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I was awoken in the middle of the night. The lap turned on. It was Frankie, in a robe. She leaned over and kissed me. She sat on the bed and let her robe flow open, she was completely naked. She slid over and lie next to me, we kissed passionately and desperately. She had dirty blonde hair, sun tanned skin, she was a runner, tight bodied. She had the abdominal lines on her stomach and b breasts. I am wearing only boxers which she relieves me of. She begin to work me with her hand. I break our kiss and begin nipping, down her cheek, her neck, all the way to her breast. Sun tanned breasts wiht brown nipples.I remove her hand so I can move further down. Her belly, her naval, her hip, the pubic area. She was well shaved, n bums or anything. She opened her legs to let me in.I stop. I go down to her feet. I grab her right foot. I kiss each toe individually, then the ball of the foot. Only pecks. I make my way up her ankle. Her calf. Her knee. I move to the inner side of the thigh. I peck. What looked back was not quite familiar, and every new detail refocused her attention on the ghostly image, from the newly refined cheekbones to the deepening of her already striking eyes to something approaching International Klein Blue. That wasn't a color that had been in her vocabulary before class, but Rhea had just given one hell of an hour's crash course in 20th century art, from Klein to Klee to Macke, from Braque to Derain to Vlaminck. She'd been a pretty damned good student back at the Hive, but fuck if she hadn't internalized every word of the lecture. If there was one beneficial effect of the anomaly, it was the awesome razor-sharp mental acuity she now felt, as if she'd never forget another word, another sight, another taste.And there were many kinds of taste to remember in this weird world. The inexplicable but not unexpected slight metallic taste in the air, as if emphasizing the artificiality of the place. The haute cuisine served at every meal; no choice given but.
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