VELVET

CHAPTER 2

Office Talk

The abruptness of the situation caused me to step back into the stiff figure and drop my wine glass, shattering all over the granite floor below me. As I tried to regain my composure, a pair of soft hands landed on either side of my body, steadying me. Attempting to hide my embarrassment, I exhaled and turned around.

"You must be Miss Daniels. Alex Thompson." He extended his hand out, waiting for me to shake it.

Making eye contact, the first thing that came to mind—he wasn't what I expected a museum director to look like. I had expected a man well into his years, someone with wrinkles and gray hair, and possibly a receding hairline. To be blunt, I expected someone old.

I mean, being the head director of a renowned museum that held thousands of expensive works wasn't an easy job and it wasn't like there were a lot of people below the age of sixty that appreciated learning about art history.

"Oh—oh no, it's okay. I don't think that's from the broken glass. I tripped earlier, before coming in here and earned a few scrapes. It must've started to bleed and I didn't notice," I explained, as I tried to cover up with my coat, hiding from further embarrassment. "I can take care of it, it's only minor. Thank you."

I slightly bent down and grabbed the handkerchief from his hand, giving him an assuring glance that I'd be fine. Hesitantly, he let go of the handkerchief and stood back up. As I finished patting my knee with the handkerchief, I straightened out and placed it in my coat pocket.

"I apologize again for how unprofessional this is. Between catching me trying to touch the art and breaking your wine glasses—I'm sure you wish you had hired someone else." I let out a little laugh and looked down, trying to make things less awkward for me.

"Stop apologizing, Miss Daniels. You're fine,"he replied. "Here, we can talk in my office. I believe I have a first aid kit you can use as well."

Walking through a long corridor with rather dim lighting, we reached two rather large French doors. Pulling one open, Mr. Thompson gestured to me to walk through, with him following suit.

His office was larger than most, as well as everything having a dark walnut finish to it. Book shelves had lined the back perimeter of the room while the remaining walls were filled with works of art. In the middle was a large desk with a black, leather chair behind it—similar to one of a throne.

"Sit." He asserted, walking around the bend of his desk and opening one of the drawers. He pulled out a small leather bag. Sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, he walked back around, towards me.

About to kneel down, in an attempt to tend to my cut, I stopped him. "You don't have to, I got it." I objected, taking the antiseptic wipe and bandaid from his hand. I tried to study his face as I swear I saw his jaw clench after I took the materials from him but I wasn't entirely sure.

He stepped back and unbuttoned his jacket before sitting down in his chair. As I finished tending to the open cut on my knee, he began to speak.

"So—Miss Daniels. How have you been getting along? Have you settled in?" He asked as he rested one arm on the arm of his chair, cupping his chin with the fingers of his other.

I looked up from my hands, bringing me completely face to face with the man sitting in the chair across from me. This was the first time I had the chance to notice all of him. Upon our first encounter earlier, I already knew of his stature as he towered over my figure. Examining his face, I came to the realization that he was incredibly attractive.

In front of me was a poised man. He wore an all black suit that sculpted the curves of his arms, but not too much to where it looked like he was going to break through the seams. Back home, I knew too many men who downsized on suits to make themselves look more appealing. With this one, it fit him perfectly.

The structure of his face was sharp, further defining all of his features—from his full, pink lips to his put-together black hair; a slight curl to it, to his edged jawline. Everything about him was near flawless. After essentially analyzing every part of him, I regained eye contact. Staring back at me were honey glazed, brown eyes.

"To say that I've been getting along just fine would be a lie, it's been a little difficult trying to adjust to things but I'm slowly getting there," I replied, honestly. "I did happen to find a little apartment in Chartres and the neighborhood is quite lovely so that's been a positive."

"Paris isn't that big of a city, you'll have many chances to get acquainted with everything when you're not racking yourself with the museum." He exclaimed, a very slight smile appearing on his face.

"I'm rather excited to work here, sir. It's been a dream of mine to have a profession in the art field."

"I read in your application that you're finishing up your schooling at Beaux-Arts—what is your area of study?" He inquired, sitting up.

"I'm majoring in Fine Arts as well as taking on a minor in Art History, which is the reason for applying for an internship here." I responded.

"Why this one?" He questioned.

"Huh? I—" I asked, embarrassed that I didn't fully catch his question.

"Out of all of the museums in Paris, why did you choose to apply to this one?" His gaze narrowed, making my cheeks feel hot.

Fidgeting with my fingers, I paused. I wasn't sure how to answer his question in a way that was completely appropriate. How was I supposed to explain to my boss that the main reason I applied for this internship was because I was deeply interested in the eroticism that surrounded art? That learning about everything that had to do with the sensual nature of art would find its way into my personal life, allowing me to figure out where exactly I fit in when it came to the many facets of s*x?

"I want to know about sex." I blurt out, instantly regretting my entire existence. I bit my lip, attempting to come up with an explanation but my mind ran blank.

"Care to elaborate, Miss Daniels?" His mouth quirked up into a smirk. It felt like he was teasing me for my response—was he?

"Ah, what I meant was, I like learning about this specific genre of art. I think a lot of people tend to shame these types of works without actually knowing anything about it. All they see is naked bodies and quickly dismiss it as something offensive."

"And you don't find anything about what we display here offensive?" He asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

"I just believe that there's more to it than vulgarity. What you display here is nothing more than an expression—people just don't accept it as often because of how taboo it may come across, when in reality, the acts that inspire these kinds of works are a part of human nature." I explained, completely aware that I had gone more in depth than I had wished.

As I tried to understand the look on his face, I thought I noticed yet another slight tug at the ends of his lips. It seemed as though I peaked an interest within him.

"What about you?" He asked, running one of his fingers over his bottom lip.

"Me? What are you asking?"

"I saw you admiring Romano's I Modi earlier and I'm sure you're well aware of its racy attributes despite it being a rather early depiction," He paid attention. "Do you accept everything that comes with the nature of this genre?"

"I'd like to say I do," I responded, shyly. I debated elaborating on my answer, explaining that I hadn't experienced enough in my personal life to fully comprehend the meaning behind most of the works in this museum. I believed that a lot of the reasons behind why people didn't accept eroticism as a real genre within art history was because they hadn't looked into it themselves. I ended up settling for a simple reply. "I don't know enough about it."

Getting up from his seat, he walked around up from the front of his desk and leaned against it. I shifted in my seat as I felt an overwhelming amount of discomfort due to the proximity between us.

"You have nine months with me, Miss Daniels. I'm confident you will learn all you need to know by the end, ma bichette." "Nancy will show you to your new office, I have another meeting to attend. Ms. Moreau should've also given you a full tour of the museum this morning, correct?" He asked, pushing open one of the doors to his office.

"She actually hasn't—that's my fault, sir. I was late." I replied, looking down as I walked into the hallway.

"I see," He said, walking beside me. "Punctuality is important if you're going to be working here, Miss Daniels. It's one of the many aspects of discipline. I need you to be on time."

"Yes, I apologize. I'll be more punctual from now on." I had added a slight tone of sass without realizing it. It was as if my fight or flight mode had kicked in and I was responding to my father.

Looking over to Mr. Thompson, I noticed very visibly that he was clenching his jaw. "Again, no need for the apology or the explanation. All you need to do is show me." He responded, a slight blunt tone intertwined with his French accent.

"Understood, sir." The last couple of words I let out before I decided to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't about to let my first impression with the man I'd be assisting for the next nine months be a lousy one.

"Ah, Mr. Thompson. Are you about finished? I have yet to show Miss Daniels around and I'm not sure if you know this but your museum has quite a few sections to it." Nancy stated, walking towards us.

"I am fully aware of that. I'm the one who created those sections, Nancy." Mr. Thompson replied, letting out a little laugh. "I shall let you two go. Miss Daniels—see you tomorrow. On time."

Before I could get the chance to reassure him, he turned around and disappeared into the hallway.

"I know he can seem intimidating, he just has this thing with control. He likes it when things are orderly. A methodical man, if you will." Nancy explained as she ushered me into an elevator. I nodded in response.

"I want to take you to the biggest section we have in the museum. I always start with the most grand of rooms during tours to scare visitors," She laughed. "I'm completely kidding, I like visiting this one first because of how much there is to explore and look at. It's also the most controversial section, in my opinion."

The entirety of this place was controversial, I thought to myself. A feeling of excitement and eagerness had lit within me once she had introduced where we were headed. Although I've seen many kinds of erotic art pieces, a part of me had a feeling this was a section I was going to want to witness.

Reaching the top floor of the museum, I walked out of the elevator and my feet were suddenly glued to the floor.

"Welcome to everything you need to know about b**m, Miss Daniels—an interactive exhibit.”