Vixens - The Triple Story 02

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An escort visits date number two.
1.1k words
3.46
14k
2

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 07/04/2012
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Late Afternoon—

Dealing with artists typically involves puzzling instructions. This one prefaced his date with Lissette with a peculiar email. Beyond demanding, Lissette blinked when she read it:

"Skirt—short—Pleats/Catholic school-girlish—Red— Sheer blouse—bra/none—red panties, brief—lace—cameo necklace with red choker collar/pick item up at Pandora's on 7th Avenue—Any modification nullifies our scheduled rendezvous. If unwilling to follow instructions, stay home—will have Vixens send a different girl.

At five, Lissette cautiously stepped off the elevator and into the studio of Heinrich von Freytag. Her eyes, flushed and swollen from her earlier encounter with the beer-drinking Brazilian pisser, scanned the popular artist's astounding displays.

Sketched in charcoal, his canvases, gargantuan, extended two stories from floor to ceiling. Provocative and swaying via some unseen breeze, they hung from hooks high up at the ceiling. Above them were translucent skylights furnishing every artist's dream—ample natural light.

His models were strikingly arrogant and imposingly sensuous, their yawning vaginas oozing torrents of creamy semen. Their pouting vaginal lips and prolapsed rectums suggested to Lissette that each had only just finished servicing multiple partners.

"Rebekah! You fucking cunt! Cease your infernal squirming!" The artist's voice, riveting Lissette's attention, stabbed—insisted. Stopping mid-step, she stared at the object of the rude man's irritation—a naked woman, whose male partner, was equally nude.

His models lay coupled on a thick bed of straw. The artist, obviously rushed and apparently experimenting with some novel technique, frantically sketched white chalk on a black background.

The woman, though arrestingly beautiful, was unlike ordinary models. She was not lean, nor did she sport the usual implants. She was cherubic, Renaissance-like, with lovely natural breasts and womanly curves. Despite her compromising position and evident discomfort, she radiated a virgin's innocence. To Lissette, the artist's interest in her to play the role of 'Eve' was a no-brainer.

Something bothered the model. She struggled to keep her legs parted. Strangely, every few seconds, and to the artist's near-violent chagrin, she screeched and snapped her legs shut, at which point Heinrich raged at her, throwing down his chalk and screaming epithets for varying the complicated and uncomfortable pose he labored to capture.

Lissette, surveying the little scene, watched as the woman struggled to depict the Bible's, First Lady. Awkwardly, she held a half-eaten, highly polished apple up to her counterpart—an edible-looking Adam. Slightly older, he sported muscular arms and a long, slender, rigid penis. It appeared to Lissette that Adam's task was to lie still, to gaze wantonly at the forbidden fruit, as Eve's throat encased his substantial erection.

The woman seemed comfortable with her nakedness. She did not react when Lissette suddenly appeared at the studio entrance. However, she continuously squirmed, fidgeted, her legs, for no apparent reason, and as if controlled by some external force, snapping shut.

"Rebekah! You stupid bitch! FOR THE LAST TIME, STAY STILL! Your squirming is fucking up my sketch!"

Tears poured from her eyes, and in frustration, she groaned and, shoving him away, popped Adam's cock free. Standing, she shouted back at the artist, complaining loudly, "He won't stay hard! You try balancing this stupid apple while dealing with this God-blessed snake!"

Dropping the forbidden fruit and to Lissette's wide-eyed astonishment, the model, frantically reaching between her legs, seized the glistening tail of a wriggling black snake imprisoned in her birth canal! Yanking the writhing reptile from its sinful captivity, she flung it halfway across the room, where it landed at the terrified prostitute's feet before slinking into hiding under the nearest chair.

"The fucking thing bit my cervix!" she vehemently squealed. Storming away from the makeshift Garden of Eden, she announced, "I'm taking a break! I need to smoke a joint."

As she walked off, the divine-looking Adam reached under the chair, grabbed up the slithering creature, and followed after her. "It's only a rat snake, Rebekah!" he loudly reminded. "The thing's harmless!"

"Creativity resumes in half an hour, people," Heinrich called to them. "And find a different apple. This one's rusting."

Neither model responded, and the artist turned to face the shaken call girl, trembling after witnessing the snake's mind-blowing extraction. Calmly, he addressed Lissette: "I like red," he said, his sharp eyes darting her up and down. "And I see you picked up the choker I selected. That's good. I've forgotten your name; what is it again?"

"Lissette."

"Lissette. Well, Lissette, there's an extra thousand in it for you if you dispense with the goofy condom rule your agency insists on. Rubbers are barbaric. I don't use them. Getting laid is getting laid. Condoms amount to little more than masturbation."

Having observed his handling of the naked models, Lissette accepted the artist was a man of passionate feeling—that he would send her packing if she insisted he wear a condom. The message was clear: no condom, no encounter.

Mindful of Eileen's official "condoms only" rule, Lissette did what girls do; she caved, rationalizing that fucking the acclaimed artist was not the same as fucking just anybody; his fame meant the usual rules did not apply. "OK, but...but," she stuttered, "no snakes. I...I don't...I mean, I don't do snakes. Is...that OK?"

Having negotiated safe sex away, he looked Lissette over a second time, nodded agreeably, straightened the cameo of her choker, and motioned her to lean over a nearby pool table.

"There," he said, "Ass in the air—face to the felt."

Lissette did as he asked, and from her exposed position, she found herself looking squarely at a half-empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Black resting at the other end of the table. "I'd ask you to join me for a drink, but from down there, I doubt you could swallow."

Lissette listened as he poured, sipped, and, upon moving behind her, unbuckled. With conversation already a thing of the past, he lifted her pleated skirt, exposed her wide hips, gently worked her panties to mid-thigh, slipped himself into her, then stayed perfectly still, all the while sipping his precious scotch.

He felt good, and Lissette liked having the artist's cock inside her. Though from her prone position, she had not so much as glimpsed its size, experience said he was big, his self-confidence, dominating.

Heinrich seemed content to stay put, barely moving through the next few minutes. Finally, she heard a muffled grunt, felt his steaming sperm pour into her, after which he pulled out, zipped, and handed her a box of tissues, then frantically sketched her as she wiped away the torrent of semen running down her thighs.

"Tell me what you think?" he said, reversing the sketchpad for her to see. Impressed and pulling up her red panties, a smiling Lissette nodded agreement. It had taken him only seconds to come and to create a breathing image of a hooker's post-fuck cleanup.

"You're awesome," was all she could think to say.

"I know," he said magisterially—so are you! I liked fucking you.

After affixing his signature, he tore the page away and handed it to her along with a packet of hundreds. Doing an about-face, he marched from the room shouting, "Listen up, people! Get me that satanic snake! Let's get to work!"

It was five o'clock. Lissette let herself out.

To be continued...

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AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago

weird...

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