Helena Harker - Art of Desire

Art of Desire

HelenaHarker

When Jenna runs into a former student she used to have acrush on, she decides to make her lusty fantasies a reality. Justin is studyingFine Arts in university, and when he asks Jenna to pose nude for a sculpture,her inner cougar tells her to go for it. But while Jenna cant wait to teachhim how to pleasure an older woman, Justin turns the tables and decides toteach her the art of patience.

Art of Desire

Helena Harker

Chapter One

His arctic-blue eyes met mine, and shivers of recognitiondanced through me.

I hadnt seen him in a year, but it felt like only days. Asgorgeous as ever, Justin arched his brows in surprise, giving me a shy smilebefore pouring red wine into two long-stemmed glasses.

So he worked as a bartender in a hotel restaurant. Maybe Idask him for a Sex on the Beach or better yet, a Screaming Orgasm. I grinned.Still eyeing his dirty-blond hair, neatly trimmed beard and square jawGod,Id love to trail my fingers along that jawI walked to the bar, swept myshort ruffled skirt under me and sat down. Long, black hair fell past myshoulders. I tucked a few strands behind my ear, glad Id taken extra time thismorning to apply Bold Bordeaux, my favorite shade of lipstick, and matching eyeshadow.

Hey, scrumptious, I wanted to say, but opted for amore acceptable, Hi, Justin, how have you been? My teeth snagged on my lowerlip, and butterflies came alive in my stomach. Why the hell was I this nervous?

Because hes half your age, my conscience snapped. Andin case youve forgotten, hes your student.

Former student, my inner cougar growled back. Hegraduated last June, remember?

Hi, Mrs. Fall

Jenna! I corrected him. No need for formalities,especially since they reminded me of my age. Im not your teacher anymore.

Jenna, he said slowly, savoring every syllable as itrolled off his tongue. He returned the bottle to its shelf and offered me thewine list. Great to see you. Im going to the University of Montreal now. Istarted a massage therapy program last summer, but I quit. Needed somethingmore intellectually stimulating.

Oh I could stimulate you in all kinds of ways, thecougar inside me purred.

In my media class, hed always made insightful commentsabout current events, and he eagerly dissected social issues. University suitedhim better than massage school. Although massage school had its perks. Ipictured myself lying on a table, a towel draped over me from the waist down,Justins oiled palms sliding down my back, and then creeping under the towel,reaching all the way to my ass. In long, firm strokes, his hands glided upward,along my spine, past my shoulders, his thumbs working at the muscles, meltingthe tension at the base of my neck. Another smooth descent, his touch making mewet, his index finger slipping into my crack, still lower, until it dipped intomy moist folds. My definition of bliss.

The waitress whisked the wineglasses off the bar. Except fortwo other women chatting away in cozy armchairs by the window, the place wasempty. Good. We had privacy.

Running my fingers along the gold chain at my neck, I asked,What program are you in?

Fine Arts.

Photography? In one of his oral presentations, hediscussed depictions of the female form, and showed the class a few photos hedtaken of a nude model. Tasteful shots, I had to admit. He had talent.

Im mostly into lifecasting.

Whats that? I opened the wine list and pretended to lookthrough it, gliding my red fingernail along a blur of names.

Casts of live models that are made into sculptures. Imcompleting a series. His face lit up and he spoke faster, clearly passionateabout his creations. Would you like to see?

Of course. Pushing the wine list aside, I placed my elbowson the edge of the bar and leaned forward.

I set up a website to post pics of my art. Hopefully, I cansell a few pieces to help cover the cost of materials and tuition. He reachedinto his pocket for his cell phone, punched in a few keys, and showed me asculpture of a womans torso, including the lower half of her face. Her armsmodestly covered her breasts, and her chin turned shyly to one side.

Breathtaking. Its so lifelike.

Thanks, he said, beaming. Its my best casting work sofar. There are more.

As he handed me the phone, our fingertips touched, and atingle of electricity raced up my arm. After fifteen years of teaching, Justinwas my first crush. I loved his humor, intelligence, maturity and irreverence.Hed made quite an impression. The fact that he was forbidden fruit made himall the more delectable. Every week, Id looked forward to my media class,because I knew hed be sitting in the back row, paying attention to every wordI said.

The way he used to look at me sometimes, I wondered if hefelt the same way. Did he have a thing for me too? Did he fantasize about methe way I did about him? When I curled up in bed at night and pulled the sheetsover my bare skin, Id think of Justin. My hand would slide down to my wetpussy, and then to my clit, making it slippery with my juices. I imaginedkissing his lips, plunging my tongue into his eager mouth. Overcome by lust, hekissed me back, pressing his body against mine.

Forbidden fantasies. One hundred percent taboo.

Now that hed graduated from high school, I could make amove.

No you wont, my conscience nagged. No sex withyoung men who used to be in your classes. Its unethical. Its immoral. Hellbrag to all his friends that he banged the teacher, and your reputation will bescrewed.

Id love to be screwed, my cougar snarled.

I flipped through more sculptures of womens bodies.Sensual. Carnal. Sexy. Flirtatious. Hed captured an amazing range of moods andposes. Is it difficult to find women to model for you?

Not really. Justin smiled. Its all in the approach. Ifyou make a woman feel good about herself, and explain that the sculpture is theexpression of her inner goddess, she often agrees.

You phrase it so eloquently. Its that easy?

Its that easy. He shrugged. Most of the time. Some needmore convincing than others. And its very important to make the model feelcomfortable during the casting process.

With his lean, wiry build, hed make a damn fine sculpturehimself. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a pale-gray shirt. The top threebuttons were undone, and hed rolled up his sleeves. Sunlight streamed throughthe window, kissing his smooth, suntanned skin and the fine, golden hairs onhis forearms. He had an artists long, slender fingers. I wanted to touch himso badly. I wanted him to touch me. My pussy ached, and it took all myself-control to stop from rubbing my thighs together.

Since you dont seem interested in the wine list, why dontI fix you a cocktail?

Sure, Id love a cocktail. I bit back the urge to addextra emphasis to cock. How about a

Dont tell me. He held a finger to his lips. Let meguess.

You know, Im very selective when it comes to what Idrink. No beer, no straight-up hard liquor, no wine except for the occasionalspritzer, maybe champagne every now and then, with a maraschino cherry at thebottom of the glass. Cocktails, now I was partial to those. Sweet and soothing,they swept a girls cares away and transported her to a world where problemsdidnt exist.

His initial shyness vanished and cool self-assuredness tookover. Well, if youre selective, Ill have to give this extra thought. Asmile played on his lips. A good bartender can anticipate the needs of hispatrons.

Skeptical, I raised my eyebrows. Can he? As much as I hada thing for Justin, I didnt think he could read my mind to discover that Iwanted a margarita.