Chapter 54: THREE YEARS AGO
Arianna
Three years ago, 28th February
The soft, sensual music faded away when I passed the club ‘Secret whisper’ through dancing bodies, fully drunk on their booze or drugs in their system. It’s an underground club for people with money and status. If you’re nobody, no one will let you in.
Since one of my clients contacted me for a painting, he gladly gave me free pass for the VIP entry, saying that he’s a regular guest of the club and it would be better to meet there for my art discussion.
I never went to clubs because I was always home, painting and never drunk to the point of having a hungover so I always avoided places like this. Drunk people do stupid things when they are out of their minds.
The air was humid and smelled with alcohol and sex as I struggled through the sweaty people, having fun. The smell was disgustingly unpleasant to my nose when I finally found the entrance to the VIP private rooms. Showing my entry ticket of the guest I was meeting, the guard let me through, not even blinking an eye but still his eyes lingered suspiciously on my attire as I stepped through the door.
Looking down at myself, I only saw my black skinny jeans and grey checkered blazer which was tied with a leather belt around my waist to enchant my curves for a professional meeting. Not dressing in a dress or a skirt was like a crime in this case since this club was too…carnal for someone with ordinary tastes. I looked odd and I knew it.
Ignoring his stare, he directed me towards a lit hallway and told me to go left and left again, then I will find a door with 114 number on it. There will be my client.
All the noise was in the background when I successfully found the right door, knocking the wooden surface to announce my arrival.
In response, several seconds later, a deep hoarse voice rung out,” Come on in.”
Plastering a smile, I turned the handle and opened the door. Here we go.
A young man greeted me, sitting on a settee , comfortably leaning in his seat, already waiting for me. Dressed in a grey tux, he looked pretty wealthy by the look of his clothing when I stepped into the room. Without any hair on his head, his baldness reflected light from the ceiling as it shined on him. With a glass of scotch in his hand, I also noticed some tattoos on his skin and big rings adorning his thick fingers.
When I looked at his face, he seemed…arrogant when his eyes crinkled in a sly smile, thin lips stretching in a way that he looked rough at the edges. He seemed dangerous and not in a good way.
Trying to calm my nerves, I approached my client and watched his eyes openly ogling my chest area as he licked his lips. Swallowing my sudden unease and disgust, my smile was almost clinical.
“Mr. Wilson, I presume?”
His eyes which I noticed only now, were mismatched. One was completely black and the other was grey, almost white. If I didn’t any better, I would think he is blind with one eye but I didn’t want to assume anything so I tried not to stare too long at it. His gaze turned upwards on my face and that smile widened.
“Correct. And you would be Arianna Capri,” his tongue wrapped around my name like a snake, wanting to devour its prey and I didn’t like the way he said my name so…intimate.
“Yes, I’m here regarding of your purchase for your painting. If I may?” Nodding to the sofa opposite him, he just tipped his glass in agreement, letting me sit down.
Once I was seated, I took my work portfolio out of my bag and took my notebook for some notes if I need to write something due his requests. Clicking my pen, I looked back at him, wanting to get down to business but he interrupted before I could even begin.
“Do you need a drink? I want you to be comfortable before we talk about business,” he offered.
I smiled again but this time more firmly,” No, thank you. I would like to show my art before you decide whether you want me to paint for you, Mr. Wilson. I take requests for any kind of artwork, that includes even images which can be improper by social standards. If you have a specific style or idea for the piece for your home collection, I would gladly create it.
You can look some of my work here,” pushing the thick folder of photos of my art collection in his direction on the glass table between us, I watched him purse his lips in displeasure, like he was not used to someone being too formal or polite in a way that the other person doesn’t obey his orders.
Drowning his drink, he puts the glass on the table and without responding, takes the folder in his hands to inspect my work. Silence stretches no longer than a minute, his uninterested gaze obvious when he flips the pages in a careless manner. When he is done with it, he snaps the folder shut and goes back to give his attention to me.
“Honey, your work is great. What inspirations you use for these? Do you have some real life experience?”
I rise an eyebrow, not expecting that question,” By real life experience, you mean…if I have indulged of those things in my life?”
His eager smile makes me more feel uneasy when he leans forward in his seat,” Yes. Like for an example, an utensil monster takes a virgin with his forked tongue in the mouth , fingers full of knifes, in the pussy, or- Oh!” Laughing like he just told me the biggest joke, he continues,” Spoons from his eyeballs carving out her human waste from the ass. Every hole is oozing blood. How is that relevant to your life beliefs? Did you ever used them to get pleasure out of it and then used that as your motivation for getting a visual for the paintings you make? Or even better, someone used them on you so you can get more inspired? Which is it?”
The questions were so bizarre that I couldn’t even answer right away for some time. The man looked eager for my response, almost salivating to hear me speak about getting myself fucked with the utensils.
Seeing my horrific expression did the opposite to him, he took that as a compliment of me being just ashamed and shy, discussing such topics.
Smirking, the man put a fist under his chin and regarded me with intense curiosity,” Don’t be shy now. Nothing will come out of this room without my permission. This will stay only between us. I’m confidential person myself so you don’t need to be so worried about me getting too loquacious,” reassuring me with that promise did not put my mind at ease.
I was uncomfortable and uncertain how to proceed.