The Artist and His Model
Her lips would be so sweet; he examined her inch by inch but, there was something about the way her mouth delicately fell open. Was it to steady her breathing? The way he had to calm his racing heart and the urge to touch her creamy skin was unbearable. She laid before him; naked. He had to remember his position in this situation.
His head took charge for the time being as he e gripped the charcoal, feeling the filings chip away against his skin. His sketchbook lay open on the bed and as he picked it up, he saw his hands were shaking. He took a few more seconds to regulate his own breathing before taking a seat a few yards away. Up until now, he had resisted the urge to communicate further with her, not even so much as eye contact.
She lay on the divan couch before him. Her waist length copper curls were spread out around her. There was something wildly open about her and yet so vulnerable at the same time. He took a deep breath before staring at the blank paper; by now inspiration had usually come to him. He was male, of course he enjoyed admiring the female body and to put it onto paper as much as he did, while in Paris, it made his job even more enjoyable but then, he would not stay around to watch their clothes be put back on. Too much inspiration came to him; he was too scared to admire her for fear of not been able to stop. He fought against those feelings and anything else which came to light in that moment. His ears were ringing; it was as though an electric current was running through him and into his veins.
He put his charcoal against the paper. A line formed into another. He managed to glance ahead at her face. She was nothing short of perfection. She wasn't relaxed he could tell. All of the other girls would lie there, exuding confidence but none of them had lain quite like her. An heir of innocence flew around her. He found he had stopped drawing and just stared rudely. He heard the drop of something on the paper and he realised he had dropped his drawing aid. This bought his back to reality for just a second, he was such a mess. He picked it back up seeing his trembling hands; surely this beauty had sensed something was wrong by now? He worked through his fear.
He scratched his face and ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He pulled his sketchbook back onto his knee and took a deep breath which turned into a sigh. Something inside of him took over, he began to create lines and he didn't think anymore. His hands moved like fluid over the paper, rapidly creating the masterpiece which would be his own. He eyes darted around her body, her flat stomach and the smooth roundness of her breasts. Her face had been the starting point, the translucent beauty of her skin and the emerald green of her eyes which could never be captured as perfect as they were. The copper curls which lay around her body, a few strands which fell over her face and then her waist. He ignored the thoughts of curling his fingers through the curls and kissing her face, so gently.
As his eyes ran over her body, he could feel himself blushing as he sketched her most intimate parts. When he drew, his face was deadly serious. He had never felt as engrossed as he was right now. He could draw her all day long just so he could be in her very presence even though no words had been exchanged between them.
As she had stepped into the room, just fifteen minutes before he had a feeling that she was different. She had simply removed her kimono and exposed her naked body for him. She hadn't even requested he draw her for she knew of his job. He had drawn many girls in the back room of the bar which he had called his home for a fair few weeks. The girls were prostitutes working in the local area, but this one he had never seen before and nor did he know of her name.
He wanted to know her and not just intimately. He wanted to know her name, her story and how she wound up here. He had so many questions running through his brain that it took a second for him to register the fact he was staring once more. He began to smudge the lines he had created; his hair fell into his eyes as he continued to perfect his work. He was so engrossed that when a copper strand tickled his hand, he jumped to see the girl had got up and moved. She was stood before him and had retrieved her kimono. Up close her eyes were wide and unbelievably stunning.
''Ah, shit.'' He cursed. He stood from the chair and placed the drawing on the seat. ''I'm sorry; I didn't see you had moved. I am almost done.''
He couldn't help but notice her height; she was just to his chin. She smiled, then his whole world brightened.
''I'm Jack. Jack Dawson.'' He held his hand out to her. She stared at it for a moment before slowly shaking it.
''I know who you are.'' She smiled. ''I'm Rose.''
She had spoken and it was the most beautiful sound. ''Rose.'' He repeated, a perfect name.
''Yes, like the flower. The one with the nasty thorns.'' Her face fell serious as though it was almost a threat.
He swallowed hard. He noticed she examined his face every few seconds, her eyes settling on his eyes. He couldn't focus on them for too long. The image of her eyes was something which he would carry with him forever.
''You're American.'' He whispered. ''How did you end up here?''
She glanced to the floor. ''Is a woman's business not her own?''
He pressed his lips together and sensed this was a sore subject, he also sensed that trouble had surrounded her.
''Yes, I suppose it is. I was simply curious.'' He saw her tense. ''I am open and I am known to be loyal to my friends.''
She nodded as she pulled her kimono further over her shoulders although it was see through and he had already seen her naked body. It did little to hide her curves beneath.
''I shall remember that.''
He picked up the drawing and blew the bits of charcoal away. He took a second to admire it when all of the feelings he had during drawing her came rushing back. He handed it to her. Her hands were so delicate and he couldn't help but notice her tremble. She took a few seconds to examine it.
''Is this how you see me?''
''Yes.''
She bit her lip. ''But, she is beautiful.''
He felt his stomach sink; his breathing was shallow. ''And, so are you.'' His voice was hoarse.
She closed the sketchbook with a quick snap and almost forced it into his ribs; he grabbed it as she stormed past him to the door. Had he crossed a line? He didn't think as he rushed after her. He reached out for her hand so forcefully he grabbed it and she turned before slamming her back against the door. He came close to her. His shirt was unbuttoned a few inches down from the top and her eyes seemed to settle there for a moment onto his chest.
''Who are you?'' He whispered. ''What did I say that was so wrong?''
''Oh-'' She whispered breathlessly. ''Nothing.''
Her dressing gown fell away from her chest exposing the top part of her cleavage. She steadied her breathing as she saw his eyes travel to her there; she knew he had struggled with the same as she did.
He stepped closer to her, running his fingers through his hair. ''I want to know you, it feels like I know you.''
There was so much between them. It was like an electric buzz growing louder and louder and getting stronger and stronger until it was deafening to them.
''You don't know me.'' She struggled to move but he didn't let go of her arm. Instead, he moved it down by her right side, entwining their fingers and almost pinning her against the door with it.
''If you are unsafe in any way then, please tell me.''
''You don't know me.'' She repeated, as she whispered slower. He tightened his grip on her hand, it didn't hurt and she didn't struggle.
''What is your surname?''
She was silent. She turned her head to one side to avoid his gaze. ''A woman's business is her own.'' She repeated her words from earlier.
He couldn't stop looking at her; she had exposed so much of her décolletage. His heartbeat grew stronger and quicker. He threw caution to the wind and placed his left hand on the flat of her face, she closed her eyes for just a second to take in the moment. He stroked it against her soft skin. She hadn't yanked his hand away as he had suspected that she would.
''My name is Jack Dawson.'' He sighed as she turned to look at him. ''I am nineteen years old and I came to Paris eight months ago. I am an artist and I am lonely. My parents died when I was fifteen and I have been alone ever since.''
She watched as his eyes begged her to tell him something, anything. ''My-my name is Rose Dewitt-Bukater.'' She struggled. ''I am eighteen and I came to Paris three weeks ago. I escaped my home and wound up here.''
That was it – all he needed to know. There was something pulling him to her so much.
He leant forward and kissed her just once on the lips. Barely grazing but the touch was still there. The buzz grew weaker and weaker. She sagged with relief against his body, but now she felt like she needed more.
''I feel like I need to know you.'' He whispered. She was weak in his arms.
''You know enough!'' She snapped.
He bit his lip, needing to know more. She was feisty.
''I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you in my whole life. There is a need to know you.''
She touched her lips with her index finger as he pulled away from her. The longing and the ache wouldn't grow duller but purer and stronger. He kept his hand on his cheek and slowly leant forward. He kissed the right side of her neck, so tenderly to the point where she shivered with weakness. Her whole body was ready to crumple beneath him.
''Do you seduce all of the girls you draw?''
''Never. I have never laid my fingers on their body, Rose. I haven't urged to.''
''Yet, you touch me?''
He sighed, he felt the inward struggle. ''Yes.''
He trailed kisses just to the top of her shoulder before he stopped. He pulled away seeing her eyes flutter open. She was so breathless. He stopped himself from kissing her again, knowing he wouldn't be able to stop.
''I just feel like I need to know you. I have to.''
''Have you ever made love to a girl?''
He pulled himself backwards. She could swear he shook his head as a 'no.'
''Have you ever been with a man?''
''Never.'' She whispered. ''I can't be one of those girls. But I have to be one day, I have to make a living.''
He placed his hand on her cheek. ''I swear that I will never let you become one of those. I swear to God I would rather go hungry myself than you never eat.''
She was touched by him; he meant the words from the bottom of his soul. She grabbed his hands, gripping them so strong.
''I came here for a reason. I have to face the punishment.''
''That life is a punishment, one which you don't deserve.''
''You don't know what I did.''
His jaw tightened. ''Tell me.''
''Jack, this is impossible.'' She tried to push him away but she couldn't. He made her weaker. Rose felt the tears coming to her eyes.
''Nothing is impossible. I am involved now. You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you, Rose. I know that. But I'm involved now.''
Rose felt the tears coming to her eyes. Jack was so open and real... not like anyone she has ever known. This was the moment she had played over and over in her head. The one which she pictured would be the most perfect moment in her life. It felt like something from a dime novel she had read, the ones that really ache your heart.
''You're making this very hard. I'll be fine. Really.''
He didn't buy her lies. He grabbed both of her hands and held them against his chest. ''That is horse shit. Now, tell me.''
She touched his hand for a moment, keeping the warmth and trying to capture the moment in her head, to keep the memory and to remember just how perfect this moment felt. Was this what love felt like? The intensity of a single stare was magnificent.
''Jack,'' a tear fell from her eye. ''You have to forget we ever met, that you ever touched me.''
''I won't forget, I will not leave you alone and I will not forget this moment. Rose, you have to tell me why you're here.''
''Please, just leave me alone!'' She screamed.
''I am here to help.'' He was forceful but he needed to make her see that he couldn't just let her walk away.
Their faces were just a few inches apart and his grip on her tightened. She failed to meet his gaze and struggled in his grasp.
''Please, let me go!''
''No, I need to know what is wrong.''
She coughed as she struggled to breath.
''If you touch me. I will scream so loud.''
''No, you won't.'' Jack touched her hands, ever so slowly. She struggled with him as she turned to the door. Jack placed his hands over her fingers and forced her to remove them from the handle all the while she repeated called for him to leave her alone. He hurt her but he didn't care maybe it would make her see sense. She needs to be awakened.
He turned her body to his violently, pressed almost together. She shook as he still continued to hold her hand. She had so much adrenaline; she hated this man for forcing her to do what he says even though it was for her own safety. Then, she opened her eyes and realised that she was so close to him.
He leaned forward ever so slightly, so that their lips came into contact for just the briefest few moments. Rose felt her heart flutter and all of her nerves seemed to disappear. She was experiencing emotions she had never felt before. Gently, Jack took her right hand in his left and moved forward once again. He kissed her again with more passion than the first time. She could feel his warmth next to her, but yet she still shivered. The outside world seemed to disappear and then, she pushed him away with such force he lost all contact with her.
''I killed my fiancé. I shot him dead right in my own bed. He had his hands all over me and he wouldn't stop.''
She reached out for the handle but he was quicker than her and he slammed it shut. Rose felt as though there was no air. She was dizzy. She struggled and time stood still. He pulled her into his body, feeling her shake.
''I need to ask no further questions and you need to tell me nothing more unless you wish to.'' He whispered, as he pulled her closer to him. ''I want to protect you.''
Jack wrestled with the urge to keep kissing her; he knew he couldn't stop now. She had offered hesitation but when he pulled away from her she began to struggle once again in his grip. He couldn't let her go not when he was so close.
''Protect me.'' She whispered into his shirt, urging him to do as he had promised. She realised in that moment that, she too needed him. She wanted him.
Their hands entwined and touched each other. He clutched her to him tightly, needing to feel his body press so firmly against hers. She leant against him, feeling her body ache for him so much. She was so intoxicated that she couldn't stop. They pulled each other so closely as though their lives depended on it. The passion which had exploded was immense and she felt the need to feel his naked torso pressed so tightly against her own. She could hear his breathe, the raggedness and the struggle which he had kept up for so long. She had her own struggle but now she felt the unhappiness drain away from her body and it was replaced by a strong need to be with Jack, an almost animal longing which only grew stronger.
She pushed him away for a moment with her right hand on his chest.
''Do you promise to protect me?''
He nodded. ''I will with my life, I will take you away from here tomorrow and I will fall in love with you, I will protect you, I swear to God.''
He touched her face with his palm and then he spoke to her with such sincerity her legs almost buckled. She ached for him again and this time it was her who crushed her body to his and her lips against his. He could feel himself losing control even more and he didn't know how to stop it. He wasn't strong enough to. She fell against his body and he used his weight to hold her up. The kiss was like nothing she had felt before. She could feel herself ache. He stopped kissing her lips and trailed soft hungry kisses down her neck and she shivered.
''I will love you also.''
The next morning, they packed the sheets they had made love on into the only bag which Jack owned and they left Paris; the world was theirs. An artist and his model.
I don't use names until later on in this story just to add to the mystery, so we see the characters as they do each other and they don't know each other at all until they speak. I hope this makes sense as to why it starts out as just 'he' and 'she'.