Curves

[[C U R V E S->CURVES]]

[[How far am I willing to go?]]

That's what I ask myself. Standing at [[his door->answer]].

Its hollow eyes search the [[crumpled paper->newspaper clipping]] in my hands.

DOM looking for pet with curvy shape expect submission will pay $2000 for one day of pain and pleasure - *[[Andrew Glasspool]]* Call 071 583 6925

The spacing is erratic. Abnormal. [[Inhuman]].

...I’d [[messaged him]].

But I didn’t expect him to respond. I didn’t expect him to like what he saw. Hell, I don’t think I even expected it to be him. …I didn’t expect him to give me his [[address]].

It's Andrew Glasspool, and he knows [[my name->My name]].

No turning back. I swallow. Breathe. [[Knock]].

"Nope," I decide. "Nopedy nope nope." Fuck this. Fuck this door. Fuck this advert. Fuck the money. Shit, [[fuck me]].

My temple pulses. The door swings [[open]]…

…There’s no one there. Oh, [[Fuck This]] [[Must’ve Been the Wind]]

"This," I decided, "is how people in horror movies die." I spin on my [[heel...->heel,]]

*Stop being so paranoid.* I [[step through the doorway]].

Suddenly, the ceiling lights flare to life with automatic claps - and I back against the door. They stain the walls red, forming a clear path along the floor. [[Into the darkness->come through]].

I breathe deep as they herd me through the shadows... ...and then I see a gleam of gold. [[It’s an archway]].

Beyond it, I can see a black-carpeted room. Leather couches hug the floor, sweating under rose-coloured lights. A spinning office chair has its back turned to me. It faces an [[easel]].

An unfinished portrait. Clash of oils and pastel. Skin soft. Blushing. Shimmering. A headshot...but the dips in the collarbones tell all. Female. [[Unclothed.->lips]]

Pure [[Glasspool aesthetic.->see you now]]

It beckons me forward...like all his pieces. Demands. Like I [[don’t have a choice->desperate]]. Even though [[I do]].

Something drives me forward. Maybe awe. Or Curiosity. ...[[Or desperation->desperate]].

I pinch the bridge of my nose. *What am I doing here.* I gaze mournfully upon the probable cesspit and thoroughly examine my [[life choices]].

The door [[shuts behind me]].

And the chair [[spins around]].

[[“Katherine?”]]

I’m [[stunned]].

That…[[distinctly female]] voice.

“Y-yes,” I stammer. “That’s me. Katherine. Looking for…for Andrew.” “Oh, no, please,” she smiles “…Call me [[Andy]].”

I stare at her. Legs crossed. Teeth bright. Hair tied. ...Lit [[red ]].

I’m [[terrified]].

[[Run]] [[Wait->Freeze]]

Those eyes. Those be some *[[yandere]]* eyes.

She jumps up. Pads towards me. I ignore my legs *screaming* at me to [[bolt]].

[[Oh. ]]

She’s [[crushing me]].

I can’t say anything, so I just swallow... But I can't breathe. Or stop. Or think. Or wish or dream or *breathe again* and her breath is skilk with scent all over and it's in my arms and hair and lungs and teeth [[and-->swallow]].

...She [[lets go]].

“My apologies,” she laughs breathily. “I’m not good with...pleasantries.” *“Yeah,”* I think. I'm shaking. *“‘Cos you’re good at[[…other things]].”*

“So, Katherine,” Andy grins. “Let’s talk.” *[[Oh god.]]*

“Wh…what do you want to talk about?” “Ah.” Andy frowns. “I'm...not sure.” “[[Huh?]]”

[[The portrait stares through me.]]

"Let's see, questions, questions...small talk. Oh! Yes.” She claps her hands together. “How’d you come by my ad?” “Wh-what?” “Ah! Wasn’t I loud enough?” She clears her throat. “My Ad. How"- "N-no, [[I...I heard->question]]".

*[[God, it's so cliche...->God, it's...so cliche.]]*

*Oh god. Was that the [[wrong answer?]]*

“I-I mean,” I continue. “Honestly, I'm here 'cos I need the cash. And”- “Oh! Oh dear, I’m sorry,” Andy frowns. “Are you”- “And because I’m a fan," I admit. [[“Excuse me?”]] Andy blinks.

“Your art," I explain. "I love it. I've...seen all your exhibitions. Hoping one day you'd attend. And I…*god*. Your brushwork. Your composition. Your stroke technique! It’s all just…” *What am I saying?* “You’re [[incredible]],” I whisper.

Andy [[stares at me]].

The room is [[sweltering]].

“Wow,” she breathes. “I’ve…never met a fan before.” I can’t help it. I snort. “Seriously?” “Of course!” Andy exclaims. She frowns. “Well, no. I mean…I’ve met fans of my *[[content]]*.”

“Well…[[sex sells]] and all that,” I chuckle weakly.

"[[Andy...->...Andy]]"

She winks with both eyes and suddenly the idea of Andy Glasspool seeing me naked doesn’t seem [[so bad]]. *Wait [[what am I thinking?]]*

“Tell me something, Katherine,” Andy smiles. “Oh. [[Okay?]]”

I didn't come here to feel things. I...came here to [[get paid]].

*[[Fuck.]]*

My shoulders tense [[again]].

“I…” I swallow. “I guess I’ve had a few bad experiences?” “Oh!” Andy’s face falls. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” “I-it’s nothing. I”— [[“Tell me about them.”]]

“What?” “Tell me about them. If…if it’ll help, of course.” “Oh! Well,” I shrug. “Ex. Always nitpicking. Always wanted me to lose weight. Always thought they…ahem.” I look down at my chest but Andy’s staring at my [[face->chest]].

“Yes?” “Always thought they were [[too small]].”

Andy’s eyes flicker. [[“Katherine…”]]

And…there’s something there. Genuine concern. Empathy. I smile shyly. [[It's going to be okay.->I’m ready.]] [[I’m not ready.->get paid]]

I take a [[deep breathe...]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

So I slip my sleeves from my shoulders. Shirk the blouse. She [[stares into my eyes]].

[["...Andy?"]] I breathe.

Then she tilts my face up with her [[index finger]].

My heart [[stops]].

“I think they’re beautiful,” she whispers. “[[And…]]”

“...I think they’re [[perfect...]]"

Her eyes flick towards the [[portrait]].

She reaches for her [[pocket]].

“It felt…seen today,” she sighs. “You made my work feel seen.” *[[She's holding something->small and shiny]].*

“You made *me* feel seen.” *She's holding a [[pair of scissors]].*

[[Run.]] [[Stay.]]

“I want you to feel seen too,” she whispers. “Andy…” A [[tear]] slips down my face.

“Andy”— *[[Closer.]]*

[[“ANDY!”]]

*...[[Snip snip snip]]*.

[[…]]

[[… ]]

*[[Huh? ]]*

Andy smiles. [[“Perfect,”]] she whispers.

She wipes the tear from my cheek with a thumb. Leaps into her office chair and spins towards her desk. When she returns, she’s holding a mirror. She holds it up to my [[face]].

My…eyebrows. She’s snipped them to [[perfection]].

“I”— “Well?” She asks eagerly. “What do you think?” “H-huh?” “Your eyebrows! You said…you said your ex thought they were too small…” Her smile [[falls]].

“You…don’t like them, do you?” She says sadly. “What? No!” I yelp. “No I”— “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You have striking eyebrows. And…I just wanted to draw that out.” “Bu”— “I’m sorry,” she wails. “I shouldn’t have done that! I shouldn’t have! I’m so, so [[sorry]]!”

Wait, [[wails]]?

Wait, *[[eyebrows]]*?

*[[EYEBROWS?!]]*

*[[What.]]*

*[[The.]]*

*[[Fuck. ]]*

“ANDY!” I yell. Andy falls over. *[[I can’t take this anymore.]]*

“WILL YOU JUST SNAP OUT OF IT AND [[DOM ME ALREADY?]]” I screech

“Wh”— “YEAH! TIE ME DOWN, SLAP ME, CUFF ME, WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS YOU WANNA DO!” “Ka”— “JUST DO YOUR THING SO I CAN GET PAID AND [[LEAVE]]!”

[[...]]

[[... ]]

Andy [[stands up]].

She’s [[shaking]].

“You know?” She huffs. “I think you’re very [[rude ]].”

“Oh, *I’M* RUDE?” “Yes! Yes you are! What makes you think I’d want to DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?” She’s trying to yell, but I can see she’s not used to it.” “BECAUSE!” I howl. “You’re [[Andy fucking Glasspool]]!”

Andy [[stares]].

[[Shakes]].

[[And chokes out a sob]].

*…[[Fuck]].*

“You’re just like them,” she whispers quietly. “Andy”— “I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU, YOU [[REPROBATE->DEGENERATE]]!”

“Andy, wa”—! “Just leave!” “Andy, come on! What about the ad?” “WHAT ABOUT THE AD?” “I mean, look at this shit!” I say. I wave it in front of her and she snatches it out of my [[hand]].

“What about it?” She snaps. “What abou…” ...She [[trails off]].

Stares at the [[paper]].

…And all of a sudden, she [[giggles]].

“A-Andy?” “Just…” she laughs. “Just, [[come over here]].”

She’s holding something in her [[hand ]].

It’s a [[newspaper clipping ]].

“Oh…oh my god, okay,” she chuckles. Sniffs away her tears. “[[Look at your paper]].”

“Oh…kay?” “Now," Andy says, [["Look at mine.”]]

“[[Oh.]]”

[[OH.]]

“Oh, god, Andy,” I groan. “I’m so, so sorry.” “No, I’m sorry!” She exclaimed. “I um…I shouldn’t have called you a reprobate. People like what they like! It's just...not for me.” “I...Uh"- “This,” Andy proclaims proudly. “Is for [[me]].”

She skips over to the portrait. Picks up a marker. And scrawls two thick lines above its searching [[eyes]].

It looks [[ridiculous]].

I burst out laughing — though I’m not sure if it’s hysteria or genuine joy. Maybe [[both]].

“You’re mad,” I choke. “Hey!” Andy chokes back. And then we [[laugh]].

And [[laugh some more]].

We laugh until we’re [[empty]].

“Hey,” Andy says quietly. “Hm?” “I got what I needed. The eyebrows I mean.” “Oh…Yeah.” “I should…pay you. So [[you can finally leave]], heh.”

“Y-yeah. I…guess you should.” “Yeah! Or. Y’know. You could…stay? For a bit? I-if you want to of course!” I [[smile. ]]

[[“Yeah.”]]

[[“Yeah, I’d like that.”->START ]]

“Well, yes, but I don’t paint to paint sex,” Andy says impatiently. “I paint because the brush begs for it. Because the canvas wants for colour. Because the body [[asks to be drawn]].”

...And unbutton the top of my [[blouse]].

“May I?” I whisper. Andy blinks, surprised. “Oh! Um. O-overheating?” I laugh. “You could say that...” She looks like she doesn't know [[what to say]].

Or, [[well->y'know]].

[[Don't.->START ]]

...and walk right back out the door. Because I'm not a [[moron->START ]].

I come to the conclusion that somehow, 50 000 years of evolution and probably some forgotten childhood trauma lead me to be standing at the foot of a [[sex dungeon]].

I then decide there is no god, walk back down the hallway and [[get the fuck out of dodge->START ]].

I decide I've seen enough anime to know where this is going and bolt for the [[door]].

Luckily, it slides open automatically, giving way to sweet, sweet freedom before she starts calling me *[["Yuki"->START ]]*.

Maybe I was [[wrong]] about this whole BDSM thing.

Maybe it's something two normal people can do. Consensually. With...[[love]].

And if I'm going to figure that out, I don't want to do it [[here ]].

With a [[stranger]].

I [[smile gently]] at Andy.

"Thank you, Andy," I say. "You've been absolutely lovely...but I think I'd like to find someone else to call Daddy." [["Wh"-]]

But I don't here what she says. Because I'm on a journey to [[self-discovery]].

Out her automatic doorway. Down the hallway. Out into [[the world->START ]].

My eyes scale towering wood...trace gold swirls to brass, wolf-headed knocker. Or...no. Knowing the owner, that’s [[gold->red]] too.

$2000? Of course [[I had]].

That, [[and...]]

...It’s [[Andrew Glasspool->address]].

It's Andrew Glasspool, and... ...And now I’m [[here]]. And I want to [[leave]].

A corridor stretches before me. Black wood walls. Black tiled floor. Black like [[poison]].

The immaculate suit. The tie flowing in an artificial breeze. And that [[voice]].

...Then she [[smiles wider]].

And stretches out her arms, searching hungrily for [[embrace]].

I move my arms ever-so-slightly [[and-->rushes in]].

Double-click this passage to edit it.

“W-well, honestly,” I stammer. “It hit me in the face.” “It what?” “It…it hit me in the face,” I continue. “After your last exhibition, I was...walking down the street. In the rain. And the wind blew it into my face.” “Really, now?” She chuckles. “And...you just take everything that hits you in the face?” “What? No.” *Wait.* “I mean…yes?” Andy’s eyes glint. “*[[Fascinating]]*.”

“Andy…that’s”— “So,” she laughs. “I'm happy you appreciate my, um... *[[stroke technique]]*.”

She [[tilts her head->leans in closer]].

“Why are you so [[afraid?]]”

[["H-huh?"]]

[["...What...What do you think?"->"...What do you think?"]]

Andy stares some more. Shakes her head. [[Smiles.]]

"...For [[her]].”

Parted [[lips]].

No [[eyebrows ]].

No [[shame->follow me]].