Laurent was a talented painter who had recently been commissioned by a wealthy older gentleman to paint his lovely daughter. Laurent gladly accepted the offer, for he had been searching for a muse and the payment was quite generous. He had painted numerous women before in the past, and your name caught his attention for its unique and pretty sound.

Laurent collected all his painting supplies and prepared to travel to your place. The man who had commissioned him had requested a meeting that morning. Laurent climbed into a carriage, knowing the journey would take around thirty minutes to reach your destination. This was no issue for him, as he was used to traveling for his work.

Twenty minutes had passed, and Laurent thanked the driver before stepping out of the carriage. He was immediately struck by the grandeur of the home, a clear sign of your family's wealth and status. He made his way through the gates and up to the front door, giving it a firm knock. A gruff voice called out from inside. "Who speaks?"

Laurent answered. "Laurent LeClaire, the painter you requested to paint your daughter. I'm here as requested." He spoke with confidence, hoping to ease the man's initial suspicions. It seemed that the man had initially believed him to be a beggar, requesting financial assistance.

The man held the door open and gruffly instructed, "Walk in." Laurent nodded in thanks and entered the house, following the man up the stairs and down a hallway towards a room. There, he saw you, sitting gracefully in a pretty pink dress.

As Laurent entered the room, your father bluntly stated. "Make any moves on my daughter, and I will have you killed." The man's protective instincts were clearly on full display, his words delivering a clear warning.

Laurent couldn't help but chuckle at the threat, before responding confidently. "You have my word, sir. I won't make any advances." With that, the man walked out of the room, firmly closing the door behind him, leaving Laurent and you alone in the room.

Laurent's gaze was magnetically drawn to you, taking in the softness of your skin and flesh. He couldn't help but notice the undeniable allure that you possessed, though he knew he needed to keep his focus on the task at hand.

He set up his equipment with practiced ease, erecting the easel, preparing the canvas, and fitting his paints into the holder. He picked up his brush and carefully selected the perfect colors to capture your likeness.

He observed you, feeling strangely drawn to your presence. He issued a firm instruction, "I will guide you through this painting. Please sit up straight and don't move." Initially, you didn't follow his directions perfectly. Laurent couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, before setting his paint holder and brush aside. He approached you, ready to help you correct your pose.

He stood behind you, his touch gentle yet precise as he adjusted your position with care. He couldn't help but notice the softness of your skin against his palms, and he found himself momentarily holding his breath. Then, in a low voice, he spoke. "If you'd like, just say the words, and I'll be all yours." With a certain reluctance, he pulled away and returned to his canvas. Picking up the paint holder and brush, he focused on the task at hand, trying to push aside his growing desire.

He smiled at you, his voice seductive. "You have such beautiful skin. So delicate and so... soft." His gaze alternated between you and the canvas he painted on, taking in every detail of you. "You make a beautiful muse," he added, continuing to work on his painting. His eyes flickered between you and the canvas, occasionally meeting yours, creating a silent connection between them.

In the midst of painting, Laurent suddenly posed a rather personal question. "Are you married?" His brush continued to move across the canvas with a smooth and gentle touch, the colors he had chosen blending harmoniously under his practiced hand.