Post-Shopping Respite

Nyra slipped off her shoes and began putting things away. The sheets came out of their packages and into the washer. The sheets in the dryer still had paint on them, so she spread out the flat sheet onto the hardwood floor between the beanbags, instant carpet! Folding the fitted one she put it in the bathroom linen closet.

Next the blanket came out of the package and was draped over a beanbag. She washed her hands and grabbed some packages of wax out of the fridge. She plopped them down on the sheet along with a box of tools and two plexiglass pieces that made good working bases.

At the knock on the door she hollered. "C'mon in!"

Door opened and shut, Connie saw Nyra kneeling on the floor on what appeared to be the new sheets they'd just bought. Two shiny spots on the sheet that looked like glass sat near a box of tools and some wrapped cubes and lumps. "You look comfy. What class does the art professah have for us tonight?"

Smiling up at Connie "Oh I dont think this could be considered class. I just thought it may be enjoyable to squish around some wax. If you want to join in, I brought enough for both of us to the floor."

She flopped into the nearest beanbag chair and began unwrapping a cube of wax. She put it on top of one plexiglass sheet that was the size of a square dinner plate. As she opened the second one she motioned to the other chair. "Please have a seat! Even if you dont want to play, you are welcome to watch me. The best thing about wax is the lack of mess or rather the ease of clean up. Everything else can be quite messy so I figured this was safe."

Upending the box so all the tools piled on the sheet, she carefully selected a wire with two wooden handles at each end, a scraper and a small brush.

"Personally, I love wax. If you make a mistake you can melt some more onto it or just redo the whole thing easily. You can start off with flat sheets or carve from the block like a relief. Its very maliable when warm and holds its shape nicely when cold."

As she talked she worked on a fourth of the lump of wax, scraping, shaping and using the pointy end to etch details into the medium. When she picked up the brush it was very noticably looking exactly like the bunny she had pet earlier today. The small wire bristled brush added a fur texture making it even more realistic. Nyra plopped him down on a corner of her plexiglass.

"See, its really easy and fun. If you dont like what you make, simply squish it into a ball and start again, like play-dough!"

After she sat and while Nyra talked, Connie watched, fascinated, as the misshapen lump of wax quickly became the bunny Nyra displayed.

Connie picked up her own plexiglass sheet and a lump of wax about the size of a grapefruit. She flattened it against the plate, then started to roll it, almost as if she were baking. "This reminds me a lot of a pottery class I used to take. Pottery was fun. Especially when breaking the finished product. Well, we only did that a couple times. Most of the things I made stayed in the teacher's kilnroom and I never saw em again. Kinda disappointin', actually."

When she had a nice, long cylinder, she folded it in half and rerolled it a bit thicker. As the perfect cylinder formed, about three fingers thick, she used one of the little wires to cut the ends square, and stood it straight on one side of the glass sheet. Holding her hands palm-to-palm around the cylinder, she waited a few moments and slowly bent it in an arch shape. "I haven' used mah hands to make anythin' outside of dinner for... longer than I can remember. Too long. This is actually fun!"

Taking one of the two little lumps leftover in her hands, she formed a small ball, then hollowed it out, creating a kind of cup-shape. The other she made into a ring, and picking a wedge-shaped tool from the pile, slowly formed a poor mockery of clouds.

Taking up two blocks of wood from the tools, she pressed them carefully to each side of the arch, flattening it slightly, then drew a thin tool along the arch creating six lines through its wax on both sides.

She loosened one end from the glass and placed the ring beneath it, then the little cup, finally reattaching the arch to the end. She held it in her lap, turning it back and forth, pleased with the result. The little cup should be just big enough to hold a few quarters.

Nyra watched Connie create, she was very good with her hands. The small rainbow shape was very cute, it was a shame the wax was a dark blackish brown instead of colors. Realizing her own form was taking shape, without her paying much attention to it.

The stylized woman was reaching up to the sky, balancing upon the toes of one foot while the other was out to the back. Almost as if she knew her balance might slip and she wanted to be prepared. Nyra swiftly made a base in the shape of a shadow, if the light was coming directly above the figure. This used up all of her wax but even that pleased her. She placed the figure on the middle of the plexiglass.

Standing up she fetched two boxes that were big enough to hold the figures on the plexiglass but no bigger. After placing each in its box she put them into the fridge. Washing her hands in the kitchen sink, she realized that again she had offered her guest nothing to drink.

"Would you like some water after all that hard work?"

As Nyra asked her if she wanted water, Connie joined Nyra at the sink to wash the waxy residue and smell off her hands. "Water's fine, sure. So after we cool down our creations, what next?"

"Can I lay you down on the sheets and..." "How about we open up that futon and..." "Shut up Connie, shut up shut up shut up. Go splash your face with cold water. Just cause you watched her intently while she created doesn't mean she wants to put her hands all over your body, too..."

It was a wonder that she hadn't melted the wax completely with these thoughts as she created. But then, she'd been so intent on creating something she hadn't seen in a while - and really, it had been a spur of the moment idea - that the prolonged absence of thought - normal or otherwise - just needed to catch up to itself.

Smiling at Connie, Nyra poured two glasses of water. "Honestly I hadn't much thought past the fun of wax. Simply because some times it goes fast and other times it goes very slowly. Unfortunately that was my last bunch of wax and I doubt the store is open."

Carefully she got out the leftover crudetes and dip from the other night and set them out to nibble on, with two cloth napkins.

"I have clay but the lack of a clay table makes it harder to ready the medium. I dont really want to start painting again this late at night. I was up till after dawn last night painting!"

She swiftly cleaned up the sheet and shook it outside. Laying it down again where it had been once it was cleaned off of all the wax bits. Carrying the plate of veggies and dip as well as her water, she sat down again in her chair, placing the munchies in the middle.

"We could talk. I noticed in the pet store that your not much of a pet person. Which is ok, but I just wondered why. You dont have to answer, but I am curious."

"Well, I don't have much... Wait, up til after dawn? Painting? Really? Wow. That's amazing! What were you painting? Can I see, or is it not ready? Or is it one of those things you wait to show someone? Is that what you fumigated us with when you coated to protect them?" At this last Connie giggled. "You know, I think I could get used to that smell, if it's one of the indicators you're creating. You're just so..." She shrugged expansively. "Multi-talented."

Blushing, she burried her face in her hands. "I was painting. After our date, I just couldnt even consider sleeping. So I painted. Um, I dont know if you really want to see them tho."

She stood up and slowly walked to the three easels that faced the wall. She turned each one around to face the room. Quickly returning to her beanbag chair, Nyra hid her face behind the blanket.

"I hope you dont mind." came her muffled comment. She was surprised the blanket didnt catch fire, her face was blushing so hotly.

Connie was awestruck at how... precisely... beautifully... so-many-postive-ully Nyra had portrayed her.

Part of her wanted to go up and stare at the intricacies of each of the three paintings, to discern the nuances of emotion and personality that Nyra had imbued into the paintings - even after having known Connie for only three and a half days.

That part of her stood from the beanbag and unabashedly gaped, open-mouthed, at the sights before her.

The rest of her, however took over, and turned back to the woman sitting, seemingly embarassed, on the other beanbag. Connie fell to her knees, straddling Nyra's feet, and slowly leaned forward over the shorter woman's body. She could feel the heat of what she imagined was an embarassed flush in the girl's entire body.

Extremely proud, very impressed smile only a hand's breadth from Nyra's, Connie carefully peeled back the corner of blanket concealing the hazel eyes and rosy tinted cheeks she so desperately needed to see.

When those eyes looked up at her, questioning, fearing, worrying, there was only one response Connie could deliver to Nyra.

Gingerly reaching her other hand out, Connie brushed a lock of hair from Nyra's vision, leaned in the last few inches to her friend's face, and pressed moistened lips to those in the nearly cherubic face before her. Hoping, praying, that she could express enough gratitude, amazement, acceptance, and even passion in the kiss shared, where words had failed her.

Most people were so critical of how they looked that portraits were iffy at best. They ranted and raved if they felt improperly portraid, even if it was as exact as a photograph. Sometimes they felt insulted that anyone dared to show them how others saw them.

All the bad things that could result from her paintings raced through her head. She should have hidden them, boxed them up and shipped them home so no one saw them but her.

She felt Connie move closer and pull down the blanket. Thankfully the other woman did not look angry. When Connie gently brushed the hair away from her face and kissed her, she was stunned.

No one had even been so accepting of her other than her family. Nyra leaned into the kiss, enjoying the soft lips on her own. Her hands reached out and gently pet Connie's upper arms, lightly, tentatively. The kiss was so warm, welcoming and consuming it felt like she was drowning it it.

Connie wanted to look at the paintings again, wanted to feel Nyra's body next to hers as they gazed upon the canvases. She tenderly disengaged, repeating the artist's tentative teasing tug - she sucked gently on Nyra's lower lip as she moved back just enough to focus on her eyes.

Beaming smile touching her own smoky orbs, Connie rolled on the bag and curled next to Nyra, head on her right shoulder, and stared, transfixed, at the trio of paintings.

"You've got me speechless, I can' tell ya how lovely they are." Whispered breathily into Nyra's ear, Connie's tongue snaked out and trailed counterclockwise along the cartilage, then placed a soft, sucking kiss just where the earlobe met her jaw.

Heat pooled low in her belly as Connie tugged gently on her lower lip. She was thankfull to be sitting as her limbs trembled. When Connie curled up beside her to look at the canvases, she smiled. Unspeakably happy that the paintings had caused this good reaction.

She shivered as goosebumps broke out down her legs and arms when those soft lips touched the side of her neck and ear. Silently they studied the paintings. Nyra wove her fingers into Connie's, holding her gently but firmly.

With a critical eye she noted flaws in her work. Probably a result of working solely off of memory and on zero sleep. Her voice was quiet and soothing as she began criticing the works.

"I have minor errors in the flowers as well as a lack of reflection in the water of the other. I should really wait to seal things until I have a chance to review it after some sleep. But I didnt want anyone to see these and so sealing and crating was my goal."

Deep breath "I hope you dont mind I painted you. Some people dislike it but I wanted to capture you for always, like you were last night. I am sure I could do a better job if you wouldnt mind modeling for me."

She resumed studying the paintings, sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye at Connie.

"I think they're perfect, Nyra, and no, I definately don't mind that you painted me. I'm honored. Flattered. Excited. Surprised, happy!" Still quietly whispered, as if Connie was afraid the full force of her voice as she wanted to exclaim at the top of her lungs to the city that she loved the works the mind, eyes, and hands this artist produced. This woman. This sensual, amazing, creative, wonderful woman that she was currently curled around like a spoon.

Connie's arm stretched across Nyra's ample chest and half-hugged her close, then placed an exaggerated kiss on her cheek. "I can't imagine you doing a better job, but I'd love to model for you. I'm sorry if I seemed nosy by askin' what you painted, but I do so enjoy your work and 'specially since you said it consumed you til dawn... I couldn't help but wondah."

Her nervousness vanished completely at Connie's kind words and silly kiss. "Thank you. I dont really do portraits much so I always worry that the subject will dislike it. Its not like a tree or sunset is going to complain I didnt capture their playfull side or something."

Snuggling against the taller woman's body "I love painting. I really do want to paint you more. You are so beautiful, inside and out. Capturing that is almost a compulsion for me. I hope you dont mind."

Connie rested her chin against the top of Nyra's head, softly cushioned by her mop - in quantity, if not style - of auburn hair. "If you love painting so much, why do you worry what others think about it? Yer creatin' to put things on canvas - or in wax, or whatevah - because it makes you feel good, gives you completion, lights your fire, floats your boat, and any other numbah of really off-the-wall metaphors I could supply that mean you enjoy what you're doin'. 'Specially if you don' show anyone, or don' show many. You do with your mind what I do with my camera... Except yours ends up invariably with more feeling, more emotion, both in the result as in the creation. I see somethin' 'neat' along the road, I'll stop and snap me some piccies. But you... You rely on your mind, your memories, and maybe even some empathic sense you have to translate emotions felt by your subject and yourself about a moment, these moments, that you have captured, indeed immortalized, here in this room and wherever your other art, painted or sculpted or otherwise, is stored. Where mah camera's glimpses into life are stark, naked, yours are embellished with ingredients over and above the original recipe."

Connie snickered and felt her chin vibrating minutely against Nyra's skull. "Of course, I could be off-base, but that's what everythin' inside me's sayin' that you do." She raised her head and kissed the top of Nyra's.

"And I still don't mind. If I minded anythin' when it comes to bein' connected with you, or with anythin' you do, I'll let you know. Jes' don' paint me in a plane. I hate flyin' somethin' fierce." Involuntarily she shuddered, causing her teeth to chatter briefly.

Nyra sat comfortably in Connie's embrace, content to let her soothe her with that accent and kind words. "I would never want to do anything that would hurt you. And I rarely paint planes, normally they are faint in the air kind of a notation in my paintings."

She snuggled deeper into the chair and the firm but curvy body beside her. She contemplated the paintings she had done, based on their second date. She wanted to do something unusual for her next painting of the beauty beside her. Something sureal and misty, showing the depth and amazement she held for Connie.

Sighing happily she was content to sit beside this woman who had come to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time. She rested her head on the shoulder offered and just relished this quiet time. She closed her eyes and built her next painting in her mind.

Connie smiled against the top of Nyra's head as her arm found its way onto the shoulder of the woman now snuggling into her.

As Nyra sighed, the raven-haired vampire felt a pleasant shiver run down her back.

One corner of her mind realized that not only was Nyra's heated breath caressing the skin of her throat, but if the woman was looking just so, she'd have a pretty good view of Connie's assets. Another was telling the third corner how comfortable it was against the artist, while that third corner itself was saying how it wanted to tear the clothes from her curvaceous body and ...

Again shutting down that train of thought, Connie instead heeded the fourth corner, the loud, everpresent voice at the center of her mind saying that this, being their third date, was fun and amazing. She could really get used to...

A rumble began in her belly. Eyes snapped open; she lifted her head from Nyra's. "Sorry dear, but I need to ansah a call..."

Nyra looked up at her. "A call? I didn't hear your phone..."

Connie flushed embarassedly and gave Nyra a quick peck on the cheek. "Nature, dear... Nature."

Tenderly detaching herself (much to her mind, body, and heart's dismay) from Nyra's embrace, she stepped quickly to the bathroom and at first seated herself, then realized it wasn't "that end" that was doing the rumbling, and spun about, head over the toilet, nearly tripping herself with slacks around her ankles.

Though she'd always been quiet - granted, it had been a very long time since she'd needed to relieve her body like this - she vaguely wondered if Nyra's bathroom was sound-resistant as she relocated her dinner.

As Connie got up, Nyra did as well. Nature was nature and no one was exempt. Cleaning up the tools used for the wax creating was a simple busy task that gave Connie more privacy even though the bathroom wals did not quite reach the roof.

At the sound of retching, Nyra cringed sympathetically. She got out some sparkling water, limes and lemons to help soothe Connie's tummy. Juicing the fruit and adding them to the water in a smaller glass.

She continued cleaning the tools, hoping her friend would be ok soon.

Connie leaned against Nyra's sink, trying to catch her breath. The knot in her belly was slowly starting to unkink. She reached for the toothpaste she found on the countertop and squirted some on her finger, then stuck it in her mouth, swishing it around with a palmful of water.

She hoped her breath and hair wouldn't smell like, well, vomit, when she exited. Not many things destroyed "the mood" quite like vomit could. Not that she was any expert, but then, "shit happens." Or in this case, "puke."

Well, there was that one kid in Texas that owned the tuxedo and dress store across the street from her second-hand shop...

She shook her head - just once - to clear the thought, but it sent waves of nausea down her backbone causing her guts to do flips again.

Stretching to ease the tight muscles in her back, she realized that, unlike her own loft's planned bathroom, Nyra's walls did not reach the ceiling or have a cover. "Well crap. Nyra probably heard everything."

She couldn't help but feel sheepish as she spat toothpastey water into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and exited the bathroom. She didn't think she smelled, but guessed she'd have to wait for Nyra's reaction.

Connie didn't immediately see Nyra, but she heard the kitchen sink running, and leaned around the corner and watched as the artist cleaned her tools.

"Ah'm terribly sorry, Nyra, I don't know what came over me. Well, that's not true, I know -what- came over me, but not why. Not quite something I'm used to. I... uh... that is... I hope I didn't gross you out. You could probly..." Lightly slapping herself with her fingertips, she mumbled, "Shut up Connie, she probly doesn' wanna dwell on your infirmity or whatever it was, so just suck it up and shut up."