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Fortunately, since it was getting close to time for the paid guests to arrive, the pace to finish every detail and issue last minute instructions accelerated. Everyone, including herself,got pretty busy. By the time the first car pulled in—a black Lamborghini—Skye had done all of her last checks.
She’d also changed clothes, into a sexier, artsier version of her client-meeting work wear. Black slacks and a sheer blouse printed with the melded rose and grey hues of a Monet painting, a black lace bra beneath. She wore a ceramic rose pendant flanked by crystal stones, and matching earrings that offered a muted glitter as she moved.
While riding herd on the audiovisuals, she made time to greet those patrons who were existing or potential clients for TRA. Though Ros didn’t expect her to handle the schmoozing to the extent she herself did at such functions, she would bitch at Skye if she didn’t at least say a polite hello.
Beyond that, she kept herself removed from the flow, and not just because of the tech side of her job. She wasn’t going to let anything distract her from keeping an eye on Tiger. Or deny herself the pleasure.
She made sure her route took her within view of him every twenty minutes. The pose change wasn’t just to increase the challenge to the artist, but also to keep the subject from feeling any muscle strain. His current position was what Skye thought of as the Olympic discus throw, one leg slightly bent, upper body canted, one arm lower, torso twisted, head tipped to look toward the sky.
She thought of her hint about the cock teaser and ways she could employ it. Keeping him in this exact pose, she’d watch his thighs tremble, that toy vibrating under the head of his cock, making him spurt pre-cum. His smoke-roughened voice would get even more hoarse as he uttered one word, like a blessing and a curse.
Mistress…
No personal pictures were allowed, but the two professional photographers Athena had hired were circling. A husbandand wife team, their photos would be compiled into a commemorative book for the attendees, including short interviews with the artists about why they’d chosen to decorate their living canvases as they had.
Athena had wanted a male and female perspective in the pictures, and Skye agreed with the decision. She’d volunteered to do the layout for the book after the event, and looked forward to seeing what they’d give her to work with.
Each time she checked on Tiger, she forced herself to gauge his state of mind with a quick glance. Like the patrons gathered around or seated on chairs, raptly viewing the scene, it would be too easy to be drawn into what Evan was doing. His hands moving over Tiger’s body, sculpting whatever he was placing there. She did note the tools changed—sometimes a brush or flat stick, sometimes his fingers.
Even with Tiger on the platform, his eyes sometimes on the horizon so she was below his line of sight, she knew when he’d caught a glimpse of her. His nostrils would flare, his lips press together. That, and the minute easing of his shoulders, told her he was aware of her presence. And that he was okay.
Evan had kept his word, though that humming energy around him said he was aware his subject was a living, breathing submissive, ordered to stay motionless under his touch and command. Such a thing would always engage the deeper levels of a Dom’s makeup, but he treated Tiger purely as a canvas. She saw no flags that would make Tiger uncomfortable, cross the set boundaries.
“Dinna fash yourself, Mistress,” a deep voice came from her left. “When he’s creating, Apollo himself could show up with a gallon jar of lube, ready to bend over and take Evan’s pole to the hilt, and it wouldn’t matter. He’d just get this impatient little wrinkle in his brow and brush that inconsiderate god out of the way of his art.”
Niall gestured toward the platform where Tiger stood. His current pose had his back arched, his arms up and bent, biceps bunched as his overlapped fists rested just over his eyes. It was as if he were offering an homage to the sun on a horizon. Feet braced, thighs and ass tight. Under the shadow of his fists, his dark blue eyes were like the back sides of stars.
“But I’ll also tell ye, he’s fully aware of every shift of your man there, any tension in his head or body. He’s having a care for him. Since you seem a good Mistress, I expect you’ve already noted most of that.”
“Sounds like the voice of experience,” she typed. She used Angelina Jolie’s voice. The sensual purr seemed to fit the mood gripping the garden. And herself.
“Oh, aye and nay. We’ve been together long enough Evan knows how far he can abuse me before I have to knock his head into a wall. It’s like the saying goes. Family longs for the consideration we’ll give total strangers.”
He sent her a grin, though, showing his deep fondness for the artist. His love. “Ye also have your backup team.” He tilted his head toward a bench screened by trees, where Alanna sat. Her knees were drawn up, bare feet curved over the edge, but her eyes were fixed on Tiger. “If anything is amiss our Master doesnae catch because he’s too far gone in his heid, she’ll see it.”
“I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful, and with such focus,” Skye typed.
“It was what she was trained for. But what keeps it straight as an arrow is her desire to serve us. She’s pure love and loyalty, and nae but a stump could miss it. The depths of that loyalty are beyond what even God imagined possible when He was creating her.” Niall sent Skye a faintly amused look. “And when you can surpass God’s expectations, become more than what He created, well, that’s quite something, aye?”
That piercing vividness in Evan’s gaze seemed to exist in Niall’s tawny gold eyes as well. “Evan says she’s the living, breathing definition of what every artist tries to achieve. I dinna know exactly what he means, but it feels right.”
Alanna’s gaze shifted to Niall as if she’d heard him. Her eyes filled with joy as they rested on the Scot. Then she was looking at Tiger again.
Niall sighed. “Now I expect one of us will have to beat her, to keep her from being too full of herself.”
“I just figured I’d beatyou, for causing the problem.”
Despite Niall speaking in a low voice, Evan had heard their conversation. Though there was no prohibition on talking, Skye noted most patrons, like them, were keeping their voices down, to respect the artist’s concentration. For the most part, the haunting music from the rotunda held the upper hand. It drifted through the garden like night-flying butterflies, mixing with frog song.
Evan hadn’t looked away from his work as he spoke. Skye was trying not to look too closely at the details, because she wanted the full effect when it was done. However, she and Niall stood near enough to Evan, off to his left side, that she followed Evan’s hand, moving over Tiger’s back as he sculpted texture into a thick gold metallic paint.
“Ye can try, ye skinnybod ceann,” Niall responded. He winked at Skye, translating in a quieter voice. “Dickhead.”
Skye took a last quick look at her charge. It seemed Tiger had found his center, a floating calm, by following her direction. Adhering to the simple list of expectations. A slight tilt to his mouth suggested he’d once again noted her presence, and that pleased her.
Smiling, Skye moved onward. Multiple screens were scattered throughout the gardens. Cameras she’d placed near the artists fed into those screens, so patrons strolling fromstation to station could see what was happening at more remote ones.
She returned to the audiovisual pit she’d set up near the music rotunda. While she adjusted a picture resolution problem she’d noted on Screen 7, and a faint static issue on the speakers projecting the music into the south side of the gardens, Nakul showed her clips of the drone footage.
