Still Life

Still Life

Michelle had always known how to hold herself -- shoulders back, gaze steady, charm measured and never accidental. Even now, at seventy-six, with silvery hair and hands that trembled slightly when reaching for the teacups on the high shelf, there was an elegance to her. One that didn't fade with age, but deepened -- like old wine, or the burnished skin in the black-and-white portraits that lined her living room wall.

It had been a long morning. The shopping centre was too bright, too loud, and full of people who seemed to move either too fast or not at all. Michelle had managed her errands, her bags filled with carefully selected tins of tea, fresh fruit, a pair of silk stockings she didn't strictly need. She sank gratefully onto a wooden bench near the fountain, her knees grateful for the rest.

She didn't notice when one of the bags tipped, not until she heard the soft clatter of a jar rolling on the tile. A tube of lipstick skidded out next, then a folded chemise in dove-grey lace. Michelle leaned down with a small sound of exasperation.

"Hey, I got it, don't worry." a voice said -- low, and unmistakably young.

A woman crouched in front of her, scooping up the fallen items. She was compact and wiry, maybe early twenties, with spiked dark hair and tattoos peeking from under the sleeves of a frayed black hoodie. Her legs looked lean and muscular, those bits that were visible through the rips in her jeans, Michelle blinked at the contrast -- the soft lace in those sharp hands.

"Thank you, dear, you're very kind." she said, accepting the jar and the chemise with a smile. "I'm afraid gravity is no longer my ally."

The young woman laughed. It was sudden, bright, and unguarded.

"I know the feeling. I've dropped my entire backpack twice today. You put things on the floor, and they fall over!"

A boy -- skinny, bored-looking -- hovered a few feet away, barely glancing over. He was glued to his phone.

"I'm Jay," the girl said, standing. "You okay? Need help to your car?"

Michelle hesitated. There was something in Jay's eyes -- direct, curious, not pitying. She nodded.

"If you don't mind. The car park here is huge, and I always seem to end up parking at the far end. Sometimes I think I'd be better off getting a taxi. I'm Michelle, and thank you again."

Jay smiled, a warm sparkle set in such a young face. She barked something over her shoulder. The boyfriend muttered but helped lift the bags. At the car, Michelle unlocked the trunk, and Jay began placing things with care.

"You live far?"

"Ten minutes. Just up the hill. Little white cottage with the crooked mailbox."

Jay chewed her lip, glanced back at the boy.

"I'll come with you and help you unpack. He can wait. Or not. Up to him, really."

Michelle smiled, both amused and a little touched. "Well, if you insist. Thank you. That's very kind."

The house was small but full of light. Shelves stacked with books, soft throws over the chairs, and everywhere there were photographs. Some framed, some casually pinned. The living room wall was a collage of decades.

Jay froze halfway through unloading the shopping bags.

"Whoa," she murmured. She looked closer, The photographs seemed to cover years, some black and white, some full colour, Mixed in were several paintings, larger than the photographs, but tucked away slightly. But they all showed Michelle, a younger Michelle, but very clearly Michelle,

One photo was a close-up of a nude woman on a velvet couch -- shadows playing over her back, her spine a gentle dip into darkness. Another showed two women laughing, bare-shouldered and half-wrapped in satin sheets, a wine bottle between them. Others were far more explicit. A younger Michelle stood in one, legs apart, a cigarette dangling from her lips, another woman kneeling between her thighs.

"Some of these are... pretty intense."

Michelle's smile curved slightly.

"They were considered scandalous at the time; pornographic even. I modelled for art collectives. Paris, London, San Francisco. Sometimes I posed. Sometimes I participated. I even did a page three a couple of times, which was more acceptable."

"Page three? What's that?"

"Page three girls; we were topless models placed on the third page of some tabloid newspapers. They stopped doing it over ten years ago. A number of the girls became quite famous."

Jay's eyes returned to the wall and lingered. "in these, you look... I dunno, proud, maybe. Like you knew exactly what you were doing."

"Oh, I did. Certainly."

Jay put the fruit in the bowl without looking away. Her cheeks were flushed.

Michelle put on a record, real vinyl, and poured two glasses of white wine.

"Sit, darling, have this. You've earned it."

Jay did, curling one leg under her on the velvet settee.

"How old were you in those?"

"Anywhere from twenty to forty. It was less about age, more about curiosity. Intimacy. Documenting pleasure -- female pleasure, mostly. It terrified people. Well, only certain people, the establishment. The rest of us were experimenting; finding ourselves, following the swinging sixties after all. OK, not the actual era, but we kept the feelings alive."

Jay sipped the wine. "It's... beautiful. Honest. I've never seen stuff like this outside of old art books." She hardly looked at Michelle, her eyes kept drifting back to the pictures.

Michelle leaned back, crossing her legs.

"It was a continuation of so much that had gone before. We were living the Bohemian Culture, and we really got into sexual and emotional openness. The ideas have been around for over a hundred years, and it's still there." She paused. "Sorry. I'm getting carried away. They were great times!"

"No, no. It's great to hear you talk about it. I've never met someone like you, someone who was there, as it were. It was all such a long time ago, from my generation's view."

"Ah, yes, youth. We all invented everything and our parents were the reactionary establishment! But of course they really weren't, and we all grow older, don't we? And now we are the reactionary establishment! Most people think sexuality ends at a certain age, and an old person having sex is shocking, somehow. I assure you, not true!"

Jay met her eyes. Something shimmered in the air -- not quite tension, but the weight of an unspoken question. "I'd like to see more of your pictures, if I may. They are really something."

Michelle tilted her head. "Are you always this forward with strangers?"

Jay grinned. "Only the interesting ones."

As afternoon faded to gold, the music changed. Old jazz, smoky and soft. Michelle lit a candle near the piano. Jay wandered through the room, finally stopping in front of a framed contact sheet -- small square prints, all of Michelle in motion. Dancing, laughing, posing nude against a mirror.

"You didn't hide anything, did you?"

"No," Michelle said softly. "Hiding takes too much effort."

Jay turned. The look in her eyes had changed. Bolder. "Can I ask something stupid?"

"Certainly."

"Do you still... you know. Want things? That way."

Michelle's smile was slow. "Desire doesn't retire, my dear. It just learns patience."

Jay stepped closer. "You're kind of wrecking my head right now."

"Good. Always think. Never shirk from unexpected ideas and views. Always be ready to experience."

Their hands met first. Jay's was cooler, fingers roughened. Michelle's fingers stroked the ink along Jay's wrist, tracing a line slowly up to her elbow. Jay inhaled.

Michelle leaned in, breath warm against Jay's neck.

"You don't have to be careful, just receptive to new ideas."

Jay's lips met hers -- tentative at first, then more certain. The kiss deepened. Jay's fingers tangled in Michelle's hair, and Michelle responded with a hunger that startled her.

They moved together toward the couch, lips parting only to breathe. Michelle's hand skimmed Jay's side, sliding beneath her shirt -- slow, exploratory. Jay moaned softly, hips shifting, allowing herself to be touched.

"May I?" Michelle whispered.

Jay nodded. "Yes. Please."

Michelle's fingers lifted Jay's hoodie, revealing a lean torso and the curve of a tattoo near her ribs. She kissed the skin reverently, lips brushing ink and flesh. Jay arched, eyes fluttering closed.

Jay returned the touch -- nervous at first, then emboldened. She slid Michelle's blouse from her shoulders, marvelling at the fine skin, the strength in softness, the beauty etched in every line. Her voice broke the silence.

"You're so... god, you're gorgeous."

Michelle smiled, unhooking her bra slowly. "You're allowed to look."

Jay did. Her hands followed -- tentative, then assured, learning curves, teasing a nipple until Michelle's breath hitched.

Their bodies pressed closer. Clothes shed between kisses. Michelle's hand guided Jay down gently, fingers threading through her hair as she whispered, "Just listen to your body. Let your hands learn. No rush."

Jay kissed her way lower, tasting skin, inhaling warmth. She hesitated, then looked up. Michelle met her gaze, eyes soft but commanding.

"Keep going, darling. I've got you."

Jay did. Tentative tongue, trembling hands. Michelle moaned low, fingers tightening in Jay's hair, guiding, encouraging. She offered praise -- soft yeses, murmured endearments -- as Jay's confidence bloomed. Michelle peaked, shuddering, breath coming in short gasps.

It took a few minutes to recover, with Jay's cheek resting on her stomach, her breath softly caressing her mound where Jay still had her fingers. Michelle rose and pulled Jay onto the couch, guiding her onto her back. She kissed her stomach, the tops of her thighs, pushing her legs gently apart, revealing what lay inside, watching every reaction.

"Tell me what you like," Michelle whispered.

Jay stammered, then gasped as Michelle found a rhythm. Her fingers and mouth working in tandem, stroking, penetrating, lips and tongue exploring tasting her wetness. Jay's back arched. Her cries were honest, broken, beautiful.

When it was over, they lay tangled, limbs warm and trembling. Jay traced circles on Michelle's stomach.

"I didn't know it could feel like that."

Michelle kissed her forehead. "You were open. That's rare."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, anything."

Jay smiled sleepily. "You're... kind of everything.

"And that was my first time, with a woman, you know? My boyfriend is never that good, and you were really amazing! Seriously, like that was the greatest thing I have ever felt!"

Michelle laughed softly. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

They dozed briefly, curled together. The record skipped to silence.

As Jay slipped into her clothes, she paused before the collage of photographs, eyes alight.

"You really should take more," she said. "Starting now."

Michelle leaned against the doorframe, wrapped in silk and evening shadows.

"Maybe I will. You could be in some too."

Jay's grin twisted, mischievous. "Only if you promise to pose with me."

Michelle laughed softly, the sparkle in her eyes like a secret shared.

"Deal."