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“Art that gets under your skin”

It was a moment that would change everything. When she accepted his invitation that evening, she knew she was crossing a line. He was her professor – a man with a presence that filled the room, even when he was silent. His words, always thoughtful and precise, had often fascinated her. But it was his gaze – that unfathomable, penetrating look – that captivated her now.

The villa was quiet, almost eerie, when he led her inside. He said nothing, just opened a door, behind which lay a room that seemed like another world. White walls, a shiny floor and a table full of colors. It wasn’t a studio – it was a stage.

“Take your clothes off,” he finally said, his voice calm but inescapable. Her breath hitched, but the atmosphere was so thick that she couldn’t resist the invitation. Slowly, she undid the buttons of her blouse and let her jeans slide to the floor until she stood naked in front of him. He looked at her like an artist taking in his canvas, but there was more in his gaze – a desire that she sensed even before he approached.

He stepped closer, took a thin brush and began to paint. The first touch was little more than a breath – a fine white stroke over her shoulder, then along her collarbone. His hand was steady, precise, but there was a tension in his breath that she felt deep inside. The brush moved on, over her back, her sides, down to her waist.

“This is just the beginning,” he said quietly. Then he put down the brush and reached for the paint. Now he worked with his bare hands, letting blue drip over her skin, drawing lines that ran like rivulets over her body. His fingers followed the traces, gliding gently over her hips before moving upwards again. She felt every contact – warm, urgent, and a fire began to stir deep inside her.

His movements became firmer with red. He let the color run over her thighs, pulling them down to her knees, then up again, his touches more intense, more sure. He worked his way over her stomach, her sides, leaving no spot untouched. Her knees began to tremble, her breathing became uneven, and she knew he could feel it.

His hands became a second skin, not just touching her, but shaping her. Every touch made her skin tremble until the tingling inside her built up into a violent storm. The tension that built up between them became unbearable – and then it overcame her. It began like a wave deep inside her, slowly swelling, growing stronger until it burst over her in a flood of pure, unbridled lust. Her breath hitched, her body tensed as her head fell back and a soft gasp left her lips.

The tingling sensation coursed through every fiber of her body, making her tremble as her hands instinctively clung to his arm as if he were her only support in this storm. It was as if she lost her footing for a moment before the wave slowly subsided, leaving her with a soft afterglow that almost made her stagger. She opened her eyes and looked at him – and there was something in his gaze that showed her that he knew what she had just been through.

When he finally stepped back, she was breathless, her body pulsating, every nerve pathway electrified. He looked at her with an expression that wavered between pride and desire. “You are a masterpiece,” he finally said, softly but firmly.

She pulled the blanket he handed her over her shoulders and felt herself trembling – not from the cold, but from the intensity of what had happened.

He went to the door, opened it and paused. “Can I invite you in again?” His voice was calm, but there was an unspoken promise in his gaze.

She nodded, a smile flitting across her lips. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice full of anticipation, knowing that she would return.