When he arrived at the museum, Ethan checked the time in panic, because as he stepped out of the cab, he saw Mia at the entrance, her arms crossed and her expression stiff.
For a moment, he was afraid that he had missed the time because he was busy setting his new set with the new lights and reflectors he purchased after leaving Judith.
A quick check showed that he was ten minutes early.
“I hope I’m not late,” he said as he walked toward her, looking apologetic.
Apologies were easy when he knew he wasn’t guilty.
“No, I was early,” she said.
“I needed to leave the house before I said something I’d regret.”
“Charlie?”
“Charlie.”
She uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again, the physical equivalent of someone editing a sentence and putting the original back.
She was wearing a simple linen dress, and crossing her arms enhanced her bust, which he struggled not to look at openly.
He was also glad for Perception, allowing him to read her minute reactions even better.
Judith was perceptive as well; she was just bitter enough to dedicate her Perception to identifying all the ways to ruin Alan’s life.
“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to look at art and talk about it later?” He said, asking casually, as if they were old friends rather than two people who had met a day ago.
He was glad for Charlie, because anger had a way of blurring lines that were best left untouched.
“Art first.
Then talk.
Then possibly more art to recover from the talking.”
“Comprehensive plan,” he teased, which earned a fleeting smile.
They walked in together.
The Pasadena Museum of Art was modest by Los Angeles standards, a mid-century building that housed rotating exhibitions that ranged from ambitious to baffling.
But it was quiet on a Friday afternoon, and quiet was what Mia needed.
They started in the Impressionist wing because Mia gravitated toward beauty the way scientists gravitated toward data.
He had a feeling that even before the unexpected rewards from Judith, he would have been able to comment on the paintings well enough thanks to his growing Intelligence and his photography skill.
The overlap was good enough to allow him to sound smart while avoiding obvious mistakes.
Perception allowed him to catch details he would have otherwise missed, like the color patterns, the meaning buried in some details that could be dismissed as useless, and other simple details, turning him into a museum curator.
He played up the details because it was a good way to highlight the difference between him and Charlie.
“Okay,” she said, stopping in front of a particularly striking painting.
“He asked me if we could sleep with other people.”
Ethan let that land without reacting.
“Context?”
“We’ve been …
abstaining.
My choice.
After the recital thing, and the conversation you and I had about mismatches, I told him I needed space to think.
Physical space included.
He agreed, which I thought meant he understood.” She laughed, the short, bitter kind.
“What it actually meant was that he was counting the days until he could renegotiate.”
“How did he phrase it?”
“He said, and I’m quoting: ‘Babe, since we’re on a break from the physical stuff, would you be cool with us seeing other people?
Just for the physical stuff.
Like he’s a child asking for a bathroom key.'” She delivered this with the flat affect of someone reciting evidence at a tribunal.
Ethan considered his response carefully.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
“The abstaining?
Since we started our relationship, five weeks …” she started, then paused.
“But for me, it has been a while.”
“And Charlie.
Any idea about his … how do I put it delicately…”
She sighed.
“You can’t put Charlie’s bedroom traffic delicately,” she said.
“He had more traffic than an airport.”
“Five weeks is a long time for someone with such appetites.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You’re defending him?”
“I’m contextualizing.
There’s a difference.” He guided them toward a series of landscape paintings, his hand light on the small of her back.
“Charlie asking for a hall pass is crude.
The phrasing is terrible.
But the underlying question, as much as you want to be angry, is simple.
He is saying that the physical part of a relationship is important to him.”
“That’s not what a relationship is,” she argued.
“To you,” he said with a soft, gentle tone.
“You need to ask whether your boyfriend shares the same idea.”
She was quiet for several steps.
They moved past the landscapes into a smaller gallery of regional watercolors.
“You always do this,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Refuse to let people be angry, and instead dig deep and ask difficult questions.”
“Only when I respect the people I’m talking with,” he replied.
She looked at him, and her expression softened into something more complicated.
Frustration and gratitude, and the specific tenderness of a woman who compared someone to their significant other, and found him more favorably.
“The worst part,” she said quietly, “is that I’m not even surprised.
Charlie has always been honest about what he wants.
He wants the fun parts without the work.
The sex without the intimacy.
The relationship without growth.”
“And you want the opposite.”
“I want everything.
The fun and the work.
I want someone who shows up to my recitals and also wants to tear my clothes off afterward.
Is that too much?”
“Yes and no,” he said.
“That’s helpful,” she said sarcastically.
“Fine.
The idea of having such a person is good on paper.
But, you’re asking someone else to fit into your life perfectly.
It’s easy if you’re a teacher dating a nurse, both of you enjoying the same bland TV shows or cheesy B-movies.
It’s harder if you’re trying to run a studio for children while also trying to push as the principal ballerina.”
“Or, you’re a musician and photographer also trying to get an acting job,” she added.
“True,” he said.
“It’s why I don’t do relationships.” She scrunched her face.
“Admittedly, I don’t follow your boyfriend’s old path.
I’m selective, I want to connect with them mentally and physically,” he said.
“I just don’t promise anyone my daily presence, or being with them forever.”
“That sounds … much better than I expected,” she said.
He shrugged with a deliberate nonchalant attitude, knowing it would be the best way to affect her.
“It is what it is,” he said. Find the original chapter at g.com.
They stopped talking about personal issues and focused on discussing the paintings.
Then, Mia stopped walking.
“Oh,” she said.
She was looking at a piece on the far wall.
A large canvas with a simple sketch.
It was simple, but the composition suggested a dancer: curved lines that evoked a spine, a hip, the arc of a lifted arm, but never committed to representation.
He could see why it caught Mia’s attention.
“This is what I was trying to do,” she murmured.
“With the dance photos.
This feeling.”
Suddenly, he was glad for Haley’s little gift the day before.
Without her giving him Adept Photography, he would never dare to attempt such a thing.
“The body without the performance.
Then, the performance until the body fades,” he said, delivering a pretentious line.
One that hit perfectly.
“She moved closer, her fingertips hovering an inch from the canvas.
“Can you photograph this?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
“I want to try, but it’s a challenging concept.
It was why I was so happy when you wanted to model for me.
It’s not something I can do with a random model.
It requires a dancer, one that actually loves her job rather than going through the motions.”
She nodded, and fell silent.
This time, it wasn’t just avoiding the topic, but total silence.
They walked, but he could see that she wasn’t looking at the paintings.
“Do you mind giving me a minute?
I need to wash my face,” she said.
“Sure.”
She left, and curious, he positioned himself near enough, not surprised that she pulled her phone.
“Charlie,” she said.
“I thought about what you asked.
You’re right.
It’s not fair for me to ask you that.
For tonight, our relationship has a hallpass.
Just do what you need to do.”
He couldn’t catch Charlie’s words, but his cheerful tone suggested that he missed the dangerous implications of her allowance.
It wasn’t that he had a hallpass, but their relationship had one.
He returned before letting her notice his eavesdropping.
She returned.
“Ethan.
The concept in that painting.
Can you do it?”
“I would like to try,” he said.
“How about Monday?”
That made her freeze.
“How about today?” she asked.
He acted regretful.
“We need to find a set and rent it,” he explained.
“I thought that you had one.”
“It’s in my apartment.
It’ll be too intimate for such an intense shoot.
I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable—”
“That won’t be a problem,” she said.
“Unless you’re afraid of little old me, of course,” she added.
He shrugged.
“If you’re comfortable with it, I have no problem with it either.
Let’s go.”
She drove, and on the way, she made a half-hearted, distracted attempt to talk about the exhibition, and he played along.
Any other time, it might have bothered him, but knowing exactly what was occupying her mind, generosity was easy to achieve.
Then, they arrived.
Mia pulled a bag out of her trunk.
“Several sets of dance outfits.
I always keep backups in the trunk,” she said.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah.
It helps because sometimes, clothes get … accidentally cut in the dressing rooms.”
“Sabotage?” he asked.
“Like you can’t believe.
Dancing world is far trickier than people think,” she said.
He chuckled, carrying the bag for her.
As they climbed the stairs, they came across Leonard coming down them.
“Hi, Leonard.
How do you do?” he asked.
“I – I’m good,” Leonard answered, a stammer escaping his mouth as he noticed Mia’s presence, which was understandable.
She was a strikingly beautiful woman, and Leonard was … Leonard.
“I’m going to the comic store,” he added almost instantly, followed by a deep expression of shame.
Ethan shook his head in amusement at his choice, telling something he felt ashamed of in panic.
“Nice.
Is there any good store nearby?” he asked.
“I lost most of my collection while moving around.
It’ll be nice to start again.”
“You read comics?” Leonard asked, surprised.
“Of course, there are some of the greatest examples of modern writing … no matter how much they insist on butchering them in the movies.”
“We have the Comic Center of Pasadena.
It’s a solid store,” he said.
“Any favorites?” he asked.
“I would have said Spider-Man, but not a fan of the current run, particularly that stupid deal with Mephisto,” he said, but seeing Leonard’s enthusiasm, he raised his hand to cut him off.
“Mia and I have things to work on, but let’s talk about it later.
I don’t have many friends who enjoy comics,” he said, raising his fist.
Leonard gave an awkward fistbump, and they separated.
Mia waited until they were at his door to speak.
“Weird guy,” she muttered.
“Yeah, but he’s scary-smart.
He’s a professor in Caltech, experimental physics,” he said.
He might not like Leonard’s personal attributes, but his professional accomplishments were something else.
Mia’s eyes widened.
“You’re kidding?” she said. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
“I can never imagine him as a teacher.”
“People are surprising,” he said.
“Though, for them, teaching is more of a tacked-on chore they have to suffer to work on their experiments.”
Mia nodded.
“You’re right.”
He opened the door, and Mia immediately noticed his photo setup, which had grown large enough to occupy more than half of his room after his latest purchases.
“Wow, this setup is even larger than I expected.
That’s what you call an amateur enthusiasm,” she said.
He shrugged, once again deliberately playing the humble artist angle, which was working on Mia perfectly.
“How do we start?” she asked.
“Depends,” he said.
“Drinks first.
I would offer wine, but ideally, something nonalcoholic would be better.”
“Agreed.
Just water,” she said.
“Also, we need to talk about how comfortable you’re with various aspects, including themes, clothing, and other—” he started.
“Just follow your instincts,” she said, her focus sharp.
“I’ll warn you if it’s too much.”
He nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s art,” she responded.
“Fine,” he said.
“I’ll give you some time to change,” he said as he went to his bedroom.
There, finally, he remembered the item reward he had received.
[Pack of high-quality bedsheets]
Curious, he reached out to them mentally, and they popped on top of the bed.
Ten sets, all light colors.
He touched them, only for his eyes to widen.
It might be the softest, most comfortable fabric he had ever touched.
They even came with a brand, and a quick check of the website showed that each sheet cost about five hundred dollars.
Absurdly expensive, but that made him happy.
Not because the sheets were the most urgent thing he needed, but it readjusted the scale of what he might get from Silver Rewards.
Rather aware of how the night might continue, he quickly changed the sheets and also changed his clothes, then waited until Mia called.
She had changed into her ballerina outfit, including her special cloth shoes, limbering up, with her leg raised to a surprisingly high degree; an angle that made him very glad that he had gotten a good boost of Endurance and Perception earlier during the day.
Without it, he didn’t trust himself to give Mia a truly memorable experience.
Not the way he did to others.
Bernadette and Alex simply had lackluster previous experiences to compare, the combination of his looks and his enthusiasm was enough to conquer them.
In most ways, Judith’s situation was even worse, with Alan as her only lover for more than a decade, followed by some underwhelming post-divorce adventures as she tried to treat other men as Alan.
Haley might not be that easy to satisfy, but there, the tricky situations helped him, the excitement of public cheating for the first, and exploring her latent bisexual desires for the second one.
Compared to them, Mia was different.
A professional dancer with incredible stamina and strong awareness of her body… It was not something he could defeat with just enthusiasm.
Endurance and Perception, on the other hand…
“Now, let’s start with something simple,” he said as he adjusted the lights, creating a nice web now that he had both soft boxes and hard lights, adjusted the screen behind to contrast with her clothes.
“Give me some movement.”
“Anything specific?” she asked.
“No.
Just a few test shots, to see if we can capture the moment as accurately.”
She moved through some simple dancing moves, and he took the photos.
There, he registered another benefit of Perception, assisting his photography far better than he had expected.
The photos were good.
Too good.
After the test shots, he went to adjust the lights, while Mia checked the pictures.
A gasp escaped her mouth.
“They are amazing,” she whispered.
“No, they are just decent,” he replied as he adjusted every single piece of equipment slightly.
“Hopefully, we’ll get amazing at the end of the session,” he said.
With that, they started working.
Twice, he stopped taking photos and grabbed the cello, playing a song to give her exactly what he was looking for.
A weird way to communicate during a shoot, but paradoxically, it worked, helping Mia to get in the mood.
It was fun enough that he had found himself ignoring all the work he had done to set the situation up, and focused on the process of creation.
Even when Mia removed her clothes completely and started posing nude, it didn’t feel sexy.
It was just shapes and movement … art.
The results were transformative.
Without fabric, the abstraction was pure, somehow turning her nudity into something transcendent.
Multiple times, he stopped to play the cello, each time she continued to dance to capture the feeling he desired, her spins and piques turning the night into a weird art movie…
They worked until midnight without interruption, lost in a weird creative fugue.
Even the system seemed to agree on the nature of the shoot, not giving him even a morsel of reward for her nudity.
He didn’t care.
As much as he liked the rewards, his primary objective was to have fun, whether it came in the form of a steamy threesome, or a deep conversation about abstract art.
And, Mia, wearing a bathrobe, leaning against the back of his chair while they talked about every picture counted.
He could have probably pushed her onto the bed, but that would require him pulling her out of her beautiful creative mode.
He decided to let it slide.
But, then, fate had other objectives.
“It’s been late.
Maybe I should leave,” she muttered, equally sated as she checked her phone, only to stiffen.
Curious, he adjusted his angle slightly and took a glimpse of her phone.
He saw that she was checking social media; likely as a reflex since there wasn’t a specific page open.
It was just a picture from Jake, Charlie’s nephew, proudly showing off the case of a new video game.
It was innocent.
What was not innocent was the partial vision of the stairs going upstairs, which showed the bottom half of a man wearing comfortable shorts and a bowling shirt, accompanied by two women wearing tiny bikinis, going upstairs.
It looked like Charlie was taking advantage of his hall pass with pure determination.
That had been enough to break Mia’s euphoria, replaced by a sharp fury.
“However, before we leave, can we take a few more photos?” she said.
“Sure, what do you have in mind?” he asked.
“How about some boudoir photography?” she asked.
“Those abstract photos are beautiful, but looking at them, I’m starting to feel like I’m a boring, frigid woman.
I need some heat.”
As she said that, she leaned against him, her shoulder against his, the warmth of exertion still radiating from her skin.
“Excellent idea,” he said as he stood up.
“Do you have anything fitting?”
“Yes.
I had been prepared for … well, an eventuality that wouldn’t matter for a while, so no harm using them for something else,” she said as she grabbed her bag and disappeared into his bedroom.
The subtext was clear.
She purchased some underwear for her first time with Charlie, but he was the lucky one to enjoy them.
He hummed in anticipation.