Muse

"That's him - long, black hair. Beautiful, isn't he? Pull over, Josef..."

Edouard Damune is a prominent artist, practically a household name in some parts of the world. He's controversial: everyone has an opinion on his work, even if they've never actually seen any of it.
      I am Mr Damune's personal assistant and this evening I've been driving him around as he searches the streets for a particular prostitute. I'm glad we found the boy, we're working to a time-limit and Mr Damune was beginning to get irritable.
      I pull the 'car in against the curb, in front of our quarry, and Mr Damune lowers his window.
      "Are you Jade?" he asks without preamble. There's a pause, then an answer in the affirmative, delivered in a voice that's cool and disinterested. "I want to book you for the night." Mr Damune continues. "Are you allergic to latex or rubber?"
      There's a touch of amusement to the reply – a negative, this time – and my employer opens the door. The boy climbs in and I get my first good look at him, albeit through the driving mirror. Slender, almost delicate and yes, very beautiful. Smooth, golden skin, astonishingly green eyes – he must do very good business.

There's silence in the back of the 'car on the drive home. Mr Damune is studying his subject intently, shifting along the seat to examine the boy's features from different angles. Jade takes all this with cool aplomb, remaining dispassionately silent under the scrutiny. You can't fault his self-possession.

I haven't even switched the engine off and Mr Damune is out of the 'car, unfolding to his full, lanky height and gesturing impatiently for his find to follow. In the elevator Mr Damune taps his foot impatiently and checks the antique watch on his wrist every few seconds. The door opens and he explodes out into the corridor, striding off to his apartment. He's already let himself in as the boy and I catch up.
      "In there," Mr Damune points out at a side-door to the boy, then he shrugs out of his tailored long-coat, leaving it to fall on the floor. "Shower quickly. Dry yourself thoroughly, including your hair. Don't bother getting dressed." And then he's gone, disappearing through another door in a burst of crackling energy.
      "Everything you need will be in there," I say to the boy, who's looking a little bemused, "Just ask if there's anything else."

I put away Mr Damune's coat and prepare some coffee while I'm waiting for Jade to finish in the bathroom. He doesn't take long, sensible lad, and he emerges smelling faintly of the lemon blossom shampoo my employer likes. Jade seems to be comfortable naked, standing with unselfconscious ease and making no attempt to cover himself. His skin is smooth and unflawed and he has very little body hair. I wonder how old he is.
       "Excellent." I say with an encouraging smile. I touch a tab on the side of my comms head-set and a small view-finder unfolds in front of my eye. Through this I can monitor and edit what the head-set's inbuilt digital video camera is recording. I begin filming and I'm not sure if Jade is familiar with the technology, but if he does know he's being recorded he doesn't react. Documenting a project is one of my many duties: Mr Damune will edit the raw footage later, and while I can't lay claim to any cinematic talent I have over the years developed something of an 'eye' for framing a shot.

Mr Damune's apartment is neat, clean and tastefully decorated. That's all my doing, part of what I'm paid for. My employer is happy to leave mundane things like housework and cooking to me but I am not allowed to touch his studio. And it shows! The place is a – what's the word they used to use? – ah yes, a sty. I'm allowed to remove the empty coffee cups but that's all. Mr Damune forbids food in his work-space – which is something of a problem when he's immersed in his work and neglects to eat – and there's always a filtration unit running. This keeps the air circulating and removes things like dust and spores so while the place is untidy it's not actually unhealthy.
      I wouldn't say the cluttered jumble of materials and – dare I say? – junk offends my sensibilities but just once I would like to get in there with a broom and a very large compactor...

Mr Damune is at one of the benches, stirring a bucket of something. He glances up as we enter.
      "You're dry? All over?" he enquires. Jade nods then tilts his head quizzically.
      "What exactly do you want of me?"
      My employer lifts his eyebrows and his lips quirk up into a half-smile.
      "I'm going to turn you into a disposable piece of art and then I'm going to take you to the opening night of my exhibition."
      "How are you going to do that? Turn me into 'art'?"
      "I will be decorating your body with this. Liquid latex." Mr Damune's tawny-brown eyes glitter and he holds up the thick, plastic rod he's been using to stir the contents of the bucket. A viscous, green liquid dribbles thickly from it. "Can we begin? This will become unusable if left too long." He drops the rod back into the bucket. "I trust you don't have a problem with being naked in a room full of strangers?"
      Jade looked amused.
      "No. But if I'm to fuck any of them it will cost extra."
      Mr Damune laughs.
      "That won't be necessary." He looks at his watch again and frowns. "Time is running short, Jade. Yes or no."
      The boy considers for a moment then nods, not quite smiling.
      "Yes."
      "Excellent." Mr Damune gestures him over. "I will need you to stay absolutely still." He pulls the boy's thick fall of shining black hair forwards over his shoulder, then quickly dips his hands in the bucket, liberally coating his palms with green goo. Mr Damune steps close to the boy, reaching around behind the slender body as if he's hugging him, then squarely plants one lime-green handprint between his shoulder blades and another cupped over a firm, small buttock. I've been filming all the while and I focus tightly now on the boy's face for the several minutes he's forced to remain still. Eventually Mr Damune considers the latex dry enough for him to remove his hand without disrupting the print and he carefully, literally, peels himself away from the boy. He slips behind Jade, peering closely at the green marks stretched over golden skin, prodding gently at the edges. He nods with satisfaction and redips his hands. This time he leaves a handprint on the side of the boy's face and another over one of his pectorals, the nipple sitting snugly within his palm. Once he's satisfied those have taken, Mr Damune dips his hands for a third time then kneels in front of his subject, bringing his face in line with the boy's groin. He wraps his hands around Jade's hips, as if he's holding him still. The effect of that pair of prints is unsubtly erotic, it's as if by looking at them you're noticing, or being implicated in, a sexual act. I have no doubt at all it's intentional.
      Jade is apparently enjoying the situation. He looks down at his half-erect cock and smirks.
      "Would it be better if I masturbate now? It'll help me stay... soft, later on."
      Mr Damune dismisses the idea with a shrug.
      "No, don't worry about it." he holds up dripping hands. "One more set then we're done."
      This pair is even less subtle. Mr Damune rests one hand over the boy's shoulder, fingers spread and angled as if he's gripping tightly, while the other he wraps firmly around Jade's penis. The boy holds himself still with difficulty but the effect when it's finished is intimate, electric.
      Mr Damune steps back to survey his work, prowling slowly around the boy, observing him from every angle. He smiles and I unconsciously relax – my employer is not a lot of fun to be around if something doesn't work as he envisages.
      "One last touch." Mr Damune picks up a handy broad-tip pen, kneels in front of Jade again and clearly inscribes one word over the boy's belly – 'Evidence'. Then he scrawls his signature below that, stands up and tosses the pen to one side.
      "Finished. Josef do we have time for a coffee before the 'car arrives?"

My employer is silent, sprawled in the back of the luxury 'car, ambivalent about the forthcoming event. He hates the social side of the 'Arts Scene', despises the 'beady-eyed chickens' he has to mingle with but a certain amount of mingling is necessary if he's to maintain his profile. The 'reclusive artist' title is all very well but it doesn't move stock. Besides, Mr Damune's patron – someone he actually has some respect for – has made it a condition of their association that he 'show his face' every now and again. Given a choice I know Mr Damune would much prefer to simply work and not be bothered with anything else. My employer is elegantly dressed and clean shaven, but his hair...? It's a quirk of Mr Damune's personality that while he is fastidious with his personal hygiene, sometimes showering three times a days, he won't brush his hair. He won't let anyone else near it either and when it gets too long he simply hacks it off with scissors. The result is spiked and uneven and sometimes it makes me shudder. I'm doing my best to ignore it tonight.
      Jade is with us, naked, calm and composed, sitting carefully so as to not disturb the latex hand print on his arse. He really is quite beautiful and his presence should invite some comment. I wonder if Mr Damune will ask him to stay the night...

The 'car pulls up outside the Tsubame gallery; there's a crowd of press people and 'fans' awaiting Mr Damune's arrival, though everyone that matters will already be inside the building.
      Mr Damune touches Jade's knee lightly.
      "Eat and drink if you wish but stay beside me – don't talk to anyone. Hopefully we won't have to be here very long." He tries to hide a yawn but, eagle-eyed minder that I am, I notice and quirk an eyebrow. Mr Damune chuckles.
      "Yes, yes, Josef, I promise I will sleep once this is over."

All of the 'chickens' are out in force tonight, clucking and pecking at my employer's latest works. Everyone here has been especially invited though only a handful by Mr Damune himself, the rest are guests of his patron. As expected 'Evidence' creates a small sensation which Mr Damune - and Jade - ignores.
      I am an ordinary person, nothing much to look at, I blend easily into the background and people forget I'm there. I prowl the gathering, recording reactions to the artwork, listening in to people's conversations. I spend a lot of time loitering around one piece in particular, smiling quietly to myself. It's a blatantly innocent painting of a little girl, sitting on green grass under a sunny blue sky. She's gazing out of the picture with big, shining blue eyes and she's cuddling a rabbit. The chickens are having a field day trying to interpret this one. What does the rabbit represent? What about the girl? Is there a clue in her posture, her clothes? Is the colour of the rabbit's fur significant? Is there anything else in the painting that could shed some light? Some little brush stroke of perversion hidden somewhere...?
      It is what it is, a painting of a girl cuddling a rabbit. There is nothing controversial about it, it is Mr Damune's little joke. I know he will be delighted with the chickens' responses.

Jade stays at Mr Damune's side, bestowing coolly indifferent looks on those that dare to approach him. I silently applaud the boy, he's a natural! It wouldn't surprise me at all if Mr Damune wants to work with him again. Jade's composure is ruffled only once that I notice, when he first catches sight of Merill Yanagawa – Benten, to his clients. The courtesan is eye-catching as always, beautiful, frosted white draped in blood-red silk. He's one of the rare few privileged to have a personal invitation from the artist. Jade stares, flushes then looks away, only to look again, more discreetly this time with little peeking glances through his fringe. It's fortunate the latex band around his penis was formed when he was half-erect as it would be causing an uncomfortable constriction now! I almost decide not to film this private insight into the boy but then again, Mr Damune will be fascinated to see how one of his models reacts to another.
      Mr Yanagawa is the subject of another work here that's excited some comment. The canvas is huge, taking up an entire wall on its own, and it reeks of violence. A cold, compelling, beautiful violence, with great, shimmering leathery wings and talons and fangs that drip blood and flesh. The Benten-dragon is aroused, fully erect and the blood smearing his groin is obviously not his. Behind him the elements swirl in a vortex of anticipation – there will be more violence soon...

Mr Damune is always at his most relaxed and affable after an opening, he lounges back against the 'car's leather upholstery and smiles unguardedly, the type of smile that takes him from attractive to heart-stopping. The boy probably doesn't realise how privileged he is to witness this.
      "I'm glad that's over! Comments, Josef?"
      "A good mixture of reactions, sir, I have footage of several people retching in front of the 'Road Kill' sequence."
      "Hah!" Mr Damune smirks, "They want shocking, I give them shocking! 'Damune has lost his edge,' indeed." One of the reviews of his last exhibition still rankles, I know. My employer scowls. "I am not allowed to do other than what I'm known for, apparently," he offers by way of explanation to the boy, "Even the controversial must be predictable." He grins again. "Eh, no matter – they're all fools. I'll be ordering some food when we get home, Jade, will you join us for supper?"

Mr Damune takes some more stills of the boy while we wait for the food, then thanks him and says he can remove the latex and get dressed.
      "You can keep the handprints, if you like," my employer smirks, "They'll probably be worth a fortune before long. I'll give you copies of the images I've taken and a certificate of authenticity."
      "I'd be honoured, of course, but I have nowhere safe to keep them."
      Mr Damune waves his hand.
      "They can stay here for the time being," he yawns and blinks sleepily, "And I can frame them, display them properly."
      "Thank you." the boy's expression is the closest he's come to a real smile all evening.

The food arrives - a mixture of Mexican and Chinese, Mr Damune's favourites – and the sheer amount of it covers the glass and steel dining table. This isn't unusual, in the past two weeks my employer has barely slept or eaten, subsisting on coffee and nerves and the occasional sandwich I could press on him on his way to or from the shower. Now the stress of opening night is behind him he'll eat his way through a small mountain of food then sleep for two days. During this time I'll field all his calls – though only people who know nothing about him would attempt to contact him so soon – gather up all the reviews and get copies of every image taken by everyone at the exhibition.
      The boy eats with a good, neat appetite and listens attentively as Mr Damune talks. Eventually though, my employer begins to visibly wind down. sleepily at Jade and asks if we can arrange transport home for him.
      The boy frowns a little.
      "You don't want me to stay?"
      Mr Damune yawns.
      "In a few minutes I won't even notice your presence in bed let alone be able to take advantage of your services. Maybe next time." He pulls himself out of the chair and waves a hand at me. "Josef will organise everything. G'night, and thank you again." Mr Damune throws us both another one of those brilliant smiles then stumbles off to his bedroom. Later I will go in there, quietly, and tidy up the trail of clothes he'll have inevitably dropped.
      Jade looks at me with an amused half-smile.
      "Thank Mr Damune when he wakes, for a... unique evening."
      I chuckle and indicate the leftovers from the meal.
      "Can I tempt you to take some of this with you? As a bonus?"
      He agrees and by the time I've packed up the food and paid him his fee – double what was agreed, as per Mr Damune's instructions – the 'car has arrived.
      I show the boy to the door and ask if he has a contact number. He does, though he stresses it's mostly for the leaving of messages. I smile and tell him that will be fine...

I stick the boy's number on the notice-board in the kitchen, then turn my attention to the small amount of tidying up needed before I retire. I'm dead on my feet but as Mr Damune will sleep all day tomorrow I can sleep in myself. And perhaps this time I can convince my employer to take a real holiday before launching into his next set of projects...

© July 1^st 2004 Lutra


Jade now has his own journal, for anyone who's interested in finding out a little more about him...

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© 2002-2004 WordWrights

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