PERMANENT CLIENT

                                    PERMANENT CLIENT

 “Have you ever wondered who it was underneath this mask?” The moment the question slips through my mouth I regret it. We have never had a conversation before. His hands pause, charcoal pencil in hand, hovering above the canvas. He knows we don’t speak to each other. 

 He lifts his grey eyes—which I had imagined above me several times—from the canvas and focuses on me, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

 His Adam’s apple bobs as he prepared to speak.

“I have drawn you for what? Three years, of course I have wondered.” He peers at me from under those thick and long lashes that I have come to know so well from all these years of staring.

His voice startles me, a rich baritone that feels like bathing in smooth butter, you would think hearing it for three years would make me accustomed to it, but it didn’t. Every time I heard the voice that played a great role in my fantasies, my body reacts in ways that were beyond my control.

 “Do you want to know?” my voice comes out as seductive. 

A brow quirks in my direction. He was curious, but he was doing everything he could not to let it show. That was okay, I wasn’t going to show him anyway. I don’t want to ruin what we have, or what I have.

 A timer at the top of the dark room dings, signifying the end of the two hour session he paid for, the spotlight above my head goes off and the rest of the room is bathed in bright white light.  Disappointment pools at my core. Today was the last day of the week, we won’t see each other again till Tuesday. 

 He looks down at the sketch of me. Then turns it to face me, I haven’t  asked to see what he drew before, i came here for him. But I am pleasantly surprised to see how he captured my legs perfectly well, every line was represented well.

 “Woah.” I whisper, still not moving from my spot. Mostly because I didn’t want him to see how damp I had made the bench. Also because this was the only way I could trust myself to stay put, I didn’t trust myself to be civil around him.

 “This is the first time I haven’t finished a drawing.” 

The me on the canvas didn’t have an upper body, he stopped just above my belly button piercing.

 “Why?” 

“I was distracted.”

I chew the inside of my cheek to stop myself from hyperventilating. I was doing it. I was talking to the man in my fantasies, and we were having a conversation! Oh my god! This is really real!! If I could ask for a second to jump up and down in happiness I would.

 “Sorry. We haven’t had a conversation in three years, even if we spend six hours in the week together.” 

 He nods, his mass of black hair bobbed up and down as he does.

“True. I wondered if you were a bot. You never asked where your paintings or drawings went. You never asked to see, you just sat there.”

 My thoughts were going haywire. He wondered about me. Meaning he was curious. He was curious about me!

“What.. what do you do with them?” I clear my throat as I ask.

“I keep them for myself.” 

“You keep them?!” I squeal.

He blinks in confusion.

 “Should I have sold them?”

“No, no, no, of course not.

I am about to ask him why he kept them when someone knocks on the door.  

 He starts packing his things. We are usually out after the timer goes off.

 “Your time has expired. My client and I wants to use this room.” Another model says as she peeks her head inside the room.

I am annoyed by her, “What about the other rooms?”

“Occupied. Besides, your time has expired. This isn’t a private room”

I sit up from my position where I had lain the way he told me to. I could feel my own juices squelching as I moved, but I can’t stay here longer. He swings his art bag, I call it his art bag because he doesn’t bring it into class, over his shoulder.

 His eyes fall on me, this time they do a little dance all over my body. Stopping right above my breasts and this gives me an idea that he on some level feels the way I do. My nipples respond to his stare, tightening to the point where it hurts. He must notice this because his eyes darken.

  The other model clears her throat nosily and he blinks, like the tension between us was some kind of dust and he thinks blinking it away would work. And in two seconds he was out of the room.

 I turn my glare to the model. Even with her mask I recognize her, we met at the interview and I got the vibe that she didn’t like me at all. Which is good, I don’t like her as well.

 “You don’t even have to be here, yet you snagged the most good looking client.”

I roll my eyes, wondering if I was supposed to be flattered by her comment. She saw my car during the interview and has made it very clear that she doesn’t like that I work here, because I already have the money and somehow it is insulting to her who has no other choice than to bare her body for a stranger to draw.

 “Maybe if you minded your business more you would get good looking  clients.” I tell her.

“You would say that because you snugged the highest paying client.” She snapped at me as I try to side step her.

He was the highest paying?

 “You are sleeping with him aren’t you?” she accused.

A laugh tumbles out of me.

 “Not yet.” 

“Then how is it that he paid for you exclusively?”

I turn around to face her, that was new information. I thought our timetables matched, I assumed it was coincidence. I had no idea he paid for me specifically. This made my insides swirl and my legs clench. 

We never had a conversation before today,  so why does my professor, A.K.A my client pay for my exclusivity?