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As Eleanor went about searching amongst her manuscript collection, Sophie idly recalled her encounters with the singular residents of this most mysterious and unfathomable household. For Sophie Adler had indulged in deep and abiding romantic relations with Isabella, Charlotte and Zoe all. Every member of Mrs Krieger’s household in fact save for Eleanor herself.

Their affairs and encounters were conducted without the slightest hint of any breach of fidelity on the part of any of the three. And indeed without the smallest indication that any inconstancy or faithlessness was being undertaken. Thus confounding Sophie’s speculations about the identity of the other Mrs Krieger, if indeed any of the three were in fact Eleanor’s spouse.

Of course Sophie was well aware that she could easily have asked any of the three women the exact nature of their relationship to Eleanor. Thus dispelling any mystery and avoiding duplicity or adultery altogether. But the plain fact was that she simply never had. Indeed the very idea of asking such a mundane and worldly a question, seemed singularly out of place in this household.

For all four women were so queerly removed in character and custom from the outside world. That the very idea of such an enquiry seemed to Sophie an inexcusably base thing. As though these curious women were entirely aloof from such immaterial concerns. Adherent to some alien code of societal conduct which rendered such considerations beneath them.

For there was a profound sense almost of aloof nobility to Isabella, Charlotte and Zoe. And such a strange air of regality about Eleanor, that Sophie felt as though she were negotiating her way about an imperial court, rather than a household.

And further, that Eleanor’s three companions might more properly be thought of as courtesans rather than living companions. Indeed in time, Sophie simply accepted notion that any breach of courtly conduct would be a greater and more alienating infraction, than cheating on Eleanor with her own wife.

And so profound were all these impressions that Sophie had felt compelled to comply with her instincts. And leave the entire question unasked.

It had at first been a most curious and confusing mode of behaviour to accept, but in time the curiosities of this strange family became somewhat familiar. And before Sophie knew what was happening, she found that she had formed intimate and enduring relationships with all but her fondest and most fervent heart’s desire.

First of all Sophie had found herself falling in love with Isabella, the most introspective and reclusive member of the household. With Isabella it had been her gentle grace and poise when she was at her easel, which had first beguiled Sophie’s heart.

Isabella was a woman of fathomless inscrutability and cryptic complexity of soul. A woman of bewitching secrets and profound depths. Which for this household was no small statement, perplexing and impenetrable as it was.

Isabella was singularly preoccupied with the visual arts and seemed to spend every waking hour at her easel. And Isabella created the most wonderful paintings Sophie thought she had ever seen. Her work was so macabre and disturbing, but at the same time so gorgeously compelling and weirdly beautiful.

Her subject matter was always of the most darkly bizarre nature, and were it not for the beauty of her creations, they might well be considered ghastly in character.

There was such depth of beguiling beauty about Isabella, such delicate exquisiteness combined paradoxically with such leanness and intensity. Such that Sophie could not bring herself to consider anything she created, as other than unutterably gorgeous.

But it was this supreme talent juxtaposed against her delightfully awkward clumsiness in all other things, which truly won Sophie’s affection. For as poised and confident when at work as she was, Isabella was delightfully ill at ease in all other things. It was the way she way she would sometimes clumsily spill wine or trip over the corner of  a rug.

But in particular it was the way she would kiss Sophie’s cheek a little nervously each time they met in such a very enchanting manner. And the way Isabella would start or jump a little when Sophie entered the room. But it was also in the way she would narrow her eyes momentarily when she saw Sophie. As though the woman was possessed of some intense hunger or avid craving barely contained

Sophie had fallen into the habit of lingering after her lessons to spend time with Isabella. More often than not simply sitting in silence and watching her as she worked. Isabella glad of the company as she created her exquisitely grim fantasias.

And one wonderful day when Sophie was asking what Isabella felt when she was painting. Bella had placed her brush in Sophie’s hand and held it in her own. Insisting that the truest answer to Sophie’s question might best be rendered via experience.

And so Sophie held Isabella’s brush, while Isabella took control of Sophie’s movements. Communicating her thoughts and emotions in oil by guiding Sophie, Isabella expressing herself through the girl. And for Sophie it was the most magical of experiences, to feel the intensity of Isabella’s creativity flowing through her.

That was the gorgeous moment when Sophie had fallen hopelessly for Isabella, the experience had been so wonderfully perfect. Sophie was already very much enamoured of Isabella, but to have the woman expressing herself through her, the experience had been nothing short of mystical.

And Sophie most assuredly remembered the encounter, but in a curiously vague fashion. For Sophie was not entirely sure it had not been all in her imagination. That it had not been some exceptionally vivid fantasy or daydream come true. And Sophie was not entirely sure she had not been subject to some form of bewitching glamour, or other supernatural enchantment.

But what Sophie did remember was Isabella gathering her in her embrace, and taking gentle dominance of her motions. Sophie remembered the proximity of Isabella’s body against hers, the gorgeous luxury of her nearness. Isabella’s sweet breath on the nape of her neck delighting her to arousal. As Isabella controlled her motions as she painted with Sophie’s hands so seductively.

Sophie remembered the artist’s free arm snaking around her waist, drawing her nearer to better dominate her movements. Sophie remembered closing her eyes as the intense emotion of the experience bathed her entire being in bliss. As the dark beauty of Isabella’s curious creativity flowed through her so exquisitely. So sensuously and so deliciously.

And Sophie remembered Isabella’s lips so gorgeously near, whispering first of the passion of creation. Then of the secrets and hidden emotions that were contained in her paintings. And then she had begun to whisper enchanting and beguiling declarations of affection and confessions of devotion. Until at last Isabella’s lips began to whisper wanton seduction. And at last blatant and irresistible erotic propositions.

And then those beguiling lips began to kiss, as the artist’s free hand wandered to the top button of Sophie’s jeans. The brush fell to the floor and Sophie’s heart began to race wildly with nervous excitation, Isabella’s hands upon her body wandering underneath her sweater, and caressing her breasts to sumptuous stimulation. Wanting her, thrilling her and finally taking her.

Bella’s mouth upon her own, their lips united in fervent smoldering desire. Their breath mingling in irresistible wildfire want, their tongues meeting so sumptuously in urgent aching need.

Sophie remembered Bella’s hand wandering under her panties, caressing her excitement to dizzying heights of wanton arousal. Thrilling her to unutterably blissful ecstasy as those beguiling lips whispered their carnal enchantments.

And then Bella had undressed them both and led them before the flames that danced in the studio hearth. And she had made love to Sophie Adler for what seemed an unearthly eternity of uncounted ecstatic hours. Isabella’s intoxicating sweet kiss and the wondrous caress of her tongue driving Sophie to rapturous bliss. Over and over and again and again.

And Sophie recalled the convulsive gasping ecstasy Bella had inspired in her, when she had positioned their hips together with their lips meeting in rapturous bliss. And Sophie’s entire being ached once again as she remembered Bella’s hips grinding against hers. Her lust slick lips gliding back and forth against Isabella’s, kissing her relentlessly to eruptive rapture.

How Isabella’s body had strived and stressed so gorgeously, the perspiration rising abundantly on her skin glistening so beautifully in the firelight. How she had sung and sighed so exquisitely as she worked them both to delicious and frantic simultaneous detonation.

And oh how gorgeously Isabella cried out and gasped as her bliss erupted. How brightly her narrowed eyes had glittered and shone with rapture as she came. The trembling of her bottom lip and the gasping gape of her panting mouth. As indelibly etched into Sophie’s memory, as the frown of erotic consternation which had creased her furious brow.

Making love with Isabella had been the sweetest of sweet erotic dreams. A carnal  fantasy that haunted and delighted Sophie’s heart thereafter.

And every other occasion that they indulged their secret passion, had been just as bewitching and dreamlike as the first.

 

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