her fondness for all sorts of liquids, then?" Irene asked Agnes with a grin as she unbuckled her trousers (a new trend among the women of Westfordshire City, of which Irene was among the pioneers; Agnes found the look fascinating and promised herself she would try it one day). "Indeed," Agnes replied, trying but failing to repress a grin of her own. "In fact, we met in the ladies' room at the mansion!" "How fitting," Irene said. "I must say, Elizabeth, I am rather surprised you were able to sit still all afternoon for this painting of yours." "I was wondering, too, after some things she said in our first conversation," Agnes said. "But she did it, without even ever complaining!" "I was simply careful about how much tea I drank in the morning yesterday," Elizabeth explained, hanging her skirt up in the locker. "Not so today, as you can see." She smiled as she finished undressing, relieved to see her self-deprecating gamble had worked so well. If she had to let her friends tease her to bring them together, then so be it. Braving the usual furtive glances at her famous bush from the other ladies, Elizabeth closed her locker. "You will get used to waiting for her to wee, I assure you," Irene told Agnes, who had only begun fiddling with the buttons of her frock by the time Elizabeth disappeared into the water closet. "Jonathan, too. He's my cousin, you know, and he's also started drinking a lot more tea and wine and so forth since they got together. Great fun to taunt them on the matter when I'm of a mind to. It usually doesn't bother them, not really." Seeing how embarrassed the poor newcomer was, she added, "You will also get used to undressing in here." With that she pushed down her short pants, the last article of clothing she had been wearing, and stood nude before Agnes. "See?" Agnes cast one quick, nervous look around the room. There were five or six other women in various stages of undress, and (with Elizabeth out of sight for the moment) none was minding any of the others including her. So Agnes bit her lip and pulled her frock up over her head, and allowed a nervous smile at Irene as she hung it in her locker. Recalling her admiration for Elizabeth's self-confidence the day before, she quickly removed her brassiere as well, and was ever-so-slightly surprised to find she had not burst into flames of humiliation. She was nearly naked in company, and the world was still turning. Elizabeth reappeared just in time to see Agnes push her short pants down and step out of them. Agnes made eye contact with her mentor and burst into a laugh that was equal parts embarrassment and relief. Due to her own defining characteristic, Elizabeth's eyes were always drawn southward on her first occasion of seeing another woman in the nude. The thought had occurred to her that Agnes, in light of her interest in Elizabeth, might be well-endowed like her. She was not, Elizabeth now saw, but rather sported a natural looking dark triangle perhaps a third the size of Elizabeth's, somewhat larger than Irene's. Agnes' breasts – smaller than Irene's, larger than her own, but Elizabeth had already known that – sat comfortably against her creamy white flesh that had been so carefully guarded from public view all her life, with only the slightest hint of sagging in the absence of a brassiere. The telltale red marks on her flesh showed there had been one moments before, and her agitated arms suggested she was longing to fold them over her breasts. But when Agnes looked up and saw the admiring observation of her equally bare friend, Elizabeth, her relief was palpable. "See?" Elizabeth asked. "Like I said, it all wears off quickly once you've been seen. Now let's go get in the water already." With the ice broken thanks to Elizabeth, Irene and Agnes were friends by the time the trio opened the door and stepped into the steamy bath chamber. A more jaded guest of the baths would likely have expected Elizabeth to usurp all the attention from the women who turned their heads when the loud door opened. But Agnes, in her virgin self-consciousness, imagined all eyes on her nude body as she followed Elizabeth and Irene into the chamber. She was certain her face was a deep shade of crimson; but she thought of her friend's much admired self-confidence and smiled through her embarrassment. As Elizabeth and Irene slipped gracefully into the hot water just before her and she exchanged welcoming smiles with the other women, that embarrassment gave way slowly but surely to the comforting envelopment of the bath. Owing perhaps to it being a rainy Monday, the bath was quite crowded. Where a dozen was usually something of a crowd, there were now at least twenty women in the water. Elizabeth knew most of them, but there had been a couple who had cast what she knew so very well as the impressed first-time glance at her lady-garden upon her entry. "Refreshingly anonymous for me, that was," she whispered to Agnes and Irene with a laugh once they were all in the water. "Not anonymous enough," Irene muttered under her breath, as her sometime-antagonist Lindy – a near-constant presence in the baths on weeknights – appeared out of the crowd to greet them. Recalling her manners, though, she greeted Lindy warmly. "Good afternoon, dear." "Elizabeth! Irene!" Lindy gushed. "I see you have met my new friend...oh, heavens..." "Agnes," Agnes reminded Lindy, whom she now recognized as the woman at the bar who had told her about Elizabeth. "And of course I've met her, Lindy," Elizabeth said with more patience than she was feeling. "She is staying at my home, after all." "Of course, dear!" Lindy said with a girlish giggle. She patted her friend, Marlene, on the back while Marlene was engrossed in a conversation with a few other women behind them. "Yes, of course. It is only, Elizabeth, Marlene here and I saw her and her friend the art student at the bar just the other night – " "Edward is my fiancé, not my friend," Agnes interjected. "Fiancé, of course," Lindy said with a knowing look at Elizabeth. "Far be it from me to argue against your arrangement, my dear. That is your business. In any case, Elizabeth, Agnes asked Marlene and myself about the baths and if we knew anyone who frequented them, and we said of course we do, and what did you say your last name was? And when I heard 'Marlston,' I thought, ah, all you need to do is talk to your hairy housemate." Agnes looked aghast at Lindy's rude nickname for her friend, but Elizabeth and Irene were accustomed to her bawdy humour and laughed diplomatically together. "And talk she did, as you can see, Lindy," Elizabeth said. "But you know me – female or male, I can always tell when another person has heard of my reputation at the baths." "Yes, of course!" Lindy grinned. "Of course. You must forgive me, Elizabeth, I may have divulged certain of your charms to Agnes' friend – I mean fiancé – at the bar. I hope he has not been untoward with you!" "Not in the least," Elizabeth reassured her. "He has been a perfect gentleman every time we have been in one another's company. Agnes can tell you as much." "Quite," Agnes said, forcing a smile now. "Edward is friendly to Elizabeth, and he is true to me. There is nothing else to say." "I am sure he is true to you," Lindy said. "That was not what concerned me about him at all. I am a bit surprised to hear he has spent any time to speak of in Elizabeth's company, though. All he had to say to us was how he was looking forward to painting. I had rather thought he'd have locked himself in his studio by now." "Edward is very committed to his craft," Agnes replied. "And to me," she added defiantly. "I am sure he will not cheat on you, Agnes, if that is what concerns you," Lindy said. "Rather, I was merely speaking out of concern that he did not strike me as the sort of man who would attend to your needs. If I am mistaken about that, then I apologize." "Lindy!" Irene snapped. "That is enough!" "No!" Agnes piped up. "That is quite fine, Irene, thank you. Lindy, I have no doubt at all that Edward shall attend to my every need once we are married." "Once you are married?!" Lindy's flippant manner vanished, and she looked genuinely concerned of a sudden. "Are you telling us you and your Edward have not had a roll in the sheets yet?" "We are waiting until we are married," Agnes confirmed. "Not that it is any of your business." "Indeed it is not my business," Lindy admitted. "But just in case of troubles with Edward, my friend, I hope you are good with your hands." "Lindy, that will be all!" Elizabeth hissed in a voice with which even Lindy knew better than to argue. "Whatever did she mean, good with my hands?" Agnes asked Elizabeth and Irene as soon as their nosy adversary had floated off to mingle with Marlene and her other friends again. "You are joking, aren't you?" Irene asked furtively, after a look behind her to ensure there were no eavesdroppers. Elizabeth waited a respectable moment through Agnes' bewildered silence, and then turned to Irene. "I don't believe she is, and that's perfectly fine. We all have to learn these things from someone else at some time, did you not? I did." "Of course," Irene said. "I am sorry, Agnes." "Agnes," Elizabeth said gently. "Lindy has a very big mouth and a reckless attitude about men, but she does mean well. I believe she is concerned that Edward is perhaps overly committed to his painting and may not attend to your needs in the bedroom once you are married, and she hopes you are willing and able to attend to your own needs." "My own needs..." Agnes had overcome her initial embarrassment at being nude in public, but this was something else again! Her voice dropped to a whisper and she darted her eyes back and forth between Irene and Elizabeth. "Do ladies do that?!" "Women do," Irene said defiantly. "All the time," Elizabeth said. "I never..." Agnes started, then gave up. "It is nothing to be ashamed of," Elizabeth told her. "Perhaps your mother told you it was not ladylike?" A fairly nasty memory of her own mother surprising her in her bed one long-ago morning flashed through her mind. "She certainly did," Agnes said. "But I was unsure in those days of just what she was referring to. Then later, I heard stories of how men and boys so often abuse themselves, but us?" "I assure you, Agnes, it is not self-abuse," Irene said. "Not when men do it, and not when we do it. It is great fun to do and to watch." "You mean you have seen Benjamin...I am sorry, Irene, I should not ask such a thing!" Agnes cast her eyes downward, until she remembered that would mean staring at her own naked body and those of her friends. "It is perfectly all right," Irene told her. "In the pool, anything goes. And yes, Benjamin and I have watched one another pleasure ourselves. It's beautiful to watch and to share." "Well," Agnes confessed after a deep breath. "That does sound like great fun. I should think it would interest Edward, if I could learn how." Elizabeth 03: The Art Student "Of course you can learn how," Elizabeth said. "It is simply a matter of being comfortable with yourself and exploring a bit." "I suppose it is not the sort of thing one can ask for help from friends with," Agnes groused. Elizabeth and Irene exchanged thoughtful glances. After a pregnant pause, Elizabeth asked, "Irene, are you going to meet Benjamin tonight?" "He is out of town on business. And I take it you will not be seeing Jonathan?" "My own fault, but perhaps a girls' night in is in order," Elizabeth concurred. Agnes was beyond embarrassment now, giggling uncontrollably. The baths being rather too crowded for the usual intimate experience that afternoon, Elizabeth, Irene and Agnes bade the other women good evening not long afterward. They retired to the café up the block for dinner, accompanied by two carafes of wine. "Believe me, Agnes, a healthy dose of this will help things go much more smoothly for all of us," Elizabeth explained as she poured a glass for her young friend. Agnes did not need to be persuaded. In the cab through the rainy evening back to the mansion afterward, her inhibitions were gone in an alcoholic haze. When the joyous trio bustled in through the front door, Elizabeth took hold of her faculties just long enough to take note of the light from the sitting room beside the stairwell. Mustn't offer Mrs. Marlston yet another cause for disliking her, she knew, and she shushed Irene and Agnes for the walk up the main hallway. It was all for nought, though, for just before they reached the foot of the stairs, Mrs. Marlston's voice rang out in disdainful clarity from within the sitting room: "There goes the little harlot now." Elizabeth ignored the barb and focused her gaze on the stairs, while Irene and Agnes exchanged bewildered glances. Before they could make their escape, however, Mr. Marlston appeared in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. "Elizabeth," he said, not unkindly, "A word?" Elizabeth waved Irene and Agnes up the stairs, and turned to follow Mr. Marlston into his study. It was chilly, as he had not lit the fire there for the evening. Elizabeth stood on the carpet waiting for the door to click behind her, and feeling like a soldier at court martial. Defiantly, though, as soon as the door was shut she spoke up. "Mr. Marlston, I have done nothing to your wife –" "Relax, Elizabeth," the older gentleman interrupted. "It is I who wish to apologize to you for my wife's behaviour." He stopped by his desk to pour a glass of whiskey. "Would you like a drink?" "Please." The wine was beginning to wear off, and Elizabeth now realized she had best be a bit uninhibited for what she was about to teach Agnes. Mr. Marlston handed the glass to her and poured a second one. "Thank you, sir." "Elizabeth," he said, leaning against his desk. "I have given a great deal of thought to our conversation the other day, and I have concluded that you were right to stand up to me about Joy the way you did. That is why my wife is angry at you. This is my fault, and I shall have a word with her about keeping a civil tongue in her head." "Well...thank you for that." Elizabeth knew not what else to say, and she took a long sip of the drink. Mr. Marlston chuckled. "Heavens, women today can even drink like men. I mean that in a good way, I assure you." He paused to take a sip of his own. "Elizabeth, I understand there is a presentation in the city this weekend by a gentleman just back from Africa somewhere, lots of photographs and stories and whatnot, about the life of an adventurer. Joy is desperate to attend but her mother would never allow it. I wonder, would you do me the favour of accompanying Joy to the event? I shall tell her mother you and Jonathan took her for a ride in the country or some such." "I would love to do that!" Elizabeth said. "Certainly! But Mr. Marlston, I should not want to be the cause of any further discord between yourself and your wife. Surely Joy will want to talk about nothing else for days afterward." "Elizabeth, you are committing the error of assuming my wife listens to our children closely enough to understand fully what they are talking about." "Heavens, that is sad," Elizabeth said, and she downed the last of her whiskey. "Yes it is, but this life has trials for us all," Mr. Marlston followed her lead in draining his glass. "In the event, Elizabeth, should she learn the truth, I have been coping with her reactions to such things for seventeen years. I shall see to it that no harm comes to you or to Joy." "Very well, then, and thank you," Elizabeth said. "Mr. Marlston, not that it is any of my business, I am sorry you have to tiptoe around your wife like this just to give your children a glimpse at the life they want." Mr. Marlston shrugged as he collected the two glasses to leave for the maid. "Marriage can be a hairy ride, Elizabeth. I hope you and Jonathan keep that in mind." Elizabeth was nearly certain he gave her a knowing look on the word "hairy". But she was a bit drunk, and as usual there was no way to prove it. She held her nervous laughter in until she was safely alone on the stairs. But she could not hold back the blush in her face, and she was grateful that the study was dark. Arriving in her room, Elizabeth was pleased to see Irene had taken the liberty of lighting the fire. "I wonder how many more nights this will be necessary before spring is here to stay," Irene was saying to Agnes as Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. "Hardly a time to discuss the weather, is it?" Elizabeth asked with a grin as she locked the door behind her. As the fire began warming the chilly room, she turned to Agnes and asked, "Are you sure you wish to do this? Irene and I would never want to make you uncomfortable." Agnes was sitting expectantly on the edge of Elizabeth's favourite chair by the fire. "Never in my life have I been more eager to learn. One hears so many stories of great pleasure to be had, and Edward won't even share my bed for the time being...yes, I am quite sure!" Elizabeth and Irene were both standing by the fire. Their eyes met in an uncertain glance, at which point they both burst into peals of nervous laughter. "I gather you have never done this together either," Agnes said. "We are best friends, Agnes, but there was never any need to share this," Elizabeth explained. "Not until now," Irene said. "No one deserves to be deprived of the joy you are missing, and I cannot imagine a better co-teacher on this topic." Before she could lose her nerve, Irene unbuttoned her trousers once again and slid them down her legs along with her short pants. She folded them and sat barebottom on the carpet by the fire, legs spread as wide as she could. "Some women like to lie on the bed and rub against a pillow, but I prefer to use my hands," she explained to Agnes, running both hands lightly over her prominent vulva to let Agnes know it was acceptable to look. "It makes me feel more in control when I can touch exactly where I wish to, and at just the right pressure..." Irene's voice trailed away as she worked herself into a pleasant lather. "I prefer it that way, too," Elizabeth declared. Agnes was shaken out of her fascination with Irene, and looked up to see Elizabeth was well on the way to removing all her clothes. "You may keep as many of your clothes on as you wish, Agnes," she said as she was undressing. "But you might find it more comfortable to at least remove your short pants." Agnes did not answer, for she was feeling almost mesmerized as she sat in the chair and wondered just what was to happen next. Though she was accustomed by now to seeing Elizabeth in the nude, her two new friends' brazenness continued to impress her. As she watched Elizabeth sit back on her bed with her knees up and her legs spread wide and begin stroking herself just as Irene had done, Agnes felt the first stirrings of a pleasant tickle she had often felt before, but had never known just how to address – or maybe she had simply been ashamed to try. Elizabeth and Irene were anything but ashamed, she saw, and as they began to masturbate, Agnes heeded Elizabeth's advice. She stood halfway up, reached under her skirt and pulled off her short pants before plopping warily back in her seat. "Now, maybe you need to imagine a steamy situation or two to get things started," Elizabeth said to Agnes. "A favourite location for yourself and Edward, for example, and you can imagine making love to him there." "There is a pond behind our family's property where I have often imagined swimming naked with him," Agnes admitted. "And how do you feel when you imagine that?" Irene prompted her. She was still stroking herself gently. "I feel...worked up," Agnes said. "Imagining that wonderful intimacy with Edward just makes me want to burst! It makes me very energetic, and I just want to...do something to let the energy out! But then I feel embarrassed and silly once I calm down. Dirty, even." "I remember feeling that way," Irene said. "Don't you, Elizabeth?" "I certainly do," Elizabeth answered. "But there's nothing to feel ashamed of in being aroused, Agnes. It's part of being an adult, one of the best parts actually. Now, go ahead and imagine that now: a beautiful day at the pond, only you and Edward, and neither of you wearing a stitch of clothing. Maybe you're talking about how you feel together, maybe there is no need to talk and you just enjoy looking at his body – whichever you prefer, Agnes. And when you feel like you want to burst..." She pointed at Irene, who had her eyes closed by then and was rubbing herself harder than before. "Just do what she is doing, and you will burst in the most delightful way!" Agnes wondered, was Irene imagining her – Agnes – and Edward together in the pond at that moment?! Much later, she would learn that, no, Irene was imagining herself fingering both Benjamin and Elizabeth, side by side, one hand in each of their well-hidden nether regions. ("I had occasion to see them nude together once, actually," Irene would explain, not knowing Elizabeth had already told Agnes of their weekend at the country resort some months before. "He's as hairy as she is down there, maybe even more so, and you should have seen the looks on their faces when they saw one another – inspiring and funny all at once. And very hot! I just wanted to run my fingers through both their bushes at once.") All Agnes knew at the time, however, was that Irene was mired deep in a joyful fantasy of some sort and that she was rubbing herself so hard between the legs that it appeared to hurt, for she was also grunting out loud. Agnes even detected a sheen of what looked like sweat glistening among the delicate folds of Irene's vagina. Agnes was fascinated and a bit disturbed, though she now recognized her own arousal growing. "Is she hurting herself?" she asked Elizabeth, who was by then rubbing herself more gently as well. "Not at all," Elizabeth said. "Try it, you'll see you want to make those noises as well because it feels so intensely good. It's a release, nothing more." "How do I know just where to touch?" Agnes asked. "Feel around, and I promise you will find it," Elizabeth reassured her. As if to demonstrate, Elizabeth spread her legs out wider and reached down with her left hand to join her right. As Elizabeth reached her fingers through vast thatch of hair, Agnes could make out the pinkish lips that she rubbed carefully with both hands. As she did so, Elizabeth began making similar noises to Irene's increasingly loud ones from the floor, and Agnes could see her fingers and pubes now glistening with the same sort of wetness she had noticed with Irene. Agnes was aware that her own impure thoughts of the past had often been accompanied by a mess of sorts that she had done her best to ignore in the shameful aftermath of her fantasizing – could that have been it? Finally allowing herself to be overcome with the lovely image of Edward standing before her on the edge of the pond, just as beautifully naked as Elizabeth had been in the studio, Agnes reached under her dress and explored gingerly. She found that her suspicion had been right: she was indeed moist between her thighs. A barrier of sorts was blasted to pieces in her mind as she realized what the wetness meant and embraced it without shame. Not wanting to stain Elizabeth's chair, she slid to the floor and leaned back against it, her skirt now gathered up around her waist as she felt around her vulva in search of the magical spot that Irene had been so good at finding. Elizabeth had been right: Agnes knew when her fingers had found the spot. As both of her mentors were moaning and grunting quite loudly by then, Agnes did not realize at first that she had joined the primal chorus. Only when she caught her breath at the end of the first vocalization did she open her eyes to see Elizabeth and Irene momentarily distracted from their own intimate thoughts. "I believe she has found it, Irene," Elizabeth said. "Indeed, and congratulations," Irene concurred. "Doesn't that feel beautiful!" "It does," Agnes said, and with that she threw caution to the wind and rubbed a bit harder. "Ohhh! That's it! The bursting." "Oh, you haven't burst yet, my dear," Irene told her. "You are only getting started." "How will I know when I've finished?" "You won't need us to tell you when you have," Elizabeth reassured her. "Shall we all reach for that together, Irene?" "Lovely idea," Irene said, and she reverted to caressing herself intensely. Elizabeth followed her lead, and Agnes trusted that she would understand in due time and did the same. There were lingering echoes of shame as she exulted in her own joyful touch, but her friends' exultant noises inspired Agnes to give in completely, and she was at long last aware of her own breathing growing heavy and then outright audible. Closing her eyes tightly, Agnes once again saw Edward before her, wading in the pond in his raw masculine glory. His eyes admired her own bare body as she splashed about playfully, and his cock was rigid and pointing lustily at her. With a confident flair, she reached out and took the unfamiliar erotic toy in her tight but gentle grip, and enjoyed the look of ecstasy on his face as she gave it a squeeze...and felt his own loving hands on her body, caressing her in all the ways she had so often wished he would, and to date he never had. Agnes' concentration was interrupted, but not broken, by the awareness of Elizabeth's voice growing louder and more intense than ever. As if on cue, Irene followed suit, perhaps even more loudly. Agnes envied the intensity they seemed to have achieved, and longed to be able to feel as much herself. She did not feel such envy for very long, however, for moments later she felt herself borne up in a fit of uncontrollable delight as she imagined Edward's hands on her at last. The waves of pleasure now being so strong she could scarcely tolerate them, she cried out just as loudly as Irene had as she felt the climax wash over her. An intense rush came forth from deep within, and pleasure turned to panic as Agnes suddenly feared she was about to make water on the carpet. She clasped both hands tightly over her vulva, but it was too late and there was no turning back the tide. The panic passed as Agnes became aware there had been no flood, and she opened her eyes. Elizabeth and Irene were both regarding her with gentle smiles. "No, you did not wet yourself," Irene reassured her. "It only feels that way for a moment." "Is that what you thought?" Elizabeth asked, not unkindly. "I had never thought of it that way myself." "I did, when I was younger," Irene said. She stood up and brought Agnes a towel she had set aside for wiping her hands dry. "I can recall discussing it with my school chums, how if you rub yourself just so, it makes you feel like you need to wee." "If I didn't need to, then just what was that?" Agnes asked. "It is called an orgasm, and there is nothing but joy in it," Elizabeth told her. She had arisen from her bed by then and donned her bathrobe. "Once you have had a bit of practice, I promise you will never again worry about making a mess." "Even on my fingers?" Agnes asked as she mopped her own secretions off her hands. "Perhaps with that exception," Irene said with a laugh; she was doing the same with a towel of her own. "Come, we can wash our hands down the hall, and then I suppose I should take leave of you both." "Nonsense, Irene," Elizabeth said; she did not want the delicious goodwill of the evening to give way to any further petty jealousy. "We said it was to be a girls' night in, and so it shall be. You are more than welcome to sleep here tonight. Agnes, you may return to your own room or you are welcome to join us here." Elizabeth expected a protest from one or even both; but instead, they both looked delighted at the idea. And so with the fire roaring bright and warm and the intense intimacy lingering, they lay about on Elizabeth's bed and talked deep into the night. No topic was off limits, and no secret was too sacred to share. When at last it was unequivocally time to sleep – Agnes was the first to drop off, though she was revived long enough to undress herself – the matter of where to sleep was scarcely debated. Elizabeth's bed was large enough for all three of them. Though a poor excuse for falling asleep in Jonathan's arms, being sandwiched by her friends was quite pleasant in its own right. And Elizabeth felt safe in assuming there would be no jealousy among her two friends after that night. In the morning, all three friends were still feeling the lingering effects of the wine. Agnes, who had little experience with liquor, was suffering the worst of it. But they were also still feeling the immense goodwill and trust they had built together, and so breakfast was a pleasant affair. Their arrival in the dining room coincided with the children eating the last of their breakfast, so Elizabeth was careful to hide her discomfort. There was no need for worry; little Joy had heard of the outing at the weekend and was oblivious to all else. "Auntie Elizabeth!" she shrieked as the three women arrived in the dining room. "Father says you can take me to the African safari exhibit this weekend. Is it true?" "It is true!" Elizabeth confirmed for her little friend, forcing a smile against her headache. "I am very much looking forward to it, Joy!" "We all are," Alexandria grumbled across the table. "She won't shut up about it until then." "Alexandria, that is enough," Came Sandrine's usual too-precise English from behind the French newspaper she was reading. "Let your sister be happy about her outing." "That is good advice," Elizabeth said. "Do you want to join us on Saturday, Alexandria? I understand it is a wonderful exhibit." Joy looked horrified at the prospect of her sister joining them, and then looked immensely relieved as Alexandria turned up her nose at the invitation. Elizabeth could not suppress a smile. Agnes admired the exchange from a safe distance. She adored her cousins, and her stay with him had her longing more than ever for a baby or two of her own. But she had been finding that topic a difficult one of late, and admiring Elizabeth's easy rapport with Joy had her feeling almost melancholy of a sudden. She was not sure whether it was her overindulgence of the night before, or the difficulty of imagining Edward as a willing and attentive father; but something about the children was giving her a renewed dose of the empty feeling that she had been feeling periodically for some days now. Sandrine did not gather the children for the trip upstairs for some minutes, giving the three friends no opportunity to discuss the events of the evening before. And so they ate largely in silence until Edward arrived, shortly after the children had departed. "Good morning, ladies," he said with a great deal more perk than any of them were feeling. Elizabeth 03: The Art Student "Edward!" Agnes was nervous, forgetting for the moment that he was oblivious to the events of the previous evening. "I am sorry I didn't come to view the progress on your painting last night. How have things come along?" "Quite well, thanks," he said with a polite look that, Elizabeth noted, was nothing like the way Jonathan regarded her after a separation. That reminded her, of course, that she had plans to make for just such a reunion today. "I worked late into last night on the portrait of Elizabeth, actually, and it is coming along delightfully well. Scarcely noticed the time as I was so absorbed, as a matter of fact." "I'm flattered, I think," Elizabeth said, pouring out the last of her teapot into her still-warm cup. There would never be enough of that this morning, she knew. "Should I be as well, that my absence was no impediment?" Agnes asked. The inattentive fellow had not even kissed her good morning! "Agnes, you know you are welcome to join me in the studio whenever you like!" Edward reassured her. "If you prefer not to do so, by all means do as you like." He picked up Elizabeth's teapot, only to find it drained. Irene passed him a half-full one from up the table, and he poured himself a cup. "And yes, Elizabeth, your picture is going to be absolutely beautiful. Speaking of which, I would love to have you sit for me again tonight, if you are so inclined." "I hope you are willing to paint her with her legs crossed," Irene teased as Elizabeth once again had a mouthful of tea. Elizabeth tossed a stray square of toast at Irene, bringing about a laugh from all three of her friends, and happily agreed to another session with Edward in the evening. Throughout the morning, it was a struggle for Elizabeth not to go rushing off to Jonathan's office to end their quarrel. But she had work to do and she was sure he did as well, and in any event she wanted to be as fully recovered as possible from the previous evening's festivities in time for the reunion. By her lunch hour she was feeling as well as she expected to feel all day. She cut the stem of Jonathan's rose and pinned it to the collar of her dress, and after stopping by the water closet for one last preparation, she was off. She had hoped to find Jonathan finished with his lunch. But her timing was a bit premature, and she walked into the office common room to find him and his boss, Mr. Thompson, polishing off sandwiches from the café on the corner. Elizabeth had no inkling of the conversation she apparently interrupted, for Jonathan went dead silent when she stepped into the room. Old Mr. Thompson had no such inhibitions. "Elizabeth!" he said, standing up to greet her. "Lovely to see you, girl. I'd have bought you a sandwich if Jonathan had but told me you would be joining us," he added with a wry look at his young partner just before kissing Elizabeth's hand. "I'm afraid Jonathan did not know of my plans to come here, Mr. Thompson," Elizabeth said. "It is my own fault." "Didn't know?" Mr. Thompson asked Jonathan. "Just what is your secret, young man? My wife would never favour me with a surprise visit here!" "I wish I knew what I did to deserve her, Mr. Thompson," Jonathan said, looking into Elizabeth's relieved eyes as he said it. "If I knew my secret I...well, respectfully, sir, I imagine I would want to keep it to myself. Wouldn't want to lose Elizabeth, now would I?" "You certainly wouldn't," Mr. Thompson said. Then, turning back to Elizabeth, he said, "Oh, Jonathan has told me about your new friend and her job search. When would she be available to join us?" "Agnes?" Elizabeth, to her mild embarrassment, had forgotten all about that. "I – I don't know, Mr. Thompson, but I can certainly ask her. I'm delighted to hear you may have room for her, certainly." "I do have reservations about hiring a woman, I must admit," Mr. Thompson continued, "But young Jonathan has been quite insistent upon the matter. I find I must bow to the changing world and embrace the new generation instead of fighting a losing battle against it." "Well, I would expect nothing less of my Jonathan," Elizabeth said, looking back and forth between the two men, her heart flying inside. She could scarcely wait to give Agnes the news, but more than ever she wanted to get Jonathan alone! "I should be pleased to meet her on Monday for a discussion at least," Mr. Thompson said. "Meantime, join me for a drink the two of you?" He picked up his coat from the chair by the door. "Maybe next time, sir," Jonathan said. "I think Elizabeth and I have some catching up to do on some matters." "Very well, then," the older man agreed. He put on his coat and retrieved his hat from the rack, and bade them good afternoon. Elizabeth and Jonathan waited in silence until the door clicked behind him. As soon as it had, Jonathan was on his feet and in Elizabeth's arms. "Darling, I am so very sorry," he whispered in her ear. "It is I who must apologize to you," Elizabeth said. "I received your beautiful gift yesterday, and misinterpreted the note. Otherwise I would never have waited so long to respond." "Misinterpreted?" "I thought you had told Irene and Benjamin about the painting." Jonathan pulled back. "I would never –" "I know, I know!" Elizabeth said. "That is why I apologized, Jonathan. I misjudged you. That is a mistake I will never make again. And if you're wondering, I did tell Irene about the painting." "Doubtless she was not surprised at all," Jonathan said with a relieved smile. "Were you?" Elizabeth replied. "Fair point," Jonathan said. "Of course I was not." "And that is why you love me." "It certainly is one reason," Jonathan said, breaking into a nervous laugh. "Elizabeth, I am so sorry I let my insecurity get the best of me. It is only that I want so much to give you all you wish of...well, you know." "All I want?" Elizabeth winked and sauntered into Mr. Thompson's office. He had a wonderfully comfortable leather couch in one corner. "You are not suggesting...!" Jonathan followed her, and arrived in the office just in time to see her settle herself on the couch. "Jonathan, you know when he goes downstairs for 'a drink,' that will turn into at least three drinks," Elizabeth reminded him. "The office is ours for at least an hour and a half. And you know, I did come prepared." On that note, she spread her legs and lifted up her skirt to reveal that she had removed her panties back at her own office. "Elizabeth..." Jonathan tried his hardest to sound serious, but she could see from his trousers that his resolve was slipping. "It will be a reconciliation we'll never forget," Elizabeth offered. "Indeed," Jonathan conceded. He stepped up to the couch still looking conflicted, and then Elizabeth sensed a change of heart. He knelt down before her, and she waited for him to unbutton his trousers. But he did not unbutton anything. Instead he gripped Elizabeth's thighs and dove in. "Jonnnnnathan!" Elizabeth yelped. "Oh you, full of surprises!" His tongue found her clitoris immediately, and in no time she was writhing about on the cushion as he worked his magic. Soon he also had two fingers nestled inside her, swirling about to her delight. Mindful of the office setting, she tried to avoid voicing her pleasure too loudly, but she found that too frustrating and grabbed a bolster cushion from the couch to cover her mouth and muffle her joyful screeches. Her hands feeling restless with all the sensation, she pulled her skirt back down over Jonathan's head and shoulders and rubbed it back and forth across him as he brought her ever closer to the brink. When she came, Elizabeth thrust her head forward and knocked the pillow away, so her full-throated orgasm rang out through the empty office. In the beautiful afterglow, she reminded herself never to seduce Jonathan in public in the summertime, when the windows might be open! After he slid his fingers out, and ran them playfully through her bush, and emerged from under her skirt, Elizabeth sat up and announced, "Now, what can I do for you, darling?" "I'll tell you tonight," he said with a grin as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his fingers dry. "Oh, Jonathan, I'm posing for Edward again tonight. But after that..." "After that will be fine," Jonathan said. "I'm glad you are enjoying your work with Edward." "My work," Elizabeth repeated with a chuckle as she stood up. "It hardly seems right to refer to taking my clothes off as work, does it?" "I hadn't thought of that," Jonathan admitted as he watched Elizabeth retrieve her panties from her handbag and slip them on. "Then again, I hadn't thought of doing what we just did here either." Jonathan joined Elizabeth, Agnes and Edward for dinner at home that evening, and the afterglow of their reconciliation was still in full force. Agnes was delighted to hear of the possible job, and Jonathan was more than willing to provide her with all the advice he could regarding Mr. Thompson and the office. "He's an old codger and he knows it," Jonathan explained. "He hasn't quite caught up with certain things. But he knows better than to belittle you in my presence. That would bring Elizabeth down on him!" "I certainly would not want that," Agnes managed to say as they all shared a laugh. "You're going to love having a career of your own, Agnes," Elizabeth told her. "There is nothing like earning your own keep." "I do wish my parents would see it that way," Agnes groused. "Your parents are old fashioned, but they love you," Edward said. "You'll show them. I know you will." "He's been telling me that since we were children," Agnes told Elizabeth and Jonathan, with an admiring glance at Edward. "Always encouraging me to be my own woman. It's why I fell in love with him!" Elizabeth was pleased with Edward for speaking up on his true love's behalf. But throughout the meal, she could not fail to notice how Edward seemed to direct more attention at Jonathan than at Agnes. She was not surprised. Despite a very earnest invitation from Edward to join them in the studio, Jonathan retired to Elizabeth's room after dinner. "I would only be in the way," he insisted as they reached the second floor landing. "And I would not want to interfere with the artistic process. Especially with such a beautiful subject," he quipped, before giving Elizabeth a kiss on the cheek while she laughed at his compliment. "Very well, then," Edward said with what sounded to Elizabeth like reluctance. "I do hope we shall see more of you later in the week?" "I am here quite often," Jonathan confirmed. "We could all go for drinks in the city some evening as well, if you would like." "You will never keep Edward out of his studio that long!" Agnes interjected. "I'm afraid she's right," Edward said. "I must obey my muse. Ladies? Shall we?" And off they went to the studio while Jonathan continued up the stairs. With no natural light at the late hour, Edward lit a fire in the fireplace and set an armchair aside it at an artful angle. "We'll have you sit here," he said. "I have never attempted a night time portrait before, but I envision this being a wonderfully cosy image." "That's lovely, Edward," Agnes said from the couch where she had settled herself. "You're right, I do not remember you trying anything like that before." "First time for everything," Edward said as he adjusted the angle of the chair. Once again, Elizabeth was perfectly businesslike in undressing and Edward showed no undue interest in her body. Elizabeth did suffer a moment's concern that some telltale signs of her afternoon tryst with Jonathan might be visible in her bush; but upon sliding her panties off, she found none. With her clothes off, she stood perfectly nonchalant by the chair until Edward was content with the angle. "Now then, please sit," he directed her, once again scarcely taking note of her bare body. "Lean your elbow on the right arm, sit back, legs together, look at the fire, a bit to the left...perfect!" And then he disappeared behind his easel and was all business. Irene's breakfast time taunts notwithstanding, Elizabeth was perfectly comfortable throughout the session. Warmed by the fire, yet never too hot since she was naked, she felt just as cosy as the scene she was enacting. It was too bad Jonathan had not been prevailed upon to join them; Elizabeth was certain he'd have enjoyed gazing upon her and she'd have enjoyed being admired. As it was, Agnes enjoyed the scene a great deal. Throughout the evening, she prattled about the promise of life in Westfordshire City now that she might well have a job. "I do love the city so, Edward," she told him. "And just think, now we may have the means to stay here on our own! Just imagine a nice flat in the city, you can have a studio of your own right in our home. "I definitely hope you do get the job," Edward reassured her. "Certainly the city is perfect for you, Agnes. I have no doubt you will be happier here than back home." "I or we, Edward?" "We. Of course, we. You know how I always told you we were meant for bigger things than that village. I'm delighted for you that those bigger things are arriving for you now. The city agrees with you, to be sure." "With us," Agnes insisted. "Of course," Edward concurred. Elizabeth was relieved that she was under his orders not to speak at that point, for she'd have been hard pressed to hold her tongue against the temptation to scream at Agnes to open her eyes. By the time Edward was finished, Agnes had given up on trying to maintain a conversation with him and had fallen asleep on the couch. Elizabeth was, therefore, nearly alone with Edward for the first time as she got dressed and he set about cleaning his brushes. "I'm sorry you and Agnes couldn't talk during the painting this time," he said, looking politely away as Elizabeth pulled her brassiere into place. "It was just very important that you be still for the right perspective on your face." "That is quite all right," Elizabeth said, "But of course, you could have conversed with her while I could not." "Me?" Edward looked at her as if she had told a joke. "Agnes and I have been friends for most of our lives. There is little left to talk about. We know each other all too well." "Friends?" And then Elizabeth reminded herself that the matter was none of her business. "Well," she added hastily, "It is wonderful being married to your best friend, I am certain of that." "Is it?" Edward asked. "Would you call Jonathan your best friend?" "I would," Elizabeth said quickly and, she realized, a bit defensively. She loved Irene no less than Jonathan, but also no more, she reasoned. "That is wonderful," Edward said. "But to be honest with you, I do wonder, are a true love and a best friend one and the same?" "They certainly can be, Edward." "Can be, yes. But if I might tell you something in confidence..." Edward glanced at Agnes and saw that she was still sleeping. "I do wonder sometimes if I have mistaken the one for the other." "Edward," Elizabeth said, "I think that is something you must discuss with Agnes, and soon." She had her dress back on, and suddenly she was desperate to end the conversation. "Not with her friends while she is asleep in the same room!" she added in a whisper. "Quite right," Edward said contritely. "I apologize." "Thank you, Edward, and please, do talk to Agnes about this." With some finality, she added, "Good night." "Good night!" And as she made her escape from the studio, he went on cleaning his brushes in silence while Agnes slept soundly in the corner. Elizabeth got her period on Wednesday, putting a fast end to any plans for the baths or more nude paintings for the time being. This was of little consequence to Elizabeth, who refused to hate anything about her body anymore; but it was rather disappointing to Agnes. Now that Agnes had tasted the incomparable intimacy of the public baths, she was eager for another visit, and was quite disappointed on Thursday morning when Elizabeth explained her necessary absence for the next several days. "I understand why it has to be, Elizabeth, but I must say I was greatly looking forward to another visit!" "You may certainly go on your own, or with Irene," Elizabeth reassured her. "I can lend you my membership card." "Won't the ladies there wonder why I'm there without you?" Agnes asked. "They're women, Agnes, they'll know why I'm not there!" "That makes sense," Agnes admitted. "It is only...I do feel funny about going there without you." "There is no need to," Elizabeth reassured her. "Besides, you should start making more friends in the city now that you're going to be working and living here." Agnes was persuaded, and accepted Elizabeth's offer of her membership card. This was something of a relief to Elizabeth, for the previous evening's exchange with Edward was still hanging heavy in her mind and she had resolved to confront him in private. To that end, she approached him after breakfast with the suggestion of a session with her clothes on. "I was thinking last night, perhaps me standing clothed by the fireplace would make a nice companion piece to the sitting one." Edward thought about it for a moment and nodded. "Splendid idea. I understand Agnes won't be able to join us tonight, though. You are welcome to invite Jonathan along, you know." Elizabeth suppressed a knowing laugh. "I think he may be otherwise occupied tonight as well, but I shall invite him." Though tempted not to, Elizabeth did invite Jonathan. He declined ("I trust you, and to be frank, I don't care for Edward's company"), so Elizabeth arrived alone in Edward's studio shortly after dinner. This time Edward had the electric lights on in lieu of a fire. "I thought you might be uncomfortably hot standing fully clothed by the fire all evening," he said. "More than likely so," Elizabeth said. "Thank you." She stood by the fireplace and awaited his directions. He lost little time in settling on the correct position and perspective, and Elizabeth was not surprised that he was no longer unwilling to touch her now that she was clothed. It was but a gentle prod on the back to position her correctly, but it made for an interesting variation all the same. Once Edward was satisfied with Elizabeth's location and position, he set to work. Elizabeth had resolved to allow him to open up to her on his own time, and so she made only small talk initially in hope of making him comfortable. "I nearly feel like a professional model now," she quipped. "This has been a truly enjoyable experience, Edward." "You do make a wonderful model," Edward said. "Very comfortable with your presence. A painter's dream, really. I think this pose works better in your clothes as well. Great idea." "I'm glad you liked it," Elizabeth replied, wondering if he knew the real reason why she would not pose nude tonight but was too gentlemanly to address it. The idea amused her; men were so wonderfully intimidated by such things! "I must admit it is a far less intense experience, though." "I have little doubt it is!" Edward replied. "I do admire your courage in sitting for those other paintings, you know. I wish I had the strength to do such a thing myself." "Well, Edward, I believe that sort of strength is within us all if we are willing to tap into it," Elizabeth said, sensing an opening. "Doing so did not come to me naturally either. I had to teach myself, bit by bit, to be so comfortable with whom I am. It was not easy, but when I recall how I used to loathe my body, I thank heavens I took it upon myself to make a change." Edward set down his brush, and made eye contact with Elizabeth. "I have a confession to make, Elizabeth," he said, coming out from behind the easel. He sat on the chair where Elizabeth had posed two nights before. "On that first day, when you told Agnes all about your past, about the girls at school and your...hair, you know..."