- Lost Art of Steele - an addition
Date: Sunday, December 24, 2000
- Lauryn Poynor <email@example.com>
Here is a brief addition
to an old story of mine "Lost
Art of Steele." Just consider it an early XXXmas present
to the fic list. Merry Christmas to all and to all a (very) good
Lost Art of Steele - An Addition
by Lauryn Poynor
Permission to archive granted
For Laura Holt the weeks following their first time together
were ripe with discovery. On a virgin canvas, the contours and
boundaries of their relationship were being drawn, the once vague
outlines filled in. Both she and Steele, she knew, were still
refining the art -seeking the balance, sexual and emotional,
between rough and smooth, light and shade, distance and closeness.
Thus far, the whole of it was beyond her. After their consummation,
and sharing of past secrets, Steele had pulled back, as if wary
of revealing more of himself to her. As open as he was to Laura
sexually, she wondered if she would ever entirely know him, but
with the process of knowing came exhilaration and pleasure and
for now, that was enough.
Just a stray glance or casual contact could inspire their passions
whatever the setting or circumstance. However, the sight of Steele,
brush or pencil in hand, at easel or drawing pad, would often
make Laura's pulse rush in expectation. Memory quickened and
inflamed her want for him, until she dragged him onto the bed
or down to the carpet
and both succumbed.
Steele brought the first principles of the artist to lovemaking
- an explorer's eye and hand, precision and variance of touch,
a trust of sensation. Sometimes their coupling was brief, grasping,
and almost desperate, but more often desire and heat was built
layer upon layer, with foreplay as the underpainting, the steady
laying-in of cooler tones heightening the flash and intensity
of warm ones.
He was reclining naked on the bed, sketching her when she asked,
"Why don't you draw the two of us together?"
"Haven't I?" He seemed genuinely surprised.
"Not that I've noticed."
"Um, just how much togetherness did you have in mind, Miss
Holt?" Interest piqued, he stared curiously at her over
the top edge of the drawing pad.
"This much," she said, lowering herself over him and
sliding her palms around to the small of his back. Pad and pencils
were flung carelessly aside as the lovers fell back against the
sheets. Laura shivered as his hands freely wandered across her
body. Then he pressed her in to him, his long fingers kneading
her buttocks, and trailing smudges of charcoal down the backs
of her thighs.
Steele moaned into the pillow as she caressed his growing erection,
stroking it to full hardness with warm and skillful fingers.
His left hand moved between her legs, teasing her. Laura gasped
as his thumb grazed her clitoris. He slipped a finger inside
her, then another and knew she was ready. Hot, wet, and open
She straddled him, her hand reaching under her, fingers gliding
across the inside of his thigh, lightly touching his balls, then
finding the root of his hardness to guide him in. He drew back,
firmly pulling her hand away. Laura sucked in an angry breath.
"Steady, Laura. Let's try getting there a little slower.
I promise you won't be disappointed." He wanted to prolong
her pleasure, to drive her slowly and completely over the edge.
She tried to slow her breathing as his lips warmed the hollow
of her throat and traveled steadily downwards, stopping to tease
her nipples and the underside of each breast.
Laura could feel the steady exhalation of his breath across her
belly as he lightly kissed her skin. His fingers skimmed across
her ribcage and sides as his lips continued their leisurely descent.
She tangled her fingers in his dark hair, pulling his head between
her legs, unwilling to wait any longer for his lips and tongue
to reach their destination.
Finally, she felt him poised at her entrance. She twitched with
relief and anticipation as his tongue flicked across her swollen
lips, lightly and slowly at first, then finding a gradually building
rhythm. Reaching the sensitive bud of her clitoris, his knowing
tongue teased indirectly, then with more pressure until Laura
was trembling with sensation and the need for release.
Suddenly reaching her peak, she cried out and thrust forward
against him, one hand buried in his hair, the other pressed deep
into his shoulder. Eyes shut tight, spent and gasping, she released
him and felt him pulling his body upwards alongside her own.
She opened her eyes and stared dizzily up at the ceiling, waiting
for her breathing to calm and her overworked senses to dampen.
Barely recovered, she still jumped at his touch on her skin.
Expectant, he shifted to partially cover her body. She could
feel his hardness pressing eagerly against her thigh. He positioned
himself above her, drawing her close, his fingers twining around
her waist. She pulled out
of his grasp and rolled away from him as he moaned her name aloud.
"Don't lose the mood, Mr. Steele. I have something in mind."
She knelt on the bed looking across at the mirrored doors of
the closet with an observant eye. "What we need is a clear
line of sight. No impediments to the artist at work."
Steele gave her a curious stare. "Are we talking about my
skills in the boudoir or the atelier, Miss Holt?" he quipped.
"A combination of both, I think. Get behind me."
"Why Laura, whatever you wish. What artist could resist
such an invitation? The perfect medium. The rhythmic layering
brushstrokes, expertly applied." Steele entered her slowly
as Laura watched their reflection in the mirror. As he gradually
quickened his pace, he could feel the heat of her encircling
and tightening. He drove himself deeper, staring at the glass
image of his reflected member disappearing inside her and re-emerging.
Laura watched, too, and the
strange intimacy of it spurred them both to an unexpectedly urgent
and shuddering climax.
He fell against her, knees weak and breath rasping. They both
collapsed, replete and quivering, to the mattress. Laura stroked
his damp hair and kissed a trickle of sweat sliding down his
cheek. He kissed her warm lips and breathed in the scent of her
After a rest, Steele propped himself up on his elbows, studying
her thoughtfully. "You're really serious about this aren't
you? Capturing the moment on canvas as it were."
"You don't approve? I thought artists were champions of
"Well, I am." Steele looked slightly uncomfortable.
"But you realize this may be a rather embarrassing footnote
in your golden years. What if the grandchildren go exploring
in the attic? Are you sure you don't want to capture something
"I'm sure the grandchildren will be green with envy, Mr.
Steele. Look on the bright side. The Kama Sutra has been around
for centuries," she teased. "As a matter of fact, I
think that position is called the Svanaka."
"Really. You never fail to surprise, Miss Holt. Any other
positions you'd like to try. In the interest of art?"
Laura grinned. "That was just the beginning. Speaking of
art, I think you owe me a sketch. Or are you up to the challenge?"
Steele sighed and gave a Gallic shrug. "I'll bet Cezanne's
wife never nagged him about this sort of thing."
Steele stood back from the easel and squinted at the canvas before
"Why do artists squint like that?" Laura asked mystified.
"Allows you to see everything at once. And still retain
the clear detail of line and shape. Hmm.. lovely shapes. I do
believe I was inspired."
Laura sprang up and walked behind the canvas, studying it from
several angles with a critical air.
"Well, what's the verdict of the John Ruskin of the boudoir?"
"Oh my," she replied smiling behind her hand. "The
artist is certainly well endowed."
"Drawn from life. With the deadly accuracy of the artist's
"Then why aren't my breasts larger?"
"As I said, the deadly accuracy of the artist's eye..."
That response got him a sharp poke in the chest with a charcoal
"Speaking of the explicit," Steele replied playfully,
"did I ever tell you about the time I stole a priceless
piece of erotica from the British Museum?"
Laura's eyes widened. "Sounds fascinating. I didn't know
you had such a professional interest."
"Well, you know my knack for uncovering antiquities. The
museum has a Private Case collection which at one time held 20,000
volumes. Bequests of prurient items from eminent patrons. The
slender but potent volume I was after was once bedside reading
for Cardinal Wolsey. It was the heart's desire of a very wealthy
"Bedside reading? How convenient."
"Quite. If you're very, very good Miss Holt, I'll give you
the rest of the story." He raised his pencil with a flourish.
"Fully illustrated of course."