The master bedroom in Michael's Boston house was quiet, the heavy exhaustion of their lovemaking settling over them like a thick blanket. Outside, the sounds of Boston's late-night traffic were muted, leaving only the soft, rapid beat of two hearts slowing in unison.
Michael lay back, the linen sheets twisted around them. He felt the familiar, grounding peace that came with such profound physical release.
Evelyn was comfortably lying on his chest, her head nestled just beneath his chin. Her breathing was deep and settled, a slow, satisfying rhythm.
After a long stretch of silence, she sighed, a sound that held nothing but contentment.
"God," she murmured into his skin, the sound muffled but clear. "That was great."
Michael tightened the arm he had wrapped around her, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. He admired her directness, her lack of pretense.
"You are great too, darling," he replied, his voice low and raspy.
He ran a careful finger along the curve of her waist, his touch light, resting his thumb on the soft, inner skin of her hip. "You have such soft skin."
Evelyn tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his. "That's why you selected me as the model for your skincare products, isn't it?"
"Yes," he said softly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "But sometimes, even the truest facts need to be reaffirmed."
He often thought back to that day, only six months ago, in the busy offices of Kingston Quality Goods. He had been so frustrated. He was launching his new hygiene line, products meant to make women feel genuinely good, clean, and healthy, but the models he saw were all wrong.
The year 1907 had a very specific idea of beauty: soft, pale, and delicate—the "Gibson Girl." Every woman who came in was trying to match it. They wore tight corsets and heavy powder, their faces were passive, perfect, and seemingly fragile. They were beautiful, yes, but their beauty felt unattainable and exhausting. It required women to hide their vitality, to be less than they were.
Michael wasn't interested in selling the dream of being a delicate statue. He wanted to sell confidence. He needed a woman who was strong, who looked like her beauty came from being alive and healthy. He wanted a model that any woman could look at and think, I can aspire to that without needing to change everything about myself.
Then Evelyn walked in.
She didn't try to be smaller or softer. Her tailored suit and her direct, unwavering gaze felt like a breath of fresh air in that stuffy room. Her skin looked bright, not powdered.
Michael leaned forward. "Why do you want this job, Miss... Evelyn?"
She didn't hesitate. "I don't want it, Mr. Kingston. I need it."
He raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"I need the money," she replied plainly, "to pursue my dreams of acting. The stage is where I belong, but it doesn't pay for rent yet."
It was the most honest thing he'd heard all day. Michael followed up: "And what do you think is your best asset?"
She met his gaze confidently. "My conviction," she said, her voice firm. "And my absolute belief that I will succeed, definitely."
Michael smiled widely, a genuine, relieved expression washing over his face. He realized he had found the perfect muse. She was authentic, and she was going to be the face of his entire new product range: 'VelvetSkin' soaps, 'Softouch' powders, 'Bliss' face creams, and 'PureSilk' shampoos.
At the time, advertisements for beauty and skincare were deeply demeaning, often utilizing racist caricatures and reinforcing the white supremacist notion that "to be clean was to be white."
One ad depicted a white child asking a Black child why their mother didn't use "Fairy Soap" to wash them clean.
Michael's company took the opposite approach, opting for clear, precise advertisements placed prominently in all newspapers and on billboards across the city. His campaign focused entirely on the positive, tangible benefits of the products, without any racial comparison or social pressure:
Velvetskin: Skin that feels like velvet.
Softouch:The softest touch of confidence.
PureSilk: The effortless shine of true silk.
Bliss Creams: For the comfort that starts on your skin and lasts all day.
By centering the campaign on Evelyn, Michael was marketing products that simply celebrated and enhanced a woman's existing, healthy, and authentic self.
With over 1,500 Kingston general stores providing easy access and competitive, low prices, the products reached every corner of the market.
The strategy was a staggering success, giving the new line exceptional momentum in sales. Evelyn, with her strong, natural look and confident demeanor, became the immediately recognizable face of Kingston Quality Goods.
As a testament to his belief in her and his desire to see her succeed in her true calling, Michael proudly sponsored her debut production, supporting her in the theatre that truly was her stage.
Through the months of intensive advertising and close collaboration, the professional partnership quickly deepened into attraction
Michael was drawn to Evelyn's effortless confidence and innate grace. In turn, Evelyn found herself captivated by his maturity, integrity and the towering strength.
For Michael this was his very first relationship. While he had experienced physical liaisons in the chaos and exhaustion of the battlefield as Dean in his previous life, this relationship with Evelyn was his very first of emotional depth and commitment.
Evelyn, in turn had only one significant relationship before—her last ending when an actor proposed marriage and demanded she quit her own acting career, a sacrifice she refused to make.
They both understood that their attraction was not a passionate, all-consuming love, but a practical and profound alliance based on respect—with no illusions of a conventional "happily ever after."
Their partnership was, at its heart, a successful personal relationship because it offered an indispensable sanctuary. They could, and often did, seek genuine comfort from their busy lives within their shared, uncluttered space.