Muse [18+] • REVISING

The Prologue | Refuge in Paris

"You're bringing me one step closer to my death bed, Verani."

The past few days, she had been receiving snide comments from her parents, a large portion coming from her mother. The constant criticism she had gotten from them wasn't anything new, however, this time it felt different—she had wished they kept their judgement to themselves a little while longer, almost as if she didn't want to leave on bad terms with them.

After all, Paris was four thousand miles away. A city in a country that she had never visited before. Or any country for that matter. This was her first time leaving home.

To be completely honest, this was nothing but a gesture of impulsivity from Vera. She had made the decision to fly to another continent for the next nine months, only a few days ago. But for those who knew Vera, knew that this wasn't out of character.

Unlike most people, Vera didn't fear going through abrupt changes—in fact, she embraced the chaotic lifestyle. Despite the disorderly nature of her actions, she somehow found control in every decision she made.

Although everything she did had been on a whim, she knew what she was doing and was fully aware of the consequences that came with her choices. As much as people would describe her as nothing short of crazy, she didn't pay them any mind. She just knew what she wanted out of life.

Vera always had her eyes set on her passions—she always made sure that even though she was jumping from one thing to the next, that in the end, she would have accomplished what she needed to.

Her big plans consisted of finishing up her studies in Paris, having her own art studio filled with her visions, and hopefully one day she'd be a world renowned artist with her works on display in a museum.

The only issue—she still lacked the necessary experience and background within the arts. Thus, the reason behind her sudden application for an internship at one of the most acclaimed museums in the lover's city. She wasn't sure she'd get accepted but as an artist, it was already a difficult field to be in and she knew that if she had chosen to sit in fear rather than go after what she wanted, she shouldn't have become an artist in the first place.

The worst thing that could happen is that she gets rejected. If she did, she'd just find somewhere else to work. Ah, the enchanting life of an artist. She loved that it kept her on her toes.

"You want to work at a museum? What money will you make from that, my love? There is no stability in this art nonsense that you love so much." Her mother whined.

If anyone knew how much you needed money to survive and live comfortably, it was Vera. Her family wasn't rich or even close to having stability themselves. Her mother was a housekeeper during the day, as well as a grocery store cashier during the night and her father was a full-time labor worker. Both of them hadn't had a proper education either—highschool dropouts who work more than nine to five.

These were the reasons for the constant hesitance that came from her parents. They only wanted her to succeed in life and be able to have the things that they didn't.

The thing was, Vera knew what she was capable of. Despite everyone telling her that her little paintings and projects were a waste of time, she knew that there were people out there that would see her worth. People who would pay big money to commission her pieces. To have her name hanging in their homes and exhibits. And in order to make that happen, she needed to get away from this shitty town.

And after saving up enough paychecks over the past few years, it was time to do exactly that.

"Ma, everything starts with this museum. You'll see one day." Vera said as she zipped up her suitcase, pushing it towards the door.

That was the truth. If she got the internship, this would pave the first real path for her. Not only would this give her the true artist's experience she needed but would throw her into a world she had been waiting to be a part of, ever since she decided to pursue a career in the creative field.

The main reason behind why she had chosen to apply to this specific museum in the first place.

Vera wasn't just interested in the shapes or the colors of an art piece but rather the nature of it—the meaning behind what she was looking at. She always looked for material that was raw and had you wanting more. But her true love for art began after having to write up a formal analysis on Marcantonio Raimondi's I Modi for one of her art history classes in her first year of college.

It was an art album dedicated to sex. Classified as: Eroticism.

After a week filled with in-depth research on everything erotic, even going beyond the boundaries of art, something had instantly sparked within eighteen-year-old Vera. A new found interest. That thrill she always needed. A connection she had been trying to make for years.

That connection being, like a lot of young girls, Vera grew up too fast and hadn't navigated the realms of her sensuality properly. As a fifteen-year-old, she was more focused on her friends telling her that she needed to get it over with—told that her virtue didn't mean much and that no one liked a prude. And once she crossed those boundaries, all she knew for the next few years were empty one night stands and a sex life gone unfulfilled.

To be clear, there was nothing wrong with endless hook-ups and missionary, it's just that after learning that there were a bunch of thresholds she could explore—she came to a realization that she needed more.

Sex is an art form and she had her mind set on mastering the practices of the stroke.

Mentally checking off everything she needed, she grabbed her passport off of the nightstand and walked out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her. The taxi she had called fifteen minutes prior was waiting outside.

"I love you, mama. I know I've been driving you guys crazy but I need to do this." Vera explained as she threw her single suitcase into the back of the taxi.

She kissed her mother on the cheek, who kept begging for her to stay, and hugged her a last time before getting into the back of the car. She rolled her window down for one last look at her mother and the home she had been bound to for the past twenty-one years. "Tell papa that I love him and I'll be back soon." She said as she waved goodbye.

As the taxi drove further away from her little house at the end of the street, she let out a sigh of relief. She had been waiting for this moment for quite some time now, a chance to leave everything behind and pursue the very things that brought her joy. It sounded cheesy but this was her time to make a name for herself.

Just as the taxi pulled into the airport, her phone had pinged, alerting her of a notification. Across her screen was the synopsis of an email. She opened it and brought the phone closer to her face to read.

Dear Miss Adams,

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance as an intern at Musée de l'Erotisme for a period of nine months. As stated in the details of the application, you will begin work in the fall and finish in the summer, employed as an exhibition designer as well as an assistant to the main director here at our museum.

Accepting this offer, you understand that you will work a minimum of 40 hours per week and your salary will be €12 per hour. In addition, Musée de l'Erotisme will cover a sum of your tuition at the university you are attending.

We are looking forward to working with you.

Kind Regards,

Cordelia Moreau, assistante directeur du Musée de l'Erotisme.

Looking up from her screen, she grinned. This was the first step; the gateway for an influx of opportunities and experiences that would soon come flooding her way.

Now was her chance to find that thrill she had been craving her whole life, starting with this internship at Musée de l'Erotisme—the museum of sex.