THE JACKAL

DELILAH AMOUR

Friday nights at La Éclair Noir Hall were nothing like the typical nightlife.

Challenges flew thick and fast amongst the eclectic artistic crowd. No simple games of chance played here—no bets were made on cards or pool.

At La Éclair Noir, money changed hands over Victor Hugo quote-offs, art sketching contests, business cards, and the fastest completion of Le Figaro magazine’s crossword.

We ran private home services—for trusted long-running clients, of course. And tonight, Armani signed me up for a private service.

I’d only heard things about him before. The Jackal.

He was sly. Cunning. Charming. And most importantly, they say he was drop-dead handsome.

Silver was an amazing artist. Exotic even.

He’d sold out two showings at the prestigious Louvre Gallery and was rumored to be about to stage a third.

He’d requested me for a private artistic session in his house tonight. I had no objection to being an artist’s model. With my mix of French and Korean genes, my exotic looks had attracted many an artistic eye.

Now here I was, walking through the immaculate Japanese garden up to the front door of Silver the Jackal’s brownstone house.

His butler opened the door and welcomed me into his home and his studio.

The studio was like the rest of the house—high ceilings and white walls. It was a large room divided in two by painted Japanese screens. One side housed Silver’s easel and his paints; the other, large box lights and a multitude of photographic equipment.

I turned when I heard a slight clearing of a throat behind me—and I came face-to-face with one of the most handsome men ever.

“I’m supposed to paint you,” he said with a sultry grin, his hands locked behind him.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

He walked into the studio with an air of pride.

“Can I photograph you after? I like to keep souvenirs from my work.”

I nodded, slightly nervous. “As long as you don’t include my face, of course.”

He gave me a quick nod and walked around the studio like a predator studying its prey. I felt his eyes on me. “You will back the day of my art show. I’d hoped to show photographs of you, but I’d be just as happy to display your body on the night of my unveiling.”

I gasped in surprise. “Display me?”

“Yes. Naked and painted.”

I was at a loss for words, looking for something to say, but he beat me to it and walked up to me, standing directly in my face. “I like the idea, my love. Imagine you on a pedestal. You could be my centerpiece.”

I felt a flush of hot and cold fear rush across my skin from head to toe, still at a loss for words.

Silver leaned forward and inhaled sharply. “You smell of fruit, ma puissance… and good enough to eat.”

“Oh,” I let out softly.

He kept staring at me with that smile. “You wear that perfume like you want someone to lean in and misbehave.”

His look was filled with curiosity and admiration. “I see why you’re here tonight. You are a sensuous sort of woman, aren’t you?”

“How astute of you to guess.” I couldn’t withhold my smile this time.

Silver chuckled. “I’m never wrong,” he said before straightening and walking away.

“I’m not sure how I feel about being on display yet, but I’ll be painted now and you can photograph me,” I said to his retreating figure. He stood at a chair and turned to face me.

He seemed to think about it for a second before he shrugged and started to unbutton his shirt. “I don’t know.”

When he took off his shirt and flung it aside, my mouth watered and I felt my s*x warm up instantly.

“I really like the idea of showing you on the night instead,” he continued, but I shook my head. I wanted him already.

“No. Now. Please, now. Whatever you want. I’ll agree to whatever you want. Just for tonight.”

Silver broke into a smile and walked toward me, shirtless, stalking like a predator. I could move no further back without toppling over the screens.

Pressed against the paper screen, I shuddered as Silver trailed a finger up my bare arm and across the collarbone showing through the thin straps of my gown. “Whatever I want. Is that right?” He pulled it down.

“Yes. Whatever you want.”

“Strip down for me.” He was commanding.

When he tugged the other strap of the gown down, I shimmied out of it until it fell and pooled at my feet.

Goose pimples shot across my skin and I fought the urge to cover my breasts. I was no nudity novice; I’d done this before.

I wouldn’t cover myself like some naïve girl.

“Panties down,” Silver ordered, and I went completely naked in front of him.

“Come into the light.” Silver stood in the center of the room and beckoned me forward with a curl of his fingers. Heart pounding, I moved slowly to the middle of the photographic area.

“It’ll have to come off,” Silver said, staring at my c*nt.

“What?”

“Your s*x hair.”

“Off? Take… it off?” I stuttered.

“I recall you just saying, dear, that you’d do anything,” Silver said.

“But…”

“Anything,” Silver repeated, his voice dipping lower.

I swallowed hard as he went down on his knees, his face close to my pubic mound, not waiting for me to figure out what I wanted.

I squeezed my legs tight, clamping my thighs shut.

“I have to shave it. I need it bare to paint it, darling,” Silver said as he stroked his fingers through the sparse hair.

As a product of my French-Korean heritage, my pubic hair was fine and thin. I’d never before thought of even trimming it, let alone shaving it bare.

I licked my dry lips. “Can I watch you do it?”

Silver chuckled slowly. “Certainly, my love.”

It felt like I was in a weird art film. How else could I have ended up naked in a concrete modern-art shower room waiting to be shaved?

Silver’s hands pressed down, cool on my thighs. “Come forward for me, darling.”

I shifted forward and spread my legs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced for intimate contact.

I felt the puff of Silver’s breath on my inner thighs as he laughed. “Calm down, darling. It’s not going to be that bad. Who knows… you may even like it.”

I opened my eyes and looked down at Silver. He was on his haunches, nestled between my legs; his face close to the apex of my spread thighs. His mouth tilted in a slight smile and even white teeth were biting his bottom lip—he was enjoying himself.

Enjoying my stilted reaction to his touch. I forced myself to relax, letting my shoulders drop and my back slump into the floor. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—show smirking Silver my apprehension.

“Good, honey, relax,” Silver said, coming up on his knees to spread my thighs open wider—so wide cool air hit the lips of my p*ssy.