Paint Job (2 page)

“Oh…oh…oh…” I say.

Leena is squeezing my breasts. “Let’s lean back a little
more,” she says. We wriggle together, inching downward into the supporting
pillows. I feel her soft folds, warm and moist, against the small of my back.
She’s moving against me in tiny, sweet jerks. I feel Randall’s fingers and now
one of them is
inside of me
. I lay my head in the hollow between Leena’s
neck and shoulder and let myself melt.

I open my eyes. Randall has a razor now. He holds it up.
“Okay?”

“Okay. Yes. Yes.”

I feel the cool swipes of the blade rounding my mound and my
spine twists in response. “Like that?” says Leena. She’s kneading my breasts
and fondling my nipples. She nibbles at my neck. The razor passes back and
forth, a swath of molten lava. I breathe in and out. Leena’s hands press and
release, press and release. Randall shaves the inside of my legs, then runs a
finger over the delicate, freshly shaved skin. He lifts my haunches one at a
time so he can get at the wispy hairs around my ass. The fingers of one hand
are inside my vagina, holding me still as he wields the razor in the other.

I moan.

So,
this
is what Claire was talking about.
This
is the Deluxe Package. How could I be so clueless, so dense? How did I not
figure it out right away?

Warm water washes the suds away. A soft towel blots at me.
My pelvis presses upward, almost of its own accord, my need moving me. Leena’s
hands leave my breasts and trail down my front. Two of her fingers wiggle their
way into my vagina as Randall sits back and breathes deeply, smiling down at
us. He looks flushed. His banana has grown to the size of a plantain. He leans
forward and puts his hand over Leena’s and pushes both their fingers far inside
me—I squirm with pleasure. I’ve
never
felt like this before. “So soft…”
Leena whispers in my ear. “You’re
really
nice.” My knees buck against
hers, our heels digging identical round divots in the pad beneath us. I feel
her pussy rubbing against me as I strain to the rhythm of their hands. After a
while Randall takes his hand away and sits back on his heels, watching. Then he
leans forward and takes my nipple in his mouth.

The world explodes around me. I gasp for air. Spasms rock my
entire body. Leena supports me from behind and Randall is leaning over me,
holding my chin cupped in his hand. His mouth moves from my breast to my lips,
and then slowly, gently, he lets his weight settle on top of me. He rides my
spasms until they stop, his banana resting on my leg.

The three of us lay there panting.

They lie down on either side of me, my beautiful
practitioners. My breath slows. Randall pulls the wet drop cloth from beneath
us, wads it up and tosses it into the corner, then snuggles up to me. Leena
pulls up a blanket to cover us. We twine our arms and legs around one another.

“Oh my god,” is all I can manage.

“Take a nap. Sleep,” says Leena. “When we wake up, we’ll
have a bite to eat and talk, then get to work on your painting. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, almost asleep, “okay.”

Two hours later I wake up to the smell of coffee. I’m alone
on the platform. I sit up, clutching the blanket to my chest. I can hear them
in the main room, rattling dishes, moving chairs, chatting. I am paralyzed by
the memory of what happened on this platform only a few hours before. I thought
I was getting a Paintini, but I’m getting so much
more
. I don’t know
what to think.

“You’re awake,” says Randall. Were his fingers
really
inside me just a little while ago? He’s holding a steaming cup of coffee.

“Come on in,” invites Leena. Did she
really
move me
to orgasm? “There’s a bathrobe on the chair.”

I pull on the bathrobe. My privates feel slick and naked as
I go into the other room, where
they
are. “Hi,” I say. I pour myself
coffee and stare into its depths. I’m not ready yet. I’m not ready to look at
the two people who took me so completely by surprise and who just made the best
love of my life to me.

“You didn’t know, did you?” asks Randall.

I shake my head.

“Are you okay?” says Leena.

I nod. I glance at them, sitting together on the couch,
looking like concerned parents. They’re wearing bathrobes too. “Yes. I am. I’m
more than okay. Really.”

“You’ve never made love with a woman before,” says Leena,
“have you? That was your first time, wasn’t it?” It’s a statement, not a
question.

“Yes,” I say.

“Or with two people at once…”

“Never,” I say.

“We thought you knew. You answered the questions…”

“You knew the password…”

“It was Claire,” says Leena, setting down her coffee. “She
screwed up the invite.”

“Has to be,” agrees Randall. “Claire. Nice girl but a bit
scattered, maybe.” He pours himself more coffee. I remember the banana hidden
under his bathrobe and I smile a little private smile. I hope I’ll get the
chance to see it again.

“You asked for the
Deluxe Package
…”

“So we thought you knew what you were getting into.”

They stare at me, eyes wide and troubled.

“It’s okay. Really. But you’re right—I had
no idea
!”
How could I ever have thought that Randall rubbing my nipples and Leena adoring
my pubes was anything but what it was? I feel ridiculously innocent with these
two, and very young. I flush. A thrill goes through me—I
want
to be felt
up again! I want them to make love to me again! It wasn’t what I came here for,
but it’s all I can think of now.

“This has never happened before,” says Leena.

“Never,” says Randall.

“Maybe we should stop?”

I sit down on the couch beside Randall. “No. Let’s continue.
I
want
the Deluxe Package. But I have a question—do I really get a
Paintini? Because I want a Paintini.”

Randall erupts in laughter. “Of course you do! That’s what
we do. Well…” He glances at Leena. “It’s
one
of the things we do.”

Leena grins. “In fact, we’re going to start painting you
right after we finish these croissants.” Leena gestures at a tray of
luscious-looking buttery pastries I hadn’t noticed before. I’m suddenly
ravenous. “Eat, Gabby. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. And a lot of sex.”

Randall studies me. “Sex, Gabby. You, me, Leena. Fucking.
Screwing. Sex.”

Sex.
My cheeks flush. Leena is smiling at me over her
coffee.

“Sex,” she says.

“Uh…sex,” I say, smothering the word in a loud slurp of
coffee.

“With condoms,” adds Randall.

“Of course,” she agrees. “We care about safety.”

After our snack we move back into the room where they
seduced me. Me—
seduced
! But now they are all business. They ask me to
disrobe. I do. They ask me to pose again on the platform. I do. This time there
is no touching, no fondling. This time I’m not self-conscious about being naked
in front of them. This time I like the way they look at me. Leena rolls a large
wheeled table next to the platform and I see it is filled with tubes of paint
and brushes and solvent and those painters’ palettes with a nifty hole for the
thumb.

Randall has a thin gray crayon in his hand and once again
he’s marking my skin. Most of the marks he made earlier are gone.

“This will sting some,” Leena says offhandedly as she swirls
her brush in a puddle of blue paint.

Wait. It’s going to sting?
“No one told me that,” I
protest.

“Oh! Well, they should have. The paint—the stain—will invade
the top layers of skin. How else will it last for a whole year? But don’t
worry, it’s not too bad. The sting fades in a few minutes.”

“I have it all over my dick, remember,” says Randall
helpfully. He’s putting the final touches of a line drawing onto my bare body,
a nicely shaped bikini. “Trust us.”

“Well, okay. I guess.”

“I’m going to do a base coat. None of this will show in the
final work.” Leena nears me with the brush. I shrink away. “Hold still!”

She puts her hand on my arm to steady me. The brush tickles
me where she starts painting on my left hip. The sting hits all at once and I
gasp. “Gabby. You have to stand still. This stuff is permanent, remember? You
don’t want stray marks, do you?”

“I don’t know about this!” I bend over, feeling faint. “I
didn’t know it was going to hurt.” They both regard me, looking disappointed.
They don’t understand. I
really
don’t like pain. I faint when I get
shots. I don’t leave my bed when I have cramps. I once puked when I cut my
thumb with a paring knife and all that blood went everywhere. I want a Paintini
but I didn’t know it was going to sting! Maybe I have to rethink this. “Why
can’t we just do the other thing—have sex, you know, have some fun—and forget
about the Paintini?” I say, desperate.

“No,” says Randall.

“Absolutely not,” says Leena.

“We won’t do one without the other.”

I stare at them. I look at the blue splotch on my hip, at
the grey outlines running all over my body. “You won’t?” I ask. “Why?”

“We’re artists! We want to paint you,” says Randall.

“We’re not
prostitutes
, Gabby,” sighs Leena. “This is
a package deal. It’s all or nothing. We’re proud of our work.”

The sting is almost gone now. It burned for a while, but it
wasn’t
that
bad. Not as bad as a shot. Suddenly, I decide a little burn
will be worth it for…for a paint job. And for the other. For the promise of sex
with them. I feel a rush in my loins just thinking of it. “Sorry. Of course
you’re artists. I love your work. That’s why Claire told me about you, even
though she screwed it up. I’m sorry. I want to continue. I’ll hold still.”

Leena brushes me again, and again, and again, and it
hurts
.
I hold still, but tears are forming in the corners of my eyes. Then Randall
starts in on my other hip. They have a rhythm, these two. She paints a stroke,
then he does, then she does. Back and forth they go, hurting me over and over,
on one side then the other. I gasp. “Please! Can we take a break?”

“Poor thing,” says Randall. “You’ve been so good. You’ve not
moved a muscle. Look how nice your bikini will be. Come on—take a look.”

I look. My hips are blue. “I wanted a green bikini,” I say,
whimpering. I’m not liking this. I didn’t sign up for this. When do I get sex
again? And why are they painting blue all over me?

“It’ll be green,” says Leena. “Base coat, remember?”

Randall looks up at me. He’s just dabbed paint on the crease
between my hip and my leg. It stings. Of course it does. “Just a little longer,
honey. Then we’ll lay you down on the mat again. Just hold on a bit longer,
okay?”

After a while, Randall takes my hand and lays me facedown on
the mat. He kisses me. “Wait for it,” he says, putting his finger to my lips.
“You’ll get it again. Don’t worry.”

Leena laughs. “Oh, yes, you’ll get it again. We
like
you.”

“But first we want to finish the base coat.”

I lay on the mat, biting my lip as their brushes burn my
hips and my butt and the middle of my back where the straps will be. “Almost
done,” says Leena, “just one more place on this side.”

Then one of them spreads my butt cheeks and the other
applies paint. I shriek.

“Sorry, honey,” says Leena, “this part tends to hurt more.”

By the time they’ve covered the territory around my ass, I’m
crying into the mat, trying not to move as they put the finishing touches on
the tender skin near the back of my vulva.
Stop! Please!
I want to
yell—but I’m in another place, trying to survive, trying not to move. Then I
feel it. Something is inside me, and it’s not paint.

“I’m so sorry we have to hurt you, honey,” says Randall’s
quiet voice close to my ear. “I hate to see you cry.” He’s moving his fingers
gently inside me as I tremble from the burning of the paint—which, to my
horror, Leena is still applying. Randall massages the walls of my vagina and
pushes my legs farther apart. He reaches farther under me and plays with my
clit, reaching around Leena’s brush, the two of them moving in a complicated
choreography. I’m crying softly. They’re working in tandem. She dabs paint to
the left of my asshole. He reaches far inside me and moves his fingers slowly
back and forth. She paints the tender area in front of my ass. He makes sensual
circles inside me. She paints my anus and I shriek again, the worst pain of
all. It lingers and lingers as he finds a place inside me that feels so
wonderful it makes my legs twitch. I tremble with the effort of not moving. I
lie flat on my stomach, gasping. I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
The
pain! The pain! The pleasure! The pleasure!

“Don’t move, Gabby,” Leena warns.

How can I not move?

“There’s nothing like it, is there?” says Randall, leaning
over me, whispering. “I know. I
know.
”

“Okay. Turn her.”

Leena has set aside her brush. I take a shuddering breath.
Randall takes his fingers out of me and helps her move me onto my back. Every
muscle in my body has turned to mush. I look up at them, tears rolling down the
sides of my cheeks. Randall and Leena pay no attention to my wet face—they’re
still in working mode. They change tasks. Randall picks up a brush and starts
in on my left breast, and the stinging starts up again. Leena holds my hand and
whispers to me, “You’re doing fine. You’re
good
at this.” She smiles
down at me and I manage a grimace—Randall has just slapped paint on my nipple
and no, I do
not
feel good at this. “Don’t move,” she warns.

She watches him at work for a few moments, then she arranges
herself between my legs. I barely register her spreading my knees apart. She
takes a tiny brush, one I haven’t seen before, and makes delicate dabs at my
genitals. I whimper. She spreads my labia and applies paint. I don’t even
notice Randall at work on my tit. Wait—he’s not at work painting my tit, he’s
sucking
my nipple
. I gape down at the top of his head and cry out in wretched
pain as Leena paints my clit. He smacks and slurps and spits as his sucking
grows more urgent. My nipple hardens in his mouth, but my poor clit feels like
it will melt right off my body. I try not to move. If I move, Leena’s paint
will hit my clit again. My entire body trembles.

She’s set down her brush and is wiping her brow. Thank
god
,
she’s done down there. She takes a swig of water, then she trades places with
Randall. He takes a drink and offers me one also. Panting, I refuse. “Come on,
honey, you need to stay hydrated,” he says. I gulp. Most of it runs down the
side of my face.

Leena starts painting my left breast. “You’re doing
fine
,”
she says again. Randall takes her place between my legs. He spreads my knees. I
screw my eyes shut. Oh god, please don’t let him paint my clit again. Please.
Leena is doing the top of my nipple. He’s doing something at my crotch. She’s
doing the underside of my nipple, and it hurts,
it hurts
! Pain builds on
pain and I think I can take it no longer…and now Randall is fucking me.

My eyes fly open. He
is
fucking me. He’s straddling me,
propped up on his elbows, trying to stay out of Leena’s way, and his banana
is
in me
. I watch in disbelief—how did I not notice what’s happening down
there? I hear myself moan. He rides me, in and out, in and out, crooning to me
in a soft voice, “Honey, oh, honey, honey, you’re doing so good…” My arms reach
up and try to clutch at his shoulders, but Leena bats them down. She paints the
underside of my areola and I cry out.

“Randall!” she says, “Stop that bucking. Can’t you screw her
without making me mess up?”

“Sorry,” he says, laughing. “This is just so
fun
,
don’t you think?”

Fun or torture? Take your pick.

Leena finishes my tit and sits up. “Whew,” she says. She
regards the Gabby-and-Randall pony show. I can’t believe this is
happening—Randall is
fucking
me, Leena is watching,
and I like it
.
The pain is almost gone now and I am a quivering bag of Jell-O and I can barely
move—but I
like
being screwed by Randall. This is what I’ve been waiting
for and he knows it. Leena leans over and kisses me. She strokes my hair. I
like Leena too. I like her a lot. I smile up at her and touch her red breast.
She clears a tear from the side of my face. “Poor baby,” she sighs. “We hurt
you, didn’t we?”

Randall is screwing me faster now. He’s panting and Leena is
lying beside me—almost on top of me—kissing me and fondling my breasts and now
she’s diddling my clit with her finger as his cock rams me from inside. I reach
for her and find her warm wet place with my own hand. She moans. Randall’s
chest is slapping her back with each thrust, and she’s pressed into me in such
a way that I feel like two people are making love to me at once. It is
unbearably wonderful. I meet her kisses with kisses of my own. My chest rises
to hers as my hips rise to Randall’s and I’m fucking them both at the same
time. I cry out. Or maybe I’m just plain crying.

All pain is gone now and all I feel is
them
.