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Tennis date no .1 - Lisa Golightly

American , b . 1974 -

acrylic on paper , 12 x 12 in.

#Lisa Golightly #american artist #tennis lessons

INFP, Leo, Slytherin, Dark Academia, Theatre Major who loves books, flowers and writing

Made for Anon

Made by @sharraus

• Kassandra x Eivor Varinsdottir x female reader. 💋

• • Warnings: adult content, nudity, sapphic love.

our sapphic verse, part II.

Oh moon, my goddess… how kind of you to keep me company in these late hours, when life itself has gone to sleep.

Beautiful verse came to life in the pallid glow of your lamp, words which finally made you proud. The perfect epic poem birthed by your hands alone, soon to be recited to the most feared, yet revered warriors of the Greek World.

When daylight caressed your cheeks, you left your pages to dry and made for the pool of flowers by the waterfall. You washed the fatigue from your eyes and the ink from your aching fingers. The spring embraced you wholly, and you became one with the element. A daughter of the forest with gifted hands and beauty in every shape of your body.

Only at night you were ready to wander the streets of a city of temples. Colorful paths of blossoms led you back to the veranda where all the heterae had gathered. Just like the night before, they sang like sirens and danced gracefully. But this time, not for warrior women; it was a group of foreign military men they entertained. You sought Kassandra with your gaze among the crowds of people, and in the absence of her beauty, you grew anxious.

Then, from high above, you heard the wild cry of an eagle. With hope renewed, you followed the gracious bird to the lean plates of a mountain. There, moonlight cast a glow upon a marble pool of spring water and fresh rose petals. The scent of lavender and iris oil was almost overwhelming, you felt as if you stepped into another realm. When you looked up at the temple, you saw Artemis gazing down at you, beautifully carved in marble. The eagle flew above again, and as you turned to follow, you saw him landing on his owner’s outstretched arm.

Kassandra.

Her presence took your breath away so effortlessly. You, a poet in search of a greater purpose, able to wield only a quill. And her, a magnificent warrior with many talents. The image before you was something you had never dreamt of; two beautiful women on a bed of cushions, glowing beneath the rays of a midsummer moon. They were wearing only dark red silks which barely covered their glorious, muscular bodies. Even without their menacing armours, though, they looked just as fierce and deadly. Kassandra quietly hummed a foreign song as she caressed Eivor’s bare chest. You held you breath as your gaze naturally followed the slow movements of those precious fingers over small, firm breasts. Touches so forbidden, so beautifully sinful. This must’ve been a vision, too perfect to be real – the eagle cried again and the spell broke.

“Ah?... Thank you, Ikaros.”

Kassandra’s deep gaze met yours as she spoke, and in a moment you turned away, ashamed.

“Oh gods, forgive me! I didn’t mean to - "

“There’s no gods here, only us.” Sweet mercenary spoke with harmless amusement.

“Come now, we’ve been waiting.”

Oh, that bewitching voice… You slowly approached them with your gaze on the ground and words of praise at the tip of your tongue. To recite your masterpiece to the most revered women of your life must’ve been a miracle bestowed on very few. And here you were, the lucky one.

You sat on the pristine edge of the pool, biting your lip whilst these graceful warriors patiently waited until you were ready. It warmed your heart to learn how dignified they were, even as you became flustered. Eivor had not made an attempt to cover her chest, in fact, Kassandra was still sensually massaging the soft edges of her breasts. And the way they enjoyed one another was so perfectly natural, just as you imagined! Secret lovers diving into the pleasures of womanly affections. With courage renewed, you begun to recite.

Your tone full of confidence, rhythm and cadence fell perfectly, like the powerful thunder of your young, wild heart. Words so poetic, metaphors easily engaging your private audience. You told tales of their beauty and grace, their forbidden love and how bravely they conquered lands. You were out of breath as you read the last verse, and yet you never felt more lively and strong. Sappho must’ve been proud.

You were overjoyed as you witnessed enchanting smiles blooming over their handsome features. So much, that you were free of shyness and nerves, and you could openly express your genuine feelings for them. You took a little bow, bringing your papers to your chest, feeling completely victorious.

“That was quite impressive!” Kassandra praised as she sat up on the cushions. Her hand now lazily rested over Eivor’s bare thigh, subtly pulling the silk which covered her lover’s lap. How silly of you to think you were brave enough to face them; the moment you cast your gaze upon their half-nude bodies, you were speechless. Raw strength and beauty laid before you, gorgeous warriors, akin to the murals of ancient, brave heroines. You shivered as Eivor spoke to you, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You are very talented, and very brave to recite it like this. Not many approach us with such confidence.”

Confidence? What a laugh! You were on the verge of breaking as you stood there before their deep, focused eyes, and yet you somehow found the courage to keep your stance. You nodded silently, eager to hear their review. The hard part had passed – or so you thought.

“There’s something missing, though…” Eivor begun.

You froze.

“Like your verse is a little… hmm… forced, incomplete.” Kassandra added.

. . .

To die would’ve been better in that moment. You smiled and nodded, willing to hear all they had to say – after all, that was what you came for. Still, you were not prepared to accept that your masterpiece was… not a masterpiece. Your heart shattered at the thought of being a mediocre poet. Someone Sappho would not spare a second glance.

“It feels as if… the metaphors you write are just wishes, dreams- ” Eivor spoke, but you quickly interrupted her.

“How do you mean?”

God, the way she smiled then… Just like the previous night, thawing you. Breaking you down, just to put you back together.

“It means you write of passions you’ve never felt, yourself.”

There was a deep, lingering silence after.

Confused, you sought the floor for answers, in deep thought, wondering just what went wrong.

Eivor slowly leaned towards you, and as you saw her, you reached for her as well. You offered her your pages thinking that was what she desired, but instead she gently wrapped her hand around your dainty wrist. And as she pulled, you naturally fell to your knees right in front of her. Suddenly, you felt a burning warmth beneath your skin. Nervous, anxious, and exhilarated all at once.

“Come here…”

Eivor beckoned in a tone so deeply sensual, you were completely powerless. Your gaze followed the trail of intricate designs on her tattooed arms and chest, silently admiring. Her eyes stood out like precious jewels beneath her dark viking eyeshadow. Like a wolf, she pulled you in, and like a sweet lamb you followed. You didn’t even realize how Kassandra neatly put your precious papyrus away, nor how she circled you like a silent predator observing her cornered prey. But you shivered as you felt her breath upon your shoulder, and suddenly you felt very small beneath her intense gaze. She caressed your arm with the back of her scarred fingers, a touch so tender it made you sigh with desire. Then, she leaned in close, brushing the tip of her perfect nose along the apple of your cheek.

“... let us teach you… real womanly passion.”

The mercenary whispered smoothly against your ear. As if hypnotized you slowly nodded, more than willing to learn and take everything they had to offer. You felt Kassandra’s hand on your shoulder, her fingers slipping beneath the only strap of your lavender dress. Very slowly, she pulled the silk down your arm, leaving your chest completely bare.

- To be continued…

* part III.