The Consequence (The Evolution of Sin 3)

Chapter Seven.

I made a stranger take a picture of us.

The primary reason for that was because I realized that we had no photographs together. As an artist, I collected photos, pictures, magazine clippings, sketches and swathes of material, anything really to document my life and inspire me. I only had the photos of Sin from Mexico when he was driving the boat to our little cove and then a few more that Elena had given me to start the painting she had wanted to commission.

The second reason was more base, selfish and common in a way that I didn’t care to shy away from. We cut a striking image that afternoon. Sinclair was in total black, from the tips of his Italian leather loafers to the button up he wore beneath a thick black cashmere v-neck sweater and the long Burberry trench he wore over top. He wasn’t wearing socks, which may have seemed like a strange thing to notice and like, as in a lot, but I did and I did. The subtle slice of brown skin when the rest of him was covered was so unbelievably sexy that I had actually salivated a little when I met him at the café around the corner from our hotel that morning.

In direct colour contrast to him, I wore a pale oatmeal cashmere sweater dress that fit my body like a glove and complimented the knee high chocolate brown boots that I had splurged on at a small local boutique that morning. I’d also had my hair done at a small hair spa that I had walked past countless times as a student but had never had the money to afford. They hadn’t done much but cut in a few layers and form the heavy mass into thick dips and curls across my shoulders and breasts. But I loved it and Sinclair had responded favorably to the stylish cut if the movie-quality kiss he landed on me was anything to go by.

So, vanity was definitely involved.

But we had also had an absolutely amazing day, the kind of daylong date that I never would have imagined happening. After waking up together, we had parted ways so that Sin could go to an early meeting in the 2nd arrondissement and I could treat myself to the spa and some shopping. I still wasn’t rolling in cash so I hadn’t seriously thought about hitting any of the city’s amazing shopping districts but Sinclair had pressed his credit card into my hand on his way out the door and ordered me to use it before I met up with him. He didn’t give me time to protest and I was actually thrilled for the opportunity to buy a new outfit to show off for him so I did as I was ordered.

Later, we met for brunch at an amazing Franco-Taiwanese restaurant, Le 37 m2, before we went Christmas shopping in the Marais. Afterwards, Sinclair sent the bags back to the hotel while we walked along the Seine hand in hand, enjoying the surprisingly unpopulated promenade and the crisp bite of the winter air.

In a word, heaven.

Now, we were at the doors of my favorite place in the entire world.

Le musée d’Orsay.

Sinclair was an art lover but I was fully aware that he watched me react to the multitude of paintings and amazing sculptures more than he viewed the pieces himself. He followed me as I bounced from my favorite work to my next favorite, skipping from exhibition to exhibition like an eager child. I was too happy to care that I wasn’t being chic and Sin didn’t seem to mind either.

“This is one of the pieces that inspired my collection,” I blathered on, as I had been since we entered the hallowed halls.

I had already showed him Edouard Monet’s Olympia with the naked, reclining woman with her velvet collar, and the famous Luncheon On The Grass with the naked woman bracketed by two fully dressed men but we were now stopped before L’Origine du Monde.

“When I was a student I used to come here every week, nearly every day in the first year I was in Paris. I tried to focus on a different exhibit each time, but inexorably I found myself in front of Gustave Courbet,” I explained, standing to the right and in front of Sinclair so that I could have a minimal amount of privacy. It was difficult to explain my struggle with sexuality but I wanted him to know.

“Sex had never been a good thing for me so I had never really explored my own desires, even when I got up the courage to date Mark in my second year here. We didn’t do much more than kiss and fondle each other over our clothes. Pathetic for a twenty-one year old,” I said, pulling a face.