Isabella Awakening Ch. 03

"He has been very kind to me," said Isabella, selecting her words carefully, "but he is very new acquaintance. We met only a few days ago, after our ship had left Naples. His nature and his mission are both somewhat of a mystery to me, I'm afraid. But you seem to know him well, M. Angostini." It was Isabella's turn to watch for reactions.

"Oh, do call me Beatrice please Isabella. We should waste no time with formalities. I have warmed to you instantly." Her eyes studied Isabella, almost as man's would. "And yes, Thomas and I are old friends. He was a tutor at my school in France and we have maintained contact ever since."

Beatrice tucked her feet up on the couch, allowing her dress to ride up, exposing her bare calves and knees. Isabella immediately noted her tanned, completely hairless legs and was somewhat embarrassed at her own woolen stockings covering her own legs that had gone unshaven for many months.

"Thomas told me that you enjoy books and have a gift for languages," Beatrice interrupted. "Perhaps you would like to see my library?"

Isabella enthusiastically agreed. She had never known a woman who had her own library, except perhaps the nuns at the convent school.

They left the drawing room, Beatrice taking Isabella's hand and leading her down the wood paneled central hallway to another heavy door. She slid her hand along the top of the doorframe and found a large brass key that she inserted into the complex looking lock.

The door opened on a dark room. The air was dry and stuffy. Beatrice moved through the darkness to open a curtain covering the room's only window, small and facing north. The weak light from the window revealed a completely book-lined room of about twenty feet by thirty feet and at least twelve feet high. In the middle of the room was a large desk, itself littered with leather-bound volumes, and beside it a wide lectern of the type used in monasteries for the transcription of the old hand-written texts.

"Forgive the clutter and the stuffiness, Isabella." Said Beatrice, arms spread wide as if presenting a great masterpiece to a student. "This is my great pride and joy – thirty years of collecting, cataloguing, translation and research."

Isabella was greatly impressed. Even before she started to scan the titles on the shelves, she knew she was in the presence not only of great learning, but of a woman who loved the written word even more than she did.

"Oh, Beatrice," she said in genuine humility, "I am amazed and awed by such a sight."

Beatrice smiled broadly, her instinct about Isabella being a fellow traveler on life's mysterious back roads being fully confirmed.

"My dear, I would love to guide you through my collection – my garden of delight, as I call it – but I fear I would only overwhelm you with my own passion. Better that you browse alone for a while and let me fill in any gaps when you are done."

"I could never consume even a synopsis of this collection in under week," replied Isabella. "But I am eager to explore."

With that, Beatrice lit a lantern at the desk and made space for Isabella to stack volumes of interest. She then left, saying she would return in an hour.

That hour was perhaps the most electrifying Isabella had ever spent – except for sex of course - but she did feel that warm tingle in her loins and shortness of breath that accompanied all her moments of heightened awareness and great passion.

These books and journals were of a kind that Isabella had never seen before or even known existed. There were treatises and novels, travelogues and manuals, poetry and plays, histories and fictions, mostly illustrated with drawings or paintings – all revolving about one central theme, the same theme that was the centre of Isabella's own life – passion. Passion as lust, passion as love, passion as spiritual drive – all of it erotic and inspiring to Isabella. Some of the books were in French, some in Italian or Spanish, several older texts were in Latin and Greek and some of the most ornate and finely illustrated were in languages and scripts Isabella had never seen; English, Arabic, Indian and possibly even Chinese.

Isabella browsed and read and inspected the detailed illustrations as if caught in whirlwind of the senses. Naked men and women, joined in sexual embrace or dancing, or simply displaying their genitals and touching each others' where everywhere. Outrageous and, Isabella would have thought, impossible scenes of abandonment and lust. Couples and larger groups engaged in every imaginable, and even unimaginable, scene of copulation, oral gratification and sexual manipulation. Some of the scenes were reminiscent of torture, except for the look of ecstasy on the faces of the participants. Isabella found herself torn between turning the pages and touching herself.

When Beatrice finally returned she found her new friend ravenously reading a detailed description of a Roman orgy in which men and woman sucked or fucked each other regardless of their sex. She was clearly flushed and her breathing was heavy.

"I am sorry to interrupt you, Isabella, but I thought you might need a break – and some air by the look of you," said Beatrice, beaming. "I gather you found something of interest?"

Isabella looked up, red from both embarrassment and her own physical excitement. She decided instantly to confide in Beatrice and drop any pretence of naivety.

"Oh Beatrice, this is so wonderful! I have never seen anything like this. It is powerful, rich, exceptional. Thank you so much for letting me see your garden. I am so.." she had difficulty describing her own state.

"Aroused?" suggested Beatrice. "Perhaps, awakened?"

"Yes, both of those. This is so overwhelming."

"Come with me, my dear. We'll cool off together."

Beatrice led her from the library, locking the door and hiding the key as they left. She held Isabella's slightly trembling hand and took her through the sitting room onto a broad tiled terrace that ran along the south side of the house. To their right was a large sunken bath, also tiled, filled with water on which floated flowers and hundreds of rose petals. Beside the bath, glasses of wine and platters of fruit had been set as if in expectation of a party.

Isabella looked at Beatrice quizzically but, as with her first encounter with Anton all those years ago, something or someone rose within her and she saw the course of the next few hours with absolute clarity.

"Join me," said Beatrice softly, slipping her dress over her bust and wriggling free its skirts. She was naked. Tanned, smooth and completely hairless, even her mons was totally bare, just like a little girl, except that the slit at the top of her pussy was clearly visible and slightly swollen.

Despite her determination to pursue this new experience, Isabella felt a little embarrassed.

"Oh, you are truly beautiful, Beatrice," she said. "I am afraid that my body is unprepared for … "

"Don't be silly, my love," replied Beatrice, moving closer and placing her hands gently on Isabella's red cheeks. "Let me undress you."

As Beatrice unbuttoned and unhooked Isabella's blouse and skirt, Isabella squirmed with both expectation and continued embarrassment. "I haven't shaved for ages," she said coyly.

Beatrice laughed and continued to remove her clothing; casting aside Isabella's chemise and tights and helping her step out of her drawers. "My lovely, you are too beautiful to require such artifice," said Beatrice admiring her still young body. "But I would love to shave you if that is what you would you would like."

Before Isabella could answer, Beatrice pressed her mouth to hers and held one beautiful breast while pulling her close with the other arm. The press of flesh on flesh and the passion of Beatrice's kiss made Isabella forget her shyness. She returned the kiss with equal fervor and brought her own hands to Beatrice's body, holding and caressing her hips and breasts and bottom.

Beatrice broke the embrace and, holding Isabella by the hand again, stepped into the bath. Isabella followed and they both sat down, pressed together, on the wide step, their arms re-encircling each other and their lips meeting. The water was luke-warm and the scent of the rose petals drifted over them. Their hands became more adventurous and Isabella became aware of Beatrice's fingers finding their way to her bush and stoking the lips of her cunny. Isabella did the same, enjoying the feeling of the soft, bare flesh and of Beatrice opening herself to the touching and probing of her fingers. Beatrice bent to take a breast into her mouth, her tongue playing over Isabella's erect nipple while her hand gently stroked the flesh around her clit.

Isabella felt herself letting go, sliding her body forward onto Beatrice's hand and letting her head rest on the edge of the bath. She moaned and let the flood of sensations engulf her, closing her eyes and feeling Beatrice's fingers enter her fully. Beatrice supported her upper body, still sucking on one breast, while pushing her fingers rhythmically in and out of Isabella's cunt. Isabella was almost floating and welcomed the building orgasm as it began its journey from the core of her being to her belly, breasts, thighs and her glorious, throbbing wet cunt. Her back arched, she called out and surrendered totally to Beatrice, finally writhing as wave after wave of release gripped her like a wild animal.

As the waves subsided, Beatrice lowered her onto the step, held her face in her hands and kissed her gently. "You are a remarkable woman, Isabella," she whispered.

Isabella returned the kiss and moved her own hands to Beatrice's vagina and breasts. "Please, let me return the favour," she pleaded.

"Of course, my lovely," said Beatrice, climbing onto the edge of the edge of the bath. "But wouldn't you like me to shave you first?". She opened her thighs to show Isabella the naked softness of her cunt lips.

Isabella couldn't wait. With both hands, she pushed Beatrice's knees apart and plunged her face into her open bald pussy. Her tongue darted and pressed and her lips sucked and caressed, covering Beatrice with kisses from her anus to her clit. Isabella, of course, knew instinctively how to please a woman and set her mouth and fingers to work to bring Beatrice to a climax without mercy.

Beatrice submitted willingly, lying back and supporting herself on her elbows, rubbing her breasts while Isabella concentrated all her attention between her thighs. Isabella's fingers found her anus to be as slick with juices as her cunt and slowly inserted one, then two fingers, pumping them in and out as Beatrice's sphincter relaxed to grant them free access. Meanwhile, the fingers of Isabella's other hand were opening Beatrice's cunt and her tongue gave her clit a thorough but gentle wash. Beatrice did not take long to come. Isabella felt the contractions start deep in her pussy, like a giant tongue trying to expel her fingers as she arched her back and let out a long groan of joy.

Removing her fingers, she placed her mouth completely over Beatrice's cunt and sucked and tongued her hole while maintaining the rhythmic fucking of her arsehole with the fingers of her other hand. As both holes spasmed, Isabella received a flood of warm fluid, squirting powerfully into her mouth and Beatrice's thighs closed tightly keeping her pressed there to receive the entire load. It took almost a minute for Beatrice to finish coming and to release her grip on Isabella's head. She collapsed back onto the patio floor and rubbed her pussy and tits in satisfaction, cooing and mewing and rolling her head.

Isabella too fell backwards, resting her arms along the edge of the bath and savouring the sights and tastes she was experiencing for the first time. She had brought another woman to orgasm, and she felt wonderful. The power and the intimacy and shared delight coursed through her like a warm glow of a powerful wine. This is real; she thought to herself, this is my life.

Beatrice rose on one arm and looked at her with even greater affection than before. "You are truly one of us," she said quietly, almost to herself, then rose, stepped to the edge of the bath and leant down to plant a kiss on Isabella's mouth, still wet with Beatrice's own juices.

They dried each other off with towels that someone, perhaps Beatrice herself or the servant girl Carla, had earlier placed on a nearby chair. Neither was in a hurry to dress and they sat naked, stroking and kissing each other on a couch while they ate the fruit on the platters and drank their wine. They talked of Beatrice's library and her work translating texts. Isabella learnt that many of the books had come a long way, many from the east, to Beatrice's library via traders. Her copies were sent to other similar libraries in Europe and India by the same means. Isabella was fascinated and wanted to know everything – who were the collectors, how did the libraries operate and most of all, how could she gain access to such treasures, and even contribute her language skills, if not her own writing, to such a magnificent and worthy endevour.

Before she could get many answers, Beatrice rose and said that it was time for Isabella to be shaved. She went into the house for a few minutes and returned carrying a large bowl of obviously hot water and a blue, satin covered box about a foot long. She arranged towels over a long narrow table and told Isabella to come and lie down. Isabella gulped down the last of her wine and obeyed, stretching out on the table face down and enjoying the hot sun on her skin.

Beatrice wiped down her legs with a washcloth and used her hands to apply a thick layer of oil to each calf. Isabella enjoyed the sensation of Beatrice's hands on her body once more. The older woman then removed a curved razor from the blue box then set to work expertly shaving Isabella's legs in strong steady strokes. When she had finished the backs in inside surfaces of Isabella's calves, she told her to roll over. She repeated the operation, this time smiling occasionally at Isabella as she worked. She told Isabella to raise her arms and with more oil and another, small razor, deftly removed the long dark hairs from Isabella's armpits. It was all over, legs and armpits, in less than five minutes without so much as a nick of her fine olive skin.

"That was easy," smiled Beatrice. "Now for the treasure box."

She had Isabella move down the table and lie on her back again. Beatrice lifted each leg in turn placing Isabella's feet flat on the table and splaying her knees. This left Isabella fully exposed, pussy at the end of the table, where Beatrice now took up a position with oil bottle and a new razor. She applied the oil liberally and rubbed it in, much to Isabella's delight. Her hands were warm and they worked quickly, stretching the skin of her mons and shaving with steady quick strokes.

She worked her way down to the skin around Isabella's clit before she changed to a very small, fine razor. She used this one almost one hair at a time, placing two fingers along Isabella's slit and working down one side and up the other. She was meticulous, no follicle remained unshaved and when she was satisfied with her work, she allowed her fingers to probe Isabella's opening and reapplied oil to the entire area, this time making sure that Isabella enjoyed every minute of it.

But before Isabella could come, she stopped and sat her up. Isabella bent her head to inspect her now naked, glistening pussy and she was ecstatic with the effect.

"Oh, how beautiful it is!" she exclaimed, then running her fingers over and into it she added "and it feels soooooo good too."

"Let's try something," Beatrice smiled wickedly, taking the oil bottle and upending it over her and Isabella's breasts, letting a stream of the thin golden fluid run down their bodies. Still pouring oil she moved close, had Isabella stand against her and rubbed herself vigorously against Isabella's body, smearing the oil thickly over both of them.

"I thought this might be fun," Beatrice smiled. She then escorted Isabella to the towel covered couch and lay down, pulling Isabella on top of her and wrapping her legs around Isabella's body to prevent her sliding to the floor. Isabella responded by grinding her slick breasts into Beatrice's and humping her hips in simulated copulation. They kissed deeply and Beatrice held Isabella tightly and raised her legs, bring their clits into almost direct contact. Isabella increased the rhythm of her hips and felt the heat of both her own and Beatrice's excitement rising. The oil meant they were slipping over each other and had to maintain a tight grip with arms, hands and legs to remain locked together. Both women were giggling wildly. Eventually their wild movements and laughter became too much and Isabella slipped to the floor with a squeal. But before she could recover her dignity, Beatrice was on top of her, legs astride her face and mouth kissing her thighs and quickly finding her cunt.

Isabella's tongue quickly found its own warm, wet place in Beatrice and they consumed each other with urgency and great passion. Within a minute, both were once again tipping over the edge into orgasm. They came together, thrashing and burying their faces in each other's cunt.

It took them both longer to recover this time, rolling apart, panting and throwing their arms wide to fill their lungs. Isabella momentarily imagined, or saw, the scene from above. Two women, naked, satisfied and exhausted, spread-eagled on the tiles of the patio; the towels, oil bottle, wine glasses and the other detritus of their hours of passion littered the scene around them. Isabella smiled, a broad smile of satisfaction and wholeness, and found herself drifting to another plane.

Minutes of glorious silence passed, the sun still illuminating and warming their bodies and the cool of the tiles under them providing delicious counterpoint.

It was Beatrice who stirred first, rising to her knees and bending to Isabella's ear.

"You carriage will be here in half an hour, my darling. I must see to you welfare. And you reputation," she giggled.

Isabella opened her eyes and smiled, lovingly at Beatrice. She pulled her closer and they kissed.

"I suppose I must go," said Isabella a little sadly, herself now rising slowly.

"I'm afraid that is so," replied Beatrice. "Let me bathe you and dress you."

So saying she helped Isabella to her feet and they stepped together into the bath, still warm enough on their skin to be pleasant.

This time, Beatrice took a pot of soap with them and proceeded to lather Isabella from scalp to feet. She rubbed gently, removing every trace of oil and sweat, paying particular attention to her breasts, tummy and sex. Isabella reveled in the attention.

Beatrice rinsed her thoroughly and stepped her out of the bath to dry her with one of the still dry and unsoiled towels. She had Isabella sit in the sun while she vigorously dried and brushed her hair. Finally she opened another bottle of oil, this one lighter in both colour and texture than the one she used earlier. She poured a pool of the pale liquid onto one palm, rubbed her hands together briefly and proceeded to anoint Isabella' feet, legs, pussy and tummy.

"Oh, that is divine," purred Isabella. "It smells like honey."

"Oh, I thought you meant my hands on your body," teased Beatrice. "Yes, it is a special oil from France, steeped in honey from the wildflowers."

She poured more onto her hands and worked it in to Isabella's breasts, neck and arms.

"Something to remember me by," she said. "I will give you a bottle to take with you."

Isabella sighed, "You know it will make me wet every time I use it."

"From what Thomas tells me of you impending marriage, that may be something you need, my dear."

Isabella was shocked that Thomas had spoken of her marriage in such terms to Beatrice and wondered yet again who, and what, he could possibly be.