Hidden Paradise

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Here’s a scene my editor banned, starring the Paint Boys. The Paint Boys are a couple of guys who like to work, uh, in tandem. They do paint analysis and restore plasterwork which I think is highly sexy, but there’s no accounting for taste. So I had to take this scene out and do a workaround.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lou said. “About your services.”

“How sweet,” Simon said. “Would you like to watch us clean up some plasterwork?”

She laid her hand on his knee, emboldened by wine and by the fantasies that had plagued her all afternoon. “Not as such. I have some interesting work to be done in my bedroom.”

“Ooh!” Jon tapped the knuckles of her other hand with a spoon. “You are such a naughty girl. Isn’t she a naughty girl, Si?”

“So I wondered … I don’t want to interrupt your concentration on the blue room, of course, but …”

“We don’t work by candlelight, dear. Not that sort of work. We’re more or less finished with the blue room–I need to be in there bright and early to check the coverage in morning light, but I think Simon and I are up for a little diversion. As a reward.”

“Oh, I think it might be rather rewarding, and I promise not to keep you up too late.” She laid her hand over her wineglass as Jon tilted the bottle, and then was annoyed at herself. Had Mac’s disapproving stare inspired her refusal of more wine?

“After dancing tonight. We don’t want to deprive anyone of a partner,” Simon said.

“Of course. I think I have some self-control.” She raised her voice a little and Mac looked away.

After tea and dancing, Lou returned to her room to await the Paint Boys—no, she really must try and remember their names were Jon and Simon, however much they seemed to enjoy presenting themselves as a package deal. And that term had certainly acquired a new significance with all those tight breeches on display.

She wandered her room, wondering whether she needed a shower after all the continual movement and hopping about of English country dancing. Clocks struck far off in the house: midnight. Had the Paint Boys gone in search of special equipment for their visit? Or had she been stood up twice in one day by three men, a new record?

She removed her low cut gown, one that she’d deemed a success since every man present had checked out her breasts; pale peach wasn’t her favorite color, but the overdress embroidered with silver and a slightly darker peach silk made it less insipid. Once her corset was off she could slouch around and if necessary feel sorry for herself, or eat some chocolate, or read, or … she took a look at herself in the mirror before she unlaced her corset, knowing that the fulsome bosom she flaunted would disappear as soon as the strings were loosened.

She replaced the final garment, the shapeless linen shift, with another shapeless linen sack, enlivened by a little lace around the neckline and cuffs, her nightgown. Not a garment for seducing, or being seduced. The linen drained color from her face and hair. She looked like a ghost.

Someone tapped at the door. She unlocked it but kept on the chain just in case anyone else was roaming lustfully in the direction of her room and saw the Paint Boys, clad in white painter’s overalls, another pair of ghosts. “Are those paintbrushes in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me? Why?”

“They’re comfy,” Jon said. “You can move around much more easily in overalls.”

 “We do our best work in these,” Simon added.

Well, that sounded promising.

“And they have pockets,” Jon said.

“Oh. Good. Did you bring a ladder, too, just in case?”

“Now you mention it…” Simon stepped past her. “Jon, I really think we should redo the molding over in the southwest corner. I’ve said so before. It just doesn’t look right to me.”

“Right now?” Lou said in disbelief.

“No, no, silly girl.” Jon patted her bottom. “Now we’re seeing to you. Besides, we need electricity, or at least daylight, to work on the molding, although I think Simon is being a wee bit picky. So, Simon, what do you think?”

They both regarded her in the same way, she suspected, they might inspect a crooked cornice or a crack in the wall, and then turned to each other and nodded.

“Lie down, dear,” Jon said. “Make yourself comfortable. No, other way. Across the bed. Where’s your hairbrush?”

“In the bathroom. What do you want it for?” She sat on the bed, uneasy. Weren’t they supposed to be giving her the best orgasms of her life? What did he intend to do with the hairbrush? If she mentioned she wasn’t into spanking might that not, perversely, plant the seed in their minds?

“Don’t look so worried.”

She scowled. “Look, Simon, I’m always being told I look worried, or that I’m thinking too much. It’s just the way I am.”

“Relax,” he cooed. He reached into the pocket of his overalls and produced a bottle.

“What’s that?”

“Massage oil.” He unscrewed the top of the bottle and a faint citrus scent drifted over to her. “Oh, here comes Jon. Lie back, Lou dear. Feet on the edge of the bed, head over at the other side. Very good. Don’t be nervous. We’re your friends.”

Take me to your leader. She was under the power of two strange unearthly creatures, indistinguishable from each other, who were about to commit bizarre experiments on her defenseless body. Or perhaps the strange probings would occur later. She gave a sigh of pleasure as Jon brushed her hair, and Simon dribbled warm oil onto her feet.

“Do you do this for everyone?” she asked.

“Only if they need it,” Jon said. “You’re such a tense creature.”

Simon did something extraordinary to the soles of her feet and she almost groaned aloud with pleasure. No, this wasn’t an alien abduction. This was Snow White and two of the seven dwarves tending to her as she lay helpless in a swoon, waiting for her prince to come.

“What’s amusing you, Lou?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m not used to this sort of attention.”

“I don’t know why not. You’re a lovely woman. You deserve to be pampered.” Simon drew the brush through her hair again.

“I’ve been alone for a while.”

“Yes, we heard. So we thought you’d like a treat.”

“No sex?” she said, lulled and groggy with pleasure.

“Oh we didn’t say that, did we Si?”

“No, we didn’t, but one of your foot massages is almost as good. He uses reflexology technique, you know. Hits all the special spots.”

Oh yes, all the special spots were being hit, miraculously, through his touch on her feet, and of course they could see her hard nipples, abraded deliciously by the soft caress of her linen nightgown. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know how visible they were, and her two aliens must know how soft and melting she felt between her thighs.

Simon slid a finger slowly between her toes, working from pinky inward and on to the other foot.

“Sometimes women get off just on this,” Jon said.

“Sometimes they need a little help,” Simon added. He pinched each toe softly, stretching and extending as though her toes were springs. “Tell us if there’s something else you’d like.”

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