The Artist's Artist | PRN

01. an artist of the human form

In the grand foyer of Prince's Beverly Hills mansion, the air was alive with the electrifying aura of the entertainment industry's crème de la crème. The opulence of the surroundings was matched only by the glittering chandeliers casting a warm, enchanting glow upon the glamorous guests below. As I gracefully weaved through the crowd, many eyes on me and a flute of champagne in hand, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement – this was the very event I had always dreamt of attending, and I was determined to make it an unforgettable experience.

While admiring the awe-inspiring artwork that adorned the walls, a gentle tap on my shoulder jolted me from my mesmerized state. I turned, and to my astonishment, found myself face-to-face with none other than Prince himself, wearing a charming smile.

"Hello," he purred, his voice velvety smooth and confident. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Prince."

My heart skipped a beat as I realized I was face-to-face with the legendary Prince. Not only was I standing in his LA home, he was making conversation with me. Me.

Attempting to mask my nerves, I returned his smile and replied, "Hi, Prince. I'm Robyn. It's an absolute honor to meet you."

Prince extended his hand gracefully, and I shook it, striving to maintain my composure. "The pleasure is mine," he said, a glimmer of intrigue dancing in his eyes. "What brings you to my party tonight?"

With a dash of casual charm, I responded, "Your music and artistry have been an inspiration to me for as long as I can remember. So, when I learned about this event, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to be here."

Prince nodded, seemingly pleased with my response. We continued chatting about music, art, and the entertainment industry. He was genuinely interested in what I had to say, which surprised and delighted me.

As the night went on, we spent more time together, engrossed in our conversation. The initial nervousness I felt around him had faded away, dissolving into a sense of comfort and ease. Prince's down-to-earth nature and easygoing demeanor made me feel at home in his illustrious world; like we were two good friends simply catching up.

Curiosity played in his eyes as he asked, "So, what do you do, Robyn?," punctuated by a tasting of his champagne.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to reveal. Feeling the warmth and authenticity of the conversation, I decided to be honest with Prince- as honest as I could be.

"I'm an artist," I smirked sweetly. "But my work is rather unconventional..."

Technically, it wasn't a lie.

Prince's eyebrows raised, and a mischievous smile crossed his face. "Unconventional, you say?," he replied, clearly intrigued by the mystery in my statement. He nodded along, inviting me to elaborate.

"Well, Prince," I continued, "it's not your typical canvas and paint kind of art...in fact, you're looking at it."

Prince leaned in, intrigued by my response. "Is that so?" he said with a smile. "And what kind of art would that be?"

"I'm an artist of the human form," I revealed, maintaining an air of mystery. "My body is my canvas, and my performances are my medium."

His eyes sparkled with curiosity, captivated by my response.  "A performance artist? That's fascinating," he murmured, leaning in to hear more. "I'd love to see your work."

"I'm afraid it's not something that can be captured on canvas or film," I explained enigmatically, my brown eyes keeping steady contact with his hazel. "It's an experience meant to be felt in person."

Nodding understandingly, with a hint of intrigue still etched on his face, he spoke, "I see. Well, I'll have to make sure to experience it then."

As the night wore on, the allure between us grew. Our conversation continued to flow effortlessly, our souls baring themselves through words and glances, like a private dance of minds in the midst of the grand party. Then, the conversation between us silenced for a beat, then he spoke.

"I've never met someone like you before," he murmured lowly, looking at me thoughtfully. "You seem like a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. You have a...  unique perspective on art and expression." 

I smiled at him softly, mirth in my eyes as we maintained eye contact. "Exactly," I smirked. "And right now, I want some more champagne," I said, taking a sip from my flute. I stood up, fully aware that my ass was in his face as I turned at the waist to excuse myself. "Ciao, Prince," I said confidently before walking away.

Prince watched me with a hint of amusement as I excused myself from the conversation. I could feel his gaze following me as I elegantly made my way through the crowd, my heels confidently clacking against the marble floors. 

On my way, I ran into someone with a neat bowtie, carrying a platter of flutes. I took one with a thankful smile, meeting Prince's gaze across the room before disappearing into the crowd. I couldn't deny the chemistry between us.

I made my way through the crowd, mingling and chatting with other guests, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Prince was still watching.

..

The evening eventually drew to a close, and I retrieved my coat and purse, sad to leave the magical soirée. Just as I was about to make my exit, I felt a gentle hand on my elbow. I turned, and there was Prince, his smile infused with a sense of intimacy. As I stood there, our eyes locked in an intimate dance, the tantalizing aroma of his cologne enveloped me like a soft embrace. The scent was an exquisite blend of sophistication and mystery, perfectly complementing the enigmatic aura that surrounded him.

"I truly enjoyed our conversation," he whispered lowly and intimately, the warmth of his voice sending shivers down my spine. "Let's continue our discussion about your art sometime." 

A thrill of anticipation surged through me as I met his gaze, a coy smile forming on my lips. "I'd love that," I replied, my heart pounding with excitement.

"I'll be in touch," he murmured into my ear. His voice, deep and resonant, washed over me like a velvet wave, leaving me momentarily breathless. It was a voice that commanded attention and stirred emotions, a captivating melody that lingered in the air long after the last note had faded.

With a final pat on my lower back, Prince melted into the crowd.

In the wake of that brief but profound encounter, I found myself unable to shake off the enchanting spell he had cast upon me. Even after the night had faded into memory, his voice and the essence of his cologne continued to linger in my senses, as if they had taken residence in the very fabric of my being. It was a lingering spell that left me yearning for more, a yearning to bask once again in the captivating magic that was Prince.

...

to be continued.