Nudest Artist and the Prostitute [In Progress]

2

September 18th 1923 / 3 weeks and 2 days later Tuesday

IN JAPAN

Minas POV

Brothel

I had been working here for quite some time, enough to know that the men who frequented these rooms had certain expectations, and I was all too familiar with how to meet them, But tonight, there was something in the air that felt different, a charge that made my skin prickle. Perhaps it was the oppressive heat, or the murmurings of the other girls, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

"Sharon".

I looked at the owner and i went towards him.

"Yes sir".

"Private Suite room 102 someone is waiting for you", he said.

~ A few minutes later ~

Private Suite room 102

As I stepped into the room, my heart sank. Sitting there, her posture elegant and poised, was a woman. It was a sight that sent a jolt through me. Women rarely came to a brothel they were usually the ones doing the waiting and watching, not the ones engaging. I had expected a man, perhaps one with a cigar in hand and an arrogant smile, but here she was an anomaly.

"The name is chou tzuyu. Ive been waiting".

Tzuyu, as she introduced herself, had a striking presence, with raven hair cascading over her shoulders and eyes that bore the weight of the world. She was dressed simply yet beautifully, a contrast to the gaudy, shimmering fabrics worn by the clientele that came here. The sight of her made my heart race with both intrigue and trepidation. What did she want in a place like this?

"Please, I wish for you to undress. I want to draw you".

The request hung in the air like a heavy mist. I stared at her, repulsed. How could she, a woman of privilege, so cavalierly ask for my naked form to be rendered on paper? It felt demeaning, as if she thought my body was merely a canvas for her artistry. My thoughts drifted back to the countless rich men I had serviced, all of them the same in their demands, indifferent to the human beneath the skin.

"No", I said, shaking my head firmly, my resolve hardening.

"I'm not here to be drawn. I'm here to provide a service".

Her expression flickered, a mixture of surprise and annoyance crossing her features.

"You're obliged to give me your service, Sharon. Surely you understand the arrangement".

I took a step back, my instincts kicking in.

"No. My service is sex, not your whimsy. I'm not a piece of art for you to manipulate", I spat, turning on my heel and walking toward the door.