Seeing and feeling the growing interest within him is thrilling and exciting β it has her heart rate elevate, her cheeks flush in a way that accentuates the dusting of freckles across her porcelain skin. Her pupils dilate in those ways that dominant parties find attractive in submissive partners as she glances at him through thick lashes.
To have him interested and leaning toward her with such a simple topic leaves her wondering what everyone before her has been like. It may require a bit more investigation, but she imagines they were mostly for more carnal pleasures and nothing intellectual, so to have his mind teased and an interesting topic broached was βrare.
Do you know if these pieces still exist? Are there any digital replicas?
Her mind wanders back home to Wallach IX and the Bene Gesserit chapterhouse. There they have a preserved oil painting from Vincent Van Gogh, Thatched Cottages at Cordeville, 1890, from Earth of old. Part of her would love to show it to him β give him a taste of what they once had and lost, but it is far too early for such thinking.
"If having someone come to the palace to recreate the paintings, I do know of someone, a collector, who might have some, but he is off-world, and I fear he never leaves." Much like someone else, she wishes to add but remains silent with her quip.
"I would love to watch someone recreate pieces or create something new β for us," her voice lower, intimate as her fingers slide forward those last few inches, slow enough to bypass the shielding and the soft pads of her fingers touch the side of his arm.
"Have you ever been painted, Empire?" Jessica presses the entire width of her fingertip against his arm, trailing it down the delicate underside of his wrist. "With your body as the canvas as the brush glides cool paint across your skin?"
no subject
To have him interested and leaning toward her with such a simple topic leaves her wondering what everyone before her has been like. It may require a bit more investigation, but she imagines they were mostly for more carnal pleasures and nothing intellectual, so to have his mind teased and an interesting topic broached was βrare.
Do you know if these pieces still exist? Are there any digital replicas?
Her mind wanders back home to Wallach IX and the Bene Gesserit chapterhouse. There they have a preserved oil painting from Vincent Van Gogh, Thatched Cottages at Cordeville, 1890, from Earth of old. Part of her would love to show it to him β give him a taste of what they once had and lost, but it is far too early for such thinking.
"If having someone come to the palace to recreate the paintings, I do know of someone, a collector, who might have some, but he is off-world, and I fear he never leaves." Much like someone else, she wishes to add but remains silent with her quip.
"I would love to watch someone recreate pieces or create something new β for us," her voice lower, intimate as her fingers slide forward those last few inches, slow enough to bypass the shielding and the soft pads of her fingers touch the side of his arm.
"Have you ever been painted, Empire?" Jessica presses the entire width of her fingertip against his arm, trailing it down the delicate underside of his wrist. "With your body as the canvas as the brush glides cool paint across your skin?"