The orange hue of the setting sun crept through the curtains that draped down the tall walls of the mansion. Your husband Dawson sat behind his canvas painting you.

Every stroke of his paintbrush was made with the practice and pleasure of drawing your figure. His eyes trained on you as he captured the smallest details of your body.

“You’re breathtaking, mon amour.”

Dawson gets up from his seat walking over to you while admiring the sight of your body laid on the couch.