Tags: Romance, younger women, threesome, spanking, pregnant,
I first noticed them, all three, in the Termini train station in Rome lined up to order a coffee at one of the bars in the station. I was there to take the slow train to Perugia, where I was living and keeping a studio. They were slim, and well dressed, and gave every impression of graceful confidence as they barked out their orders for sandwiches and coffee in workman-like Italian at one of the bars in the station.
I saw them again after passing through the ticket gate, as I was lining up on the platform for my train, and noted without really thinking about it, that they were boarding the same car I was about to climb onto. When I found my seat, it was a surprise to find all three sitting in the group of seats directly across the isle from me. They were talking quietly together and from the bits of conversation I overheard they seemed to be Japanese. I also had to reassess my estimate of their ages, these weren’t young girls or college students, instead they looked to be perhaps late 20’s. Dressed in short skirts and T-shirts, they looked lovely and when they caught me looking at them and smiled, I couldn’t help but smile back.
It’s a two-and-a-half-hour journey from Rome to my station in Perugia and I quickly became preoccupied with the meeting I’d had the previous afternoon with a small Roman gallery. At the conclusion of the meeting, I’d received an invitation to show my paintings in the early fall. It would be a significant opportunity for me, and with that in mind, the young ladies soon faded into the background as I pulled out my photos and sketches and started to think about how I might respond to the invitation.
Later in the trip, as the train swayed around a bend, the car lurched, spilling one of my piles of paper into the corridor. The two young women closest to the aisle jumped up to help me collect the pages and soon passed back a handful each. As she handed hers across, the tallest quietly asked if I was an artist and when I said yes, she asked me if I knew the art school in Perugia. On hearing that I knew the school and what’s more, that I was a part-time instructor, occasionally speaking to classes about painting, they began to tell me that the three of them had graduated from art school in Japan several years before and were now travelling in Europe, visiting potential schools for grad studies in art, and that they were travelling to Perugia to visit the local academy of belle arts in this regard. With that beginning, for the next 30 minutes they took turns telling me about themselves and their desire to study art in Italy. In return I told them a little bit about my life in the town.
The conversation wound down and they withdrew to talk quietly among themselves, while I continued with my thoughts on the potential gallery show. Soon enough the trip was coming to an end and the passengers began collecting their belongings, standing to put on coats and to pull down luggage. As I stood, I asked the three if I could help them get down their luggage, but they proudly pointed to their relatively small suitcases already between their feet. I smiled and handed them each my card together with an offer to help them if I could while they were in town. Despite handing them my card, I assumed that would be the last I would see of the three young budding artists from Japan.
***
It was July and in recent years the number of visitors to Italy has in some ways overwhelmed the residents, so perhaps I should not have been surprised, but later in that day, after I had returned to the house I lease on the outskirts of town, I got a phone call from the three Japanese beauties.
“Mr. David?”
“Yes?” I said as I initially struggled to recognize the voice.
“This is Kaede. My friends and I met you on the train this morning.”
“How can I help you?”
“We … our AirBNB turned out to be a shared accommodation and the men who would be sharing it made us uncomfortable. We have been calling other accommodations all afternoon, everything is full. Would you know of someplace we could stay or be able to help us?”
I paused and thought about the request for a moment. With the crowds of visitors in recent years a certain cynicism has crept into the locals’ outlook to suggest that ‘the tourists will happily pay any amount for almost anything offered as accommodation’, so I could see how this kind of problem could arise.
“Kaeda, I don’t know of any alternatives in town, but my house does have a suite I keep for friends and family that come to visit. The three of you could stay there until you are able to find something more suitable. I must warn you though, it is on the outskirts of town. Would that help you for a few days?”
“Yes! Oh, thank you, that would be very helpful. How can we find your house?”
After several minutes of giving directions that Kaeda couldn’t follow, I gave up and asked them instead to tell me where they were now, deciding that Sahabet it would be simpler if I drove to pick them up.
I pulled up at the edge of the Piazza in the middle of town, and soon spotted them on a corner, standing together with suitcases at their sides and backpacks and purses slung over their shoulders, an island of calm in the quickly moving throng of pedestrians. I called out and waved to get their attention, realizing that while we had introduced ourselves on the train, I could no longer remember the names of Kaeda’s friends. No matter, when they approached my car, Kaeda reintroduced them, Ichiba, the shortest of the three, and Sakura, the tallest. Once they were with me, all three began talking and thanking me, so that it took more than a few minutes to get them, and their luggage, bundled into the car. When we got underway, because it took all my attention to navigate the afternoon traffic, I had to shush them quiet, so there was little conversation until I pulled up in front of my house 15 minutes later.
I started coming to Perugia more than ten years ago when, after many visits to Italy, I wanted to try staying longer, long enough to allow me to live the local life, something that was becoming more and more attractive to me with each visit. And as part of that life, I imagined that a new and different setting would allow me to come at my painting with fresh eyes and perhaps fresh ideas. After several years renting both an apartment and a separate studio for the four or five months I visited, I came upon this house at the outskirts of town. It was old with large rooms, high ceilings, a patio, a rear garden and, best of all, a garage/shed at the back of the property that I was able to clean out and fix up enough to give me space to paint. I now have a long-term lease for the house which allows me to spend as much time each year as a I want and the space to accommodate the friends and family who are able to visit.
I steered the women into the house and helped them pile their baggage in the kitchen, before giving them a tour which ended in the suite that I hoped would accommodate them. With one large queen-sized bed and a single bed, an attached bathroom, and even a small nook with a hot plate, sink and refrigerator, I thought it might work well for them for several days. Once I had shown the suite, we stepped outside through two French doors onto the patio that ran across the back of the house. From that vantage, I was able to show them where I usually ate in the summer, the small garden, and my studio towards the back of the small property. They seemed suitably impressed and very thankful, so I suggested they take some time to settle in and that I would call them for dinner.
Late in the day, once it had cooled outside, I knocked on their door, and when Kaeda’s face appeared, I announced dinner. Walking back through the house I could hear them coming behind me along the hallway quietly talking. When we were all in the kitchen, I turned and asked them how the room was working out and in the face of their quiet assurances, I switched to explaining our dinner to come and what help I needed from them. Once they understood, I started putting plates, cutlery, food, wine and all else that was needed for our meal into their hands to be carried outside to the table on the patio.
It was only after we sat down and began to pass the dishes around the table that I had a chance to take a good look at the three beauties that had landed on my doorstep. They had changed for dinner and were now each wearing sundresses and light leather sandals. Their thick, black hair, pulled loosely back with clips, hung down below their shoulders. Without their sweaters on, their shoulders and arms were bare. All three were slim and each of them appeared taller than I would have expected young Japanese women to be. Looking at them, and with each of us holding a glass of wine, I welcomed them and gave a toast of “cin-cin”.
Dinner was a slow, relaxing meal as I answered their questions about the town, what I was doing here, my painting and, although I was trying not to intrude too much, they answered my questions about themselves. My initial impression, that they were not young students, was proven correct as all three told me that they were 30 years old, having worked in Japan for several years after completing art school in Kyoto. This trip was their escape from clerical jobs. They wanted to be artists or in some way work with art and hoped graduate studies in Europe would help with that ambition. Hence their interest in me when we were on the train. Oh well, I had already assumed it wasn’t for my good looks.
By the time I got up to bring a lemon tart and coffee to the table they were starting to relax, and their questions became more personal – did I have a family, wife, girlfriends and the like, with some nervous laughter between the answers, as they worked up their courage to ask more questions. Over small glasses of limoncello, with big smiles and wide eyes Sahabet Giriş they asked for a tour of my studio, and so, rising from the table we all four strolled across the grass and into the rough garage-like building, across the small garden, in which I worked at painting.
In the light of the overhead lamp, I unlocked the door and held it for the ladies to enter ahead of me. With the skylights in the ceiling there was still enough light for them to be able to move across the studio while I stepped inside and turned the lights on. They immediately gravitated to the south wall, my working area, where several large paintings in progress were leaning against the brick, propped up on low stands that allowed me to work from top to bottom without need of a ladder or to bend over too much. The paintings were abstracts, all bright slashes of colour and texture, thick pools and brushstrokes of pigment that was often literally “popping” out from contrasting backgrounds. More than 10 years after starting down this road, my paintings were, I felt, capable of grabbing my audience’s attention and eliciting an emotion. All around the walls more paintings were stacked, either finished or resting until I could work my way back to them. The ladies separated and began looking carefully at the paintings in front of them and then drifting along the sides of the studio to examine the stacked paintings, or at least what was visible of those. With their attention focused on the paintings, questions were few and far between for half an hour, giving me the opportunity to quietly watch them. All three ladies eventually gravitated to the long, well-worn sofa that occupied the center of the studio, talking between themselves and beginning to ask more questions of me.
In the low light their slim animated forms were beautiful and without thinking I barked out one word, “Stay”, as I reached for a sketchbook to try and capture the way the light fell on their faces, the lines of their long legs and the curves that belied my initial image of them as “girls”. To my surprise, each one of them turned to give me their full attention, doing exactly what I had requested without a question or a word of argument. I began drawing and continued for the next half hour as they slowly restarted a quiet conversation, all the while watching me as I moved around in front of them. Even as I began to complete my quick sketch and would, with a quick command, reach out to lightly grasp a chin or turn a face to better catch the light, they stayed in place without protest.
And then I was finished. I thanked them, and immediately Kaeda got up and walked towards me, lightly grasping my arm to ask a question about the paintings in front of us. Her touch was gentle, tentative even, but I could feel the warmth of it on my skin and immediately knew I wanted more. I returned her touch by wrapping my arm across her shoulder and walked her across to stand in front of the work. It felt good to hold her and she appeared comfortable with my touch, so I left my arm in place as I guided her through the painting and how I was putting it together. It wasn’t long before, Ichiba and Sakura joined us, crowding in close and seeming to want to be included in my embrace of Kaede.
When I kneeled to trace the texture of the paint on the canvas, Kaeda followed, while my arm remained across her shoulder. Ichiba and Sakura came down to the floor as well. As I drew my fingers across the paint, tracing the outline of the brushstrokes, I encouraged each of them to try It for themselves and when they hesitated, took Kaeda’s hand in mine, and flattened it against the canvass.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t worked on these in over a week and the paint is firm enough that you can’t harm anything”, I said. Her hand was slim, and soft and delightful to hold. Leaving Kaeda to explore the textures, I took each of the others’ hands in turn, flattened them against the canvas, and then started them moving their fingers to allow them to trace the underlying textures. By the time I was finished, all three were blushing from the hand-to-hand contact.
When the studio visit was over and we were walking back to the house, I was behind the ladies and couldn’t help but admire them yet again, all slim legs, soft curves, heavy black hair draping down and for two of them, full breasts stretching out the sides of their sundresses. I had been living on my own these past few years and it felt very good to have female company in my house again, particularly three such lovely young women.
Cleaning up went quickly with their help, as I directed traffic and tried to help them understand where dishes, food and more was tucked away until the next day. Guiding them with my hands: hands on shoulders to point the way, on the small of backs to urge them in one direction or another, pulling an arm or hand towards me to hand off something for a cupboard, hips to bottoms and shoulders to breasts as we tried to work together in the small space. By the time we were finished Sahabet Yeni Giriş I was becoming a little aroused, and they seemed to be lingering against my touch, even pushing back into contact. With a light kiss on the cheek and a push towards their hallway, I sent them off to their room and to bed for the evening. Kaeda was last and lingered near me with her hand on my arm to say, “Thank you”, before turning and sashaying down the hallway.
***
The next morning, I came down to the kitchen early hoping to sneak out and get some work in before I was drawn into the three beauties’ plans for the day – whatever they were. I laid out fixings for breakfast, made a large pot of coffee and added tea things to the table to get them started. Then I took some coffee and toast and walked across the garden to my studio. It always takes me a while to get started painting, there is the work from the prior day to be contemplated and then with coffee cup in hand I think about what I want to accomplish in the time available to me. There is a loose plan in my head before I pick up a brush even though the actual painting is improvisational and I’m open to detours. A musical analogy would be to compare a jazz musician, improvising around a recognized tune, rather than a concert pianist adhering closely to the composition. I’ve lived on my own for more than ten years, after a failed marriage, and a couple of lesser relationships that did not hold up. Increasingly it is my work that gets me through my days. I consider myself a happy bachelor, not a hermit, I have family, friends, and visitors aplenty, but it is the work that has stayed faithful to me and so as much as I was enjoying having three gorgeous young women in my house, there was comfort in having a plan and picking up the brushes.
I managed to continue for more than an hour before Kaeda quietly slipped in through the door. I turned when I heard her and watched her walk towards me. Once again, she rested her hand on my arm and then leaned in close to me. “May I sit and watch you paint for a while”, she asked?
In response, I put an arm around her shoulder, pulled her in for a hug and wished her a good morning. She was warm and her shoulder soft under her light kimono. Sliding my hand down her back to hold her by the waist as I took a moment before replying, revealed her slim build and the delightful curves of her waist to my touch. “Not at all, there’s the old sofa or you can pull up that high stool in the corner there … but be prepared for me to ignore you a bit once I lose myself in the work again”.
She smiled, gave me a peck on the cheek and walked to the sofa. Sitting down with her legs folded under her, smiling whenever I turned to look at her, she provided a significant distraction that took a while to forget as I continued working. Sometime later, Ichiba strolled in, bringing mugs of coffee for herself and Kaeda. When I turned, I saw Kaeda take her coffee and at the same time put a finger to her mouth to hush Ichiba. Sakura eventually came and joined them on the ratty old chesterfield. While they tried to be quiet, it wasn’t long before I could hear their whispers in Japanese bouncing back and forth between them. I stopped, looked at the work and spent a few minutes thinking about where I was heading with the two paintings I’d been working on this morning, so I’d have something to start with later. I made a few short notes in my daybook and then turned to look at my noisy, beautiful houseguests.
This morning’s uniform appeared to be kimonos and flip flops. It wasn’t apparent that Kaeda was wearing anything else, but Sakura was more modest having left on a pair of what looked like sleeping shorts, while Ichiba’s kimono covered a full set of pajamas. Each of them had pulled sleep-tousled hair into a loose ponytail and was holding a mug of coffee in two hands. Seeing the three of them sitting there looking at me as though I was the latest reincarnation of Picasso, all smiles, full busts, and slim, long legs, was almost enough to stop my middle-aged heart.
“Good morning, ladies, did you sleep well?
In unison they each answered, “Yes”. Kaeda added words to the effect that they loved the ground floor room they were in and the doors out to the garden. And with that they all got up and gathered around me to admire the work of the morning. Kaeda put her hand on my back and leaned in closely, and not to be out done, the other two crowded to my other side. Kaeda clearly had the floor and asked the questions.
“Do you only use oil paints?”
“No. I sometimes paint with acrylics … and I even do a lot of collaging of different materials as I build up towards my finished work.”
“How do you know when you’re finished?”
“I just know … I reach a point where it looks complete, and I can’t see any way in which I can make it more complete.”
“You have a lot of paintings here, do you do everything yourself, or do you sometimes use an assistant?”
“Usually, I like the solitude of working alone and for the past few years, I’ve found that I can get enough work done without an assistant?” She looked a bit crestfallen at that and so I added to my reply, “but, I do sometimes like to hire an assistant, why, are you volunteering?”
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