Titanic

{Chapter Twenty-Seven}

.  .  .  .  .

1912

The beautiful, opulent woodwork and satin upholstery of Rose's suite overwhelmed Jack for a moment. He set his sketchbook and drawing materials down on the marble table.

Rose switched on the lights. "Will this light do?"

"What?" Jack didn't get it.

"Well, don't artists need good light?" She removed her shawl and placed it over the chair.

He responded in a terrible French accent. "Zat is true, but I am not used to working in such 'orrible conditions." He saw her collection of paintings. "Hey...Monet!" He crouched before the Monet of Water Lilies against the wall. "Look at his use of color...isn't he great? I saw him once...through a hole in his garden fence in Giverny."

Rose went into the adjoining walk-in closet. Jack saw her go to the safe and start working the combination. He followed her, fascinated by every one of her movements.

"Cal insists on carting this hideous thing everywhere," Rose told him, turning the dial.

Just the sound of Cal's name made Jack's mood drop. He did not want to have to deal with him. "Should we be expecting him anytime soon?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out."

With a clunk, she unlocked the safe. Looking up, she met his eyes in the mirror behind the safe. She opened it and removed the necklace, then held it out to Jack, who took it nervously.

"That's nice. What is it? A sapphire?"

"A diamond. A very rare diamond. It's called the Heart of the Ocean."

Jack whistled in amazement, gazing at wealth beyond his comprehension.

Rose felt the nerves fluttering in her stomach as she asked him of her next request. "Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this."

"All right," Jack agreed, keeping his attention on the diamond.

She smiled at him. "Wearing only this."

He looked up, galvanized, all of his attention now on her.

. . . . .

Rose, in her stateroom, drew the butterfly comb from her hair. She shook her head and the curls fell free around her shoulders.

. . . . .

In the sitting room, Jack was laying out his drawing pencils like surgical tools. His sketchbook was open and ready. He looked up as Rose came into the room, wearing a silk kimono...with nothing underneath.

She slowly...almost tauntingly...made her way towards him.

"The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a porcelain doll. As a paying customer..." She held out a dime and tossed it to him, which he caught, smirking. "...I expect to get what I want."

She stepped back, parting the kimono. The blue stone lay on her creamy breast as she slowly lowered the robe.

Jack looked so stricken, it was almost comical.

The kimono dropped to the floor, revealing her nude body. She shivered as the air hit her skin, and little goosebumps rose up on her flesh. Something about exposing herself to him was beautiful, intimate, an experience she would likely never have again.