The Arabian Doll [Part Two]

Being in the business for so long assured him that he'd seen it all... or at least he thought he did. The most common reaction was blushing followed by futile attempts to cover private body parts. Trowa would have expected those reactions foremost. In fact, he almost assumed that Quatre would react that way given the fact that he'd been so adamant about taking his clothes off the day before.

"And why should it be necessary? You're just working on my torso today."

Trowa chose not to answer. A talkative and defensive Quatre in response to half-nakedness was the last reaction he expected. Despite his need for uniformity in all his works, he allowed Quatre to evade his methods one more time. He could have explained that the pants were blocking the smooth movement of his hands as they came down his chest but chose not to explain. With the look of determination on his model's face, it was already obvious he wouldn't believe a word he said.

"You know what; I think you're a pervert. That's right. You heard me. I'm pretty sure there were a dozen other complaints before me."

His voice was getting unusually loud and Trowa had to wonder where the shy blonde from yesterday went. Quatre did not say a lot the day before and then all of a sudden, it was as if he'd found his dictionary. Words were flowing from his mouth like he didn't want to stop. Trowa wanted to tell him to keep still, but he knew that Quatre at least had that right. He had the right to act that way simply because it was a coping instinct, one that made it easier for him to endure the shame.

"I've had complaints about cruelty but never about perversion," Trowa answered, continuing to trace the outline of a rib. He felt Quatre hold his breath, another reaction to being uncomfortable with the situation. The poor thing was trying to act like it meant nothing to him.

"Cruelty, huh?" Quatre said aloud, seeming to evaluate the word. He was quiet for once as he looked at the floor. He might have been considering what Trowa said and looking for the source of previous complaints.

Trowa was relieved. At least when his model was quiet, it was easier to do his work. The man wasn't moving too much. It was logical. When distracted, he wasn't thinking about the fact that he was naked and exposed in front of a stranger.

"What exactly did you mean by cruel... Ah!"

Trowa looked up from his kneeling position on the ground.

"Ah! Will you cut that out? Are you trying to rip that bone off the rest of my body?"

Trowa stopped for a moment. At least Quatre finally figured out what they meant by the word cruelty. In truth, he was very much against the word. He was neither rude nor violent. He was simply devoted to his work and that involved doing his job as he saw fit. He needed to feel hard and sturdy bones, thick portions of malleable muscle, and flesh that screamed his touch. He wanted to feel the flow of blood as it passed through living veins, following it successfully as it traveled the breathing body. He was not a brute but a passionate artist.

"I apologize for hurting you," he said quickly. The formality in his voice did not give away his concern, but it was enough to convince Quatre that he was sincere. From the look on Quatre's face, it was obvious that he did not expect such a well-mannered response.

"It's... ok," Quatre answered hesitantly. "It didn't really h..."

Trowa considered how remarkable it was that he'd injured the man already. He smoothed his fingers tenderly over the slowly bruising portion of skin and didn't stop even when Quatre was at a loss for words. It was fascinating how sensitive the skin was. He knew the fragility with which aristocracy came. Trowa had no doubt that the person before him was a child of the wealthy. There was no reason for him to work for such trifle pay.

"Does it feel better?" Trowa asked without sounding concerned and looked up to check him.

Quatre was looking down at him, blinking and flushing at the same time. His cheeks were smooth like porcelain and the pale pink coloring it looked like flecks of powder dusted meticulously over delicate skin. Trowa made a note to himself to remember the detail when he made the finishing touches.

"Better," Quatre murmured before looking at the lump of clay to his right. His unease was gone as quickly as it started. "Wait a minute," he voiced with newfound courage. "That clay over there looks undone. You've been groping me all morning. Shouldn't you at least have something ready by now?"

Trowa sat back on his heels. He supposed it was inevitable that the barely touched clay would be noticed. He didn't know how to explain it the right way. The models always assumed he was stalling with the job. None of them understood that there were necessary steps he had to take to ensure precision. He needed to feel the contours of their body repeatedly before transferring their form onto molding.

"I need to touch you further," he answered.

"I was right! You are a pervert."

Trowa sighed. He always happened to pick the wrong words. It was a curse he couldn't quite rid himself of. It was times like these that he wished Duo's helpful tutoring on conversational skills worked. Being charismatic was not his forte and he had hordes of displeased models to prove it.

Not one to speak what he really thought just because it was a waste of time, Trowa chose to take the easiest way out. He decided to turn the situation to his advantage and let Quatre do all the talking.

"I understand that you refuse to work with me any further so I'll try to find someone else to take your place."

Quatre was taken aback and Trowa almost smirked in triumph. His newest model looked the type to be easily swayed by guilt and he knew right then that he hit the spot. Quatre looked culpable and apologetic. He shook his head in an awkward and vigorous fashion.

"No. You don't have to go through all that trouble," he said right away, his face looking remorseful. "Your friend must have told you that I'm the only Arabian male around. You don't have to go through all the trouble. I was just a little uncomfortable. I didn't mean to accuse you of something that's unfitting. I'll try to be more cooperative."

Quatre understood reason and was accommodating. It meant that he was going to be easier to work with eventually. Trowa was thankful. He hadn't had anyone reasonable to work with in a long time.

"Then take off your pants," Trowa suggested.

"I'm reasonable but not gullible," Quatre responded, crossing his arms in annoyance. "If I remember correctly, it was the chest you were working on. This is as naked as I'm going to get, at least for today."

Trowa laughed a very satisfying one. Just when he'd gained some ground he realized that Quatre was something else. He was as headstrong as they came, but was packaged in a gloriously handsome and petite body that gave nothing away. He was a mystery Trowa wanted to unfold.

"Everything has got to come off sometime," Trowa whispered as he uncrossed Quatre's arms and continued on the rib he was examining earlier. This time, his fingers moved with additional care to make sure that he wasn't injuring him.

"You're cruel in more than one way," Quatre muttered under his breath but kept still while Trowa's fingers continued to roam his upper body.

"Thank you for pointing that out," Trowa responded. He was enjoying it more than he expected. It was commonplace to spend hours of silence with the models while he did his work. They would whine and he would continue with whatever it was he needed to do. It was easier that way.

All he really cared for was the body, the shell from which his next masterpiece was to be created. It was rare that he would acknowledge them, much less indulge himself in conversation. However, this was surprisingly enjoyable and Quatre was remarkable not only in looks.

"What made you accept this job?" Trowa asked him. He was curious. The wealthy rarely needed to work for themselves unless necessary. Whatever work they did was preferably something that did not involve embarrassment to the same degree Quatre was experiencing at that moment. Perhaps it was the thrill that drove him.

"I needed the extra money."

Trowa looked up at him, his doubt obvious even when he didn't have an expression on his face.

"You don't believe me," Quatre stated tersely. "You want a more acceptable answer, something that would sound more logical."

Trowa responded with a weak nod, enough to get his agreement across.

"Your friend was disrupting the peace of the entire street corner," Quatre said, looking down at him. "From what I gather, Duo doesn't stop until Duo gets what he wants. Am I correct?"

This time, Trowa gave him a full nod.

"Besides," Quatre continued, looking away from him. "He said a friend needed his help, a very stern friend who was going to chop his head off if he didn't deliver. I couldn't very well let some poor, desperate stranger come back empty-handed."

"He might have been a very dangerous stranger," Trowa said as he slid his hand all the way down to Quatre's navel.

"I deal with a lot of many dangerous things myself," Quatre answered with a smirk. "...and if your hands go down any further, I'll snap those precious fingers of yours."

"Scary," Trowa said blandly, tracing the outline of his belly button. "But I'm not buying it."

"Then you should teach me how to sound tough and uncaring. Your very presence is intimidating although you are somewhat predictable."

"Am I?" Trowa asked him before removing his fingers from its current position. He grabbed another stool from under his desk and sat across from Quatre. "What do you suppose am I going to do now?"

Quatre tilted his head to the side, looking like he was trying to scrutinize Trowa's expression. Only, there was not a hint of anything on his face that would give away what he was thinking.

"You won't hurt me, not again at least," Quatre said.

Nonplussed by the correct answer, Trowa reasoned to himself that Quatre had just happened to make a lucky guess. Then again, the statement was too similar to his train of thought that it made him wary of his companion. It was almost frightening the way he was dissected to a degree to which no one could.

"Don't be surprised," Quatre said while looking fixedly at him. For the very first time, Trowa felt conscious of himself. He knew that he was completely bared in front of the man. He was fully clothed but felt naked. He felt exposed. It caused him to feel for the models whose diffident attitude he dismissed as being demanding many times before.

Refusing to let his apprehension show, Trowa looked away and picked up the unformed clay to serve as a diversion.

"Like I said earlier," Quatre continued. "I'm not as gullible as I look."

Trowa nodded and then looked back at him. There was still work to be done. Putting the clay back into its original position, he turned on an overhead lamp and positioned it between the two of them. He picked up Quatre's hand and proceeded to examine it under the light. With the right amount of illumination hitting just the right angle, Trowa could see traces of thin, almost invisible veins on Quatre's delicate hand.

"We're the same, you know," Quatre said, breaking the silence. "I like working with my hands as well."

"I can't tell from the suppleness of your skin," Trowa responded truthfully. "You probably dip your hands in milk every night."

"Is that what you do?"

The curious response he received caught him off guard. Trowa paused momentarily before continuing with his examination of the hand in front of him. It was subtle, but it was an obvious enough indicator of the accuracy of Quatre's assumption. Trowa was not embarrassed about it, but he didn't feel the need to divulge his rather strange rituals to his new acquaintance.

"Just so you know, I've never soaked my hands in anything," Quatre said, changing the direction of the inquiry. He seemed to have understood Trowa's unspoken refusal to answer. "You'd be surprised at what kind of work I do," he added.

Trowa looked up again to acknowledge him. With the proper illumination from the bright lamp above them, Trowa noticed the precise curves of Quatre's face. It was rotund without being too chubby, angular in certain areas without making him look too mature. Trowa had yet to see anyone with such exceptional features. He began to doubt his decision to use him as a model for his latest creation. He looked nothing like the exotic Arabs illustrated in the books.

"Why mold something when you're simply making a doll?" Quatre asked him. It gave Trowa the impression that his model was finding the set-up peculiar. "It feels like you're creating a sculpture rather than a doll."

"I'm making a sculpture, but in this day and age, the word doll sounds less antiquated. It sounds more comfortable, don't you agree?"

"It sounds inaccurate."

Trowa chuckled. The daring response from his companion amused him.

"In any case, I do make dolls. This is the first sculpture I'd had to do in years. My client was very flexible. As a result of that, I was able to request that the particulars of the project be left to my discretion."

"I don't see why you can't continue making sculptures," Quatre said with a frown. "You seem to like shaping figures with your hands. Not all dolls involve the same amount of careful contact unless you're using a harder form of material."

It was insightful and it was exactly how he felt about the subject matter. Trowa raised an eyebrow. It was strange to have found someone who understood his woes.

"Ah, but more commissions mean more money. The new wealthy prefer soft, cozy dolls rather than monumental figures that bring no physical comfort. I simply do what the times demand. Survival is more important than self-gratification."

"Well said!"

Trowa turned his head to the source of the distraction to find Duo clapping his hands as if in mock admiration. He glowered at his friend for both the interruption and the sudden appearance. He knew Duo would drop by eventually, but he didn't expect to find him already settled in. It was annoying how he picked the locks on his doors and entered without warning. Permission to enter was not necessary, but the least he could have done was let his presence be known immediately after entering.

"Make sure the door is shut completely. I don't want him getting cold."

Although the interruption did not annoy him, it did manage to disappoint him. The conversation he was having with Quatre was only starting to get interesting before it was cut short. He sighed in resignation and then checked on his model. Quatre was trying in vain to cover himself up.

"Duo, get him a jacket," he commanded. "What did I say about getting them cold?"

Trowa knew Quatre was more embarrassed than cold but didn't want to humiliate him further by exposing him in front of another stranger. He wanted to make sure that Quatre did not lose his sudden burst of confidence just when he'd managed to distract him. If people thought that his skill was simply in the area of sculpting, they were wrong. Unknown to many, he was also a master of manipulation.

"This should do," Duo said sheepishly as he placed a coat two sizes too big over Quatre. As he was doing so, Trowa gave him a look of reprimand for his immediate arrival.

"Uh, I'm surprised Tro here didn't tell you that I have to come in and check at least once a day. It's in the contract," Duo added.

Knowing very well what Duo meant and where he was getting at, Trowa rolled his eyes. It was just like his long-time friend to believe stories of anguish and treachery about him. His overzealous models tended to be on the dramatic side. Duo was supposed to check on him to make sure that he didn't do the things he was accused of doing. More importantly, he had to make sure that no lawsuits came out of the disgruntled models' claims.

"I know of that little detail in the contract," Quatre responded in a soft voice. Trowa was disappointed to find that Quatre had seemed to draw back into himself. "I was just surprised to see you there so suddenly."

No further reprimands were necessary. Trowa was going to make sure that Duo heard about it later. His efforts to alleviate Quatre's anxiety may have been lacking, but his efforts were not in vain. He'd gained some ground but hoped it was enough to ease Quatre and convince him that he could be trusted. Half the job often involved gaining the trust of the people he worked with.

"I think now would be a good time to wrap up," Trowa announced. "We should resume tomorrow at around the same time we started today. Will that be alright with you?"

Quatre merely nodded before gathering his clothes and going to the bathroom to change. Trowa took that chance to talk to Duo, but before he could even start, Duo already had his hands up in the air.

"He looked fine to me," Duo said immediately in defense. "He looked comfortable around you so I didn't think it was a problem for me to come in and check."

"Just because he's comfortable with me does not mean he'll feel as safe around you," Trowa answered as he started to put away his materials. He was not really angry, only a little annoyed. He knew Duo would sense that already.

"...and I thought I was the friendly one," Duo teased while making himself useful. He proceeded to help Trowa organize his workspace. "Seriously though, I thought the shy attitude was a front."

"It is a front."

"Ah, so I should assume that this is step one - make him comfortable enough to take everything off."

Before Trowa could voice out his retort, Quatre emerged from the bathroom already dressed and ready to go. He continued to remain silent while returning the previously offered coat to Trowa.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Trowa said as he led him out the door. "I hope that the arrangement I set will be acceptable with you," he added to sound like a gracious host.

"Yes. I'll see you... both tomorrow."

Trowa nodded. Not long after, Quatre was already at a distance. His form was unnoticeable in the thick snow save for the distinctive brown coat covering him. When he completely disappeared from sight, Trowa closed the door and went back to his workspace. There, he contemplated about his newest model.

Quatre evolved from childish to profound in the span of a few hours. It was an amazing transformation and Trowa had his speculations that the emerging form was that of the true Quatre, the Quatre who didn't need to deal with humiliation. He was getting used to their arrangement faster than he expected.

With a content smile on his face, Trowa finished cleaning up his workspace for the following day's session. He was looking forward to another gratifying conversation with the man who managed to fascinate him.

"I picked the right one," Duo interrupted his thoughts, but he didn't mind. His friend was grinning like he knew all the secrets of the universe.

"You always do pick the right ones, Duo. You always do."