Chapter Text
November 28–29, 2016: Olivia Davidson’s Yogurt-Smeared Camden Canvas
On November 28, 2016, Jessie Cave (29) had been sketching in a London café, doodling over a latte, when a woman with a familiar artsy flair slid into the seat across from her. Olivia Davidson, the Oracle editor from Sweet Valley High —all grown up at 46, her slim frame draped in a boho scarf, her dark hair streaked with silver—grinned over her coffee. “You’re Jessie, right? I’ve heard whispers about you and Anna Shaffer—sounds like my kind of chaos,” she said, her voice soft but playful, her bi energy pinging loud and clear. Jessie’s eyes lit up, fangirling her SVH fave. “Olivia! We’d love you at Camden—tomorrow?” Olivia’s smile widened. “It’s a date!” she said, and the plan was set.
The next evening, November 29, the Camden flat pulsed with its usual wild warmth. Jessie and Anna flung open the door, stark nude and beaming, as Olivia strolled up—jeans and a paint-splattered shirt, her artsy soul on full display. “Well, this is a welcome!” she chuckled, stepping inside. They didn’t waste time—Jessie tugged off her shirt, Anna unzipped her jeans, and in a flurry of giggles, they stripped her bare, hands brushing her hips and shoulders in their signature once-over. Olivia stood there, slim and soft, her 5’5” frame a canvas of gentle curves—small boobs, a flat belly, and long legs that shivered under their touch. She laughed, “You’re bold!” They guided her to the couch, plopping her between them, cushions sinking under her weight as she settled in with a dreamy, “This is surreal!”
Jessie grabbed the remote and cued up The Breakfast Club —a quirky 80s pick, no Sweet Valley needed, just vibes Olivia’d adore. The touching kicked off, wild and reverent since they adored her artsy soul. Jessie started high, kissing Olivia’s collarbone, her lips slow and warm, then traced her chest and breasts, cupping them with a giddy, “So perfect!” Anna dove lower, running her fingers down Olivia’s back, kissing her belly with a hum, then licking her thighs and calves, sneaking a pubic tickle that made Olivia gasp, “Oh, you!” Olivia gave back with flair—her hands roamed Jessie’s chest, then Anna’s thighs, kissing Jessie’s neck and tickling Anna’s sides, her touch light but electric. “You’re both gorgeous,” she murmured, and Anna grinned, “You’re our muse!”
The Breakfast Club faded to a hum as they tangled. Jessie kissed Olivia’s back, her hands sliding to her calves, while Anna pecked her chest, sneaking a nipple lick that drew a soft, “Well, damn!” Olivia’s hands danced—Jessie’s belly, Anna’s back—her giggles punctuating every move. “You’re relentless,” she said, and Jessie smirked, “You’re inspiring!” After an hour, Jessie murmured, “Christening time,” her voice thick with mischief. She latched onto Olivia’s left breast, suckling deep, kissing and licking as Olivia sighed, “That’s heavenly.” Anna took the right, her lips firm and steady, cupping the curve, pulling a happy moan from Olivia. “You’re unreal,” she breathed, and returned it—suckling Jessie’s right breast with a bold tug, then Anna’s left, her lips eager and tender. “Natural artists,” she panted, and Anna grinned, “You’re our masterpiece.” They traded lip kisses, sloppy and sweet, hands still roaming—Jessie on Olivia’s thighs, Anna on her belly, Olivia clutching their shoulders.
Food play came next, yogurt for Olivia’s creative soul. Jessie grabbed a tub of plain Greek—thick and tangy—and smeared it across Olivia’s belly, diving in to lick it off, humming, “Tastes like you!” Olivia retaliated, slathering it on Jessie’s chest, sucking it clean as Jessie yelped, “Cool!” Anna joined in, dabbing yogurt on her own thighs and giggling as Olivia lapped it up, then smeared it on Olivia’s back, kissing it away with a slow sweep. The mess spiraled—yogurt on boobs, calves, even a rogue smear on Anna’s cheek that Jessie licked off with a cackle. Olivia flung a dollop at Jessie’s abs, chasing it with her lips, sketching the chaos in her mind, and the flat rang with their shrieks, a creamy, joyous riot. “Take that!” Olivia laughed, dolloping Anna’s belly, and the trio dissolved into gooey chaos.
They stumbled to the bath, a steamy trio of suds and giggles. Jessie soaped Olivia’s back, her hands slipping low to squeeze her hips, while Anna scrubbed Jessie’s shoulders, sneaking kisses along her neck. Olivia turned, running her palms over Anna’s chest, then Jessie’s belly, grinning as water cascaded over them. “You’re both so alive,” she said, her bi heart gleaming, “How about we take this to bed?” Jessie’s eyes widened, then she grinned, “Hell yes!” Anna nodded, “Let’s paint that picture!” They toweled off—Jessie patting Olivia’s thighs, Anna brushing her back—and tumbled to the bedroom, Olivia’s slim frame buzzing between them. The door shut, and the scene faded to black, a happy tangle of laughter and rustling sheets.
Morning light spilled in on November 30, and they were bare around the kitchen table, tea steaming and toast crumbling. Olivia stretched, smirking. “You two are my best canvas yet—wild and perfect!” Jessie laughed, “You’re a bloody dream!” Breakfast turned playful—Anna swiped jam on Olivia’s belly, slurping it off with a wink, while Jessie dabbed butter on Olivia’s thighs, licking it clean as Olivia squirmed. Olivia fought back, smearing jam on Jessie’s chest and sucking it off, then dotting Anna’s back for a quick taste. “You’re insatiable,” she chuckled, and Anna grinned, “You’re keeping up!” They rinsed off, water splashing as hands grazed—Jessie kissing Olivia’s shoulder, Anna tracing her calves—and migrated to the couch.
The morning stretched tactile and warm. Jessie massaged Olivia’s back, her hands kneading the slim softness, while Anna kissed her collarbone, her fingers stroking her thighs. Olivia sighed, “This is art,” her hands wandering—Jessie’s belly, Anna’s chest—trading soft touches and giggles. “One last suckle?” she asked, and they obliged—Jessie on Olivia’s left, Anna on her right, slow and tender. Olivia returned it, suckling Jessie’s right and Anna’s left with a gentle tug, her eyes gleaming with that SVH spark. “Perfect finale,” she said, pulling them into a tight, nude hug—warm, firm, her artsy glow buzzing against their chaos. By noon, she stretched, happy and loose. “You’re legends—I’ll sketch this one day,” she said, grabbing her clothes. She slung her bag over her shoulder and strutted out, tossing back, “Tell Sweet Valley I’ve gone rogue!” Jessie and Anna watched her go, grinning, the flat still humming with her dreamy echo.