Requiescat
by Virginia Vaughn
email: virgule@dangerous-minds.com


Early morning sunshine sparkled through the floor to ceiling windows, the
light bathing the Spartan space of the studio.  The odor of paints permeated
the air with their heavy, oily scent.   In the center of the open space was a
stand supporting an enormous canvas and a small table holding a palette and
paints.  Propped along the one glass-free wall was a row of canvases.

Helena glowered at the canvas on the easel. There was little on the black
gessoed surface -- only a violent slash of vermilion to show for nearly an
hour of uninspired contemplation.  Frustrated, she wiped her hands on her
smock and threw down her paintbrush.  This was going nowhere.  The emotion
that made her best works flow just wasn't there for her this morning.  With a
heavy sigh she went to the wet-bar in the corner of the room.  Filling the
basket of the coffee maker with her favorite dark roast blend, she tried to
focus on the problem.  

The answer was simple.  She was feeling too blank and empty this morning, too
lacking in passion to make the effort she wanted.  What was it she wanted? 
Another trademark painting?  Another image to reflect the frustration that
filled her and overflowed her until the outpourings were forced onto the flat,
blank surfaces, covering them with pain and fury? 

The coffee maker trickled to a stop and she filled her cup before walking over
to the windows.  This side of the house faced the expanse of well-tended lawn
and shrubs that covered the back of the property.  Tonio would be here to cut
the grass today.  Elation shivered through her at the thought of the pleasure
to come.

Leaning on the window frame she savored the rich aroma, blowing gently across
the steaming surface of hot dark liquid.  Taking a sip, she pondered how much
time she had before he arrived.  Enough to do a bit of damage.  She set the
cup down and took up palate and brush again, contemplating the single gash of
red across the empty black background. 
 
Perhaps it was the unremitting black -- she had been morbidly depressed when
she'd prepared the canvas.  Marcus had forgotten that it was her birthday. 
Not an enormous blunder, when considered beside the charade that their
marriage had become.  It had still enraged her.  Once again she was 
invisible, ignored.  After swearing to herself as a child she'd never let it
happen again.  The memory fueled her anger and she discarded the brush for a
palette knife scraping a large glob of burnt umber off the palate and flinging
it against the canvas.  Yes, that was what she had felt. . . . 

Forty minutes later Helena was breathless and shaking.  The canvas was a
splattered recipient of her outrage.  Vague shapes formed themselves into
looming figures that danced across the surface in myriad colors: cobalt blue,
severs green, crimson, and oxide yellow.  With a final, exhausted scrape of
the knife she slashed across the width of the canvas, baring the darkness that
dwelt beneath.  She let her breath out with a hiss.  That would do for now.

Scraping the remaining paint off the palette, she cleaned her brushes. 
Following the frugal habits that she'd developed as a student, she always took
particular care with her tools.  The bite of turpentine made her nose wrinkle
and her eyes water.  With a final scrub at her nails, Helena put everything
back in place and tossed a cloth over the painting.

The chug-chug-clatter sound of an ancient VW Bug rolling down the driveway
alerted her that her time was up.  Grabbing the coffee cup, she went to the
window to lean against the frame and watch.  

A tiny shiver of anticipation crawled down her spine and she smiled, lifting
the cup to her lips to take a sip.  With a moue of distaste over the now cold
coffee, Helena set it aside, engrossed in the scene playing out in front of
her.  Tonio carefully unfolded his lanky frame from within the VW.  She was
amazed that he could fit himself into the cramped car. 

Stretching himself lazily like a cat in the late morning sunshine, he was
unbearably beautiful as he flung his arms over his head, the tanned length of
them defined with firm muscle.  His ragged, sleeveless sweatshirt pulled up
over cut-off jeans, giving her a flash of flat, young stomach.  Helena's
breath caught in her throat for a moment as she followed the narrow strip of
fur that trailed down from his navel to disappear behind the waistband of his
shorts.

Shaking his shaggy hair out of his eyes, Tonio dropped his arms and sauntered
around the house to the garden shed.  Once he had disappeared behind the door,
Helena let out the breath she hadn't been aware of holding.  

For a long while she watched greedily as Tonio strode along behind the mower,
circling the lawn in dizzying patterns.  She loved to watch the loose-limbed
swagger.   Marcus had mentioned buying a riding mower earlier in the summer
and she had managed to subtly dissuade him without drawing his suspicions.  

As the sun climbed in the sky and the temperature rose, Tonio abandoned his
sweatshirt.  Helena drank in the sight of the body still showing signs of its
recent departure from adolescence.  Long and youthfully lean, the muscles in
his chest and back were clearly defined in the intense sunlight. 

Helena sighed and plucked at the front of her smock.  It was sticking to her
perspiration damp skin and she decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a break. 
As much as she hated to miss a single instant of watching Tonio, she couldn't
bear the feeling of the sweat trickling down between her breasts and the heat
of the sun pouring through the windows was making her head ache.  

Taking off her smock, she wandered down the hall nude, rolling it into a
careful ball to trap the paint smears on the inside.  With a careless hand
Helena dropped the smock into the hamper and turned to her reflection in the
full-length mirror.  The mirror reflected a perfectly ordinary body, nothing
to disdain, nothing to glory in. 

Her pale skin standing out against the aqua tiles of the shower, she slid the
curtain shut and twisted on  the taps.  The joy of the cool flowing water
cascading over her made her vibrate with delight.  She loved the feeling of
water, of wetness.  Silky soap foam and the friction of the loofah eased the
tension out of her.  

Cupping a hand between her thighs, she worked the rich bubbles into her
carefully groomed pelt.  A single finger reached out to seek the tiny, hidden
nub between the folds her delicate lips.  She stroked around and around the
swelling tip, caressing the slick, smooth skin.  Raising one foot to the edge
of the tub, she opened herself to the caress.  With her other hand she rubbed
circles over her stomach, moving on to cup each breast in turn and gently
pinching her nipples. She imagined larger, tanned hands instead of her own. 
Hands bronzed by the summer sun with long slender fingers, the nails cut blunt
and short.

Taking down the shower massage, Helena adjusted it to a gently pulsating
spray.  Focusing the flow over on her breasts, she alternated the stream over
each sensitized peak.  The subtle vibrations drew a moan from deep in her
throat.  Moving lower, she played the spray over her softly rounded belly,
teasing the tiny puckered navel before aiming the rush of water between her
thighs.
  
This was her favorite.  The water massage was the perfect stimulation; her
soft nether lips fluttered under the pulsing torrent.  The sensation in her
engorged clitoris was almost painfully pleasurable and she gasped and grasped
the wall.  Helena's head dropped forward as she fell into the feeling.  

Her breath came faster and faster.  So good.  Images whirled through her mind. 
Lips, hands, gleaming white teeth, a hot probing tongue. . . .  Eyes closed,
muscles tensing, it was only moments before she climaxed.  

Pulling on her favorite robe, silk with a fitted waist and full flared skirt,
discovered in an antique clothing store, Helen made her way into her bedroom. 
The feminine, rose-colored sanctuary that she'd longed for as a child.  She
and Marcus hadn't shared a room for years.  

In the upper drawer of her nightstand were her favorite toys, the vibrators
and dildos and self-heating lotions that she adored.  Today would be a good
day for the purple dildo, the one with the softly raised bumps and the
ingenious curve that touched all the right spots inside her.  Biting her lower
lip in deep contemplation, she finally decided to add the butterfly vibrator,
perfect in the way it strapped into place, leaving both of her hands free. 
She lovingly laid out the toys and began to unfasten her robe.

The mower that had been droning on in the background suddenly stopped.  Going
to the window she peered out and saw that Tonio had finished cutting and was
dragging out the garden hose to clean the blade.  She stood motionless,
watching while he finished the task and then carefully rewound the hose and
put away the mower.  A  familiar sense of regret swept over her.  Why did this
time always pass by so quickly?  

Surprisingly, Tonio headed toward the house after returning the mower to the
shed.  She hurried out of the bedroom and was almost down the stairs before
she heard his knock.  This was an extraordinary event -- Tonio usually came
and went without a word exchanged between them.  Helena rushed to the kitchen
door, running her hands through her damp hair before opening it.  

Swinging the door wide, she stepped back with a smile.  Tonio stood in the
doorway, shirtless, twisting his sweatshirt in his hands. "Good morning." 

He responded to her greeting with a gentle smile of his own.  "Good morning,
Mrs. Ralston.  Would you mind if I came in and used the bathroom to clean up a
bit before I go?"  Tonio asked in his hushed tenor.

Helena was always entranced by the young man's shyly friendly demeanor and she
waved him inside.  "Helena, please.  I've told you before.  Mrs. Ralston is my
mother-in-law."  

Tonio flushed slightly and nodded -- his eyes flickering over her so swiftly
she almost missed the cautious perusal.  "Helena, then.  I'll remember."  

A delicious shiver ran through her as she led him to the bathroom off the
kitchen.  "Right through here, there's plenty of clean towels and a selection
of soaps in the basket."  

"Bueno, Helena.  I'll just be a moment."

She turned back toward the kitchen, hesitated for a moment, then decided
quickly.  Taking two tall glasses down from the cupboard, she filled them with
crushed ice and her favorite tropical juice blend.  When Tonio emerged from
the bathroom, he was wearing the tattered sweatshirt, his hair slicked back
from his freshly washed face.  

"Would you like something cold to drink, Tonio?  It's a scorcher today -- you
must have worked up quite a thirst."

"That would be good, Mrs....  Helena.  Thank you."  Tonio smiled his tentative
smile and this time his gaze was warm and lingering as he reached out a hand
to take the glass she offered.  Their fingers touched and Helena sucked in her
breath as a tingle of awareness shot through her.  

She watched beneath her eyelashes as Tonio greedily gulped down the cool
juice, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly with each swallow.  The movement of his
throat was mesmerizing, she could barely resist staring.  Her hands ached to
reach out to caress the tanned column of smooth skin.  

Tonio finished the drink and held out the glass, "May I have another, Helena?" 
His eyes were sparkling with secret amusement as her trembling fingers touched
his once again retrieving the glass.  Turning away, she felt the warm,
chocolate gaze on her back as she poured out another measure of juice.  

This time, she boldly met his eyes as she passed him the glass.  "Here you go.
" She was proud of the fact her voice remained steady.  "It's my favorite
blend, passion fruit and guava."  There was no mistaking the caress as his
fingers slipped over hers to take it from her grasp. 

"Passion fruit has always been a favorite of mine."  His smile was still
diffident, but now there was a knowing twist to it.  "I like the taste of
this."  Tonio sipped this time, watching closely as Helena nervously drank her
own juice.

"I see you, you know.  Upstairs in the window watching me every time I work
here." 

Helena gasped.  She set her glass down abruptly, ignoring the splash of bright
red on the counter when the contents sloshed over the rim.  Turning away
again, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I'm an artist....  I watch everything.  I spend a lot of time at those
windows looking at the scenery  -- it's for inspiration."

"You don't look at anything but me when I'm here."  

There was a movement behind her and she realized that Tonio was close enough
to touch her.  He set his glass down beside hers.  There was a spreading
warmth on her shoulder as his other hand settled on it. "You stand there the
whole time, wearing nothing but that short smock -- watching everything I do. 
Why is that, Helena?"  

Tonio's breath fanned the skin on the back of her neck and the tiny hairs at
her nape rose in response.  She shuddered, knowing that he could feel the
trembling where his hand rested on her.  His other hand came to rest on her
hip, his fingers splayed wide across the rounded curve.  Then his touch
shifted as he gently turned Helena around to face him.

"You like to watch me, don't you?  I see your hungry eyes and I feel the heat
of your stare.  It's hotter than the sun that beats down on my back.  It's as
hot as anything I've ever felt.  By the time I'm finished, that heat has
settled inside me and I'm hard for you all day."  

Helena gasped.  What had wrought this change, from shy young man to predator? 
He captured her eyes with his, seeing beyond the surface, delving into the
darkness inside her.  Time moved so slowly she could feel the individual beats
of her heart.  Then Tonio's head dipped down and he captured her open mouth
with his. 

She gasped again and her breath was stolen, pulled from her lungs by the force
of his kiss.  The odd thought that he tasted of licorice and mint rather than
the sweetness of the juice flittered through her mind before she gave up
thinking at all.  For Helena there was no shock, no misgivings, nothing but
the merging of their mouths -- the sweltering wet heat of tongue, palate and
teeth.

His hands pulled her closer, drawing her against his lean frame.  She reveled
in the feeling of his jutting hipbones against the softness of her belly and
the rigid surface of his ribs flattening her breasts.  She thrust her pelvis
into him and rejoiced to feel the swelling hardness in his jeans.  

Tonio's hands gripped her buttocks, his fingers flexing and clenching.  With
his mouth still locked to hers, he pushed her backward until she was pressed
against the counter top. A sweep of his arm cleared the surface, the glasses
bouncing away, scarlet juice splashing obscenely over the white tiled floor.

Cupping her ass, he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter.  Desperate
fingers worked at the knotted belt of her robe as she moaned into his mouth
and wrapped her legs around his waist.  The knot released its hold and Tonio
pushed her robe open, burying his face between her breasts.

Helena gripped the back of his sweatshirt, yanking it up to Tonio's shoulders. 
Reluctantly she broke the seal between their lips.  Ripping the sweatshirt
over his head, she tossed it away.  Shrugging, she dropped the robe off of her
shoulders.  They were both bare to the waist, each hungrily surveying the
naked flesh of the other.  

Tightening her legs, Helena drew Tonio forward until he was cradled against
her.  The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed her tender cleft and she writhed
with pleasure.  It was Tonio's turn to gasp.  He rocked his hips, stroking his
stiffening length against her.

Her hands came up to clasp the sides of his face and pull him to her for
another kiss.  He breathed heavily, nostrils flaring as he gave up his mouth
to her insistent attack.  This time there was no sharing of breath; it was a
battle of tongues and sucking, biting mouths.  She devoured him, licking along
his jaw, nipping his lower lip and thrusting her tongue between his smooth,
white teeth.

Pulling his mouth away, he made his way down her throat and over her
collarbone, tiny cat licks alternating with moist kisses.  Tonio cupped her
breasts with dexterous hands, thumbing the swollen peaks into achingly hard
points. 

Helena buried her fingers in the thickness of his silky black hair.  Absently,
she noticed the dampness of the curls and the delicious scent of soap, freshly
cut grass and sun warmed skin.  She pulled him in for another kiss, drowning
in the sensation.  It had been too long, too unbearably long....

Shoving away the flowing skirt of her robe, Tonio ran greedy hands down over
her hips.  "Helena."  He whispered, his breath soft and warm in her ear. 
"Open for me, let me see what you tease me with day after day."  His hands
became insistent, pushing her thighs wide. 

Helena sighed as her legs fell open, open and waiting, quivering for his
touch.  The sensitive tips of his fingers grazed the tender skin of her inner
thighs, as he laved her aching nipples.  A moan rose ripped from her as
Tonio's fingertips teased her downy lips.  She fell back onto her elbows as he
licked and nibbled his way down her stomach.   The hot tickle of his tongue as
he probed her navel, made her arch into his touch.  Her inarticulate sighs and
gasps hurried him away from his teasing exploration and he nipped the inner
surface of her thigh in acknowledgment.  

The moist heat of his breath skimmed across her fleecy mound and Helena
struggled to spread herself wider, thrust her hips forward, entice him closer.
Tonio recognized the invitation immediately.  Without seeing his face, she
could still feel him smile, feel him exult in her surrender. The depth of her
abandon should have frightened her, but she was too deliciously drunk with
pleasure to care. 

She quivered with excitement waiting for Tonio's fiery mouth to descend upon
her aching sex.  Finally.  Finally he was there.  A tender kiss at the crease
of her thigh, a soft probing of his tongue. 

Arching into the sweet caress, she grasped his head and pulled it closer. 
Tonio's nose brushed against her clit as he lapped greedily at the moisture
that spread itself over her inner lips.  She heard him murmuring hot, lusty
words as he feasted on her, his breath whispering against her supersensitive
flesh.  Tonio nuzzled deeper, finding her swollen clit and circling it with
his lips.  His hands were never still, caressing her, stroking over her
buttocks and down her thighs before returning to her center and plunging two
fingers into her tight, wet depth.  As his fingers thrust deeply inside her,
the delicate suction and vibrations from the tip of his tongue toppled her
over the edge.  

With a hoarse shout, she jerked, her muscles contracting over and over as her
mind spun away -- blank with ecstacy.  Dropping back onto the counter in a
boneless sprawl, she struggled to gain control over her breathing.  

Tonio's hushed, sibilant whisper finally broke through her daze.  Raising up
on her elbows, Helena saw he had dropped his jeans and clasping his hard cock
in his hand.  The words were lost to her, her knowledge of Spanish sadly
lacking.  But the emotion was crystal clear.  

She was riveted by the sight of the purplish, swollen head weeping copious
amounts of precome.  One hand moved restlessly up and down the shaft while his
other cupped his balls, rolling the tender globes between thumb and
forefinger.  Helena was overcome with the need to feel his balls in her hands,
to grasp his rampant cock and feel the hot blood flowing through it.

Tonio raised his head, his heavily lidded eyes glittering at her beneath spiky
eyelashes.  She reached out, beaconing him closer.  His shuffle should have
been amusing, she should have found the movements undignified, but she didn't. 
The sight of Tonio's engorged cock bobbing as he propelled himself forward was
beautiful.  Had she ever before thought of a penis as beautiful?  This one was
and it made her ache to feel it inside her.

When had she needed to be filled this badly?  Never, never, never.  The
desperate ache pushed its way past her lips and she groaned an incoherent
plea.  Tonio smiled again.  It was a smile of pure pleasure, of delight and
triumph.  He leaned forward, leaned until his hands rested on either side of
her hips.  His gazed was fixed downward, watching as his hips thrust, bringing
the tip of his distended member to her cleft. 

Slowly, so slowly he stroked back and forth, collecting the slick moisture
that was leaking out of her onto the bullet shaped head until it glistened. 
She was almost sobbing now, it was taking too long....  The touch of him was
like fire against her.  Helena wanted the fire to burn her, to consume her, to
turn her into smoldering ash.  More.  She had to have more.  Raising her hips,
Helena strained to impale herself on his shaft.  The stretch of the swollen
glans entering her was more than good, more than perfect -- it was a
benediction. . . .

An explosive backfire rang through the room, making her jerk in reaction.  The
chitter-chug sound of the VW putting down the driveway snapped her to
awareness.  Sunlight slowly danced across the wall, shimmering through the
lace curtain on the window.  With numb fingers she tossed away the purple
dildo then reached down to switch off the butterfly vibrator. Her body ached
with the tension of her arousal, but she lay there still as death.  Tears
streamed down the sides of her face, falling unnoticed onto the bed.