The First Pose
968 Words
…oh, okay then. You are a client,” I said, forcing a small professional smile. “So whatever the client wants.”
I opened my notebook, flipping to a clean page and clicking my pen, trying to bring the conversation back into something normal, structured, controllable.
“So tell me,” I continued, “how big you want the painting to be and how—”
“One meter by two,” Sebastian said without hesitation.
I paused just slightly, then wrote it down.
“That’s large,” I commented. “Full body or portrait?”
“Full,” he replied simply.
I nodded once, still writing. “Alright. Style—realistic, abstract, modern—”
A brief silence followed.
Then he added, calm as ever:
“Nude.”
My pen stopped mid-line.
For a second, I didn’t move. I didn’t react. I just looked at the page like it might explain what I just heard.
Then I slowly lifted my gaze to him. The air in the room shifted instantly, subtle but sharp.
I closed my notebook halfway, keeping my tone steady. Professional.
“We don’t do nudes,” I said simply. No hesitation. No softness. Just clear boundaries. A beat of silence followed.
Sebastian didn’t look surprised. He didn’t look offended either.
Just… observant.
“I see,” he said quietly.
I held his gaze. “If you want a portrait, we can do it clothed. Focus on expression, presence, character—that’s what I specialize in.”
I tapped my notebook lightly with my pen, as if resetting the conversation.
“Everything else is off the table.”
Another pause.
But instead of pushing back, Sebastian exhaled slowly, almost like he was considering something beyond the request itself.
“Alright,” he said finally. “Then you decide how you see me.”
His voice was calm again. Controlled. But there was something in it—something unreadable, like he was already picturing the result.
I nodded once, professional again.
“Good,” I said. “Then we have an agreement.”
But even as I spoke, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that this wasn’t just a simple commission.
And Sebastian de Valmont was not a simple client.
“So today I will study, think about you, and tomorrow I will call you and tell you my idea for your painting,” I said, trying to bring the meeting to a clear end. My tone was firm, but polite.
“Sure, Miss Rose,” he replied calmly. “As you wish.”
He stepped a little closer, close enough that I became aware of every small detail—his presence, his quiet confidence, the way he never seemed rushed.
Then, unexpectedly, he lifted my hand.I froze for a second, surprised by the gesture, but didn’t pull away immediately.
He held it gently, like it was something fragile, something he didn’t want to break.
And then he kissed it.
A slow, respectful kiss—like something out of another time.
A true gentleman.
“I’ll wait for your call,” he said simply.
hat night I fell asleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about them.
Sebastian… and Demonic.
In my dream, they appeared again. At first it was both of them, but then Dominic slowly faded away, leaving only Sebastian.
He was sitting on a luxury sofa, calm, wearing linen pants, his blue-grey eyes fixed on me. He didn’t speak. He just watched me—quiet, steady, unreadable.
And strangely… I wasn’t afraid. Only curious.
Then I woke up.
My heart was still racing.
“Oh…” I whispered, sitting up. “That’s it.”
Without thinking too much, I grabbed my phone and called Sebastian.
He answered almost immediately.
“Miss Rose?”
“I have a good idea for your painting,” I said quickly. “I figured out the concept.”
A short pause.
“Alright,” his voice came calmly. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll show you today at noon,” I added.
“Of course,” he said.
I started preparing the studio, adjusting the lighting and clearing space, so the composition would feel right. I even placed a classic sofa in the center and folded a pair of linen trousers nearby as part of the reference setup.
Sebastian stepped in.
“Hello, Mr. Sebastian,” I said, trying to stay professional. “The idea is you in linen pants on that sofa.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, then stepped closer. “And if I say I prefer something more… natural?”
“No. We don’t do nudes,” I said firmly. “Linen pants. On the sofa. That’s the concept.”
Then he let out a quiet breath, almost like a soft laugh.
“Alright,” he said calmly, sitting down on the sofa exactly as I indicated. “Linen pants it is.”
“Sit down,” I instructed, keeping my voice steady. “Comfortable pose. Relax your shoulders.”
I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes slightly as I adjusted the pose with small, precise movements.
“Turn slightly,” I said. “Yes… like that.”
He watched me the entire time, silent. Not distracting me, just observing, as if he was studying me just as much as I was studying him.
“Are we ready, Mr. Sebastian?” I finally said, stepping back to check the composition. “Relax. Let me do my job.”
A faint, almost amused smile touched his lips.
“I am relaxed,” he replied quietly. “More than you think.”
I ignored the comment, picked up my pencil, and focused on the canvas.
But I could still feel his eyes on me the entire time—steady, patient, and far too aware.
- Writer
