She was beautiful.
Jiri was at a party, and saw her across the room. He was here to meet another girl, but she had stood him up. He was angry at the human race, one half in particular, and he intended to drink himself into a stupor.
When he first saw her, he put down his drink. He could do nothing but stare. She was laughing with her friends, throwing back her beautiful black mane of hair. Her hand was behind her lover's neck, delicately kneading and stroking. Jiri could see the strength in that hand, and with a suddenness that surprised him, he felt a flash of desire to feel that strength, all of it.
Without any warning, she turned her gaze to him, and, for a moment he felt completely open to her. Her look conveyed comfortable familiarity, a shared-but not-quite-understood joke, and a terrible possessiveness, all together and in the space of a few seconds. The intensity of that gaze took his breath away, then she pursed her lips to blow him a gentle kiss. Without a word, and before her companions noticed her momentary lack of attention, she turned away again to continue her conversation and her fingers' gentle dance.
Jiri knew that this encounter would colour his life. Whether she ever spoke to him or not, he knew that those brief seconds had given him a glimpse of something both majestic and magical. He had never felt this way about another human being, and was somewhat afraid.
He considered running even then, to go home to his single room and to lie wakefully in the light, trying to forget the power of this woman's eyes, mouth and lips. He was too weak to go, and too weak to move towards her. He simply turned around, and for the first time tried to distract himself with the other guests. The black mood in his heart had lifted, and he found himself able to join a conversation with some young university students, and was beginning to enjoy himself again.
By the end of the party, only a handful of guests remained. He was ensconced in the kitchen talking to a pretty young thing whose name was Helen. They were earnestly agreeing about the perils of globalization, and a sort of intimacy was developing between them.
Suddenly, Helen, startled, looked up behind Jiri and went quiet. She shook her head as if her vision was blurring, and, a little apologetically, said
"Sorry, Jiri, but I've got to go".
She left quickly without another word.
Before he could turn to see her depart, he felt a gentle touch on his neck that he both welcomed and somehow expected. Those strong fingers were soon kneading and caressing his own neck, and he lowered his head as a strange lassitude and warmth spread across his shoulders and down his spine. For several minutes, he let those fingers work their magic, and he closed his eyes and let them drain all the tension from his frame.
"What is your name, my love?" she asked
"Jiri" was all I could say.
"Jiri, my name is Euryale. Come visit me some day," she said, "I am a sculptor, and would like to make a statue of you."
She pressed a card into his hand, and the gentle pressure on his neck ceased. By the time Jiri had collected his wits and turned around, she was gone.
Jiri would have liked to visit her the very next day, but his work commitments would not permit it.
Instead of the excitement of her invitation diminishing, however, he found it increased day by day. When Friday finally rolled around, he stayed until midnight working on his project and tying up loose ends.
He made his way out to her studio early on Saturday morning. It was devilishly hard to find, being in a tiny street in a part of town that he would have considered most imprudent for such a beautiful young woman to walk around in.
When Jiri found the studio closed, he was devastated. He knocked repeatedly on the glass doors, and peered within. He beheld a fascinating sight, and for a short time he stopped his knocking. Euryale's studio contained about a dozen statues of various people, and all were portrayed naked. From each male statue jutted an engorged penis, carved with meticulous precision. All their muscles appeared to be straining, as if against some unseen but mighty force. Every female statue was posed with their pussy open and accessible, as if some invisible implement were still embedded within, and their arms around some unseen lover. Without exception, every statue was represented with its face carved in the terrible rictus of sexual ecstasy.
One statue, near the front, Jiri recognized. It was a representation of the man, Euryale's lover, that he had seen at the party. Strangely, he seemed to be carved from stone of a different hue to those of the others. Where all the other statues appeared grey and dull, this statue appeared carved in pink marble. The eyes were green, as if coloured with watercolour, and the lips were of a darker tone, with some of the colour of blood. The colouring on the penis was remarkable; the carved veins in the representation of the penis were cleverly matched with coloured veins in the marble, giving an extremely life-like appearance.
Finally, his knocking had some effect. He heard a door to the rear of the shop opening, and his heart leapt as he saw the graceful silhouette of Euryale making her way to the front of the shop.
"All right, all right, there's no need to wake the neighbours!" smiled Euryale as she unlocked and opened the door. "Come in, and I'll show you around before we start."
As he walked in, he surveyed the studio. There was a full-length mirror on one wall, from which the eyes of all the statues peered out at him. Seeing some rumpled cushions in the rear of the studio, he decided that Euryale must work day and night to produce such intricate and life-like carvings.
She took him in, and, leading him by the hand, showed him each of the statues. Jiri was amazed at the variety of people that Euryale had convinced to pose for her, and she seemed quite proprietorial with each statue, as if she were introducing a friend and not describing a work of art. As she led him around, her hand slipped around his middle finger and, gently at first, her fingers tightened and squeezed.
That gentleness soon gave way to urgency, and Euryale's thumb was soon applying pressure to the base of his finger. Jiri could hardly believe the feelings that this engendered, as if Euryale's hand were fucking his finger and drawing him out. All this time, Euryale's sweet, melodious voice was leading him from statue to statue, and her other hand began caressing and fondling each statue that they passed.
Soon they reached the front of the shop again, and Euryale briefly released Jiri before drawing the curtains and locking the door with a deadbolt, which slid into place convincingly.
"Now, just stand there and you will see what I intend to do with you!" said Euryale with a sly grin. "I can demonstrate with my latest work."
Euryale quietly inspected the image of her party lover, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, then knelt down in front of him. Opening her mouth, she slid down over the engorged stone penis. Closing her eyes and sighing, she slowly bobbed her lips up to the stony tip, and then down to the curly base of the statue, again and again. Jiri could do nothing but watch in sensual apprehension, and could see her tongue working on the marble, every now and again her throat swallowing, as if she were drawing some vital essence from the statue, her arms wrapped around the stone buttocks, stroking and pressing the cold stone.
Eventually, some closure seemed to be reached, and Euryale sighed in fulfilment. She stayed with the statue a few minutes more, her mouth still enfolding the hard stone.
As Jiri watched this strange ritual, his ardour and excitement increased by leaps and bounds. Soon after Euryale had finished with the statue, however, another feeling began to grow, beginning as a strange uneasiness but soon growing into so much more.
The uneasiness started when he noticed that the lover's statue had lost its colour, and was now the same grey, dull hue as all the other statues in the studio. Initially, he could discount this as a trick of the light: hadn't the studio's curtains been open when he first entered, and couldn't their closing have blocked the sun's rays, which gave the stone its colour?
However, his next impression could not be so easily discounted: he realized that he could not bend or feel his middle finger. Rubbing it with his other hand, increasingly fascinated and appalled, he could not restore any feeling, nor could he bend the joints. Eventually, feeling returned to his finger, although he could still not bend it.
Jiri was surprised by a moment of transformation. He felt a small bolt of ecstacy stabbing at his insides, and he held his breath until it subsided.
His finger was now hewn from the pink marble of the lover's statue.
As Euryale finished with her lover, as Jiri now knew the statue to be, she turned around and gazed at Jiri's discomfiture with a look of amused excitement.
"I see that you have found out my technique", she said, "but I see also that you are not entirely displeased." Her gazed shifted to Jiri's crotch, which had betrayed him, to the extent of a damp spot being visible at the front of his pants.
She smiled at him, and crept towards him. Reaching him, her arms sidled around his neck and she drew him in to a deep kiss. Her tongue danced in his mouth, and he closed his eyes. In his excitement, he could almost neglect his likely fate.
.... There is more of this story ...