Another Table for Will? And its supposed to look like what??
Birch gave a sigh as he let his head drop over his sketchbook for the hundredth time. âI canât believe he wants, a slave table?? How am I supposed to come up with this?â Another sigh escaped his lips, âOk, basics then. Pose: sitting on ankles, palms upwards to hold the glass, chin up to show servitude? No, chin down to show submission. No, chin up, pleading expression. No, chin down, soft smile of content. No, chin up, no wait.â With a burst of frustration Birch lifted his weight from the wooden stool, âAaah, what am I supposed to do with this design? I donât have a reference point.âÂ
Birch gave up temporarily as he paced across his work space, letting the blood flow back into his stiff joints. He didnât stay away from his project for long though.Â
He spun a pencil in between his fingers for a few moments before putting it back to the page, âCâmon, just the body then.â
Birch started running the images from his mind down to the paper. âAverage height should work, itâll give the table a nice height, maybe a bit taller for convenience. A toned body, since a sub of Willâs would be very active. Letâs give her a bit more at the hips, itâll add to the base of the table and give her a bit more of a womanly figure. Letâs keep her figure slim, to keep the elegant flow of the room, smaller breasts as well. Hm, maybe not this small, letâs give her something for Will to look at.âÂ
He paused a moment and admired his new sketch, âNow this is perfect! Just to decide on a face. Hmmm.â Birch tapped the end of the pencil against the parchment before giving one last sigh, âIâll just draw both and see what he likes more.â The craftsman sketched out a heart-shaped face, framed by shoulder-length black hair. Itâll play off of the darker-undertones in his home, but sheâll need something thatâll pop too. âEyes! What color, something striking! Oh! Blue, that goes perfectly with black hair.âÂ
At the end he smiled down at the paper, beaming at his designs. Then something clicked, what did this remind him of? Wait. Not what, who.
There were several moments of silence as his brain put all the pieces together.
The blood rushed to his face along with a scorching heat, Birch covered his mouth first then buried his face into his palms. He couldnât believe himself. The large man sprung off his seat again, this time out of ever-growing embarrassment.Â
He sketched HER like this. Of course the woman who came to mind when he thought of beauty personified was her, but she would never be like that; a chain around her neck, a servant to someone. Sheâs so independent, strong, and confident!
He admired so much about her and he never pictured her like this before. He always thought about her smile, or about her laughter, or the way her cheeks tinted pink when he complimented her when he pictured her. Never nude like this.
Birch looked up from his callused hands, eyeing the pages on his desk a moment before hiding away again, still pacing frantically around the room. âIts ok, you just like the way she looks in general so you just think that looks like her. It doesnât actually look like her.â His head bounced in a nod as he wandered back over the book, forcing his hands away to look at the book. âSee, nothing like,â Birchâs once deep and booming voice trailed off softly, âfuck.â He closed the book and tossed it in the pile of other sketch books. âI canât believe myself.â He shook his head side to side to clear the images in his mind as he moved to work on a different piece for Willâs collection.Â
The redness and fire in his cheeks remained for several hours till he broke off from work to go out to town for dinner.
