Gardens of Stone (closed thread)

[Huntress]

Gardens of Stone (closed cast)

Currently this is a closed thread. All parts have been cast. Opportunities for others to join in may arise as the story develops. Please PM me if you're interested.

Introduction

My very first post at Lit was to an SRP thread entitled Sexual Haven. I hadn’t a clue what I was about but, as many of you have discovered, the writing was enjoyable and very quickly became addictive! What began as a lark turned into a serendipitous event. As I continued to post and expand the character of Varly, it became clear to me that the confines of SH were too narrow for the story that was taking shape in my imagination, hence the creation of this thread. With the help of my partners in crime, Darrenfate, Captain B, Lady Kit and Rhovan, it is my hope that the vision will continue to evolve.

~ Huntress

 

[Huntress]

Varly

Varlena “Varly” Jaeger paced the floor of her loft like a caged tigress as the last feeble gouts of a storm drizzled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. It had been a cold, maddeningly depressing day.

The last piece of the Carmodie commission had been safely crated and picked up by the shipping company earlier in the afternoon and was now en route to Boca Raton. Ten minutes after the truck pulled away from the loading dock her erstwhile rep, Frank Davenport, had faxed over his “Termination of Contract.”

She needed that like she needed a hole in the head. The idea of finding new representation for the studio just intensified her already foul mood, a frame of mind that always seemed to develop after a finished piece was sent off to its new home. Varly likened it to giving up a child for adoption. She put so much of herself into a sculpture; it really was akin to giving birth.

“Damn that Frank! Why did I let that moron talk me into this commission in the first place? ’Cause you sold yourself, Varly-girl. You sold your soul for a buck. God knows what those people will do with it,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head woefully.

She’d met Frank Davenport two years before at a gallery opening in San Francisco after having been recently ‘fired’ by her last rep. Frank was slick, enthusiastic, had an impressive client list and he had a reputation for being a very aggressive salesman. Varly wasn’t particularly anxious to take up with a “go-getter”, but her work didn’t press the flesh on it’s own, nor was she any good at marketing it herself. They spent several weeks haggling over percentages and details of the agreement and despite finally having arrived at mutually agreeable terms, Varly balked at signing the contract.

“You are a stubborn woman,” Sergei had told her. “Like an old donkey. You dig your feet in for no reason at all. Stubborn and contrary. Just sign the damned contract and get it over with. If you don’t, you’re going to lose the studio. And wouldn’t that make Horace so happy?”

Sergei Prosorov was Varly’s closest friend. A sometimes employed performance artist, Russian ex-patriot and favorite drinking partner, he knew exactly which buttons to push to get her moving and Horace Grainger’s name was a very effective motivator. Horace had been mentor, lover, friend, confidante and teacher to Varly for ten years before his untimely death and had willed the studio to her; left it to his “star”. Sergei had no compunctions about using blackmail and she knew he wouldn’t give up pestering or prodding her until she accepted Frank’s offer of exclusive representation. The idea of Horace’s studio winding up in foreclosure was more than she could bear. By the end of the next day, all the papers were signed and Frank Davenport “owned” her.

That was the beginning of two years of hell and five of the most contemptible commissions, the last of which was the triptych she’d just completed for Heather and Bruce Carmodie of Boca Raton, Florida. Frank had done his job, no question about it. He pitched her work relentlessly… to all the wrong people, like the Carmodies who had more money than sense and bought artwork just because they could. It had no intrinsic value for them – owning one of her pieces just meant they could put on a good face and pretend to keep up with the Rockefellers.

Visions of the ten-foot tall triple goddess installed amidst a flock of pink plastic flamingos and baroque fountains made her nauseous. She had to get out of the studio for the night or she’d go nuts thinking about it. Glaring at the out the window as though the rain would evaporate in the face of her anger, she cursed under her breath and decided not to wait for it to clear. Her leathers would keep her dry enough to cross the bridge.

“To hell with the weather, to hell with Frank and to hell with this place. I’m outta here,” she grumbled to the huge Irish wolfhound snoring under a workbench. The dog lazily opened one eye, heaved a great sigh and went back to sleep.

“Yeah, and to hell with you, too, Mac,” she grinned, leaning over to ruffle his ears. “Keep the bad guys out until I get back. Ok?”

The club of choice for days like this was a back alley dive called Sexual Haven. A couple of stiff drinks at the bar would straighten her mood right out. And if the action at SH lived up to it’s usual reputation, she’d find a hot number to smooth out the kinks in her body as well. Time to fire up the Low Rider and see what kind of trouble she could find in The City.

Crossing the Bay Bridge had been uneventful and dry. Happily, her visit to Sexual Haven was quite the opposite. Varly had encountered an incredible specimen in the form of a basketball player by the name of Kurt whose appetites were remarkably similar to her own. With complete abandon, they’d managed to satisfy each other’s needs and create quite a spectacle on a pool table. She couldn’t decide which she’d enjoyed more, their rampant coupling or being the center of attention and grinned all the way back to the East Bay as the shovel head roared along the nearly deserted lower deck. All in all, it was a very satisfying evening. Yes, indeed. Even the daunting task of finding a new rep might be a little more tolerable after such a night!

 

[darrenfate]

Jean Paul Arnot

Jean Paul wistfully looked out of his window with the fabulous view of the Old Port harbor in Montreal laid out before him. He longed to be out there in the sunshine, great days were rare in early spring here and after a typical long bitter winter he was anxious to soak up the sun's rays.

Still he had business to take care of. He was interested in buying a new sculpture for the Musée d´Art Moderne de Montral where he was employed. They had just finished a new expansion dedicated to the patriot Rene Levesque, the great politician hero to many French Canadians that had come so close to succeeding in declaring Quebec an independent country. They needed a modern, solid, and quite massive piece for the simple walkway between the buildings.

The donation that enabled the purchase had come with several, well unusual requirements. First, the artist had to be a woman. Second, she had to be a resident of the USA. It grated Jean Paul but his lawyers assured him that these stipulations were iron clad. No American woman sculptress, no money.

He reached for the phone and called an old friend from San Francisco. He lived next to Gorbachev the ex Russian president turned speaker in the Presidio. America. What a country! Everyone can make a buck. Jean Paul got the name of a Varlena Jaeger. Brilliant, yet had dropped from circulation the past few years.

He reached for the phone, and decided that there was no time like the present. Getting Jaeger's voice mail, Jean Paul spoke -

"Ms. Jaegger, we have not had the good fortune to meet. I am Jean Paul Arnot, representing the Musée d´Art Moderne de Montral. We are looking for a sculpture that will be high visibility for us and I was recommended to you. I'll be staying at the Fairmont San Francisco next week. Kindly have your agent contact me, so that I can arrange a meeting, see a sample of your work, and tell you of the opportunity. Here is the number. Good day!"

 

[Huntress]

Varly

Bathed in a pool of warm sunlight flooding in from the clerestory windows high above her bed, Varly stretched and rolled over sleepily. The hands on the old analog clock beside the bed showed eleven thirty. Still plenty early. Chuckling softly, she snuggled deeper into the covers and buried her head under a pillow. Thank you, Father Guido Sarducci! You were absolutely right. Noon is precisely the best time for an artiste to rise.

Suddenly, something very cold and wet nudged her ribs.

“God, Mac!” she gasped. “Dog, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get down those stairs before I catch you!”

The huge shaggy head seemed to grin, quickly recoiling as she made a grab for it, then lunged in to lick the whole side of her face. He back stepped rapidly, scrabbling on the smooth concrete floor to avoid a second attempted capture and panted happily as the two engaged in the morning ritual. Varly laughed and tossed back the sheets, making a face at the massive hound. The play would last for another five or ten minutes or until Mac barked. That was her cue to move a little faster. Food, woman, now!

Not since he was a puppy had she been allowed to shower before he was fed. Darned animal. Whenever she tried, he’d just lay down on the tile floor in the stall and block the drain. What started out as a game became out and out war and by the time he’d gained his full adult weight of a hundred seventy pounds she gave up trying to win. He was a good match for her. At six foot two, she was only a few inches taller than Mac when he was standing on his hind feet and outweighed him by a mere five pounds. It was a whole lot easier to let him have his way. And now that he wasn’t a youngster anymore she was inclined to baby him even more. At six, he was pushing the old age envelope for his breed.

“Alright, come on, monster. Down we go.”

Running long fingers through her close-cropped blond hair, Varly followed Mac down the stairs from the loft to the kitchen, filled his bowl, and put the Vesuviana on for coffee. She stood for a long moment staring at Mac with unseeing eyes as he inhaled the kibble. There wasn’t time for too much piddling around. She had to get hold of Sergei or Juno, and try rounding up the names of a couple of agents so she could start the great “hunt” all over again.

“Juno” was Varly’s pet name for June O’Neil, the one, and only woman she’d allowed herself to get close to during the last decade. June’s devil-may-care attitude and genius for seeing beauty in the darkest places struck a common chord in Varly. So did her fondness for good beer and hot men. The pair had become fast friends after meeting at a cast party for one of Sergei’s more successful shows a couple years back. If there was anyone she could count on to help get her out of a pickle, it was June.

Shaking her head ruefully, wondering if she’d ever find the right match with representation, Varly opened the door and grabbed the newspaper. A couple warehousemen from across the street whistled loudly as she turned to go inside. With a twitch of her boxer-clad fanny, she winked at them over her shoulder and closed the door.

“Fucking perverts,” she muttered while scanning the headlines. “Damn. Why’s the news always so bad, Mac?”

The bulk of the paper went into the recycling bin as the espresso maker spewed pungent black liquid into it's little pot. With comics and crossword in hand, Varly poured herself a cup and sat down at the counter. As she reached around the large eggplant-shaped cookie jar for a pen, she saw the red message light on the answering machine blinking madly. “It better be good news,” she thought, pressing the ‘play’ button. The first message was from Sergei saying he’d be out of town for a few days, then June, calling to confirm their lunch date for today, a couple of telemarketers and finally some guy with a thick French accent, Arnaud-something.

Varly had to listen to that message twice before she understood the man. Museum of Modern Art in Montreal… staying at the Fairmont next week… agent… His tone of voice spoke volumes about his distaste for Americans, or women or both. And he wanted to talk to her agent about some deal. Suddenly her eyes grew wide and rolled skyward as the full implication of the recorded memo dawned on her.

“Shit! Oh, S H I T! I’m screwed. There is no way I’m going to find somebody in a week! Aarrgh! I’ll have to do my own legwork. And fast.”

Slamming back the coffee, she raced up the stairs, stripped, and jumped into the shower. It was going to be a long day. Her portfolio looked like hell and somehow she’d have to con June into going over the hundreds of contact sheets in her file to see if there were any acceptable images of the installation at Rutherford. If that failed, she’d get stuck taking Mr. Arnaud to L’Albergo to see Il Giardino di Pietre in person. She prayed there'd be some decent shots. There just wasn’t any time to arrange a shoot before he arrived and the idea of taking some pompous Canadien into the wine country was about as appealing as sitting through a Richard Nixon film festival.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

There is nothing she hated more then rolling over and seeing the “Mr. Right Now” still lingering in her bed. As she gave the not-so-cute by the light of the morning guy a quick shove she silently wondered what happened to the classic one night stand that left before the break of dawn. Now a days it seemed they all stayed and wanted to discuss the “nature of their relationship” over a latte.
“Jesus, what ever happened to just a fuck?” she wondered.

A quick glace at the clock told her that it was 11:30 and she was late as usual.

“Hey. Hey!! You have to go.” She shook the sleeping man in her bed.

He raised he head, looked at June, and smiled. The sort of smile that you have no desire to see after a night of drunken sex. The smile that says, “it was really good and I want to see you again”. Lord, she could not even recall his name, if she ever got it in the first place.”

“Mornin’, “ he said. “Last night was great. How about we get some coffee and talk?”

Jesus Christ, she hit the fucking jack-pot.

“Look,” June started. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I have an appointment that I need to get to and frankly, I do not want to see you again.”

Well, that pretty much did it. He tossed back the dark purple, velvet comforter, stood up and dressed.
He shot June a not very friendly glare, grabbed his coat off the sofa as she followed him to the door or her San Francisco apartment.

With one last glance and what June was pretty sure was a muttered “bitch” he was out the door. She shut the door and ran to the shower.

Enveloped by the hot water she quickly rinsed off the smoke, booze, and man smell off her 5’10” frame. She enjoyed watching the water bead up on her skin and roll off. Her very pale body was covered in freckles over every inch, and despite what she considered a growing age of 33, she looked great. She ran her finger down her chest to her belly and thanked her mom for good genes, for she never did a thing to keep her many bad habits from remaining on her stomach or hips.

A short shampoo and she hopped out and into a terry cloth robe. Another glace at the clock told her it was noon already.

“Damn it!” “Varly is going to kill me.”

Rushing to her closet she waded through a mountain of shoes and found a pair of black Capri pants that she was fairly certain were clean, a tight tee-shirt with a large blue butterfly that stretched across her nipples and a pair of white sneakers.

“Damn it, damn it!! Where are my fucking keys!” She screamed to no one as she tossed clothes, papers, more shoes, and CD cases around the room.

“A-HA!” Finding them under last night thong panties she tossed those aside, grabbed her purse, stopping only to toss some flake food into her fish tank…and she was out the door and at the curb.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!” “The god-damn contact sheets!” Known for her truck driver mouth, the mother walking her toddler also shot June a very dirty look. “Batting a thousand today,” June smiled to herself. “Off to a great start!”

Running back up the stairs, she was thankful that the one thing in her life she kept organized and in complete order was her photography work. She threw open the door and ran to the one bookshelf that was kept tidy. Clutching the binder marked “Var’s Work”, she again hit the curb.

Focusing mostly on the poor, war torn cities of eastern Europe or plights of the homeless, dilapidated buildings, basically societal cast offs, etc…Varly’s work was the only thing “pretty” June photographed. And she was more then happy to help out a friend such as her. Really the only woman she associated with, not to mention could stand for more then 10 minutes. She was, and had been, a real life saver and June was proud that it was her pictures that represented Var’s work.

She secured the binder and her put her bag up over her shoulders before placing the half-helmet over her still very wet hair. Knowing the long, red locks would dry in the wind, she stuck the key in her purple and pink vintage Vespa and was off.

Driving like a bat out of hell, she made it to the restaurant in 15 minutes. Parking her Vespa next to Var’s Harley never failed to give June a chuckle. She loved the juxtaposition of the two bikes, in perfect representation of the two women.

Running into the restaurant, she quickly spotted Varly, and only a mere 30 minutes late.

 

[Huntress]

Varly

There she is. About time…

June breathlessly entered the foyer; red hair flying as she nearly ran down the hostess in her haste. A broad grin lit up her freckled face when she spied Varly waving her over to the table.

Watching June make her way through the restaurant was great sport. Every man in the place craned his neck trying to get a better look at her cleavage and shapely calves as she wended her way through the crowded café, blue butterfly bouncing as she scooted around diners and busboys toward the back.

“Geez, girl. Are you ever on time for anything?” Varly grinned as June arrived at the table.

“If you ever show up with five minutes to spare, I’m going to faint dead away!”

They laughed at the perennial joke, kissed, and hugged one another affectionately.

“I brought your files,” said June pointing to the large binder. “Figured we could head over to your place after lunch and go through them. You know this is a first for you. I thought you’d wait until after you found a new agent to start working up PR material. What’s up? New show?”

“Someone from the Museum of Modern Art in Montreal phoned yesterday about a possible commission. I don’t know where he found my name, but he said the museum was looking for a piece that was “highly visible” and wanted to see samples of my work. This is too good to pass up, June. Do you know what it would mean to have a piece in their permanent collection? Oh, hell. I’m not sure if that’s what he’s talking about but even if it’s temporary installation think about it,” Varly paused and winked. “What a coup! I’m still breathing.”

“There are a couple of small problems. Mr. Arnot will be in town next week and wants to meet my agent. I told you Frank fired me. That’s the challenge number one. The second is Frank’s holding on to my portfolios until the Carmodie’s final payment arrives. He’s really put me in a bind. I figure that I can probably manage to represent myself if I’ve got something to show him besides my tits.”

"Var, don’t worry. You’ll only need to show him a little cleavage to sell your stuff,” June laughed, “But seriously, I've got pictures of almost everything you've done since we met, including Hell’s Gate.”

June's reference to the abstract sculpture made Varly cringe. It was the first in a long line of “Frank Fiascos.”

The monument, publicly titled “Portal of Wisdom,” had been commissioned by a real estate magnate from Las Vegas who wanted an abstract piece to commemorate his recent donation of a tract of land to the city for a new library complex. Frank had treated the whole project as though her talent was a commodity to be auctioned off to the highest bidder or was no more gifted than a house painter. “Give him what he wants. Consider it a challenge to your creative genius,” he’d said sarcastically. “The exposure will put you on the map and you’ll probably wind up with a dozen commissions.” In the end, Varly had little choice but to accede to the client’s demands and fulfill the terms of the contract. The finished work was a far cry from the forms she typically chose to create, but the most repugnant aspect of the project was that she’d been forced to use pneumatic tools (despite vociferous protests) in order to meet the ridiculous completion deadline the client stipulated.

Both she and Horace had shared a peculiar reverence for traditional hand tools, favoring human exertion over that of a machine. Pneumatics were impure; noisy, smelly, and “common”, whereas the sheer physical exertion of employing her body to shape the bones of the earth, bend them to her will and imagination was ecstatic, almost orgasmic in its intensity. The idea of using power tools was almost sacrilegious. Nevertheless, she’d managed to get through the ordeal and the rough-hewn, black granite piece was delivered on time.

http://www.bwginc.com/imgxtra/P10.jpg

“Chill! There must be at least three full sheets of nothing but images of La Forza. I’m sure we’ll be able to pull something together. Now can we please order? I’m starving!"

They talked through the meal about June’s recent photo venture in Yugoslavia on assignment for ReVue and Varly’s frustration with the last commission, and compared the finer points of their most recent “conquests” over dessert. With a last sip of espresso, the pair stood to leave and, as usual whenever they were together, caused at least one man to wince in pain as his wife or girlfriend kicked his shins under the table while he blatantly watched them walk away.

Sometimes it was very gratifying to be an Amazon.

 

[darrenfate]

Jean Paul

Jean Paul decided to fly out to San Francisco early, so that he could take in Napa valley. Ah, a leisurely tour of the different winerys made Jean Paul smile. Perhaps he would rent a convertable and drive up the coast as well. With a setting like this, not even dealing with surly artistes and their overblown sense of importance could spoil the trip. Well, Jean Paul thought with a smile, I have a few little tricks to deal with them.

Boarding the Air Canada jet, he read his copy of The Gazette trumpeting Toronto's shutout victory over the Senators in hockey. Ah, if only his beloved Habs could have beaten the upstart Carolina Hurricanes. What is the world coming to he muttered. What a great match that would have been Leafs vs. Canadiens! C’est la vie.

The non stop flight was without incident, the taxi ride to the elegant Fairmont only spoiled by the incessant chatter of the cabbie. Jean Paul checked in and was escorted up to his room. Very dissatisfied, he called the front desk demanding the suite he had reserved! How could a man of his stature conduct business in a place like this? It was impossible! The hotel staff to their credit hastily transferred him to one of their 62 suites. Ahh much better Jean Paul beamed. The view, spectacular high atop Nob Hill. Meant to impress. Perfect.

He called Varlena Jaeger's number once more. Voice mail again. Impersonal Americans. With an evil grin, Jean Paul left his message -

"Ms. Jaegger, this is Jean Paul Arnot with the Musée d´Art Moderne de Montral. There has been a change of plans. I am already in San Francisco reviewing the work of other candidates for our commission. I would like to meet with you and your agent tomorrow for lunch here at the Fairmont. Please bring your portfolio so that I can begin the task of deciding who shall receive the appointment. Make it 11:30 to beat the lunch crowd. I shall reserve a table in my name. I look forward to meeting you both then. "

Jean Paul knew that he had disrupted Jaegger's plans, and he liked the thought. Perhaps this way he could truly get to know this woman, before she and her agent had the proper time to build a facade.

Time for a cable car ride ...

 

[captainb]

Sergei

The Golden Gate Bridge is a beautiful sight, especially in the morning when the sun splashes off the tower tops that stretch out of the fog-covered bay. When the fog lifts, you can see Alcatraz and the harbor to one side, the ocean on the other, and boats and ships of every size and description sailing under the soaring roadway. One of the most beautiful bridges in the world, it can make almost anyone smile, even briefly.

Sergei Prosorov glared at the Buick in front of him. Every time he crossed this bridge, he wound up behind the same old man chugging along at ten miles under the speed limit. Sure, the idiot drove a different car each time, and sometimes wore a wig and a dress, but in Sergei's mind all were one and the same. "Come one, come on," he muttered, then banged the steering wheel and shouted, "Raz'yebuy!" The fact that his '68 VW microbus could barely hold its own against the rush of traffic was of no consequence. He drove the vehicle with pride, his statement of individualism in a country that prided itself on the same yet showed so little. In a sea of SUVs and sports sedans, the little van stood out like a relic. "America cared about other people once, for a short while," he had proclaimed to Varly four hours into a vodka binge, not for the first time. "That's why I came here, to be one of the individuals who are free, part of the great American movement to be oneself, not a faceless face in the remains of the Soviet Union, but one of the many who can do what they want, any way they want, to be unique just like everyone else in this ostokhuitel'no country." He'd refilled Varly's shotglass with a smirk as she rolled her eyes, knowing that his rant was just beginning.

"Dermo!" he growled as he slammed on his brakes, the paint cans and canvas rolls banging into each other in the rear of the bus. He looked away from the line of red taillights in disgust, then looked again at the dark-haired woman in the convertible to his left. Her skirt had ridden high up her thighs, and her pale blouse was stretched across a generous supply of bosom, the lace of a black brassiere exposed along the edge. He slipped a hand into his lap and gently squeezed his crotch, imagining that he could make out the wind-whipped tips of her nipples through the fabric. She glanced in his direction, her eyes hidden behind wide sunglasses. The tip of her tongue flicked out along her lips, then her Mustang surged ahead as the traffic started up again.

He was pensive for the rest of the drive into the city. The Mustang-girl was quickly forgotten as he negotiated the way toward his street. He had driven to Sacramento to see an exhibition at the Crocker Art Museum at a friend's request. Then the govn'uk hadn't even been there to meet him, much less put him up for the night. Sergei hated motels only slightly less than credit cards, and had driven back early this morning after a night on the futon among the paint and cloths in the back of the van. By the time he banged open the door to his loft, he was hungry and tired, and therefore horny and thirsty. The combination made little sense, which secretly pleased him. He peeled off his clothes and turned the shower on hot, then grabbed the chin-up bar above the bathroom door for twenty quick ones. He dropped and stretched the driving cramp out of his back while facing the mirror.

Sergei was in his early forties, a thick black shock of straight unruly hair in stark contrast to his pale lean body. He could have shaved twice a day easily, but even once a day was hardly bearable, resulting in a perpetual five o'clock shadow as early as ten a.m. His eyes were pale blue, deep-set under ferocious tufts of eyebrows. They were restless eyes, constantly searching out anything that moved and examining it intently. He had been part of the first wave that left Russia after the collapse of the USSR, beelining to the U.S and a chance to put his talents to the test. Despite an education that included the Russian Art Academy and the Maxim Gorky Institute, he had always felt stifled in his homeland. Upon arriving in America, he had almost killed himself with an excess of unrestrained decadance. But a chance meeting got his life back on track, and his friendship with Varly had deepened as their mutual respect grew. He was one of the select few to see her fragile side, revealed shortly after they met when Horace died. He'd made no bones about his distrust of Davenport (or Sofa-man, as he preferred), but at least he was bringing her work. Of sorts.

But the man was a pig, Sergei thought as he scrubbed himself. He still remembered the night of drinking when Varly was particularly frisky, that incredible long body stretched across the table with June wrapped in her arms, and where had that sukin syn been looking? At him! Pathetic, typical slimy...

Sergei was generally angry. If he wasn't, he usually felt that something was missing. Oddly, his anger subsided the drunker he got, turning into a wry, black humor. He enjoyed watching the reactions he got from people. Learning the right buttons to push was almost a hobby, and he carried it into his art and performances, combining his freewheel rants with a dizzying display of handfuls of multicolored paint slapped on a large canvas, its final design indecipherable until, at the climax of his show, he would flip the canvas upside down, revealing an instantly recognizable portrait. The fact that the audience rarely knew who the portrait was mattered little to him. He was doing this for himself, not for them. That part was just to pay the bills. Sergei clung to this philosophy like a life preserver.

He pulled on jeans and a grey sweatshirt, topping it off with a black leather jacket and black sneakers. Crawling back into the minibus, he decided to drop by Varly's and see if she was free for lunch or a drink. Preferably both. He could count his close friends on one hand; not many understood that his moods were not connected to them, but were just something he felt comfortable wearing, like a favorite shirt. Varly understood, and so did June. For that, he was grateful. For them, he would be as loyal as that nev'ebenny Mac.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

Var munched on her usual spring green mix salad and expressed her frustration between bites. June plowed through her usual steak and tried her best to ease her friend’s concerns.

“I am sure that we call pull something together that will impress the hell out of this guy! Girl, you know that the two of us can do just about anything when we put our stubborn minds together!” June told her with a laugh.

Varly laughed back and said, “Yes, sometimes it scares me with what we come up with!”

Ahh yes, the two woman together did get themselves into a fair amount of trouble. Or good times, depending on your perspective. There was the “groupie fantasy” come true after scamming themselves back stage at the Cow Palace. The unforgettable date swapping at a costumed Halloween party. And the stage dances at San Francisco’s famous Exotica Erotica Ball will forever go down in the annals of the sexploits of June and Var. She smiled to herself as she thought about all the times and all the adventures she and Var have had. Var even had to bail her out of jail after a particularly rambunctious evening at Sexual Haven. June believe there was a punch or two delivered to the jaw of a rather aggressive and grabby French man that was in for holiday. They called it “drunk and disorderly” but she found her actions to be quite in order!

The conversation eased and Var started to relax as the lunch cocktails took their calming effects. June spun tales of her last out of county assignment, this one taking her into Yugoslavia. Spending much of her time in the war torn Kosovo, it was mostly a depressing trip. The effects of the Milosevic reign still being seen on every scarred building and on the faces of the people trying to rebuild their lives as well as their county. She had high hopes of turning this assignment into a larger exhibit. ReVue magazine was only going to devote six pages to this photo essay, but when she returned to the states and developed the rolls, she found a good 25 or more pictures that would work well into a more extensive essay and wanted to make use of them.

One of the more beautiful places that June ended up was Pec. Friendly, untouristed and picturesque, Pec is nestled below high mountains in the west of Kosovo. An amazing site, one of Pec''s oriental bazaars bustles around the base of the 15th century Bajrakli Mosque. And just outside town, the Patrijarsija Monastery was a stronghold of Serbian Orthodoxy during the Ottoman regime. Inside the monastery's walls there are three 13th century churches, all with high domed roofs and glorious medieval frescoes. South of Pec, the Visoki Decani Monastery also has some beautiful 14th century frescoes. She broke with her tradition and devoted several rolls to the stunning architecture and landscape. She felt that they represented a sharp contrast to the crumpling buildings of the city and was excited to utilize this as part of her essay. She planned on beginning this project as soon as she and Var worked and weaseled their way out of their latest jam.

Walking behind Var as they stood up to leave, she could not help to notice the way her clothes hung on her curves, she was quite beautiful and the two of us always attracted more then slight attention. It was no wonder that all sets of eyes in the café were glued

 

[Huntress]

Varly

They arrived at the studio and Varly unlocked the steel door leading into the main workroom. She was laughing at something June had just said when she heard the unmistakable putt-putt of a VW bus behind her and the unmistakable click of canine toenails dancing on the other side of the door. Knowing full well what would happen next, she pushed it open a crack, glancing over her shoulder and grinned mischievously as Sergei stepped from his van. Two seconds later the knob was yanked from her grasp as a huge, hairy, grey streak shot out of the doorway, nearly knocking June over as Mac made a bee line for Sergei and launched himself at the lanky Russian.

“Hey…! Vy dumaswedwij baloven! I love you, too, Mac. Now get down. Varly! This beast has the manners of a storm trooper!”

“Aw, my heart just bleeds for you, Prosorov,” she chuckled. “To be adored like that… At least he didn’t give you a face bath this time.”

Varly whistled sharply and the wolfhound reluctantly dropped to all fours, turned, and came trotting back into the studio.

“I’ve got some cold beer in the fridge and I know there’s a bottle of Dolgoruki in the freezer. Do you think we can restore your dignity with a couple of shots?”

"Da prijatel'. I think that would do the trick," he said with a wink.

Holding the door open wide, Varly ushered her friends inside, took June’s helmet and tossed it along with hers into a large crate near the door.

“Sergei, as long as you’re here, June and I are going to put you to work,” she grinned slyly. “Ah, ah! Don’t get cocky, now, tovarisch. I need your critical eye to help us go over the contact sheets June brought so we can put together a makeshift portfolio. Seems the Museum of Modern Art in Montreal is interested in my rocks but Mr. Sofa won’t give up my book.” She shrugged. “So we make do. Between the three of us, we should be able to pull something together. Yes?”

“What? I’m supposed to refuse you?” He glowered in mock irritation at her from beneath his thick dark brows. “Oh yes. I can see it now. The headlines would read ‘Russian artist drowns in dog slobber.’” He rolled his eyes at her. "I will only do it with proper lubrication and beer does not qualify!"

His exterior might appear rough, and his attitude less than congenial, but in Varly’s eyes, it mattered very little. He was as true a friend as she could ever hope to find. He’d proven that when Horace died. Sergei had stuck close by, never letting her far out of his sight for more than a few hours. His company and Mac’s had been her only solace and pretty much the sole reason she was still around. Only a very few good exports had come out of the USSR after its break up besides vodka. Sergei was one such.

Losing Horace had been devastating. For nearly a year, she’d isolated herself in the studio with the blinds drawn and the phone unplugged, letting dust gather on the tools and uncut blocks of stone while Sergei patiently nursed her back to the land of the living. When she wept and screamed in her abject loneliness he rocked her in his arms, when she drank herself into a stupor, he tucked her into bed, sometimes holding her all night fearing what might happen if she woke and found herself alone. His dedication finally won out over her despair and Varly emerged into the light like a diver on his last breath and still fifty feet from the surface.

Over the course of the next three years, she attacked her work with an unrivalled passion, as though she could make up for the time lost to mourning or prove Horace’s bequest had not been in vain. Two remarkable series came out of that period; the first, a pair of black granite sculptures entitled Forenza; the second, a set of abstract pieces representing feminine aspects called Origyns. Both had been sold to private collectors in Europe for a hefty sum and Varly’s work gained international acclaim.

http://www.huntressweb.com/lit_images/forenza.jpg
Forenza (Taurine, Equus)
http://www.huntressweb.com/lit_images/origyns.jpg
Generation (Innocence, Pride, Desire)

Her most recent project, besides the commissioned pieces, was series in marble and travertine that had been installed at L’Albergo, a resort and sculpture garden in Napa Valley. Entitled Transcendence, the trio of sculptures was Varly’s personal favorite. She’d been tickled when Peter Cortese, the owner of L’Albergo had personally requested to exhibit them. The installation had been set in place only six months ago and since then she’d had several serious inquiries about creating half scale bronzes and two more commissions from a local gallery and a broker on the east coast.

http://www.huntressweb.com/lit_images/transcendence.jpg
Transcendence (Body At Rest, Into Plowshares, Emerging Warrior)

“Juno, set that bloody book over on the work bench, will you? I think there’s a loupe in one of the drawers. I’ll get the vodka and something for us to eat, and maybe Sergei can scare up some glasses and the ice bucket.”

Once all the accoutrements had been gathered, Varly filled three glasses and, as had become their custom, Sergei proposed the first toast. “Nu, budem!” (To life) The icy, slightly viscous vodka burned tongue and throat. A second drink and a second toast and they were ready to work.

Several hours and a second bottle later, dozens of contact sheets in color and black and white were scattered over the workbench, each thoroughly examined for shots that would give the best representation Varly’s work and thereby satisfy Mr. Arnot’s requirements. June and Sergei argued spiritedly over the merits of black and white versus color and Varly put her two cents in whenever there was a breath between heated exchanges. At last, enough of the right photos were found to have reproduced and assembled into a new portfolio. It was nearly midnight.

Varly stood and stretched her lithe body, put her arm over June’s shoulders, stroked her hair, and kissed her temple before leaning over and kissing Sergei.

“Guys, I think we’re done. Nice work. I’ve got one more fifth of Dolgoruki and something I’ve been dying to show you both. What say we retire for the evening and let me flaunt my new toy?”

She winked at them both and strode toward the back of the studio, motioning them to follow.

“Come on. I never knew either of you to be shy, for God’s sake. Aren’t you even curious?”

June shrugged, feigning disinterest and followed with Sergei close behind, while Mac snored peacefully under the workbench.

When they reached the shadowed area below the loft, Varly opened a door sheathed with corrugated steel, nearly invisible in the wall covered by the same material. Beyond the door was a small courtyard surrounded by a high fence overgrown with trumpet vine and jasmine. A small flight of steps led up to an elevated circular redwood deck, in the center of which was a steaming spa.

“Well? What do you think? I made sure it could handle at least six people,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

 

[captainb]

Sergei

“What is this, a steam bath?” Sergei laughed as he climbed onto the wooden deck.

“Hot tub, Serge,” said Varly, coming up to the other side.

June leaned on the redwood edge and trailed her hand into the softly steaming water. “Mmm, very nice. But I think the water could use a little heating up,” she said casually.

“Hah! You American women are so predictable,” Sergei sniffed as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “You think that with a wave of your plastic cards you can recreate what mother Russia has known for hundreds of years. The hot springs of Esso would put this to pale,” he continued, kicking off his shoes and reaching for his socks.

“So, we have a connoisseur of the healing springs,” Varly murmured, sliding behind June as she slid the redhead’s t-shirt up her back. “And these magic minerals bubbling up from the ground have helped you… in what way?”

Sergei started unfastening his trousers. “They strengthen the body, make you healthy, and give you stamina.” He slapped his bare belly, then rubbed along its smooth muscles as he watched June lean back against Varly’s strong fingers, the butterfly on her shirt now sporting matching protuberances in the middle of each wing. The sculptress peered over June’s shoulder, watching his eyes. “They lengthen your life,” he murmured, stepping out of his jeans. “Among other things.” His cock, already half-hard, gave a lurch as the women’s eyes dropped as one to his crotch. June’s lips parted and Varly grinned as her lips grazed the other’s back, then she reached for her own shirt. Sergei turned and poured three more shots of vodka, then slid his legs over the edge and eased into the tub. “Ah, yet this will do nicely.” He settled back with arms outstretched along the edge, the tip of his penis bobbing just above the surface of the steaming water, and sipped at the cold vodka as he watched the women.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

“ahhhhh,” June breathed out as Varly’s hands worked out some of the always tense muscles in her back. June was unsure which she liked better, the feeling of Var pressing against her bare flesh or watching Serge slip his body into the water. She watched him dunk down with more then a glimmer of interest. June had been harboring a secret desire for him since the day Var introduced the two of them. She immediately put him on her “list” however, had shied away because of the nature of his relationship with Var. Platonic as far as June knew, but none the less…not somewhere she was willing to go. Until tonight.

Tonight, she was pretty sure she would not be able to resist either one of them, for Var was also on her “list” and had been for quite some time. June had been with several woman in her quest for the ultimate education in human sexual behavior, ok…she was a bit of a slut, but she and Var had never moved beyond playful kisses. Until tonight.

Tonight, June had a feeling things were going to take a direction once only hinted at. And frankly, she could not wait.

She relished the feelings of Var’s artist fingers kneading into her back, while keeping her eyes glued to the handsome Russian. When she felt the other woman’s fingers, leave her back, she was more then disappointed, until she realized it was only because Var was slipping off her shirt. Taking a cue, June slipped her tee over her shoulders and tossed it to the side. She stood up, all bit it quite shaky due to the insane amount of alcohol she had consumed, and slipped off her pants. She threw a side-glance and Varly and knew that it was now or never. Amazing the amount of “steel balls” to be found in a few bottles of premium vodka.

As the Russian looked on, his growing interest literally found in his extending cock, June grabbed Var’s hand and pulled her close. Feeling no resistance, June wrapped her fingers around Var’s hair and pressed her lips against the woman’s. She moved her lips across her cheek and up to her ear.

“I have been wanting to do that for quite a while, girl!” June whispered.

Varly laughed, “Ya? Well, what took you so long?”

 

[Huntress]

Varly

“Honey, you’ve got the most wonderful tits,” Varly whispered back. “Selfish, brat,” she chuckled. “Keeping them all to yourself. About time you decided to share…” The tip of her tongue darted out; tickling June’s ear lobe as she splayed her long fingers over the redhead’s ample breasts, keeping her thumbs on the hard, rosy nipples and pivoted her palms to cup their fullness. “Mmmm… yummy, girl…”

She drew her cheek across the smooth velvet of June’s face, feeling the heat reflecting from their skin. Her eyes were nearly closed, full lips parted provocatively. Varly brushed her tongue along the pouting lower curve and gently took it between her teeth, smiling and arching an eyebrow when the blue eyes flew open in surprise. Slowly, she drew the tender morsel of flesh into her mouth, gratified to hear the low groan and felt the sudden delicious weight of June’s body as it sagged into her own. It was like sucking nectar straight from a honeysuckle flower. She savored the sweet, heady essence for a moment more then sank to her knees and tugged June’s capris loose.

More pale skin spattered with amber freckles and wealth of coppery curls were revealed as Varly peeled the snug pants down from June’s hips and dropped them to the deck. Her hands played lightly over the soft arc of lower back and cupped the lush round cheeks of her backside, while she took a playful nip at the her friend’s firm belly. June’s fingers, still entwined in her short blond hair, tightened briefly then slipped down to Varly’s chin and guided her back up to her feet. A lopsided grin crossed her face as she realized the saucy redhead wouldn’t accept anything but full equality in this little encounter. In moments, they were both standing skin to skin in the cool air.

A slow clapping of hands startled the pair and they turned in unison to Sergei, who was grinning like a wolf from the tub.

“Naemnyj ubijca! But why do you stop? You are not going to deprive me of this opportunity to see true American wickedness…”

Varly and June laughed at the taunt and looked at one another.

“Well, if it’s a show he wants, I guess we could indulge him. Just this once…” Varly chuckled.

“Var, don’t fall for that line. He’s probably seen more perverted sex than you and me put together. I hear he used to live in Amsterdam’s Red Light District,” June said with a wink at the Russian.

“Aww, Juno. What a thing to say about Serge! If that’s true, then I say ‘go for it’. I always wanted to put on a show for a true connoisseur of the erotic arts… Shall we?”

She twisted the fingers of one hand into June’s long red hair, pulled her close again, and kissed the redhead’s mouth hungrily. Show or no show, she’d wanted to do this for a long time.

 

[captainb]

Sergei

Oh, God bless Amerika! thought Sergei, the shotglass forgotten in his hand as he watched the women kiss. Their bodies melded together, their bare flesh pressed unashamedly together as their mouths devoured each other. He saw their tongues briefly appear and disappear between their lips. Varly's hands reached down to grip June's ass, pulling her up until the redhead was on her toes and her breasts lay high on the blonde's chest. Varly broke the kiss and lowered her mouth to the round breasts before her, trailing kisses around one smooth globe and circling in until she took the solidly erect nipple between her teeth.

June threw her head back and gasped at the exquisite pain. The Russian sipped his vodka, the steaming water covering him from chest down except for the head of his cock, which slowly rose and settling back into the water with each involuntary pulse. Varly moaned and squeezed June's tit tighter into her mouth, and Sergei saw a flash of finger from between the tall woman's thighs. June was sliding her fingers through the other's pussy lips, and Sergei breathed deeply as Varly lifted one leg slightly, allowing him an unobstructed view as the redhead buried two fingers deep into her cunt.

Some people could have watched the two women all night long. Sergei was one of them, on occasion. But not now. He slid over to their side of the tub and looked from mere inches away at June's fingers moving inside Varly's pussy. It was liquid, her juice coating the probing fingers as they slid in and out. He leaned closer and stuck his tongue out, tasting the fingers and slick lips as they slid over it. June's fingers popped out and were offered to him, and he sucked them slowly, peering at Varly's cunt. Her labia were swollen and hung open, the tight passage inside her clearly visible, and the bud of her clit hard and peeking out from its hood. With a sudden loss of control, Sergei plunged his face between her ass cheeks, mouth wide as he sucked on Varly's entire pussy at once. His tongue pushed outward, deep into the soft slick hole and received a reward of fresh flowing nectar. His hand held Varly's strong thigh, then slid over to grasp June's.

A hand gripped his hair and he looked up. Varly gazed at him with a smirk. June was sucking on her tit now, licking around the pink puckered tip as she also watched him. "What do you say we get your face washed up?" Varly asked.

The three broke apart for a moment as Sergei made room for them. Sergei played the gentleman, holding Varly's hand as she carefully stepped in. He turned to do the same for June, but slipped and grabbed her as they both tumbled into the hot tub. Water sloshed over the sides as the girls squealed and all laughed. Sergei righted himself, finding he was straddling June's torso. Her large breasts bobbed on top of the water, the freckles dark on her shiny skin and long hair plastered to her face and shoulders. His cock, half-hard, hovered above her, pointing toward her face. He bent his knees and slid it into her cleavage. She grinned and clasped her tits together, trapping his cock between their soft mounds. He rapidly hardened again and slowly humped against her, all three watching the purple tip push toward June's chin and then retreat. Varly curled up next to the other girl, reaching out to tweak at one nipple as she kissed her shoulder. Then she reached between June's breasts and gripped Sergei's cock, pulling it out and up, displayed before the two women.

"Nice, eh?" Sergei grinned, loving the attention.

June looked up at him, then batted her beautiful eyes at Varly. "Looks good enough to eat," she purred.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

“Mmmmm, yes. Good enough to eat, but I am thinking more for dessert.” June laughed as she turned her attention once more to the beautiful blonde displayed in front of her. She had waited too long to get her hands (literally) on Var, she would not let herself get side-tracked by a penis. Despite the fact that it was a nice penis indeed!

She playfully pushed Sergei back against the hard wood of the tub, his hardness slipping out of Var’s hands. She then took hold of Var’s hips and brought them towards her own, pressing her body against the blonde’s. The water making both women buoyant and somewhat weightless. It was hard for June to take her eyes off of Var as she hovered above her. It had been too many years of pent up longing, and too much vodka this evening. Not to mention that she was a sight to see. Her lithe body, the curves, and the emotional attachment she felt towards the woman, all made up for an irresistible encounter.

Running her fingers up Var’s back, her skin was velvet smooth with the droplets of water still clinging to her flesh. June pulled herself up to her knees, and slightly off of Var’s body, letting the warm water lap around her breasts, nipples hardened to points despite the warmth. She gathered her face in her hands and pressed her lips against Var’s. She ran her tongue over her full lips, enjoying the slightly chlorine taste, before parting the lips and slipping her tongue inside. June explored every nuance of Var’s mouth as Var pressed her fingers into June’s back. June wanted to take her time, she knew she could spend hours on Var’s mouth alone. But…alas there was more to the very sexy Var then just her mouth.

June could hear the very vocal pouting of Serg in the back of her head, but for the time being she was interested on concentrating on one thing only. She worked her mouth around Var’s jaw line, planting gentle kisses as she went. June was never one to “make love”, preferring the down and dirty fucking that most anonymous men provided. However, this was someone that she did love, albeit in a non-romantic sense and she felt that patience was going to pay off in spades.

Her mouth reached the curves of Var’s ear and let her tongue explore each crevice as she twirled June’s hair around her fingers, pulling just slightly. June listened very carefully to each breath and moan of Var’s, studying her reactions, eager to please someone else for a change. Moving farther down, her lips graze the swan-like neck. Pulling the flesh between her teeth, just slightly. Kissing and sucking the hollow between neck and chest. Both women grinding against each other as the excitement and energy grows between the two of them. The naked and hard Russian temporarily forgotten, save for his persistent whining and the sloshing of water as he tries to comfort his almost painful erection.

Down farther, moves June’s mouth to the pert nipples displayed before her. Circling one, then the other with her tongue. She can feel the blood rushing to the points in response, Var’s moaning coming quicker and more frantic. June parted the woman’s legs with her knee, displacing the water just slightly. Pressing her knee firmly against the downy fuzz of Var, June could feel the warmth against her flesh. Moving up and down slightly, her mouth still attached like a young suckling. June grinded her knee into Var with more force as she felt the fingernails of her friend digging into her back. She slipped a hand around the front of Var, pinching her unoccupied nipple as she went. Moving it under the water, up the thigh, and to the hard nub of flesh between Var’s legs. Taking it between her thumb and forefinger, she rolled it gently across her fingers causing gasps of pleasure to be released from the mouth of both woman. June switched nipples, not wanting one to feel ignored as she maneuvered her hand around the folds beneath her fingers. She pressed her thumb against the throbbing clit and slipped two fingers into the silky smooth flesh. June worked her two fingers in and out of the very welcoming pussy as Var’s hips bucked against her with a quickening pace. She took her eyes off of her chest and looked at Var’s face. The woman’s lips open slightly, her eyelids a fluttering. She loved watching her, and wanted to take in Var’s facial expressions as she brought her to orgasm.

Pumping her fingers faster and faster, Var spread her legs wider as the speed increased. June could feel the racing, pulsing of the heartbeat from inside Var’s body and she knew she was getting closer to her goal; making Var cum like she never has before.

 

[captainb]

Sergei sat on the small ledge, elbows on knees as he intently watched June devour Varly's body. Three of his fingers idly stroked his cock, pointing like a missle just under the water's surface.

"Pizdato," he muttered and licked his lips. "This is very good."

 

[Huntress]

Varly

A sharp pang of disappointment flipped around in Varly’s gut as Sergei’s memorable woody slipped from her grasp. It dissipated quickly when June grabbed her hips and kissed her again. Her lips alone were a distraction, but she had other talents and was employing them very effectively.

Slender fingers stroked her spine, shivering nerves and flesh in the wake of their passage while soft lips engulfed hers, velvet tongue probing, entwining, exploring and exciting, moving beyond to the inner whorls of her ears and lobes, neck and hollow of her collarbone, finally latching onto her tight nipple. As the small erect nub was sucked into June’s mouth, Varly’s chest arched up and a low moan was wrenched from the depths of her belly.

While the redhead’s mouth was busy suckling, her pale, freckled knee had slipped between Varly’s tawny thighs, spreading them wide and her agile fingers unerringly found her tingling clit. In response, she clenched her fists around handfuls of long red hair, the electric sensations growing more intense as June’s fingers slipped between the folds of swollen flesh and into her puss. Her arms reflexively wound about the soft curvy form above her and held on tightly as she bucked hard against June’s hand. Water sloshed over the side of the tub and a sharp hiss could be heard above her own voice from across the tub. Evidently, Sergei approved.

It was rare that she gave a lover such freedom as she’d allowed June tonight. Varly’s style was normally one of complete control, verging on domination, although she hadn’t wandered much further down that path than physically pinning someone down in a wrestling match. June was a special case. Maybe it was the instant chemistry they’d both felt when a mutual acquaintance first introduced them or the countless conversations they’d shared about life, love and art, or their many escapades that induced Varly’s confidence in the lusty redhead. Whatever the case, she trusted June without reservation and she was content to allow her friend all kinds of latitude when it came to pleasure. Her eyes half-closed, Varly watched a myriad of expressions flicker over June’s face as she did her damndest to please her friend. It was working. An explosive orgasm wasn’t far off, judging by the throbbing heat emanating from her womb.

Water sloshed over the sides of the tub with as she released her hold on June, made a frantic grab for the rim, and pushed up and out of the steaming water, her heels propped on a slick redwood bench. The motion brought Varly’s pelvis in line with the June’s freckled nose, and with a wicked little grin, she lowered her mouth and nuzzled the neat triangle of blond curls, grazing the proud, swollen bud with her teeth. The rapid pumping of June’s fingers deep inside and her mouth and tongue on the throbbing little pleasure button had worked their magic. Varly nearly came out of her skin. A hoarse cry burst from her throat as a long, almost violent, explosion rocked her body, leaving her trembling and weak-kneed.

“My gawd, girl,” she gasped as she sank back into the tub. “Where the hell did you learn to do that? And why on earth did you keep it to yourself for so long? Hell! I thought we were friends…you might have at least offered to share that little talent before.” She couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from curling up as she tried to tease June with a mock pout.

“Shit, Var, you were so busy chasing three-legged game, I thought you weren’t interested,” June replied. “Hope you’ve got a few hidden assets yourself. Round two is on you.”

She pulled June down beside her on the bench, wrapped an arm about the feisty redhead, and looked across at Sergei.

“So, dorogoj drug, is there any more of that liquid fire? I definitely need a refill, especially if this woman expects me to give as good as I just got!”

 

[captainb]

Sergei

Watching June bring Varly to a shattering orgasm was nearly more than he could handle. He’d been careful touching his cock; he might quickly get over-stimulated and didn’t want his role to end prematurely. Now both sets of eyes were smiling at him, the tops of their breasts bobbing in the bubbly water. He slid across the tub, gliding his legs between each of their open thighs. With a knee pressed firmly against each crotch, he straightened, his cock breaking free of the water like a small angry whale.

He gripped a handful of June’s hair and pulled her up into a kiss. Her mouth was open, hungrily lapping at his tongue. He felt two sets of hands on his cock, and pushed June’s head downwards.

“Igrat' na kozhano'i fle'ite, Juno,” he breathed. “Suck my cock, my hard cock, suck it into your mouth.” But June didn’t need to be told twice. Her lips opened and she inhaled half of his engorged length in a heartbeat. Her eyes were closed, seemingly swooning as she slowly pulled back, her cheeks hollowed with her sucking, releasing his cock with a pop only to dive forward over it again. His fingers were curled through the tangled mass of red hair and he reached for Varly, sliding an arm around her waist to lift her for a kiss.

June was working hard now, her muffled gasps interspersed with deep slides of her mouth. Her tongue swirled over his head as she rolled his balls, swollen and tight in his scrotum. Her ecstacy was infectious, her lips working magic on the solid tube of meat she was tasting. Sergei trailed his tongue down Varly’s neck, cupping her breast and pulling it up so he could latch onto her nipple. She groaned and pressed hard, pulling his head hard and forcing his face against her erect nipple as he pushed June’s face hard over his erection. His fingers slid over Varly’s tight belly to her crotch. She parted her thighs and his fingers slipped inside her, the wet tissues of her pussy open and lubricated. His thumb rubbed against the hard nub of her clit.

He broke away and looked down at June’s head. She was sucking his entire length into her mouth with each downstroke, virtually inhaling him in a frenzy of cocksucking. She wormed a finger between his legs and pressed it against his asshole, and he felt his cock give a lurch. He had to literally yank her away from his crotch before he exploded down her throat.

He mumbled something which may have been Russian, but it was lost as he pulled her up for a deep wet kiss. Her full breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples sliding over the flesh like little daggers. He pushed Varly back to her seat and looked at June. “Now, shalava, you will put my cock into her cunt.”

June’s eyes widened as she squeezed her hand, his penis throbbing strongly under her fingers. She looked at Varly. The blonde licked her lips and settled back, raising her knees out of the water as her legs spread. Sergei sank to his knees between her thighs. “Do it,” he said to the redhead, noting how her freckles seemed to have grown darker against the paleness of her skin as her excitement grew. ”Guide me into her. Fuck her with my cock.” He looked at the blonde as June grinned and lowered the spongy purple tip, the hard shaft encircled by her palm as she rubbed it against the slick opening of Varly’s dripping sex.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

Varly was soaking wet and took his cock into her with ease while June slowly guided his cock into her. Her pussy almost sucked him in as the tip entered her. She took a deep breath and June’s fingers begin to unwrap as she took his length inside of her. June looked up at Serg’s face; his moans began as he started slow, rhythmic thrusting. Varly looked so beautiful, her short hair sprinkled with reflective water droplets. Her nipples hardened with lust and the cooling air.

June moved around in the water, for once unsure where she wanted her lips, her legs, her skin to be…She found Serg’s back and wrapped her arms around his waist and began to thrust with him. Her cunt, still burning from the tongue-lashing she had given her friend, was pressed tightly against his lower back. Her lips found the base of his neck and she allowed her tongue to wander over his warm skin. She traced his hairline around to his earlobe and took it into her mouth. She was watching Var, her head was tossed back against the redwood, her eyes pressed shut. He had picked up the pace of fucking her, much quicker and more powerful. June had never taken to watching two other people in the throws of passion, she had always preferred a place of action, however seeing Var and Serg in such a position was a sight to see. So beautiful, their movements together so fluid.

She was making the most delicious sounds and June loved listening to her. June reached her hands around Serg and took each of Var’s pointed nipples in between her fingers. Pinching and pulling at them. Var responded by pushing her chest father up in the air, simultaneously spreading her legs wider. June continued to kiss Serg’s neck and earlobes, enjoying the salty taste of his flesh. She was listening to his responses as well. With each thrust, issued a new and different sound from his lips. Not words, just pure noises of lust. June loved every unintelligible utterance.

June began to push her throbbing cunt harder into Serg’s back. She moved herself around to afford herself not only a better view, but also access to Serg’s pelvic bone. She spread her legs wide, one leg around his back, the other around and just under the attached bodies. She slowly started to grind herself against Serg’s side, his pelvis pushed against her clit. She let her fingers run up and down Var’s long legs, her other hand holding onto Serg’s back. June closed her eyes and let the sounds of the three of them filter through her ears, their bodies moving in perfect unison. Sex like she has never known before.

“mmmmm…..” June moaned. She felt Serg’s fingers snake up her thigh and into her pussy. She almost came the second he touched her, her nerve endings were so raw. She grabbed onto Var’s calf and let Serg fuck them both. He turned to her and smiled an exceptionally wicked grin, letting his fingers do the work she hoped his cock soon would be doing.

“Bring us home together,” June breathed to Serg. A faint agreement being heard from Var.

Serg moved his fingers inside of June, twisting deeply, his thumb pressed hard against the nub of flesh. Thrusting fingers and thrusting hips, all keeping the same rhythm. June’s spine burned hot and the pre-orgasmic flood began to take over.

“Var, you ready girl?” June whispered.

“Uh huh, ya…yes,”

Var reached down and took June’s hand in hers. Gripping tightly. A warmth rushed over June. Her body tensed and immediately relaxed, her legs quivering as she let out a yell. Var squeezing her hand, and then releasing…the sound of her scream equaling June’s. Both women were left panting; a quick glance at Serg letting the woman know that he was just getting started.

 

[Huntress]

Varly

This second orgasm had only served to whet her appetite further. "More, more," her body screamed. She wasn’t finished either. Not by a long shot. There was still plenty of time before dawn to satisfy her hunger.

“Sergei! What a splendid sword you have. Where have you been hiding it all these years? I know at least a dozen collectors who’d love to get their hands on it,” she purred.

“Don’t play coy with me, ledi,” he retorted. “Nothing gets past those cat-green eyes of yours, especially if it’s in a man’s pants.”

The sardonic grin hovering about his lips incited Varly’s lust even more. She longed to see them gape in the throes of his climax, his eyes, narrowed and glinting in the low light now, widen suddenly then squeeze shut as he came, the veins in his neck bulge with exertion. Licking her lips as the image flashed through her mind’s eye, she knew Sergei wouldn’t give into his own needs until both she and June had been satisfied.

She lifted herself out of the tub to sit on the deck, her long legs still in the water, and swept a hand over her hair. Droplets of water flew every which way, tiny globes reflecting the pale moonlight. Leaning back on her hands, Varly looked at her friend and confidante appraisingly. She had definitely underestimated him; he had one of the most perfect cocks she’d ever seen.

“I’m so honored that you’ve decided to share it with June and me. You do realize that we’ll have to test it again, jubimyj, just to make sure it’s steel will hold an edge… What do you think, Juno? Shall we see what our crazy Russian is made of?”

June’s full breasts jiggled as she stifled a laugh and grinned at both Sergei and Varly.

“Var, honey, we’ve only entered the preliminary phase of testing. There are at least half a dozen more assessments I want to perform before I’ll be able to give a full report,” she said with a wink at Sergei. “I hope he’s up to it… What do you say, Sergei?”

“Da, little fox. I’m ready for you.”

As he spoke, the entire length of his penis bounced up and down, making them all laugh aloud.

“On that note,” Varly growled, “I think we’re ready for round two.”

She scooted forward and grabbed June’s hand, drawing her up out of the steaming tub until she was standing on the low bench just below it’s rim and pulled her over so that she was bent at the waist, her luscious ass exposed for Sergei’s pleasure. Varly took the freckled face between her hands, kissed her pouting lips, and parted them with her tongue, probing deeply, slowly, exploring the sweet, soft flesh again. June groaned as she leaned into the kiss, resting her hands on deck to either side of Varly’s hips, the hard, pale pink buds of her nipples brushing against the sculptress’ tawny collarbones.

Catching the voluptuous breasts in her long fingered hands, Varly marveled at their softness and weight as she lightly twisted each turgid nub between thumb and forefinger. June responded with another moan and trailed her fingers over Varly’s thigh, slipping them into the mass of damp blond curls, the slick, heated flesh beneath urging her to delve further. The warmth and substance of June’s breasts, the steady pressure of the redhead’s thumb on her clit, agile fingers dipping in and out of her puss, took Varly over the edge in another pulsating orgasm.

“Little fox, is it?” Varly breathed heavily into June’s ear. “Mmmm… that red tail of yours has inspired our randy comrade, Juno. I’m looking forward to watching him fuck you this time…”

June’s half-lidded eyes gazed into hers. “Anything you want, Var,” she said huskily. “You guys make me so hot…”

A glance over June’s shoulder revealed Sergei’s backlit form, his hand, barely visible in the shadows, stroking his cock as he approached the twin globes of her raised derriere. He reached out and ran his free hand over the ivory skin of her lower back, caressing the curves lightly before it slipped between her thighs and into the rosy folds of her labia. To Varly’s eyes, it seemed that he was impressing each curve, the silky texture, and the heat of her skin into his memory; as though his mind was a canvas and he was painting the experience with each stroke. The colors were almost tangible.

That type of association was so familiar. She encountered it in every sculpture she created. Each stroke of mallet on chisel revealed more and more of the image she held in her mind, the one she knew in her gut was hidden inside the stone. Carving into a massive block of granite was like peeling away a lover’s clothes and as the piece began to take on it’s ultimate form, the mounting excitement in her belly was very reminiscent of the shockwaves generated when she was on the verge of orgasm. Completing a piece left her totally spent. The similarities between the sculptural process and good sex were uncanny.

June trembled as Sergei’s fingers penetrated her swollen cleft, wriggling eagerly, pushing herself against his hand, while her kisses became more demanding with each plunge from behind. Another moan rippled into the cool night air, loosed from deep in June’s throat and Varly watched avidly as Sergei prepared to thrust his cock once more into a hungry feminine sheath.

~ H

 

[captainb]

Sergei

All cats are gray in the dark, thought Sergei. Cut away the colors and the hair, the politics and the genes, and we’re all just a throbbing mass of libido. Varly was without shame, her legs splayed open under June’s body, exposing her most intimate area completely to the redhead’s soft fingers. He slowly stroked his cock, little jolts running up its underside as Varly’s head fell back, her nipples like bullets as she writhed in orgasm.

Now he focused on June’s round ass, shining wet and pale in the soft light. He ran his fingers lightly over his balls. They literally felt swollen with cum, and his cock again jerked, desperate to complete the primal task and launch its furious jets of semen. Breathing through clenched teeth, he let it bob untouched and ran his fingers along the inside of June’s thighs. She spread her legs in response, arching backward to expose her pussy to him. Her mound was swollen under fine reddish hairs, the pink flesh of her labia opening wetly to his touch. She moaned as Varly’s arms encircled her, the blonde watching him as the women kissed in rising passion.

June pressed back against his fingers, three of them buried and swirling inside her pussy. He gripped her ass with his free hand, loving the feel of her body bucking in response. He pulled his fingers out and sniffed them, the scent of raw female lust hitting him in a heady rush. He sucked on her taste, then looked down and bent his legs. Without touching himself, he placed the tip of his erection at the entrance to her cunt and pushed slightly, just enough to insert the swollen head. June reacted instantly, pushing back and driving the full length of his cock inside of her.

Both man and woman gasped. Sergei gripped her bottom, trying to hold her still as he throbbed inside her pussy, the walls encircling his cock like a hot soaked sponge. He hadn’t believed that a woman could be so wet and open, especially against his thickness, and his ecstasy was barely controllable. But June was having none of that and her hips rocked forward then back again, sliding his cock out and back inside like a well-oiled machine. A trakhat' machine, he thought. This one could fuck for hours! He stared at Varly as June moved and moaned between them. I could fuck them both for hours, if I could only last...

June’s cunt was exquisite, massaging his cock with every liquid stroke. He gripped her hair and pulled her head back, slamming into her hard as Varly squeezed her tits. June cried out and reached back to hold his thigh. Sparks began coalescing at the base of his spine, and his cock felt like it was swelling even more as it prepared for release. But Varly’s frustration was growing as fast as his orgasm approached. She pulled herself up onto the tub’s rim and leaned back on one hand, the other sliding behind June’s head and pulling the freckled face into her spread-open pussy.

Sergei’s hand slipped to June’s back and he stopped his thrusts, buried completely in her hot sheath. Varly’s hand and legs were keeping June’s struggling body somewhat still, and Sergei breathed deeply, fighting to maintain control. He was teetering on the edge, his erection thudding almost painfully near to orgasm as he watched June bury her face in Varly’s snatch. Neutopimyi! he thought. She’s insatiable! The pulses in his groin slowly subsided, and he eased his cock out of June, stopping when just the tip was inside her, then slowly pushing back inside. He allowed his body to settle into a rhythm, the lubricant dripping from June’s pussy over his scrotum as he maintained a steady fucking. Varly clutched June’s head and pushed her tightly against her cunt, driving her hips up to meet the hungry flickering tongue as she squeezed and pulled at her own nipples. Sergei licked his lips and watched Varly’s face as she neared another peak. A detached part of his mind chided himself for nearly cumming too soon, before June had been driven over the edge of her own orgasm. I have a responsibility, he grinned to himself. The critical tension eased in his balls, and he picked up speed as he caressed the redhead’s back, hearing the liquid sounds with each thrust combine with Varly’s rising moans.

 

[lasciviously_yours]

June

June’s limbs strained against Var’s arms and legs, the feeling of being bound just one of the many intense sensations assaulting her senses. June found it was difficult to stay focused on Var and her pulsating pussy, Serg’s thrusting too perfect; calculated almost. Every sinewy fiber in her body was pulsing and contracting sending waves of heat over her. Var’s pussy was wet and hungry against her lips as she struggled to maintain a steady rhythm, sucking and fucking Var with her tongue.
The slapping beat of Ser’s balls against June’s ass giving her a steady tautophony to thrust her tongue and her hips by.

June began to lose herself in the feelings, the purest form of lusting taking place inside and around her. Var squeezed her legs around June’s head and June squeezed her legs around Serg’s cock, pushing him into her as far as she could take him. Her hot, wet mass enveloping his. June closed her eyes as Var’s fluids began to grow thicker…she knew that her friend was close. The sounds of the three growing from soft to loud moans to pure animalistic growls as each of them drew to their own dramatic conclusion.

June was connected to the other two bodies by much more then their entwined digits and as the three each tensed and began to writhe in their own unique mannerisms, June realized that this was a time and a place not to be forgotten.

June screamed out around Var’s flesh. Var too, called out. Then Serg. Unintelligible utterances of passion spent.
Var’s orgasm flooded into June’s mouth and Serg’s burst forth into June, mixing with her own flowing juices. The three bodies linking as each moaned and pounded their finishing strokes.

June collapsed against the tub, laying her head in Var’s lap and letting her stroke her long hair. Serg’s hot ribbons of cum, running thick down her thigh. A sticky reminder that he enjoyed himself as much as June and Var did.

“Jesus, that was fucking amazing. That was amazing fucking,” June laughed as the other two joined in a playful post-sex exchange. The kind that June often tried her best to avoid.

“Look,” June pointed towards the horizon and the peaking sun. “We must have been at it for hours!” Again, a soft, subtle and very comfortable laughter took over and the three spent, naked bodies rose and stretched as they wordlessly made their way inside.

 

[darrenfate]

Jean Paul

Jean Paul made his way down to the waterfront and hopped on one of the numerous ferries that ran out to Sausalito. Jean Paul wanted to keep up with the local artists. He made sure he always checked out the Sausalito Art Collection with its view of the bay. Her saw some brilliant pieces by Annika Hemminge, but was stunned by the impressionistic work of Michèle Manning. One in particular appealed to his French roots.

http://www.sausalitoartfestival.org/virtualgallery/manning/sundrenchedprovence.jpg

It was simply entitled Sundrenched Provence .

Perhaps this place was not going to be so bad. If only that Varly woman would call him back! It had never occured to Jean Paul that she might be out of town and not check her messages. Damn.

Turning he saw a beautiful woman in a jaunty red beret. Perhaps there are some fine things here to do with his spare time after all. He struck up a conversation ...

 

[Huntress]

Varly

With her arms draped over Sergei and June’s shoulders, Varly moved like a Valkyrie escorting fallen heroes over the rainbow bridge into Asgaärd; slowly and with reverence, savoring the warmth and intense connection, however tenuous it might be, that they’d created over the last several hours. Surely, it was sacred in spite of its profane origins and profound at the very least. It was the concretization of friendship through intimate contact, the joining of…

“Heilige scheise, Varlena. Shut up! You think too damned much.”

It was Horace’s voice she heard echoing in her head. The same refrain she’d heard hundreds of times as she agonized over the finished form of a sculpture before she ever laid chisel to stone. His thick, almost rasping speech, accented with just a hint of his native Bavarian, chided her still.

“You just feel it and let your body follow the pattern already in the stone, for chrisakes. All this thinking gets in the way of being. And that’s what you need – to be and to let the stone “be”. Now get to work, woman. It drives me mad to see you procrastinate like this.”

She smiled at the memory and hugged her friends closer as they sidestepped through the steel door into the studio. Horace’s admonitions aside, something inestimable and rare had occurred tonight. Only time would tell how it would affect the future of their relationships.

The wolfhound’s shaggy head rose as they entered the room. He grunted and whuffed loudly as if to show disdain for their evening antics or disgust at being awakened so rudely. When none of the humans offered a compassionate word or food, he rose, turned indignantly, and settled with his back to them. Within moments, he was snoring loudly and his toes were twitching.

Varly laughed indulgently at her so-called protector before turning her attentions to Sergei and June.

“Ok, you two. I’m going to offer you the hospitality of my bed and promise to keep Mac downstairs. Ah, ah! I’ll join you later. Right now, there’s a gorgeous block of limestone begging to be cut. Sheets are clean, so I’ll just get you situated and wish you pleasant… dreams?” With an eyebrow arched conspiratorially at the pair, she took their hands and headed to the loft.

Both Sergei and June knew better than to argue with Varly when she was inspired. Not only was she incredibly stubborn, but each had an appreciation for the way she felt, having had first hand experience with “the jazz”. They shared a knowing grin and followed her upstairs without protest. She straightened the pillows, tossed back the covers, inviting them to settle in with a flourish of her hand and a bow.

“Mi cama es su cama. Duerma bien, mis queridos.”

“Aw, Var…” June mock-whined. “You’re not gonna pass up this pair,” she leaned forward showing off her delicious breasts then rolled her eyes dramatically, and rather pointedly, down toward Sergei’s crotch, “and that pair for a hunk of rock?”

“Yeah, doll, I am. It was a tough call, but I’m driven. What can I say?” She shrugged and smiled. “You two get some sleep. I’ll come up later. I promise.”

Firmly kissing them both to ensure there’d be no further argument, she turned swiftly and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee first, chisel second.

• * * *

The little pot sputtered wildly and spewed its thick, pungent brew into the waiting demitasse. Grabbing its handle gingerly, Varly pushed the cookie jar out of the way, reaching for the sugar bowl. A red light blinked three times, paused, three times again. Three messages on the machine.

“Damned phone solicitors. Worse than used car salesmen.” She sighed disgustedly and pressed the play button.

The first was indeed a telemarketer, an invitation to a ninety-minute time-share presentation and a bogus trip to Las Vegas. Pass. The next was from Sofa Man. The Carmichael’s had FedEx’d their payment, he had cut her final check and said she could pick up her portfolio on Tuesday.

Tuesday. That was yesterday.

“Crap. It figures I’d waste a day worrying about that but never check the machine. Good news, though. Bucks and my 'folio. Alright, who’s next?”

A deep baritone, flavored with an unmistakable French-Canadian accent. It was Arnot and he was in town... as of yesterday. Her heart rate sped up, a cold sweat breaking out on her upper lip and brow. "Meet for lunch tomorrow". Realization became mild panic. Yesterday was Tuesday, that meant lunch was on for…today. TODAY. TODAY!

She groaned, smacked her forehead, and raced back up the stairs, madly sorting out the logistics as she ran. BART to the city… no, no, no, rental car… aaagh…no time for that. Shit. Sergei would have to drive her. And June. She'd have to get June to reprint those images in a big hurry. Maybe they could get to Frank’s office before the meeting… Pausing at the top, with some vain hope of quieting the thoughts which flew too fast to track, Varly realized it would do no good. Standing still wasn't going to solve her dilemma. It was nearly eight o’clock. The meeting was in less than four hours. MOVE!

June and Sergei were wrapped in each other’s arms, snoozing peacefully. She paid them scant attention, padding quietly past the bed and into the closet. Somewhere in its depths was the only suit she owned; a paean to a deceased Italian designer whose style she’d secretly admired. No matter – it was gorgeous regardless of whose name was sewn into the lining. There it is. Still in the drycleaner’s bag. Raw silk in pale ochre, the jacket’s clean lines unobstructed by lapels, and the slim, tailored slacks gave an appearance of having been custom tailored for her. It had only been worn twice, both times to meet with former agents. She’d managed to make a good enough impression to get contracts signed. Maybe this time would be more auspicious.

She barely heard the soft clicking of toenails on the concrete steps. Mac slunk into the closet and was nudging her thigh. Scratching his head absentmindedly, she knelt and picked up a pair of low-heeled, black mules.

“What do you think, Mac? Too much? Don’t want to scare this guy off. Could mean a lot if he chooses us. Aw, you don’t give two hoots for style. I know what you want. Breakfast. Come on, let’s feed you. Then I can get clean before I have to wake everyone up and deliver the good news.”

 

[captainb]

Sergei

ooc: Apologies for being away so long. I'm ready to keep moving if you all are.

ic:
Sergei did not have a hangover. He lifted his leg with a grunt as he tugged up a sock. He was having trouble focusing. The sock was a gray blur in his hands, and they and his foot rotated toward the ceiling, then dropped back to the floor. His arms flapped out flat on the bed and a comfortable fuzziness crept in from his temples. The bed peacefully rotated, and he idly felt himself slip into the abyss.

“Sergei, no, get up!”A pillow smacked him in the face. He grunted and blinked, waving his arms feebly. Oh dermo, she’s back. “Don’t go back to sleep again! I need to meet Jean Paul Arnot and I have to be there at 11:30 and it’s late now so GET UP!”

“All right, all right!” He sat up again and snatched at his shoe. Varly rushed away leaving him staring at the shoe and tasting his tongue. Then he remembered where his tongue had been, and it all came back. He was suddenly aware of the tenderness of his penis, nothing uncomfortable, just the feel of a well worked-over cock. His lips twitched, and he nodded in self-congratulation as he jammed his foot into the shoe.

Downstairs, he downed two Nuprin with a gulp of coffee. Little. Yellow. Different. Basic thoughts appealed to him now for some reason. Varly’s footsteps echoed from somewhere and he heard her voice, then June’s. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, so he turned with mug in hand to head outside.

“G’morning, you,” said June as she sauntered over to him, a large portfolio tucked under her arm. He stopped and blinked.

“Hi.” His eyes swept down her figure. She couldn’t have been out of bed much before him. How did she get to look so good?

She saw where he looked, and wet her lips as she stepped next to him, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her scent was vanilla and she breathed, “I hear we’re all going for a ride.”

Without thought of its own, his cock twitched against her hip. She winked and blew him a kiss, then brushed her breasts against him as she pushed past and walked out to the van. Sergei stared after her, then looked blearily down into his mug.

“Oh thank god you’re all set. You’re wearing that? Well, nevermind,” said Varly as she breezed past him. “Is June in the van, oh good. Now we need to get to Frank’s office and then you’ll be driving us to the Fairmont, and then I’ll be meeting with Mr. Arnot for lunch. I’m not sure how long that will take, I’d like to get him to come back to the studio to see my work right away. And you and June, oh I’ll tell you that on the way. “ Sergei drank half of the mug in one swallow. He’d never heard her like this before. Well, it was a big deal, he thought, forcing himself to focus. The muscles in his face and neck felt like were in vices. He briefly considered asking one of them to drive, but he shook it off and drained the last of his coffee. He didn’t have a hangover.

Varly had barely closed the van door, but was already motioning at him and pointing to her watch. “Yes, your khokhol majesty Varlena,” he mock-snarled with a salute as he climbed into the driver’s seat and sorted through his keys. Everybody’s turning into a Ukranian. The women chattered around him as the van chugged to life and started to roll down the street.