Elizabeth 03: The Art Student

"Benjamin! I believe I have made it clear to you that I do not merely tolerate our lovemaking, but rather I love it as well as you do!"

"I am still learning," he admitted. "It has only been a couple of months, after all." Irene had finished unbuttoning his shirt before backing off in frustration at his last comment, so he pulled it off now, revealing the thick chest hair through which Irene so loved to run her fingers. "And," he added, touching his own chest. "You know what Elizabeth always says about the hairy ones. How could someone like you ever be so horny as I?"

"You do know Elizabeth only heard that in a bar somewhere, don't you?" Irene demanded. "She repeats it all the time because it makes her feel good about her own condition, but that doesn't prove anything about it."

"Her condition?" Benjamin was getting angry again. "So now this is a disease?"

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it!" Irene threw herself back on her bed in frustration, and was beginning to wish she had not undressed. "And you know I love your hairiness, Benjamin. At least I hope you know that."

"Thank you..."

"All I am saying," Irene said, "Is that a dirty joke overheard in a bar is not a reason to draw any conclusions about...well, anything, Benjamin."

"But it does seem to make sense," Benjamin mused. "The more hair, the more virility, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Irene said. She stood up once again and undid Benjamin's belt buckle. "But who cares if it means anything? Benjamin, I love you! And I never felt neglected or overworked in bed. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course," Benjamin said as she pulled his pants and underpants off, so he now stood fully nude before her in the pleasant afternoon sunbeams. "Almost doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"What doesn't seem fair?" Irene asked.

"That Jonathan and Elizabeth are having this problem, and we don't when we both thought we did."

"I think the two of them will come to realize they are not so mismatched as they might fear," Irene said. "It could be just as much of a miscommunication as it was with us, couldn't it?" With that, she took Benjamin's hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. "Now, enough about Jonathan and Elizabeth. I was lonely so much of the time before I met you while they were hot and heavy, I shan't be made to feel guilty if the tables are turned for this one afternoon!"

Benjamin was more than willing to drop the subject, and soon he had seen to it that Irene's underclothes were dropped as well. Irene, once very self-conscious about her body in Benjamin's presence, was now perfectly giddy as he caressed her bare skin. She giggled at his touch, not from embarrassment but from anticipation. From the nape of her neck down her back and around front to her breasts and belly, his light touch fuelled her already-intense desire, for which she found an outlet by running her fingers eagerly through his thick chest hair. To think he had ever been concerned that she didn't appreciate this! Soon their play had his cock standing out at attention from its dense forest of curls, and Irene took it gently in both hands to rub just as she knew he liked it. In no time her pleasant touch had Benjamin – strong, virile Benjamin! – melting into a bundle of intense, inarticulate pleasure. As usual, Irene had no difficulty in guiding him back onto the bed, where she climbed atop him and lost no time enveloping him into her hungry body.

The early spring weather was not yet warm enough for open windows, so their lustful moaning was contained in Irene's bedroom through the long, steamy afternoon.

Elizabeth had joined Edward and Agnes for lunch in the tenants' kitchen in the rear of the first floor. The small talk was of Elizabeth's day job and Agnes' prospects in town and the journey from their home village: anything and everything except what was to happen after lunch. Elizabeth suspected Edward and Agnes were still a great deal more nervous and embarrassed than she was, for they did not know her well enough to appreciate her exhibitionistic streak or her nearly arrogant pride in her body. They would learn soon enough, she thought each time one or both of them let out a nervous laugh at what was to come. It was to be a long afternoon and there would be ample time for getting to know one another more intimately.

For all her comfort in her own skin and her eagerness to work with Edward, Elizabeth did feel that usual twinge of embarrassment as they retired to the studio. She knew the feeling well from her visits to the baths: no matter how welcoming the warm water and dear friends, she was still taking off all her clothes in public, and the body shame of her youth, though defeated, was never to be forgotten. Factoring in a platonic male friend who would remain fully clothed and who would be looking directly at her for some time, this was to be a unique experience indeed!

Nevertheless, Elizabeth betrayed no reservations as Agnes locked the door behind them and Edward proceeded to his easel to set up shop. Indeed, it was now Agnes' turn to look uncomfortable. "Would you prefer that I leave, Elizabeth?" she asked.

"Hardly!" Elizabeth said. "We've got all afternoon to get to know one another more, after all."

"Yes, and I would just as soon have you here for company as well," Edward said. "The better for us all, I think." To Elizabeth he added, "We set up a screen back in the corner, if you'd like to go back there to undress, and there's a robe you can use to cover up until I'm ready to paint."

"Thank you, Edward, but that won't be necessary." Standing off to the side of the room but in full view of her friends, Elizabeth slipped her shoes off and began unbuttoning her blouse. "I find postponing the inevitable in these situations only adds to the discomfort rather than easing it, and of course I would not have agreed to this were I not comfortable with it in the first place."

"These situations?" Edward asked with surprise, though politely he looked at his canvas rather than at Elizabeth. "You have done things like this before, have you?"

"I am a frequent visitor to the baths in the city," Elizabeth reminded him. "I believe you have heard of that from my friends," she added with a grin as she removed her blouse and reached back to unbutton her skirt.

"Oh! Yes, of course," Edward said. "I suppose I did not think of that in the same way I think of this. But perhaps I should have."

While Edward avoided looking at Elizabeth as she undressed, Agnes did not. Standing nervously by the locked door, she was torn between admiration of Elizabeth's confidence and jealousy at her beauty and poise, irritation at her nudity in the presence of Agnes' true love and mild relief that Edward showed no untoward interest in her. As Elizabeth stepped out of her skirt, Agnes could not resist speaking up at the sight of her new friend in her lacy lingerie. "I say, Elizabeth, those short pants are adorable."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, looking down at them herself. "They're called panties. I find the name rather silly and girly myself, but they are far more comfortable than old fashioned underpants. Quite popular among the ladies at the baths, too." As usual, Elizabeth was painfully aware that her abundant pubic hair showed through the panties, visible both through the pale cloth and along the leg holes, a look she did not like. But she also recalled that both Edward and Agnes were both aware and approving of her hairiness.

"I might like a pair myself," Agnes said with a shy smile. "I quite agree that the old style are so horribly dowdy."

"There is a shop in the city," Elizabeth told her as she unfastened her brassiere. "I can take you there if you like. The woman there knows me quite well."

"That would be lovely, thanks!" Agnes felt ridiculously bashful of a sudden, though she was fully clothed and Elizabeth was almost naked now. She was not sure why, but she did find herself once again envying Elizabeth's evident comfort with herself; surely she could achieve that as well. If only Edward would show more interest in seeing her in this light! But that would come with marriage, she had been led to believe.

Edward, for his part, showed no sign of titillation as Elizabeth pulled her panties down and revealed her huge bush. Agnes would have appreciated this, but she was unaware of it in the moment as her own eyes were focused on Elizabeth. Having heard the rumours, she was eager to learn if they were true; and they were. If anything, Elizabeth's triangle was even larger than Agnes had imagined. There she stood before the younger woman and her fiancé now, unabashed and feminine and quite original, a work of art waiting to be captured on canvas.

The shock of the moment having passed just as quickly and easily as it always did at the baths, Elizabeth smiled back at Agnes and pranced over to the couch, where she sat back and put her feet up. "So here I am in all my glory," she announced. "I hope it's as artistically pleasing as you had heard."

"Oh, Elizabeth, you're beautiful," Agnes said, now coming to sit in the armchair she had set by the couch, just out of Edward's line of sight. With the ice broken, she was now eager for a closer look.

"Thank you!" Elizabeth, having endured no small amount of misery in her school days for being different, never tired of hearing such things.

"I quite agree," said Edward, who had finally stepped out from behind his canvas. "This shall be a lovely painting, indeed." He came to the couch and fussed around with the pillows and afghans, adjusting them to his liking and turning back to the window several times to assess the light. He also asked Elizabeth to shift a time or two to strike the right pose; but to the great appreciation of both women, he was careful never to touch her.

Agnes allowed a nervous laugh at his close proximity and the awkward situation, but Elizabeth felt no self-consciousness. She was already enjoying the attention and the sense of stardom; and taking her role seriously, she followed Edward's directions carefully. She did allow for a glance at his trousers to admire the inevitable bulge in them; but to her surprise there was none. His face likewise betrayed no titillation, though he had agreed with Agnes that she was beautiful; rather, it was all business. It was then Elizabeth began to ponder a seed of wonder that Agnes had planted in her mind the day before, with her comments on how stiff and formal Edward's love was. That, combined with Edward's rebellious artistic posture and a certain unorthodox flair in his appearance, had planted a bit of suspicion in Elizabeth's mind, and his reaction to her body added a great deal to that idea.

It would not do, of course, to trouble Agnes' mind with such concerns at a moment like that one. Though her heart ached for her new friend and the unpleasant surprise that likely awaited her, Elizabeth held her tongue as well as her pose while Edward settled himself at the canvas and began painting her image. As he would not be working on her face for quite some time, Edward told the ladies they were welcome to chat as long as Elizabeth did not move anything save her lips.

And chat they did. Agnes, so young and naïve on that sunny afternoon, was still very much in awe of Elizabeth's self-confidence, and so she had many very personal questions and comments. Elizabeth answered each one without hesitation, beginning with Agnes' query about whether she mightn't be terribly embarrassed at the moment. "My friend, I find the shock of being seen in the nude passes quite quickly. Now that you and Edward have seen every inch of my body, it is not as though you are going to discover more of my secrets with each new glance!"

"I should be pleased to be so comfortable as that when we visit the baths," Agnes said.

"You shall be, I promise," Elizabeth reassured her.

"Tell me, Elizabeth," Agnes went on, treading uneasily, "Just how did you learn to be so comfortable with your body? I must confess I am quite envious, and I hope I can follow in your footsteps."

And so Elizabeth, who literally had nothing to hide that afternoon, told Agnes all about her long journey to loving her unique body. The initial awareness that she was unusually hairy down below, the rude awakening at school that confirmed that characteristic in no uncertain terms, the fruitless battle to conform to the other girls' appearance, the slow acceptance that she was different, and how she had overcome the taunts and abuse with time. Finally there was the triumphant arrival of adulthood and her move to Westfordshire City and the pleasant discovery that so many of the men here found her hidden charms irresistible. She capped off the epic with an indulgent summary of her meeting Jonathan and becoming best friends with Irene as well, and the victory over her changing room bully, Tamara, some months before, that had cemented her bond with Jonathan and Irene and Benjamin as well. Though Agnes had never met Irene or Benjamin and had only seen Jonathan from a distance, she felt as though she knew them all well when the tale was finally told. By the time Edward had to call off the conversation so he could paint Elizabeth's face, Agnes was swimming in wonderful intimate details of her friend's life story. She was also deeply inspired to follow her lead on striking out on her own terms in the wide world and bowing to no one else's expectations. Elizabeth, though naked and utterly vulnerable, was an immensely powerful woman from where Agnes sat.

"Such a beautiful story," Agnes said. "You ought to write it down." Elizabeth being unable to respond, Agnes continued, "I hope you do not object if I write some of it down. I would love to have some of those stories to look back on later."

Just as Jonathan had not told Irene and Benjamin about the painting session, Elizabeth had not told Agnes or Edward of her love's reaction to it. Now, unable to speak or move for the time being, she found herself thinking of the matter. She was glad she had not told Agnes, for that was one topic which she did not care to discuss with anyone else, much less have the younger woman record it in her journals. In the necessary silence that now prevailed, Elizabeth had to admit that she was still angry and rather hurt by his reaction. This too would pass, she was sure; but why must he be so insecure? Would this continue as long as their relationship did? Would it cripple the relationship? Elizabeth did not wish to dwell on that. But neither could she defeat the uncertainty in her mind and her heart, not completely.

At long last, Edward set down his brush and announced, "Delightful, Elizabeth. We are done here."

"You've completed the entire painting?" Elizabeth asked, neither moving nor making any effort to cover up her body.

Edward chuckled, "Oh, no, that will take quite some time yet. But I have your image captured well enough that you need not lie there any longer."

"A word to the wise, Elizabeth, do not expect him to show you the painting one moment before he considers it finished," added Agnes.

"She's right," Edward confirmed. "No one looks at my works in progress. But I shall be delighted to show it to you once it is complete. In private, of course!" he added with a nervous laugh as he came out from behind the easel.

"In private, naturally," Elizabeth repeated with a grin. "I say, it is a queer feeling indeed to imagine people hundreds of years from now might be looking at me in the nude. And yet, I find it exhilarating as well!" As if to drive that point home, Elizabeth sat up and stretched out her arms and legs, but still made no effort to cover up. "For all that, though, I should be somewhat selective as to who among my acquaintances shall see it," she added. "If it were up to me in any case." Still enjoying her turn in the intimate spotlight, Elizabeth finally stood up and sauntered casually to where she had left her clothes. Edward was washing his brushes with his back to her, and though he had ample opportunity to sneak a last look at her body, he did not do so.

He did, though, invite her back for another session. "If you have the patience for another round, I'd be delighted to paint you again," he said.

"I work during the day," Elizabeth said, "But some evenings this week would be fine."

"Wonderful, then," he said. "Agnes, I trust you shall join us as well?"

"Of course," Agnes said.

"Edward," Elizabeth said. "Pardon my impertinence, but have you considered painting Agnes? Clothed, I mean!" she added hastily.

Edward and Agnes laughed together, not unkindly. "We have discussed as much," Edward replied, "But I doubt my ability to do her justice, given how familiar we are with one another."

"Oh, it's not that!" Agnes said. "I just don't have the patience to sit still for so long, even fully dressed."

"That's a pity," Elizabeth said, regarding Agnes as she buttoned up her blouse. "I think you'd make a lovely picture, myself."

Agnes looked thrilled at the compliment, and she cast a gaze at Edward. He did not respond.

Elizabeth did not sleep well that night. The problem may have been a lingering rush of nerves from the painting session, or soreness at Jonathan, or likeliest of all, both. In the event, Monday morning was rainy and chilly and Elizabeth found that an all too strong match for her lethargic mood. There was also, as usual, a heavy load of work awaiting her after the weekend. That at least meant she had plenty of work to keep her mind off her spat with Jonathan. The one bright point was that she and Agnes had made plans for the baths that evening, always a dependable antidote for bad moods and bad weather. After dashing off an invitation to Irene to join them that evening and calling the courier, it was all business. She drank even more tea than usual to keep herself as alert as possible, and managed a productive morning with her personal demons mostly at bay.

Just before lunch, a pleasant surprise offered the first promise of a change in her mood. A courier rapped at her office door, and Elizabeth looked up sleepily to see the man setting down a carefully wrapped parcel on her desk. After signing and tipping the courier, she opened the box to find a single red rose and a lemon tart from the bakery just down the block from her office – her favourite flower and her favourite snack. The sight brought a genuine smile to Elizabeth's face for the first time that morning. It could only be Jonathan.

As she opened the note tucked under the tart, she saw that it was indeed Jonathan.

My dearest Elizabeth, please forgive my insecurity. You deserve all the joy your beauty can bring you in this lifetime, and sometimes I do forget how long and hard you struggled to realize and accept that very beauty. So, too, do I forget how accommodating you are to my own needs and my limits. I am sorry I allowed myself to be so consumed with insecurity about all that on Saturday. Communication cannot always be as easy as it should be, even between two soul-mates such as ourselves, but a conversation with Irene and Benjamin set me right. Sometimes we need our friends to tell us what is right before our eyes! I can only hope you understand.

Love always,

Jonathan

Elizabeth's heart was aflutter with relief and forgiveness, and with lunch hour approaching, she gave serious thought to surprising Jonathan at his office for a joyous reunion. She wanted to discuss opportunities for Agnes with him in any event, and with their newfound goodwill, perhaps there would be some good news to share with Agnes and Irene that night at the baths...Irene! Elizabeth read the note again. "A conversation with Irene and Benjamin"?! The insensitive fool had told their most intimate friends about the painting before she had had a chance to do so! Elizabeth trusted Irene and Benjamin completely, of course, but it was her news to share, not Jonathan's! How dare he?