The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Nine

My mouth drops open. But that's not all that happens. My nipples harden and a soft wet warmth spills between my legs.

"What?" My voice is a breathless whisper. Dry, papery thin. His mouth twitches but his expression is utterly serious, his large eyes focussed on me.

"Your dress," he says, "I need you to take it off."

"Why?"

"Because I need to see you. Look at you properly, from every angle. It's how I work." He gives an impassive shrug.

I grip hard on the bottle of water as the sudden, desperate, need to pour it over my body and dry mouth overwhelms me.

"But... we... we're not doing a nude piece. That's not what we discussed? I can't do that," I stammer. He wants to look at me naked. From every angle. Jesus, I can't breathe. I need to breathe.

He scratches his head. "I know we aren't doing a nude piece. It's not for that purpose. I just need to see what I'm working with." He says it in a business-like tone. Like how a builder might assess an extension. When I don't respond he runs a hand over his mouth and rolls his eyes.

"Look, if you're prudish about nudity that's fine, some people are." Another shrug. "It's your decision, your body." He takes a step back and cocks his head to one side and looks me over.

Some people are? My back straightens as he casts his almost bored look over me.

"I'm not a prude," I inform him. Am I? I've never felt like one. Even if I am, for some reason I hate the idea of him thinking I am.

He smiles. It drips with condescension. "Okay then."

My nostrils flare. "I'm not."

"So then take off your dress," he shrugs. His stare intensifies. Is he smirking? It looks like it but it's not that obvious. It's hidden behind that bloody beard and those eyes that seem to have their own set of emotions.

A moment later he sighs, bored, shrugging his broad wide shoulders. "Listen, Mrs Alford, I'm an artist, not a pervert. I just want to see what you look like under there so I can decide what the best way to capture you is. You want this to gift to your husband, right? Then trust me, I'm a man — I know what the perfect gift to give a man looks like. And what I have in mind, your husband is going to be very thankful for, trust me."

He has a point. He is a man. Perhaps what he has in mind Oliver would be thankful for. Except would Oliver appreciate the fact that I'd stripped naked in front of him in order for it to happen. No. He wouldn't. I'm certain Oliver would not appreciate that at all.

Yet, the look on Aidan's face. The fact that he thinks he knows who and what I am. The fact that he thinks I'm 'some people' and a prude. Oh, that is not happening.

I take a deep breath and smile nervously, before turning to place the bottle of water delicately on the window ledge next to my bag. As I turn around my heart rate speeds up and my breath begins to gets short, or shorter rather.

I feel around my body and under my arm to where the zip of the dress is, and turn to look him in the eye as I pull it down. Again his eyes change colour, lightening again this time, cracking with tiny bursts of light.  His mouth falls open slightly. That'll teach him not to make presumptions about me. I'll give him a bloody prude.

As I reach down to grip the hem of my dress to pull it upwards, he moves toward me. Quick and sudden.

"Stop! Eloise, I was joking, fuck," he blurts, throwing his hands out to stop me.

I pull back from him like I've been scalded. "Excuse me?"

"I was just kidding. Of course, I don't want you to strip for me. I thought it would be funny. Like an ice breaker." He flashes me a wolfish grin.