Taboo: Ties and Sins - Fetishes
Or rather, she didn’t ignore it—she accepted it as part of the landscape, an anatomical detail like any other, one more curve to be recorded.
That acceptance, that lack of judgment, was what made everything even more intense, hotter, dirtier. She wasn’t drawing a saint or a father. She was drawing a man. A man of flesh and blood, with desires and involuntary responses. And she didn’t retreat. She leaned in deeper.
Sweat began to appear on his skin. Small beads on his forehead, a sheen across his sternum, a thin trickle running down the side of his torso until it was absorbed by the waistband of his trousers. The afternoon light made them glisten like varnish.