by Tom Benson
The visitor squinted, realised what had been said and burst into laughter. “No, I mean I’m just shy around girls, but when they’re as beautiful as you—”
“Okay—enough.” Lauren extended a hand. “My name is Lauren.”
“Vincent.” The young man sighed.
“I’m free for a while at twelve-thirty. I don’t suppose you’d like to buy me a coffee?”
“Wow, yes—where would you—”
Lauren smiled and nodded towards the main window. “There’s a nice coffee shop across the road. I’ll be heading over there at precisely twelve-thirty, and I’d like an Americano.”
“Right … twelve-thirty … right … Americano … right.” Vincent nodded and left, dancing on air.
Lauren went back to her painting, grinning.
Gordon approached, smiling. “I was hoping he’d have the guts to speak to you.”
“I approached him because he’s been in here four or five times recently.”
“Try every day, Lauren, darling. It was me who told him when you’d be in again.”
“You’re joking?”
Gordon walked around to look at the work in progress. “Your admirer has been coming in here for three or four weeks, and at first I was worried when I saw him staring at you. If I recall, you were discussing a painting with a customer.”
* * *
Lauren crossed the road to the coffee shop and nodded to the guys behind the counter—she was well-known thanks to her time in the gallery. The artist in tight jeans and the loose-fitting blouse was a regular. As the glass door swung closed, Lauren turned to see the young man sitting near the window.
Vincent stood. “Thank you for coming, Lauren. I got your coffee two minutes ago.”
“You didn’t think I’d come over, did you?” Lauren sat opposite.
Vincent smiled nervously and shook his head. “When you crossed the road and turned away from the door, my heart sank.”
“I was just teasing.” She emptied two sachets into her Americano and stirred. “A girl can’t afford to appear too easy.”
“I wouldn’t think—”
“I’m only kidding.” She sipped her coffee and assessed Vincent again when he smiled—a nice smile, good-looking, and nervous around girls. He was worth giving a chance. “Are you going to tell me how long you’ve been stalking me?”
“I haven’t—” He caught her grin. “I sat admiring you from here one morning a few weeks ago, and then I went into the gallery to see you up close.”
“How long, Vincent?”
“About a month.” He picked up his coffee to hide his embarrassment.
Lauren was sure the nervousness wasn’t an act, so she asked what Vincent did for a living. When she found out he was studying astronomy, she asked about his course and his plans for the future. As she suspected, he was an introvert, but at ease when talking about his subject.
When he’d calmed, Vincent asked about where Lauren had studied, and he was complimentary about her paintings. Vincent said that one day when passing the gallery he’d stopped to admire a painting.
“I was studying one of the big canvasses, and then realised that the artist’s name was the same as the name on the sign that said ‘live demonstrations’, and then I saw you, and—”
“And you couldn’t stop coming back for more?” Lauren laughed, not taking herself seriously.
Vincent nodded. “Actually, that’s what happened.”
“What would your girlfriend say if she knew you were spending your free time ogling a female artist?”
Vincent gave a half-hearted smile and lifted his coffee. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Lauren whispered, “Did she leave you because you were besotted with me?” She smiled and raised a shapely eyebrow.
“I’ve never really had a steady girlfriend.”
Lauren stood. “Is that an Americano you’re drinking?”
“I’ll … I’ll get them—”
“You sit there, and by the time I get back, I want to hear a reason why I should accept a date with you.” She walked to the counter, grinning.
Lauren and Vincent
Lauren was both surprised and pleased by Vincent’s suggestion for a day out. He hadn’t opted for a quiet drink somewhere, or going to a movie, but instead suggested going to see an art exhibition in one of London’s best galleries.
It was a bright and warm day, so Lauren dressed accordingly, in a summer dress and sandals with sufficient heel to complement her great legs. She was carrying a light jacket over one arm as she strolled along the pavement towards the front of the impressive building with its Palladian columns.
When Lauren was confident the young man had spotted her, she tilted her head back slightly to let the light breeze lift her long ash-blonde ringlets. She felt good, but even better knowing that she was being admired. She took in Vincent’s smart but casual look—a light blue shirt and navy trousers.
“Hello handsome,” Lauren said as she approached and surprised Vincent by kissing him on both cheeks. It was a naughty way of ensuring he got more than a whiff of her perfume.
“Lauren … you’re … gorgeous.”
“Thank you, and you look quite smart too.” Lauren linked her right arm on Vincent’s left arm. “You should be careful my friend. Some girls take compliments to heart, and drag the man away to molest him.” She giggled, already enjoying herself.
“You could molest me any time ….” Vincent murmured the words, not intending them to be heard.
Lauren captured every syllable clearly, and her mind was working overtime before they’d reached the top step to go into the extensive gallery.
For over an hour the pair wandered around appreciating the paintings, sketches, and sculptures. The exhibition hall was showing nude studies, and they ranged from tiny cherubs to individual models of varying shapes and sizes, to orgy scenes.
“You find this embarrassing, don’t you, Vincent—looking at nudes when you have a girl on your arm?”
Vincent’s face was beaming. “I’ve seen the ones you’ve painted based on the old masters, and I think yours are more realistic.” He inhaled deeply. “Yes, I do find it embarrassing.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard was it—if you feel uneasy, just say so.” She squeezed his arm tight. “Now, I want to hear what you like about these paintings.” Lauren turned and caught his eye. “This is an opportunity to impress me, so use it wisely.” She suppressed a smile.
Vincent spoke quietly at first, pointing out the skin tones, the hair and the poses. He was becoming more comfortable, and it showed when his voice rose in volume. As he pointed out the parts of the body and how impressive they looked his voice became softer and faded.
Lauren leant in close to whisper. “How many girls have you had, Vincent?”
“Two … no, one really. The first one had me, I suppose.”
“Come over here and sit down.” Lauren led him to a bench which left them staring at a selection of large nude paintings. When they were seated together, she turned. “Tell me about the first one.”
“I was nineteen, and my neighbour said it was a birthday present.”
“What was a birthday present?”
“My neighbour seduced me in her house on my nineteenth birthday—she was forty, divorced, and beautiful.”
Lauren got a warm feeling inside. “Did she do it with you again?”
“She made excuses for me to visit her and we did it a few times before she left London.”
“What about the next girl—was she a real girlfriend?”
“We only lasted a few months, and she found somebody else.”
“How long is it since you were with a girl, Vincent?”
“Nearly … a year.”
Lauren looked at the paintings, and she smiled, having noticed something.
“Lauren,” Vincent whispered. “You don’t have to answer this, but … when … no, never mind.”
“Two years, Vincent.” She turned and
smiled at him. “It’s two years since I was with somebody, or had sex.”
Vincent exhaled slowly and shook his head, keeping his thoughts to himself.
“Are all these nudes turning you on, Vincent?”
“No … they’re just … art—”
“What’s causing that big bulge in your trousers—is it us talking dirty?”
Vincent immediately placed a hand over his hard-on. “Oh my—I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologise, but that is not a good look—the hand.” Lauren grinned.
Vincent’s face was beaming again.
“Let’s walk.” Lauren stood and reached for Vincent’s hand as he got up.
The pair continued their tour of the gallery until mid-afternoon, stopping to enjoy a hot drink and a snack in the cafeteria.
Lauren wiped her lips with a napkin. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
“I’ll see you back to the gallery where you live, and then it’ll be a quiet night in for me.”
“Are your flatmates at home this afternoon?”
“No, they’re both away at a concert somewhere until tomorrow.”
“In that case, I’d like to see your room?”
* * *
There was no pretence when they arrived in the apartment, and Vincent was visibly nervous as he closed the front door.
“Are you clean, Vincent … sexually, I mean?”
“Yes … I’ve never had—”
Lauren held his face in both hands and kissed him softly on the lips. “Now, it’s your turn.” She licked her lips and smiled at him. “Unless you’d prefer me to go ….”
Vincent stepped forward and gently embraced her, and when he kissed her, it was a touch like a butterfly landing on a flower, until he felt a sensuous tongue probe his quivering lips. He responded, and his arms moved to hold the girl properly. Vincent was unaware of pressing his hard-on against her as they kissed.
Lauren slipped one arm around Vincent and lowered her other hand to gently caress the bulge between them. “Where’s your room, Vincent?”
“Here.” He took one step and pushed open the door to show her a small, tidy room which had a wardrobe, chest of drawers, a small desk, chair, and a bed—a neatly made-up bed.
“Before we go any further, Vincent, there is one important rule.”
“Anything … just tell me.”
“This is physical pleasure, and if we enjoy it, we might do it again, but we’re not making any promises—okay?”
“Okay—I think I understand.”
“It’s a sexual pleasure, and friendship, with no complications.” She stood beside the bed. “If you can deal with that arrangement, I’d now like you to get undressed for me.” Lauren sat on the bed.
“You mean—”
“I want to see you naked, and if I like what I see, I might let you undress me.” Lauren smiled to herself when she saw his indecision, but when she eased up the hem of her dress, Vincent undid his shirt buttons slowly, as he looked down at her thighs.
Vincent swallowed. “Do I have to take—” The question was halted by a nodding smiling Lauren.
When a beaming Vincent was standing in only his bulging boxer shorts, he bit his lip and looked at the fully dressed beautiful young woman sitting on the edge of his bed. He was panting heavily when she nodded at him to continue.
“Now, come over here and let me have a closer look.” Lauren licked her lips and glanced up at the embarrassed, but highly-aroused Vincent. She reached out and with only her right forefinger hooked over the middle, she lowered the throbbing, hot meat and kissed the wet tip. Lauren glanced up at Vincent and then parted her lips to lick the pre-cum. She slowly moved her head forward to take half of the cock into her hot, wet mouth.
“Oh … my … God … Lauren.”
She let the tumescent cock slip from her mouth. “I’m sorry, Vincent—did you want me to stop?”
“No, no—please don’t stop.”
Lauren grinned as she took a firm grasp of the cock and sucked the head as she moved her hand back and forward. It took less than two minutes before a pair of trembling hands landed softly on her lovely head and the young man above her cried out in ecstasy as he shot his load. When Lauren had swallowed every morsel and then licked the head clean, she licked her lips and stood.
“Now, Vincent, you have my permission to undress me, and when I lie on your bed, I want you to worship me, by kissing me from head to toe.” She held his face as she had done earlier and kissed him passionately. “As slowly as possible.”
Vincent’s eyes were wide open as he gently removed Lauren’s dress, underwear, bra, and shoes. Each time he looked at Lauren with an enquiring gaze she nodded for him to continue. When the beauty lay back on the bed, Vincent first stood to look down at her before he dared touch her. He kissed her lips and tasted her sweet tongue before moving down over her gorgeous body, kissing, and teasing with the tip of his tongue. When he reached her engorged pussy lips, he looked up.
“Not yet, Vincent—legs first,” Lauren recalled when she’d first exerted control over Graham all those years ago, and as she looked along her body at the attentive Vincent, she was pleased she’d opted for this session—it was so badly needed. Vibrators didn’t create this anticipation; or pleasure.
When Vincent moved up the shapely, smooth legs and arrived at the now hot, swollen pussy lips he showed sensitivity and consideration. He kissed, licked, and gently sucked before he used his tongue to tease out and capture his lover’s clit between his lips. His neighbour had taught him well.
“That’s it, Vincent … yess … suck … oh … yess.” Lauren reached down and held Vincent’s face firmly against her pussy as she trembled a little and then stiffened briefly. Her first orgasm with a lover for two years was incredible, and she needed more.
When Vincent looked up and saw the smiling, beaming, beautiful face and the crooked finger beckoning him up, he went happily to kiss this goddess. As they kissed and he felt Lauren’s tongue play in his mouth, he became aware of something else—a stirring down below as he recovered.
Lauren continued to kiss her man deeply, while she used her fingers to tease and play with the growing shaft until it was rock hard. “Now, get on your back, and let me ride that cock of yours.”
“What about … protection?”
“Don’t worry. I’m clean, and I’ve never told anybody else, Vincent … I’ve been on the pill since I was a teenager.” She pushed him onto his back and squatted over him. Lauren bit her lip as she lowered herself to be impaled on the hot, hard shaft. She instructed Vincent on each position, and after four variations he finally let go again. Lauren was happy to let him gush inside her in the missionary position because she enjoyed observing his expressions as he achieved ecstasy.
* * *
For six weeks the pair met up regularly, but never more often than once a week. Lauren insisted it had to be that way, and on each occasion she used and controlled the session, always ensuring that Vincent learned what to do for his partner.
More than once, the obedient lover professed his love for Lauren, and she would remind him it was to remain physical. When he begged to see her more often, and then he turned up at the gallery in between their arranged dates, it brought their time to an end one day in mid-November.
“Coffee shop in ten minutes,” Lauren said, and true to her word, twenty minutes later she was sitting opposite a tearful Vincent. “Now, Vincent, I want you to do one final thing for me.”
“Anything.”
“You are not to come back to the gallery until you have a proper girlfriend. No arguments.”
It was four weeks later when a grinning Vincent walked into Gordon’s Gallery to report that he had done what was expected. “Her name is Annette, she’s my age, blonde, and she likes me to tell her what to do in bed.” He paused. “She’s beautiful, but not she’s not—”
“Don’t say it, Vincent.” Lauren kissed his cheek. “This is goodbye—o
kay?”
“Thank you, Lauren.” He lifted her hand and kissed the palm before he smiled at her and left.
* * *
Somewhere in her subconscious when Vincent mentioned age, it struck a chord with Lauren. She made one of her rare phone calls to her mother, more from a sense of duty than love. Ten minutes later, Lauren promised herself the phone calls would become even rarer. Her mother was with somebody when Lauren had rung. The woman seemed to be annoyed to be disturbed.
Marie Ashton told her daughter there was no need to call through any sense of guilt because there was plenty of love in the house. A young man was laughing in the background, and Lauren’s mother was panting and giggling when the artist pressed a button to end the call.
“Guilt works both ways—fuck you, Mother.”
Lauren and Mylene
Monday 10th March, 2003
Life for Lauren was good, at least it was if living alone, keeping fit, and busy, was the preference. The young artist wasn’t saddened by not having a partner. Throughout her time attending university, she’d witnessed students who paired-off with each other or those who had a significant other who lived miles away. In too many cases it caused extra stress, but she’d been able to concentrate on her studies, and the practise of her craft. To Lauren—a small price to pay for success.
Quite apart from anything else, the idea of putting her qualification first had pay dividends. The most important was gaining the highest level in her degree, but close on the heels of such an achievement, she was in a paid position in a private art gallery in London. Another bonus, of course, was producing and selling her artwork from the premises. Yes, life was good.
After finishing with Vincent, it was more out of curiosity that Lauren had a couple of one night stands. On those occasions, she insisted on protected sex, but what she learned from the dates was that the men themselves didn’t give her anything apart from the sex she’d bargained for. The one common trait she’d found with men, was that they would all be looking for a fuck. Especially married men and she never entertained their invitations.
