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Fancy Jessica
Planetoid
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2020
I’m struggling to move but my wrists and ankles are bound, the restraints soft yet so very tight, my naked body writhing on the bed feeling the onslaught of roaming hands. Annalise is there, Her face in the sky, and Her eyes, those green emerald pools boring into my soul. Hundreds, no thousands of hands groping, fondling my body, tugging my nipples, pushing into my mouth, pulling my tongue, yanking my hair, hands forced into my pussy one after another, up my ass, stretching me, inside me, penetrating my orifices, unable to breath, struggling to scream for Her before sleep finally takes me into the black abyss.
~~~
Victoria awakens peacefully to the sound of serene silence. It’s impossibly dark, she can just barely make out Annalise’ naked form just beside her on the bed. She gently runs a hand over Her bare back, but sensing no movement decides to let her sleep. Being diligent not to wake Her, Victoria reaches out for her phone and key card from he nightstand, glancing at the time, shocked to see it’s 2pm, but it was a late night after all.
Still naked, Victoria creeps back into the dressing hall, softly lit with under cabinet LEDs, but not before noticing the complete lack of daylight visible from the bedroom. She rummages through the drawers Annalise pulled her t-shirt from last night, finding a white one from a ’62 Beatles tour, thin and worn, practically see-through. Smiling to herself as she pulls on a pair of Annalise’ cut off jean shorts before donning Her t-shirt, it’s clean but smells of Her, a perfume, a pheromone Victoria senses, repainting the brief history of her time with Annalise.
Her presence in the great room causes the dimmed lights to rise to a warm glow, classical music begins to play over the integrated speakers throughout the penthouse. Now Victoria can get a clear view of the blackout blinds that have been drawn over every window. Finding the controls on the wall, oddly, there appears to be a keypad preventing their operation.
On its own this might not seem so strange, but Victoria’s curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She started to recall, the locked wooden chest in the bedroom, a large matte black wall safe tucked behind the dresses in the dressing hall and she hadn’t seen anything to confirm it, but Victoria was quite certain the guards in the lobby were heavily armed.
Why all the secrecy and protection? It was probably nothing, Annalise had been more than open with Victoria and She had every right to keep her private life private. But the questions were starting to add up, certainly no harm in Victoria simply asking.
Victoria pads quietly across the floor, making her way into the kitchen. Caffeine, there must be coffee somewhere. To no surprise, the kitchen is immaculate and well appointed, quartz counters, stainless steal Sub-Zero appliances, clean lines and bright finishes, contrasting with the dark theme of the bedroom. Next to the Sub-Zero refrigerator is a built-in EuroCave Quad wine cellar, it must hold 1000 bottles, and securing the left 2 doors, another keypad. Her mind drifts back to the delicious wine from last night, and her amazing evening with Annalise.
On the counter opposite the sub-zero sits an elaborate Nuova espresso machine. A momentary panic subsides as she finds the Nespresso machine just beside it, much simpler but quite effective. Grabbing a coffee mug from the shelf above and a French Roast pod from the drawer beneath, Victoria is further awakened by the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee.
Not being particularly hungry and more out of habit, she checks out the contents of the large refrigerator. Assortments of cut up fruit, yogurts, cottage cheese, every type of milk, soy, almond, 1% and flavored creamers. Bottles of water neatly placed, everything is seemingly untouched.
Closing the refrigerator and turning back to the great room, sipping her coffee, that’s when she notices it, the large painting on the opposite side of the penthouse. As Victoria makes her way across the great room, she passes elaborate Japanese Oni demon masks displayed on each of the columns at the North end of the room. What appear to be ancient Incan artifacts and Mayan calendars bedecked along the opposite wall. But it’s the painting that draws her in, she knows it.
Victoria saw it first in the NY Times about a new exhibit by Jackson Pollock, to be displayed in the Museum of Modern Art. The She Wolf was the name of the piece and finally seeing it in person in the MoMA exhibition was breathtaking. This must be a replica, but the quality, the texture and the brush strokes are immaculate. Could it be the original? She laughs at herself, like Annalise would have a $100M painting hanging in her apartment. But something about it intrigues her.
Slowly reaching, running her fingers along the bottom edge of the painting, Victoria pulls it slightly away from the wall, peering behind it, potentially for some certificate of authentication. What she finds is a small card enclosed in plastic, barely legible, but clear enough:
~~~
For my beloved Annalise
~ j ~
~~~
Another look and Victoria realizes it’s not just a card, but a picture. Delicately retrieving it from the plastic envelope, she turns it over. Two individuals stand arm in arm in front of the painting, the faces are blurred with age yet immediately recognizable. It’s Annalise, appearing as if the photo could have been taken yesterday and she would recognize those glowing eyes anywhere, Jessica. A gift? But from who, Jessica? Or Jackson? It’s absurd of course, he painted that 80 years ago, but still it gnaws at her and the only one who can give her answers is Annalise.
~
~~~
Victoria awakens peacefully to the sound of serene silence. It’s impossibly dark, she can just barely make out Annalise’ naked form just beside her on the bed. She gently runs a hand over Her bare back, but sensing no movement decides to let her sleep. Being diligent not to wake Her, Victoria reaches out for her phone and key card from he nightstand, glancing at the time, shocked to see it’s 2pm, but it was a late night after all.
Still naked, Victoria creeps back into the dressing hall, softly lit with under cabinet LEDs, but not before noticing the complete lack of daylight visible from the bedroom. She rummages through the drawers Annalise pulled her t-shirt from last night, finding a white one from a ’62 Beatles tour, thin and worn, practically see-through. Smiling to herself as she pulls on a pair of Annalise’ cut off jean shorts before donning Her t-shirt, it’s clean but smells of Her, a perfume, a pheromone Victoria senses, repainting the brief history of her time with Annalise.
Her presence in the great room causes the dimmed lights to rise to a warm glow, classical music begins to play over the integrated speakers throughout the penthouse. Now Victoria can get a clear view of the blackout blinds that have been drawn over every window. Finding the controls on the wall, oddly, there appears to be a keypad preventing their operation.
On its own this might not seem so strange, but Victoria’s curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She started to recall, the locked wooden chest in the bedroom, a large matte black wall safe tucked behind the dresses in the dressing hall and she hadn’t seen anything to confirm it, but Victoria was quite certain the guards in the lobby were heavily armed.
Why all the secrecy and protection? It was probably nothing, Annalise had been more than open with Victoria and She had every right to keep her private life private. But the questions were starting to add up, certainly no harm in Victoria simply asking.
Victoria pads quietly across the floor, making her way into the kitchen. Caffeine, there must be coffee somewhere. To no surprise, the kitchen is immaculate and well appointed, quartz counters, stainless steal Sub-Zero appliances, clean lines and bright finishes, contrasting with the dark theme of the bedroom. Next to the Sub-Zero refrigerator is a built-in EuroCave Quad wine cellar, it must hold 1000 bottles, and securing the left 2 doors, another keypad. Her mind drifts back to the delicious wine from last night, and her amazing evening with Annalise.
On the counter opposite the sub-zero sits an elaborate Nuova espresso machine. A momentary panic subsides as she finds the Nespresso machine just beside it, much simpler but quite effective. Grabbing a coffee mug from the shelf above and a French Roast pod from the drawer beneath, Victoria is further awakened by the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee.
Not being particularly hungry and more out of habit, she checks out the contents of the large refrigerator. Assortments of cut up fruit, yogurts, cottage cheese, every type of milk, soy, almond, 1% and flavored creamers. Bottles of water neatly placed, everything is seemingly untouched.
Closing the refrigerator and turning back to the great room, sipping her coffee, that’s when she notices it, the large painting on the opposite side of the penthouse. As Victoria makes her way across the great room, she passes elaborate Japanese Oni demon masks displayed on each of the columns at the North end of the room. What appear to be ancient Incan artifacts and Mayan calendars bedecked along the opposite wall. But it’s the painting that draws her in, she knows it.
Victoria saw it first in the NY Times about a new exhibit by Jackson Pollock, to be displayed in the Museum of Modern Art. The She Wolf was the name of the piece and finally seeing it in person in the MoMA exhibition was breathtaking. This must be a replica, but the quality, the texture and the brush strokes are immaculate. Could it be the original? She laughs at herself, like Annalise would have a $100M painting hanging in her apartment. But something about it intrigues her.
Slowly reaching, running her fingers along the bottom edge of the painting, Victoria pulls it slightly away from the wall, peering behind it, potentially for some certificate of authentication. What she finds is a small card enclosed in plastic, barely legible, but clear enough:
~~~
For my beloved Annalise
~ j ~
~~~
Another look and Victoria realizes it’s not just a card, but a picture. Delicately retrieving it from the plastic envelope, she turns it over. Two individuals stand arm in arm in front of the painting, the faces are blurred with age yet immediately recognizable. It’s Annalise, appearing as if the photo could have been taken yesterday and she would recognize those glowing eyes anywhere, Jessica. A gift? But from who, Jessica? Or Jackson? It’s absurd of course, he painted that 80 years ago, but still it gnaws at her and the only one who can give her answers is Annalise.
~
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