Wilted Petals By: Sean Roberts
Author's Note: All feedback is appreciated. Please send to seanr_13@yahoo.ca
Chapter 9
The attic is clear of everything except for stacked canvases leaning against each other, standing against the wall. The canvases look white. The small amount of light she works with bounces off them; sunlight and moonlight from the windows do the same. This white that reflects the light is only there on one side. The opposite sides of all of these canvases are covered by some painting or another. A dog or a girl or a flower or anything she ever felt like painting. Some of them are Johanna, one of these a nude.
Leslie searches frantically for it. Her canvases are never touched by her, never turned around. Her paintings are for herself, except for the select few she has shared with Johanna. But now all of them get flipped around, most of them thrown aside, until she finds it.
Johanna knows about the painting but did not pose for it, nor has she ever seen it. Leslie painted her lover from the image of Johanna in her mind; from the love in her heart. In the painting Johanna stands, her hands at her sides, standing at a slight angle, naked white skin against a black background of stars. An angel in the night.
She gets no sexual pleasure from the painting. Though Johanna is naked, inviting breasts calling out to Leslie, Leslie sees only Johanna's eyes. The expression on Johanna's face is unreadable. It is not sad but it is not happy. There is seriousness about it but this is not necessarily a bad thing. As she stares at the painting Leslie picks up the cordless telephone she has brought with her. She dials the first six digits of Johanna's number before she hangs up. Until now she has been holding the painting up with one hand. She allows it to fall back against a stack of others and goes to her room to take a nap.
Of course, she is unable to sleep. How can she, when her relationship with her first love is over?
Around them the room fills with steam; lush, green plants making it look like a rainforest. An exotic location for their meeting; for the first time they will truly be together.
In the back of the cottage, in a room of glass surrounded by trees there is a hot tub. Jonathan and Johanna stand on opposite sides, both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Jonathan does it. He allows his bathrobe to fall to the floor, his red trunks now his only covering. The twilight is the only reason they can see each other. His body seems smooth to her, pink nipples and a flat stomach. The hair on his body is blonde and thin so from the distance she is from him it melts into his body. The smoothness of skin is something she is used to from Leslie.
He climbs slowly into the hot, bubbling water. His arms spread, resting on the sides. He watches.
She lets it fall slowly, the back of the robe tossing her blonde hair backwards. Her hair is long, graceful. She wears only panties. Her breasts are round and firm. The curve of her hips gives a jolt to his erection. She smiles as she puts her thumbs inside her panties. She pushes them down slowly, turning to the side as she does so. He watches intently, his breathing becoming heavier.
In between her legs there is black--small, thin black hairs. He sees it only for a few moments. She quickly climbs inside, and wastes no time moving up to him. She is no longer thinking about his feelings. She wants to explore his body just as much as he wants hers.
They kiss as she runs her hands up the sides of his legs. She is surprised when she touches them. Despite the water they are not smooth. She can feel the hairs on his legs brushing against her palms. The feeling excites her; she never knew that legs could feel like this. Her hands never stop, moving under his shorts, touching the netting underneath. She removes her lips from his.
"Why are these still on?" she asks him. She starts to kiss him again. She feels her way around his waist, undoing the knot of the string of his shorts; loosening the waist band and Jonathan lifting himself up so she can remove them.
Jonathan reaches out, his hand now inside her thigh. He moves it upwards quickly, and as she takes him into her hand he penetrates her with his. He has never done this before but his instincts are strong. She moves slightly so that his fingers are positioned properly.
For a few moments they stop kissing and stare into each other's eyes. Neither knows what the other is feeling. Neither knows how to proceed. Until Johanna's lips once again meet Jonathan's. This feeling on his lips tells him everything he needs.
She squeezes more tightly as she feels his orgasm; seamen rushing out. "Faster, harder," she whispers in his ear before taking his lobe into her mouth. She has never come so quickly but the surprises of his body--the flat chest and hair on his legs excited her. She felt two erections: his nipples and his penis.
When his fingers leave her they are suddenly cold. Though they are still in the hot water of the tub, he no longer feels warmth.
He touches her breast and kisses her. His erection has come back quickly; she feels like she can go all night.
In his bed they can smell each other's sweat. He tastes the flesh of her neck as he listens to her moans, his body moving to the rhythm of their heart beats; his penis inside the heat of her excitement. He knows she is wet because of him; she knows he is erect because of her. The shape and texture and hardness of his penis does something for her she never though possible. Something she never felt with Leslie. The way their bodies fit--her breasts against his flat chest, his penis in the cave of her body, his open mouth on the curve of her neck--is perfect.
The window is open and they hear the hooting of an owl as they fall asleep. They both face the moonlight streaming in through the windows, falling on their naked bodies. They have not covered themselves with the comforters. She is in his arms; it is all either of them needs.
For an hour he lay in bed thinking before he made his decision. He decided he shouldn't be with her. He did not think about it the night before but he knows that the morning sun has made a change in her heart.
Jonathan knows how much she loves Leslie, and how much Leslie loves her. He understands that her feelings for him exist because of confusion. After what they have done, the pain he will feel when he finds out that she will not choose him will ease his guilt about the selfishness of the night before. So instead of her waking up with him beside her, she smells bacon frying downstairs.
He turns around when he hears a sound behind him. She is there, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, dressed in a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his t-shirts. She smiles when she sees him. He cannot help but look at her legs--smooth white skin disappearing under black checkers of his shorts.
One of the sexiest things a woman can wear is boxer shorts. This is what he thinks when he sees her.
"Are you hungry?" he asks nervously.
"I'm starving," she says. On the table there are two plates with omelettes, bacon and toast. Beside them there are two steaming cups of coffee. They sit beside each other at the table, staring out into the back of the house through open glass doors behind the table.
The sun shines brightly and the two teenagers eat heartily, neither of them able to remember when they last had such a large appetite.
They ate in silence, which was broken by Jonathan.
"Johanna," he says, "I love you. Even though I'm about to lose you, I love you."
She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, very close to where his lips end. She walks away to change. He sits outside on his deck with a cigarette while she leaves. His tears begin to flow when he returns to his room and sees a pair of black, chequered shorts lying on his floor.