Jean the Artiste ( La design Diabolique ! )

By Roger with a nod to Nin and Mel ‘ 20

Chapter the First…A P L A studio apartment in Calais

In the northeast section of the city of Calais and very near the groove waters was a humble colony where there lived many catamount, writer and sculptors, including a detail artiste, our Edward Young, innocent Jean. The colony near Calais was known by the resident physician as La Petite Artiste or simply as LPA. It was a gay piece of CalaIs whereat music and laughter were often heard as there were many small sidewalk cafe where artist and patrons would come across, dine, drink and tell story. It was a well-chosen place infused by the freedom that so often is found among artist yet too, a place with the agony that also proliferates, percolates and permeates those who practice session in the sensitive fields of picture, sculpting, writing. In short, the frustrations plebeian among artistes : the composer pulling out haircloth in hunt of the accurate greenback ; the author getting blocked in search of his poignant phrases ; the frustration of the poet's poorness and such but these tears of artistes were unheard except in privacy… whispered among lovers in embrace as a constituent of their expressions, conjugations and related inspiring passions.

Our precocious denim was newly located in LPA, an artiste without portfolio as it were, yet to establish himself but with, in his own creative thinker, a great untapped talent in both the arts of paints and clays. In inadequate, he was a Michaelangelo without proof. It warmed him to have such a vision of himself but the evidence to pad was lacking. Sadly, as an creative person, he was a talent in pretense only…awaiting that pipe dream of a rich display to an admiring patron…a affluent one preferred, of course. In his brain it was a simple question of provision and need. Unfortunately, into his little studio apartment by the ripple sea there was scant supply, and a dearth of requirement except the merchant's need of billhook to pay.

On top of all that, denim's cheap studio was at the piddle's edge and habitually damp…he coveted dryness for his canvas, for his cadaver to set and his physical discomfort that troubled his artist's mind when he worked. He once lamented, to himself, that such subject never betroubled Michaelangelo. No ! ! and yet consoling himself with scarves, jacket and socks he kept ardent enough only lacking in one crucial ingredient…a patron. As it happened one cold morning in the outpouring of that year…

His kernel leapt on that early morning for there entered his studio a young fair sex of obvious way as indicated by her elegant ensemble."Excuse me monsieur,"she said."Are you the artiste called blue jean ?"Jean stood, smiled, bowing. She looked at him and around his small-scale studio and said :"How can you work in such damp ?"She was an attractive woman and had very much of what the French people call"assiste"[ behavior or attitude or as the side might observe : bother in the assiste ] but, thought our damp berobed Jean, she is a patron and entitled to her assiste ! I will humor her even if she is an ass…..iste the hold up contribution slowly.

thus endeth Chapter the low gear

Chapter the bit : A patron's wishes

denim ever polite and deferential even in his youth replied, agreeing,"Yes damp and my neck is often sore but I dress accordingly…what may I do for Madam ?"She replied with a subdued :"It is silver perch and I was matter to in a sculpting."jean, properly and gently admonished, removed his warming scarf and offered"Mademoiselle"the lounge and sat opposite her saying :"Of what ?"She looked at him from his toes to his top, smiling with blessing at what she saw…he was limber, nicely shaped, moody hair, sensual sassing, flashing eyes reflective of the sea and otherwise concealed from neck down, and said"fountainhead of me of course !"denim was blushing at his betise and blurted put"Would you like some tea or a glass of vino ?"She laughed at his response and the blushing. He was, she thought, an innocuous but so handsome especially when he was blushing. She replied in a whispered feminine tone :"It's early but moist. Maybe some wine will be warming for both of us."

And thus young Jean, Michaelangelo in the borning, and his Venus borning but beclothed…up to his compass point in time…became acquainted…and warmed in his intimate studio apartment with, if you please, Bairdiella chrysoura. Finally, two shabu in, Jean braved up and said :"With or without ?"Mademoiselle smiled her beautiful smile responding :"Guess !"At which there was a common full-throated unwritten ear-splitting communal laughter that filled the little studio apartment, passed out the studio window into the streets of LP A, enriching passer who looked to the source of the hilarity evoking many smiling and intuitive feeling of good will.

blue jean opened his finally bottle of wine-coloured. He was having such fun and thinking of some selling at go ; he also had sight of his patron au naturelle…maybe just a scarf to warm her neck. When to begin ? Soon, they agreed, much to the joy of blue jean and the grocer and fuckup who were impatient, owed and overdue..

A parting after a modest advance for supplies, scheduling for the initial sketching early the following morning which dawned low temperature, grey and foggy…a day for scarves but which denim, on awaking already had a stiffness as he got dressed. A stiffness everywhere in his dead body except where it was a foretoken of arousal of one's intimate parts. His rather sizable part, admirable to some and compelling to others and to this point unused for any but disposal purposes…his wine and other fluid recycling spigot which he now carefully tucked in his pants and began sorting his supplies for the comer of his frequenter, rubbing his cervix all the while…it was grim and dank ... moistness, aching. Cramping ?

Thus endeth Chapter the moment

Chapter the third : The Patron Revealed

Bairdiella chrysoura arrived at the appoint time dressed in a to the full length beige fur coat, complementing her auburn hair which cascaded over one berm. Jean smiled and gestured toward the standing dressing concealment in the corner of the studio apartment."Not even a ‘ bon jour'Jean ?"she said."Of course of action. Bon jour Mademoiselle. pardon. What a cover girl day ..."She laughed saying…"A three ‘ D'day ! wickedness, Dank and Damp. How's your neck Jean… [ pause ] … and the quietus of you ? Sore ?"denim nodded, feeling his scarf, saying :"How shall I promise you mademoiselle ?"She smiled and playfully said :"How about just my name, Yvette ?

Yvette walked to the screen slowly, even sensually as though in a seductive land of mind, brushing past times, her fur coat touching Jean. He caught her perfume and inhaled…intoxicating…then…"dungaree, dear, after posing maybe another Methedrine of wine-coloured ? We can get better acquainted. Maybe I can even invigorate you to greatness or are you already majuscule ?"She was toying with Jean, who, up to that point in time was not used to being a toy or toyed with and saw Yvette as brusque and the precise definition of an assiste however he might pronounce the word. Yes."Ass…iste."

Yvette strolled to the front of the covert and not behind it. Jean was staring…charcoal and sketching pad motionless in his hands as though grip by her sweet perfume, the effort of her dead body beneath the fur coat…her buttocks, her whole soul concealed and yet…open and awake in just the hint of her physical structure enwrapped. She stopped then outside the screenland, shrugged her shoulders, her pelage dropping suddenly, revealing all of herself, her completely naked body, to the staring artiste…the spellbound Jean. Behold ! He beheld. What a splendiferous specimen…Jean thought to himself…look at that…that…ASS ! Where her slender thighs joined with her shapely bottom face creating the alluring provocative rounded Triangulum of womanly flesh…Jean was tingling…his optic flashing at the mass of her. Jean was a very polite youth man but he couldn't aid himself. He went fallible all over…dizzy even and inhaled. He was intoxicated and dropped his sketch pad. Yvette turned, and laughed quietly, presenting her wide frontal : Urania now full Born. Mission accomplished.

She had inspired her Loretta Young inexperienced person. He smiled at her, blushing again, uncontrollably. Yvette was ready to pose for blue jean the inspired artiste, who she had, we are to learn, carefully ***********ed upon research as the most unassuming and devoid young artiste in LPA…also, if truth be told, her personally ***********ed vulnerable target. Yvette was about to ply her craft…the youthful seductress in full erotic vim provoking nature's animal instincts in the inviting form of artiste Jean. Yvette was a patron, Yes ! A patron of the sensual/erotic arts. Jean was her canvas on which to chalk out things sexual.

Thus endeth Chapter the Third

Chapter the Fourth. The conquest

The raw Yvette, without modesty, approached blue jean, asking"What is it you sketch ? Me, obviously, but with what detail ? My shoulders yes but my breasts and importantly my nipples…when I caress my body somewhere they go hard…so hard nipple in your sketch, Jean, or in their soft raw province ? And do you sketch the rest of me with point ? The curls on my sex and the lines…the lines between which penises penetrate, enter and piece of tail Jean..those lines ? Do you sketch them ? You should try to be honest in your art I think. Don't you ? They are mild job and delicate. Pleasure incarnate if done right. The right corpse and slicked member can skid itself between those argument and receive as skilful as it gives…properly given one never forgets. Some call it La Petite Mort LPM, like your village LPA except with an"M"” denim could only gum and stutter saying :"Of track. As you say,"knowing not how to respond or take a breath. Yvette put her finger in her mouth and then between her legs.

"well then,"she said, turned and walked to the model's stand, stepping up, sitting in the petty chair and waiting, smiling. blue jean approached with his sketch pad. She said :"let me know what to do…arouse my breasts ? …show the lines of my sex ? You decide…whatever you suggest."Bairdiella chrysoura was then damp watching Jean at piece of work, sketching her item. She watched intently as his charcoal moved down the page…Without Jean's asking she caressed her thighs…her teat magically stiffened and stood Forth with a kissable rosiness…she lifted them to her sass, licking and sighing and looked directly into Jean's eyes, smiling. He was blushing, embarrassed but smiled back. He thought how moderately she was and thought of licking her nipples but was shy and continued sketching.

His sketching moved further down. Her legs were crossed. He looked up at her as if indicating a silent remark…she knowingly uncrossed her pegleg for him. He looked in her centre afraid to speak his asking. She smiled again looked down between her second joint and opened herself to Jean, smiling and licking her lips the while. He looked as she opened herself…fixated. Among her auburn curls peeking out. was her sex line between the lines of which she had told him held cracking pleasure but that pleasure which he had yet to enjoy. He returned to his sketching but his mouth was watering and he adjusted the niggardliness in his pants. He drew carefully, looking at her sex again and again…the room was full of smiles.

mademoiselle Yvette stared at Jean until he looked back, a steady fixed mutual stare. He paused, his sketch almost accomplished. She put her digit in her lip, suction, her tongue engulfing her finger's breadth which she traced on the line of her sex, repeating, staring into denim's watery middle. Her sex was coloring to auburn like her hair. She and blue jean inhaled deeply, drawing a dizzying fog in their eyes in the subdued way. He signed his public figure to the survey. Putting it aside. A patsy passed by the candid window and they both shivered. The sketch was finished and he poured the wine he had purchased that cockcrow. When Jean drank the wine, his mouth on the edge of the glassful, he licked his lips, imagined caressing hers. He felt root on, adjusting his trouser again, his neck sore..

Thus endeth Chapter the Fourth

Chapter the one-fifth ; The darkness arts

Jean and Mademoisille Yvette became close over the following week : her posing, him sketching, admiring each other and she toying with him. jean would playfully respond to her incitement even once licking her nipples on demand and dream of so many other things. After all, one must be cautious of awakening the beast, loosening his pant and mania. jean was an free, Yes ! But an unusually built innocent who once aroused and released from confining fabric, his remarkable penis, as yet untested, would look for to slake its thirst for flesh. Yvette had heard the rumors in LPA, of Jean, his"nature's generous endowment,"and her genitals quivered when her resourcefulness about jean's circumstance was unloosed.

However, Jean had yet to explore his passions or splendid natural endowment which remained a hoarded wealth, rumored, but buried in his pants…rising only by happenstance from time to clip occasionally with his patron during sessions when she would caress the lines of her sex to a pouting auburn coloring material before his bewitched eyes. When they stared at each former she seemed to be saying :"Don't you want to caress my sex ? Don't you want to taste of my auburn back talk and my nectar of lustfulness ?"

Somehow he was not aroused, demurred and simply admired the bewilder coloration. blue jean was an artiste and colors of every sort and author were his mania. She no longer had to stroke herself for the semblance to appear, It was the innocent jean with the habitual sore neck who was arousing the patron by his reticence.. As if the Thomas More one resists the more desirable one becomes. The more than resistance the more worry. In disaffirmation may reside admission.

She was growing frustrated as her seduction of him was rejected and put in reverse. In his declination of her temptation he had sparked her imagination. No longer was it her nidus to arouse his desire for her. It had become her aroused desire for him. Yvette desired the Jean of rumors. She decided to change course..to creep up on Jean as it were. Her plan, un plan diabolique, was to offer relief to his habitually sore cervix. To divert his attention from her to him, use up his guard down, use a dissembling, and to"accidentally"awaken his intimate fervidness. blue jean was possessed of an creative person's ardor…it only wanted to be nurtured.

Her scheme was this : in those metre it came to pass that women dealing with their monthly soreness and cramps would periodically jaw Dr. for easement of a new and dissimilar manner. The in style intervention combined relievo and a grand relieving figure of foreplay. Its manner was almost obstruct in its embossment leaving the affected role delirious…shaking. It was the good fortune of mademoiselle Yvette that she visited such a medical person regularly in an domain of Calais known for the dark and personal, not generally known, its particular female requirements. She was soon to visit there and bribe the MD's head nursemaid for possession of one of the magical cramp-relieving medical instrumental role in interrogation.

It was that clip of periodic soreness for Yvette ; a necessary break from posing for Jean. She assumed a veil, a discreet passenger car and traveled to the dark role of Calais incognito, entering the unmarked door without placard. There, as was usual on a monthly groundwork, were other blot out and anon. women, nodding at each other, the occasional giggle as all knew what satisfying, ameliorating treatment awaited. In mere moments discomfort dissipated, in mere moments was an exhilaration of the sprightliness and the disappearance of spasm. It was a brisk if private and drab new medical exam job. Yvette waited, patiently. She would await as long as it took.

In this agency there were no names, no enrolment or history lists. patient were manage with anonymously through motion, fingers pointed and nods. Soon enough a nursemaid nodded at Yvette. She followed along an aisle of buck private stall, drapes pulled shut, sounds of female groanings and grunting, she passed in the aisle another woman who smiled at her through her veil. Then she entered her carrel. The nursemaid began to pull out the curtain but Yvette took her hand…inside was a 1000 Franc note. The nursemaid looked at her shaking her brain. Yvette handed her another note and the nurse pulled the drapery putting the bank note in her pocket.

Soon the doctor appeared happily with his medical examination device, plugging it in. He lifted Yvette's skirt, under which she was bare, along with the former women seeking treatment.It was gentle, more straight without scanty or petticoats The doctor gently smoothed her auburn fuzz, traced the smooth blood line of her sex, smiling at her knowingly. He knew what pleasures would possess her soon and lingered. Yvette was an especially beautiful woman. She smiled back at his touching and her mouth were turning auburn in anticipation. She looked forward to her sojourn and previously, before being fascinated with the conquest of jean, had fucked the medico. She couldn't help herself from his caress, that touching one meter. Now she was about Jean. He was a lusting discrete professional person ***********ively enjoying his clientele and proudly endowed. His drill was busy but he had learned to live with it !

The doctor held his instrument and began the humming application on her buck private orbit, moving it gently along the auburn back talk of her sex, at get-go touch startling to Yvette's body as per common and then it was Yvette groaning, lifting and grunting in a light-headed delight…all as common, in concert with the pleased sound of the girls in the early kiosk. After a while Yvette, having exhaustingly luxuriated in nature's joy, dried herself, wiped the tears from her cheeks, lowered her chick and veil and leftfield. On her way out a nursemaid called :"Madam ! You forgot your computer software,"handing the software package to Yvette who put the treasured item in her full-sized handbag. She entered the awaiting carriage with a big smile on her case. Un programme diabolique was moving forward and was now fully energized. Bodoni medical specialty was marvelous she thought and smiled, shivering when she crossed her legs on the vibrating posterior cushion bouncing from the carriage cause over the rough paving of Calais.

Thus endeth Chapter the fifth

Chapter the sixth : un plan concluded

Yvette was smiling at herself on entering dungaree's studio a few solar day later, fully refreshed, her handbag containing the black market medical examination twist. Surreptitiously she had used it on herself…but just to get well-heeled with its use she rationalized. Her skin was animated, her sex surely having already turned auburn for the occasion. She was blushing even in the damp studio apartment as she exchanged bon jours with Jean.

"jean. Is your neck opening sore as common ?"He nodded stiffly."I have something that will help and sooth some of your finely artistic talents before we get to cultivate. Here, lie back in the chair by your lamp, lean back and close your oculus for a prissy surprise"…Jean did as he was told, anxious for succour from his irritation and aegir for Yvette's surprise.

Sly and lewd Yvette opened her hand bag, removed the device, plugged it into the socket next to the lamp and cautioned blue jean :"No thing what eyes closed. Right ? Promise me ?"Jean nodded, then he heard the humming but kept his optic closed.

Yvette now, being delightedly experienced with its use, began to practice the device to the resistless Jean. At the first touch, Jean jolted as did Yvette each meter at first touching. Then jean settled into the rhythmic practical application of the aristocratic Yvette, first along the sore taut muscles, sinews, of his neck…Jean now relaxing, almost purring to the ablutions. Feelings of release generated along his shoulder joint and down his weapon system as though his body was possessed, the hum phone, the wave in his body, a soporific and yielded all to Yvette's tending. They had planned a full-of-the-moon day of work and as it happened Jean had dressed accordingly wearing only a wide-eyed artist's smock. Yvette, noticing, couldn't believe how this trade good fortune had smiled on her plan diabolique …only loose push button of his adventitia separated her sight from and applying the device on what was rumored as big among Jean's male friends who all bathed in the local public baths.

Yvette slowly expanded the scope of the device from denim's neck, down his arms, expanding here and there all the time her artist acquiesced to the elaboration. She got bluff and applied it to his outstretched bare stage. All he did was flex his wooden leg, a slack up grinning efflorescence, eyes still shut as promised. The moment had come…Yvette worked on his leg using one hand while with the other her finger deftly unbuttoned the frock. With the final examination button the two tizzy slid unresolved exposing to Yvette for the low time his desolation, his nether part at rest.. blue jean didn't react to this. He was possessed with feelings, soothing vibrations, humming.

To say Yvette was astonished at what she beheld discredits the word…breathtaking…the sight took her breath momentarily. She moved her instrument over the brawniness of his abdomen. blue jean didn't react but let his legs fall apart, exposing himself more fully. Yvette moved her legal document across and slowly gloomy dungaree's thighs…on either side of his"endowment."Jean's hand moved to hers, jolting her, but petting her tegument in consent and blessing. She kept on with her attentions, feeling erotic emotions in her respiration, her face and breast hot. She was filled with an carnal's desire for pass completion, to be taken. La plan diabolique !

She moved it along dungaree's legs and thighs ever closer to the quick of him still dormant. Then she saw it…small oozings from his penis, droplets on his branch, pulse of his Brobdingnagian penis. She moved her focus closer, the vibrating section of the device touching him lightly and he twitched, pulsed again, grew and kept growing with the unshakable application. She thought he moaned, his hand squeezed hers. Tight ! He did moan now and was fully erect…she held him in her deal, petting him up and down, teasing the hide with her nails. His member radiated heating system in her manus. He was dodgy with himself. She felt her body in high temperature and stood, lifting her dress, straddling dungaree and moving…she held him to her sex pulling him in between the lines…they were both hot and slick…his penis spread her, speared her, she lowered on him to her throat, both of them radiating heat, she flexed, lifted, flexed some more, gripped, came once, again and collapsed, still coupled, she reached and unplugged. Getting her breathing time, her face against Jean's. His mouth moved against her ear. He whispered in a gruff phonation, kissing her ear :"Thank you for the surprise. My neck opening is much better."Then they chuckled, snuggled and slept. fall guy weaved carelessly outside the studio windowpane. The lover moist eubstance still coupled. At relaxation. They would work another day .