Dmitri Saint Clair
Perfection had rules, lines, symmetry and space.
I lived by them. I measured my world in millimetres from the angle of my cufflinks to the balance of light on glass. Even the rhythm of my breathing is controlled. Anything outside precision was a disturbance. Anything that broke the pattern was noise.
I hadn't meant to linger in the gallery. My assistant had arranged the private viewing at Leclerc&Co, one of Barcelona's most discreet auction houses famous for nude paintings. A favour to the curator, she'd said. "You might find something rare, Mr. Claire."
I almost left after the first five rooms. Too many colours and too much chaos disguised as art. I prefer order. I collected for years, each painting chosen for its calm: golden-haired muses with their soft untroubled gazes. Blondes, always.They matched his idea of purity.
Then my eyes caught a flash of red hidden behind drapes. She wasn't on the catalogue list. It was an accident noticing the painting, half-hidden in the dim alcove as if the gallery itself wanted to contain it.
It was her back at first, just the curve of a woman on a bed, naked to the waist, her skin rendered in muted light. But the brushstrokes weren't smooth. They were alive, impatient and human. A strand of copper hair spilled across one shoulder. The kind of imperfection that drew the eye. A side profile, faint but delicate had been added to recent layers. A mouth, soft but unsmiling, a suggestion of cheekbone, a glimpse of what she didn't intend to show. I stepped closer, my hand hovering near the frame. I have never touched things like this. The plaque below it stated anonymous.
"An usual piece," said the curator. Her face twisted in disdain. "It is mediocre at best. We have better pieces upstairs."
I glanced at the painting again. She clearly didn't want to be seen, and yet here she was. "How much?" I asked. The curator hesitated. "The opening bid is seventy-five thousand euros, sir."
"I'll take it and give you another twenty-thousand if you provide the information details on who sold this to you." She wanted to argue then sighed. "It hasn't even gone to auction yet."
"Then skip the formalities. I'll pay whatever it takes." The curator nodded, wordless, already moving to make calls.
I stayed back trying to make sense of what this is. Because for the first time in years, something in my world didn't fit right into place. I will find this model and make her mine.
My phone pings. A message from Caroline, my date for tonight appeared in the home screen. Where are you? Are you close? A grin stretches across my face as I type back, fighting the urge to laugh at how easy it is to play the sheep.Just waiting for the tacos, it will take me a while I'm not familiar with the meal.
That was a lie. One of the many that drips from me like venom from a snake. Deceit is second nature. Not only am I not at a taco spot but I am also not attending this date. I am horny and bored already and I need a cold shower. The reply is almost immediate. Take your time. I can't wait to see you. I don't reply. There is no need to. I enter my ride and my driver took care of the rest. We were halfway to the manor when I changed my mind. "Marcus, why don't we go somewhere else?" I mumbled, my eyes fixated on the scenery as we drove. Marcus gave a nod and switched to the opposite lane knowing exactly where I wish to be at.
The crowd parted for me as I made my way through 'Dark Sins', an underground club with very exclusive members holding throngs of ripe, willing female bodies moving in sync with the pumping beat. Taking my seat in the reserved area above the party below me, I proceed to observe. In the sweat glistening between the valleys of breast crammed into tight cropped tops. Exposed stomach adorned with navel piercings and waist chains glistening under the flashing neon lights. Women drunken, swaying their hips drawing the attention of rich fellows sharing the air with me, unfortunately.
There is a less obvious beauty in people's interactions. Female cheek kisses, hugs, skin against skin while dancing, throats swallowing alcohol, dazed smile and glossy eyes, the excited hum of conversations drowned by a thumping baseline. The end result is always the same. These women picked like cattle, one maybe two, sometimes and a bevy of ladies and they spend the night in one of the private rooms. The club is merely a meeting ground, a baseline for interaction after which the buyer gets a certain preference and if specified, gets the match.
"Do you have any particular preference for tonight, sir?" The attendant asked, his gaze to the ground. I have a reputation, no one ever looks me straight in the eye for a complete five minutes or less, not to brag. I stared at the throng of ladies most of them brunette, a good number blonde and few coloured then the remaining are ginger haired and red haired.
"I want a red haired this time." The flash of that painting instantly makes my cock hard. He nods, a pity glance at the red haired in my line of sight. Caroline called and I don't answer, pinching the cigarette between my lips, my lungs filled with smoke, I stood to leave.
The red haired was already bound and naked, on the bed, waiting, shivering with anticipation and from the cold air. I just sat there, watching her body, a cigarette between my index and middle finger. The plains of her shoulders are wrong, the line running down her back aren't as deep and her back has a mole unlike the woman in the painting. The model is flawless, no marks, no blemish down her back makes me a bit curious how her front view is going to look. She is like a canvas, a blank canvas waiting for the master to work on. Just thinking of my soon to be muse, I get hard again.
I stood up, zipping down and cock out, I put on a condom and line my cock to her pussy. I don't care if she's wet or not, she's basically here to serve me. I thrust into her hard. I close my eyes, thinking it's my muse I'm fucking. Her faceless face staring at me with tears in her eyes, begging for more. Marks welting her skin, her pretty ivory skin wearing my marks and her soft globe of meaty bottom red from my spanking, I came so hard my ear tingles and lights flashed behind my eyes.
I could tell the girl was satisfied and dishevelled. My senses were mashed and her body collapsed from exhaustion. I take out the condom and dispose of it myself before wiping myself clean, riding any traces of her on me then putting it into my briefs and zipping. I took my leave without looking back but still, I wasn't even close to being satisfied.
I stood under the shower head letting the hot water wash the events of tonight. I run my hands through my hair. I need to find her as soon as possible.