Three Lovers, Three Tales Part Two: Vienna’s Story
The second part of an erotic story, told three ways.
May 16, 1923, began as a day much like any other at Madame Vienna’s atelier, located at the end of Rue de la Chatte on Le Rive Gauche in Paris. As soon as daybreak began to softly penetrate the north-facing skylight of the large studio where Madame Vienna painted and lived with her longtime assistant, Xavier, she would be at her easel. Though she adored spending time in bed, especially while Xavier was intensely penetrating her with his surging manhood and wildly kissing her neck and breasts as the moon illuminated their passionate lovemaking, she hated wasting much time on sleep itself. Not when there was art to be made.
Following sex, Madame Vienna and Xavier would sit in lotus posture for ten minutes of meditation. “Timeless time,” Madame Vienna liked to call it. And indeed, anyone who might walk in at that moment would wonder whether they were still in 1923 Paris and not in a Himalayan cave a millennia earlier.
On their respective cushions sat a petite, fair-skinned woman clothed in a thin cotton smock embroidered in front with the Eye of Horus, ancient Egyptian symbol of protection, power, wholeness and cosmic love. She possessed flame-red hair that flowed to her waist and the lithe body of a temple dancer. Beside her was a tall, bare-chested, husky man clad in wide legged pants and a robe in an Indonesian batik print. With his dusky skin and shoulder-length white hair, he resembled a Hindu spiritual master or the great wizard, Merlin himself.
That poor unsuspecting visitor would be engulfed in the vortex of the couple’s astrological and psychic energies. Xavier’s Cancer rising and its cooling lunar qualities complemented Madame Vienna’s Moon in Scorpio and Aries rising, both signs dominated by fiery Mars. Artist and assistant often communicated telepathically and were empathically aware of what each other was feeling, whether apart on business matters or with other lovers. Perhaps especially during the latter occasion.
After meditation, the two would go about their individual daily tasks. He to the kitchenette to brew the strong, aromatic jasmine tea and warm the croissants; she to the easel to contemplate the waiting canvas before her. Art was an extension of her meditation; there was zero difference between the two disciplines. Which was which did not matter a whit to Madame V, as Xavier affectionately called her. To her it was all One. The light from above was an extension of the Light from within her and it was a searchlight into the souls of the many Rive Gauche habitués who posed nude for her.
The models and other lovers of all genders and social classes that she and Xavier brought to their bed also felt that sacred communion. Sex was a cosmic portal through which Vienna peered into their psyches and intuitively understood their deepest desires as she and/or he brought them to orgasm. Their petit mort (little death) delivered them to a rebirth of sorts that had, in an inexplicable way, realigned them with their Divine nature.
Some of Madame Vienna’s subjects were invited to pose because their bodies conveyed a certain attitude about life or sexuality or age. Her models, her intimate connection to the quality of light, her attention to detail and the intensity of her aesthetic expression had coalesced to make her one of the City of Light’s most renowned painters, her oeuvre often compared to that of her peer, Romaine Brooks, the famed “Thief of Souls.”
While Brooks was known for painting in shades of grey, Madame Vienna was famed for the varied colors of her palette, akin to Fauvism. “Those are the colors of my subjects’ auras. I paint what I see radiating from them,” she would say to anyone who asked.
However, on that particular May 16, it was destined that a new model would enter the atelier, one whose aura and presence would shift the course of life and art for all concerned.
After bathing, tidying up the place, mixing paint and preparing canvases, Xavier put on his street clothes and headed out to the café. Leaving Madame V alone with her muse, he would stride over to Les Deux Magots for a few hours of catching up on news, gossip and of course, finding the next model.
His eye fell upon one young woman and remained there as she waited tables. Tall, with long, shapely legs and full breasts, she moved among the patrons with ease, as if she had always known them, though he had not noticed her there before. Her sandy blonde hair was cut in a boyish bob, reflecting female emancipation in the Twenties. Her full, slightly pouty lips were swathed in red. But it was her eyes that enchanted Xavier the most.
They were verdant green and shone with a gemlike sparkle that he found most alluring. Those eyes flared something in him that was both sexual arousal and something else that only more intimate contact could determine. She was at once impish and elegant. Demure yet cocky. Vienna will want her in every way, Xavier thought, and raised his hand to summon her to his table.
“Oui, monsieur?”
“Please, call me Xavier. Tell me, what is your name and when did you arrive in Paris, chérie?”
“I am Elle,” she responded and told him how she was new in the quarter and grateful to find work so quickly. “Only my feet are getting callouses from waiting tables all day!” Xavier gave her a kind smile.
“Before you go to work tomorrow come and pose for the painter Madame Vienna.” Taking out his pen, Xavier scribbled something on a napkin and handed it to her. “Here is the address. Early morning is best because the light is perfect then. However, mademoiselle, be aware that you will be expected to pose partly to fully nude.”
If Elle was bothered — or stimulated — by that stipulation she didn’t show it. She would get paid for a few hours of sitting and an independent woman had to be creative at making a living. She flashed her green eyes in agreement and ambled off in her elegant way to take the next table’s order. Xavier sat back and sipped his mocha contentedly. He could feel that Madame V was most pleased.
When Xavier returned to the atelier in the mid-afternoon, Madame Vienna glanced up at him over her easel. “So you found her. And she arrives at first light tomorrow, oui?”
“Oui,” Xavier replied, giving the artist a kiss that les Américains call French. Firmly pulling her to him, he guided her back to their bed to celebrate discovering Elle.
“You will want to mix a new palette of reds and blues to obtain the precise green of her eyes,” Xavier murmured to Vienna after they had loved and tasted each other hard and deep for the third time and were now languidly caressing.
“How could I not, mon amour!” Vienna rolled onto her side, her blue-grey eyes flashing. Xavier could feel the rays of her glance pierce his forehead between his eyebrows.
“You have found me the reincarnation of the Green One — the Goddess Wadjet — at the café today. Tomorrow I will be painting the avatar of the Eye of Horus herself. Once I have seen Elle’s eyes, I assure you la couleure verte will be precise!”
Then Madame Vienna flew out of bed. Throwing her smock over her head and shaking her long red hair free, she went into the stockroom to collect the appropriate tubes of paint. Xavier arrived on her heels, in time to hear her say, “Vite! Pull these down from the top shelf, s’il vous plait.” Followed by, “Merci bien, chéri, as he took them into the main studio and placed them on top of the taboret.
A moment later, Madame Vienna emerged from the stockroom and stood with her arm around Xavier’s waist. “Oh, we will be ready for the arrival of Wadjet, mon amour, sans doute.”
No sooner had dawn peeked in the skylight on May 17, 1923, than Elle arrived at the atelier. Xavier opened the door in response to her knock, kissing her on each cheek. The sensuous touch of Xavier’s lips make Elle catch her breath as her pussy suddenly quivered in anticipation of what his mouth would be like upon it.
Taking in her surroundings, Elle saw a woman who could only be Madame Vienna sitting at the easel, though her blue-grey eyes were fixed directly on Elle. For an instant, Elle’s mind was devoid of all thought. As she came back to herself, Madame Vienna had crossed the room to give her a welcoming embrace. Elle, being taller, bent slightly to receive it and felt a jolt between her legs as the artist’s thinly covered, pendulous breasts met her voluptuous ones. Then the new model felt another jolt, this time in the center of her chest, that seemed to come from the strangely designed eye in the center of the artist’s smock but didn’t give it any thought. The rush of attention she was receiving was starting to overload Elle’s senses.
After stepping back to survey her new model in greater depth, Madame Vienna pointed to the changing area. “Go behind the screen and take all this off. There is a drape to cover yourself in. Be quick, before the light changes. Vite!”
Moments later Elle, now covered only in the wide swath of silk, emerged from behind the screen to find Vienna and Xavier locked in a passionate embrace while kissing wildly, their hands diving under each other’s garments to squeeze whatever flesh they could. It struck Elle that she had never seen two lovers behave so intimately around a stranger. Yet an inner voice told her that those two, in their casual way, were deliberately giving her a taste of what would follow. Her pulse quickened and her pussy throbbed at the thought. If this was the hors d’oeuvres, was it possible she might become the main course? At that moment Xavier noticed her and said something to Vienna. Pleased that her new model was ready as instructed, she sprung back to action. “Ah, bon, chérie. Let us get started!”
After bringing Elle to the posing platform and telling her to recline against the cushions, Madame Vienna returned to her easel, dabbed her brush in the rainbow of oils on her palette, and began making a quick study in verdant green. After a few moments she cocked her head at Xavier, who left her side to rearrange Elle’s drape. As his strong hands slid the silk down to reveal her breasts, Elle found her nipples harden and her body heat rise.
“More, please. I need to see more curves,” Madame Vienna said. In response, Xavier pulled away more of the fabric to display the swells and dips of her belly, hips and thighs. His sensuous touch through the fabric caused wetness to seep from Elle’s velvet vault, making her moan softly, then louder as he leaned over to kiss those red, pouty lips.
“Mais non, Xavier! Adjust it this way. I must get the play of light and shadow on her thighs. Oh, I’ll do it.” Xavier was on one side of her and Vienna now on the other, pulling the fabric away almost completely and coaxing Elle’s legs further apart. Sandwiched between them and the force of their energies — or could it be that musky scent Vienna is wearing? — Elle found the moistness becoming fuller, traveling down her legs. “Kiss her again, Xavier.”
Suddenly Vienna’s hand traveled between her legs to enter the source of the seepage with her fingers, followed by her mouth. In response Elle bucked her hips hard while Vienna’s other hand gripped her thigh with unexpected strength. Elle moaned deeper as Xavier’s tongue landed on hers. Elle’s hand found the bulge inside his pants and the pre-cum leaking from it as his hands squeeze her nipples. Moments later, Vienna’s persistent tongue on her clit and fingers pounding her pussy made her scream out her orgasm. As it subsided, Vienna gently withdrew her head. She looked at her assistant, now sitting back against a cushion, and smiled. “Xavier, mon amour, you have found our most magnificent subject yet.” Then she looked at Elle, lying there in bliss.
“Do not move a hair, chérie. I can capture you parfaitement in this light.”
Elle did not desire to move in the slightest. Her world had been transformed. But that transformation in the atelier had only just begun.
