| Treasure Hunt, Part 7 - Fashion Gold The story so far: Angela & Jasmine are sisters, 13 & 11, who have fallen in love with each other. Their mother and aunt give them pointers and help them realize how love and sex go together, which they continue and develop. Angela proves to be an outstanding runner; both girls show judgment and common sense. Their parents go overseas to a film festival, leaving their aunt Beth, with her two young sons, babysitting in their house. Beth goes out late, is returned home by police after having had a fight with her estranged husband. After the girls find out more about love and sex, Beth and her husband are reunited. Note: I would appreciate any comments on my story. It is loosely based on actual events in my life, partly on observations. It is really the story of a family and contains a good deal of narrative and description, as I believe characters need to be more than two dimensional - but if your preference is for non-stop sex, then best not read on.. Things settled down into a fairly stable routine after that. Al was as good as his word, helpful, non-intrusive and cheerful. His relationship with the boys was a real lesson for the girls, who learnt much about father/son bonding, though, as Angela said, there seemed to be little point because, although she had become rather keen on the idea of having children, she was certain she would not be having boys. "Maybe it was Terry climbing into bed with me the other night that did it, but it felt good to be protecting a little kid." Jas looked quizzical. "Yeah, I know, even a boy, but..." and Angela smiled. "Maternal, eh? Why not. Mum is." Jas was not smiling as she replied, "So you'd have sex with some guy so you could have these kids?" "Yeah, I suppose so." "Oh. I kind of imagined we - oh, never mind, doesn't really matter." and she walked quickly from the room, but not before Angela caught the glint of tears in her sister's eyes. 'Oh shit,' she thought. 'What have I said?' She followed after Jas who she found on her bed, facing the wall. She sat down next to her, stroked her hair and said quietly, "I'm always going to love you, sweet sister, no one will ever take your place in my heart, but -" Through muffled sobs she heard, "I know." There was a big sigh. "I know we can't - um - always be. But I love you so much...." There was a long silence as troubled thoughts filled their minds, but eventually Jas sat up and smiled, face streaked and eyes red, "You know, Ang, you're right? I'm being like aunty Beth. Wanting what I want, forgetting the others. Forgetting you. And really, because I love you, I want you to be happy. And me. And I said our love was so strong it could take anything. So, I'm stupid and..." but her sister's arms had gone around her, lifted her close and placed her lips on hers. "Shh...." And the kiss became what all good kisses are, a prelude to intimacy - and this time it was an affectionate, soft preamble, a treasure offered in the continuing hunt for completion, even if the participants finished up hot, sweaty and limp, gazing into one another's eyes, tenderly smiling, no words needed. * When they arrived home from school on the Friday before their parents were due back there was a letter on the kitchen table. Large enough to hold an unfolded A4 sheet, it was white, glossy, with shades of pink and dark blue swirling across it, the fancily typed name reading 'Ms Jasmine Arbutt', with the address and code. Angela came home first, saw the eye-catching object on the kitchen table, picked it up, looked carefully at the name on the top left, and produced a puzzled frown. Why would a fashion house be writing to her sister? There was also a note stuck to the fridge saying Beth and the boys had gone swimming and would be home for tea. Jas came in 15 minutes later, threw her things into their bedroom, went straight to the freezer and extracted the last ice cream cone from the box there. Glancing out the window she saw her sister in T shirt and shorts limbering up with stretches and curls and just had to stay there watching. If she were dispassionate, she knew Angela would never make a model, her face perhaps a little too thin, her chin a little to pointy, her nose a little too small, but she also knew that none of that mattered, because the outside was so much less important than the inside. She felt her heart speeding up at the beautiful totality before her, the grace, joy, strength and ability that was irresistible. She let out a sigh of content as she went out onto the landing. "Hi," she called, "I love watching you." Ang looked up and grinned. "Have a good day?" "Yeah, if you call kneeing a pest in the balls good." Jas burst out laughing. "Oh, I'd love to have see that. Right on, Sis. He in hospital?" "No, but he'll have difficulty walking for a while. Hey - did you get your letter?" "No, what letter?" "On the kitchen table. Big one. Oo la la, but don't open it till I get there." Jas walked back inside, her mouth falling open when she saw it. Then, when she noticed the sender, she said "Wow". And to Angela, who came in at that moment, she added, "It's from Miss Fashion, the magazine we were looking at a while ago. Wonder how they got my name?" She grabbed a knife and slit the end open, then pulled out the contents. A coloured brochure, a photograph and a letter were her prizes. The photo got first attention. "Oh, my god!" She breathed, putting her hand to her mouth. Angela peeked over her shoulder, then grabbed it from her. "This is incredible!" She exclaimed. "This was taken at the dinner at the sports meeting, wasn't it." She held the print at arms length, shook her head in wonder, looked at her sister and said, "You are so beautiful. And so -" she became stuck for the right word, "- incredible." The glossy coloured print had indeed been taken at that obnoxious dinner party after Angela's success at the school sports at Westmoor. Jasmine had been almost forced into standing on a chair so everyone could get a glimpse of the star's sister, something she had done with so little grace that it had immediately gone into her forgetery - but someone had still caught the moment. So far removed from the scowly, angry face she thought she'd used, it showed a radiant smile, her head tilted back just a little and saying, 'Here's me; aren't I good?' Her black lace cocktail dress had flared out, her hands were half raised in front of her, and her long, fine blond hair had formed a halo behind her. If it had been posed for publicity it could not have been better, and it showed something she had never truly known - that she was very photogenic. The letter was next. Headed 'From the desk of Sylvia Bergamano, Managing Editor, Miss Fashion', it read:
If the photo had been mind blowing, the letter was unbelievable. For a moment there was silence, then they both began talking at once. Jas could feel her heart beating with excitement as the image of a modeling career ran though her mind, Angela thinking that her sister would be famous, a celebrity, and that it was wonderful, but could spell the end of their relationship. Finally, they simply hugged each other fiercely before looking through the brochure, a preview of the summer collection. Jas saw herself in the pictures, felt the thrill of wearing brand new styles by renowned designers, the exhilaration of being before an envious audience. She was still shaking her head in wonderment when Angela said softly, "Better put it all in our room. Don't say anything to Beth. Let Mum tell her later." "Oh," she replied. That would be hard, because she wanted to tell the world, but her sister always had a sense of how things would turn out, so she nodded and said, "OK". * The latest on their parent's return was that they would be a day late. Instead of getting in on Sunday afternoon, it would be early Monday morning. This presented problems for them all, as neither girl really wanted to miss a day of school, but could not bear to not meet the plane. Beth and Al had arranged to return to their newly renovated home on the Sunday morning, Beth then returning to take the girls to the airport, and they had locked themselves into that arrangement. "That's OK," Angela said confidently, "we'll be quite alright for one night, and we'll have more time to straighten this place up anyway." Jasmine was standing by her side, and she felt her sister's hand rub her bum then quietly slide between her legs. She dug her elbow into Jas's side, and it was all she could do to remain natural. Beth cried as she hugged and kissed them goodbye. "When I look at you," she whispered, "I feel the hole in my heart, the place where you used to be in my dreams. I don't know why I love girls, you two especially, and I don't know if I can keep my promise, but I'm going to try. I'm going to try to remember that your love for each other is so true and wonderful, and that my love for you is just sex." Her eyes filled with tears as she added, "but it's not, really. It's more than that. It's straight from the heart." As the rest of her family came in to the room, she brightened and said cheerfully "but you'll come and see us, won't you? The boys really do like you, don't you," turning to them. Alan nodded and said, "you bet, " while Terry smiled shyly. Al said, "you're the two best babysitters in the world. Would you like a few gigs at our place? Pay's good. Free transport. All the food you can eat." Angela had to be the spokesperson on this one. "Um... that'd be OK, I guess, have to clear it with dad. Let you know?" That was good enough. Their lovemaking that evening finished up taking second place to their talking. Jasmine's mind was not unexpectedly distracted, and it was not until Angela produced her mother's simple white vibrator that there was a real response. "Hey! Where did you get that?" Asked Jas, eyes opening wide. "Mum's. I'm not the only nosey girl around here, you know. Want some?" "Oh, yes please. I know you've tried, but my mind keeps wandering. But I do love orgasms so much that I'm getting cross with my mind for it's interference." She slid to the end of the bed and opened her legs. "You have the most beautiful sex," said Angela dreamily. "Your labia are getting bigger each day, and I swear they're parting a little to be really erotic and suggestive, and your breasts are already pointy. I just love looking at you. You're going to start your periods any time now, I'd say, and you'd have to be the sexiest eleven year old on earth." She leant forward and kissed those lovely lips before sliding her tongue into the luscious warmth and begin to lick the juices there. As she was doing so, Jas said, "But I'll be twelve soon, and I'd expect to have my periods by then. Uh! Uh! Ooo, that's so nice. More... Uh", and when the device with a thousand pleasures touched her clitoris she began to whimper. When her sister's fingers stroked their way inside her the sound became a continuous moan and rose to an ear piercing shriek as her sister's lips began sucking on a nipple. It might have been fifteen minutes before she could resume talking. "You are the very best giver of orgasms there is. Does that make you an orgasmiker?" She grinned as she coined the word. "For you, yes. But then I've got the best orgasmer in the world to practice on." They both snorted in merriment. "Like me to practice my skills on you?" Jas rolled off the bed, but although she tried and began to concentrate on what she was attempting, the magic was absent. After five minutes she looked up and said, "Gee, I don't know what's the matter. I'm just not..." But Angela interrupted. "Hey - it's not you, it's me. I've got a case of little sister fashion modeling while I'm running my heart out. Don't worry. I'd sooner talk anyway. It seems we're both going places we never dreamt of, so things are getting really exciting. Funny, isn't it, that when we've got the house to ourselves for once we aren't in the mood?" Oh, I don't know," responded Jas, "you got me in the mood all right. I just couldn't return the compliment." They talked until midnight, then fell asleep holding hands. * One of the most welcome sights either girl could ever remember seeing was their mother and father wheeling trolleys loaded with baggage from the customs area into the huge arrival hall. Smiles, hugs, tears and laughter were only the start, but the press of people was so great that they had to move outside and, led by Beth, make their way to her people mover. There was so much to say, so much excitement to share, but they all agreed that it would wait until they were home. Of course the film festival had been marvelous and Venice truly amazing, but they talked mostly of trivialities as they went to the car. "I want to sit next to dad," Jasmine said forcibly. That was agreed, so the other three climbed into the front. When they were on their way, and three women in the front were busy chatting, Jas leant close to her father and whispered, "You are the most amazing dad there is. You know what came Friday? That photo. And a letter. And a brochure. And you didn't say a word! You went off knowing, and there was not a hint. Sure was a surprise. The biggest I've ever had. I've not been able to think of anything else since. So thank you, thank you. I do love you so much. They want me to try out for modeling. And that photo. I thought I'd scowled - I was certainly angry - but it's really good, I'm so thrilled." And she leant over and kissed his cheek, bristles and all, hugged his arm, and put her head on his chest. Then she peeked up at him, saw the exhaustion in his face, but couldn't help adding, "You and Mum will let me do this, won't you? I think I might be good at it." He looked down at his beautiful young daughter, so eager, so naïve, so full of life and whispered back, "Yes, we reckon you would be too. But it's not going to be easy, my darling, though you can count on our support all the way. Sylvia runs a very tight ship, and she's very keen to have you." He put his arm around her and bent to kiss her hair. "We'll do the nitty-gritty later." She snuggled closer and he closed his eyes. Muriel too was plainly exhausted. They'd left Venice at two a.m. after a three hour check in, so it was not long before she also closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep. Beth and Angela exchanged amused smiles, said nothing, but within a minute Beth's hand was stroking the knee next to hers, then sliding up under the blue check cotton school uniform and probing between the legs. Angela couldn't help herself. Her legs widened as much as they could, allowing the long, probing fingers to work their way under the elastic at the bottom of her panties so they could find their quarry. Angela heard herself mutter, "Oof. Arrr...", but pushed the hand away. It was reluctant, but a pleading look was successful. The reason, however, was not the one Beth expected. Carefully, so as not to disturb her mother, Ange eased her knickers down until they were below her knees, then urged the hand to resume it's quest. Ready and very willing, fingers and thumb worked their magic inside and out, leaving a couple of times so the authenticity of the juices could be checked out. The producer of the juices desperately wanted to slide forward so there was more freedom, but compromised by throwing her head back against the seat. Her mouth opened as she gasped as quietly as possible, which was enough for another hand, this time from the rear seat, to begin its slide down the front of her dress, push the small bra aside, fondle the soft flesh of a growing round breast and gently pinch and pull the deep pink nipple. A few minutes of this, Beth carefully driving one handed, and there was a moan so loud that both Beth And Jasmine looked urgently at the sleeping parents. Sighs of relief as neither stirred - fortunately, as more semi-suppressed groans and whimpers came before a sudden slumping of the recipient's body signaled the end. "If you ever change your mind," Angela said softly into her aunt's ear as she pulled her pants back up, "I'll be your joy girl." The breast massager leant forward and whispered jealously, "Me too." They were rewarded with a pained frown and a troubled smile. The thirty minute nap had revived their parents just enough for them to carry everything into the house, compliment the girls on how neat and tidy it was, make a big pot of tea, and begin unpacking. "We have been to some truly wonderful places," Muriel said, "but Venice has to be top. We'll tell you all about it later, because I, for one, am going to sleep the rest of the day, and night. Your father, the dynamo, plans to go to the office and file his latest bunch of paparazzi glossies. However" , bending to her cabin bag, "there's a couple of things I saw that I thought you'd like. Here..." handing a gift wrapped flat box to Angela, "... and here..." a rather larger square box was handed to her youngest, "with all my love." Angela's box held a book. The cover read, The Greatest Women Athletes in History, beneath which was 'By Stephan Myerdorff'. Oh, my," she breathed as she opened it carefully. It began in 1888, with various photos and a history of each person. She looked at her mother with tears in her eyes. "Oh, thank you, Mum. I..." and she burst into tears, through which she sobbed, "it's such a dream." Muriel put her arms around her and said, "Life is full of dreams. You'll be in there one day." Jas had torn of the wrapping of her box and lifted the lid. "Oh, my god!" She squealed. "It's a... a... what is it, Mum?" "A Venetian Madi Gras mask. Real Ventian glass and silks, fake jewels, and once used by a somewhat notorious lady. It is, however, an antique, so please treat it carefully." She took it out reverentially, held it to the light, put it carefully back in the box and threw her arms around her beloved mother. "I am so honoured. Thank you. I will never forget." Turning to her father, who was throwing the contents of a suitcase onto the floor, she said, "And thank you again, dad. This is surely the most wonderful day of my life so far, the best, the very best of days. You are just the best parents in the whole world!" "Yes. Well, I'm going to hit the sack. Seeing it's only 11, you'll be off to school, I suppose?" Muriel sounded as though she didn't care one way or the other. "I'll drive you," said their father, still rummaging. "OK? Ah!" And he held up a plastic folder. "Highlights on film. You can look at them as we drive." "Just a sec," called Angela as she made a dash toward the toilet. Well, not quite that room. What she actually needed was a clean pair of pants. It just wasn't the done thing to wear cum soaked knickers to school. * There was no way Jasmine was going to be allowed to miss any more schooling so she could go to Miss Fashion. She was reminded that it was her final year of primary school, next year she'd be in college with her sister. She might be beautiful, vivacious and manipulating, but her maths was terrible and her science non-existent. She was not going to get far without them, and a modelling career didn't last forever. "The reality, my sweet, is that fashion might be fun, modeling marvelous, but no one is able to stay in it for very long. Well, hardly anyone. Even if you were one of the few, a good grasp of maths and science is also essential for models. It's not all glamour, sweetie, it's hard work and knowing how to speak with confidence on many topics that's so important to success." Her mother was tough when it came to slacking, and very, very knowledgeable. She'd begun her career as a counselor with one of the biggest charities, learning from hard experience what could be achieved by discipline, and the least sign that the easy way was being taken by either of her daughters was pounced on. Of course she also knew the value of love and kindness, heaped upon her offspring from birth. Knowing all this did not stop Jas from pouting, crying stamping the floor and screaming, but all to no avail. She had more than just a burning desire to start, she had a drive that was compulsive, would not let her think of other things, and needed to be fulfilled immediately. The rest of that Monday had proved to be fine, the Tuesday difficult, and the argument had taken place that night. Wednesday began as a trial, a dangerous and fiery silence emanating from her mother, so it was a very miserable young woman that dragged herself off to school. But some clouds vanish as a mirage, as this one did when it was announced at morning assembly that due to the death of the school council president the previous Monday there would be no classes on Thursday, but 'please try to come and pay your respects to this great man', whose name no one could remember. The sun began to shine, the birds sang, a gentle breeze blew. Jas rang her mother as soon as she could, telling her the wonderful news, and please, pretty please ring Miss Fashion and arrange a time for Thursday. Muriel could not help laughing. "You're incorrigible. Things just organize themselves around you, don't they? OK, see what I can do." "Thanks, Mum, and I'll get stuck into maths tonight." * The offices of Miss Fashion were chic in a chrome and glass minimalist manner. Sylvia Bergamano, the editor, proved to be a tall, slim, very attractive lady in her forties. She greeted mother and daughter with a warm smile and a husky contralto, immediately making both feel honoured and glad to be there. "I am so pleased to meet you both," she said, leading them towards some beautifully upholstered chairs, "I've known your husband, Mrs. Arbutt, for some years, and his promotion of this label - of course, never overtly," here she grinned conspiratorially, "has made us firm friends. So when we received the photo of this elegant young lady dressed in one of our best designs, " here she turned her sunshine on Jasmine, "we knew that your father was not only a preeminent photographer, but was able to spot real talent. Not that he's prejudiced, of course. " She gave a chuckle. " And you, Muriel - may I call you that?" she asked, embracing them both in her smile, "have a daughter that has an elusive quality that is the hallmark of every great model, and known as élan. Natural charm and vigor." They were shown around this amazing place, Jasmine almost gawking at the unbelievable movie stage, the studios, the production facilities and everything else that went into making the business of selling haute couture to teens a reality. They talked about money, conditions and hours. The money was unbelievable. For every photo published there would be a deposit in a trust account of $1000. For every reissue another $500. For every appearance on a runway a minimum of $1000. Every opportunity to be seen and promoted would be utilized. It was going to be hard and often tiring work, but as Jas said to Sylvia - she'd been asked to be called that - nothing was hard if it was in your heart to do it. They returned to the editor's office where contracts were produced and signed. Neither Jasmine of her mother had any qualms about this: Had not their wonderful husband and father given the seal of approval? Finally they arrived at the suite. This was where models waited between shots, where they could chat, have something to eat and drink, freshen up, and where instruction was given. So far It had all been a bit much for both mother and daughter, and the quiet of the suite and a sit down with a drink was like manna. There was another young girl in the area, sipping a juice and reading a magazine, to whom they were introduced. Her name was Harmony, and she was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Jas could not take her eyes away. About her own age, with the palest of long, fine red hair, an alabaster skin, eyes that seemed to be a pale, pale green, and features so stunning that Jasmine stopped breathing. "Harmony is one of our three juniors," Sylvia told them as she introduced them. "Harmony, this is Jasmine, who has just joined our team. I want you to work together with her on the winter show, as Kirrinai, the other girl, will be doing the sports show with the mid group. Would you mind telling her some of the protocols involved while Muriel and I go over some arrangements? Jas, is that all right with you?" Almost in unison they both said, "Of course," turning quickly to grin at each other, forming an initial bond. The two women walked out, and the girls sat looking at each other, half smiles and assessing eyes beginning a working relationship. Or, as it happened, a relationship that required no work at all. "Hello," Harmony's voice was soft, educated, clear and in keeping with her name. Jas responded. "Hi, Harmony. It's nice to meet you. This is so exciting." "May I ask you something? Please do not think I am out of my mind, but I cannot help myself, and please, don't be offended." Jas hoped she was not going to be a bitch, jealous and mean. But she gave no hint of any such thing, only a gentle probing. "Of course," she responded. "Ask away." Harmony rose and pulled her chair closer. "You have such exquisite skin. Mine's white, but yours is like the most deletcable cream. Would you mind if I touched it?" Jas felt her heart begin to pound. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Slowly she held out her arm and put her hand into her companions. Soft, cool fingers traced a gentle path up her arm, across the fabric of her dress at the shoulder, onto her neck, across her cheek, up to her forehead, and then gently down the other side of her face before lifting her chin with the gentlest of pressure. Jas had closed her eyes, a feeling of floating enveloping her. Now she opened them and looked into these soft green eyes that were filled with promise. Without any involvement of will their mouths grew closer, a glacial progression of irresistible desire. Words were not needed. A soft humming began as their lips touched. And touched.
To be continued. |