Artist

**Author's Note: This story was revised and re-released 9/3/2022 due to a need to update the timeline for continuity with another group of stories that I am working on in this universe. This one needs to happen after those. Sorry for any confusion.

~~New Orleans, April 2070~~

Paint streaked her knuckles as she focused on the canvas, broad sweeping strokes elegant in their simplicity. Finally, she stepped back and tilted her head, "Huh, that's a new one." She shook herself out of her creative trance and snapped a picture of it to add to her portfolio. Turning, she walked to her now cold lunch and devoured it before contemplating her next project. It was at this point her phone chirped merrily. "Johnson," she answered the phone, her fingers already itching for the brush again.

"I hope I haven't called at a bad time," the firm masculine voice answered. "My name is James Tiberius. I was given this contact by Michael Moorwind's executive assistant."

"Oh, sure, I know her, she's good people, what can I do you for?" She responded, dipping the brush in the paint and streaking the next canvas, his voice made her think of chocolate for some reason, the dark, mellow stuff that you use just a pinch of.

"I need paintings, lots... and lots of paintings. I've been told you're the best and I need a group of resorts finished out that are being converted to... a more exclusive clientele. I would like to fly you out to our corporate office and discuss the particulars with you." He continued smoothly, "My slave and I would be delighted to host you while you are here."

"Peachy Keen," she murmured abstractedly, her mind already adding strokes, ripples of color. "I'll just need the particulars emailed to me, and after I confirm you are who you say you are I can fly your way."

"Why would you... Never mind, I completely understand and condone your precautions. Please, feel free to check me out." He smiled bemusedly, "I have your email and will send you the information, expect it shortly my dear." She made a noise of affirmation, already lost to the call of the paints, and hung up.

Across the country, James chuckled to himself as he sent off the email. He rose and strode to his boss's office, knocking briefly before peeking in. "I've got an artist coming in next week to start discussions with. Do you want to meet with them or just let me handle it, Kody?"

He waved his hand absently, "Take care of the particulars, I'll look at it when they've got some proof of concept art." He had not looked up from the report he was looking at. Absently typing some notes for the sender, he returned it via email before finally looking up at James. "Who is it, anyway?"

"Rieka Johnson," James replied, "She did those paintings for Moorwind Industries last year."

Kody's eyes widened slightly as he remembered. "Those were really good. Good choice. I look forward to seeing what you two come up with."

It would be several days later when Rieka disembarked the plane, her sketchbook in hand. She headed for the exit, her eyes absently scanning the area before she strode over to the man holding a sign, 'R. Johnson.' "'sup? I'm Johnson." She stared up at him, "Who're you?"

"James Tiberius," he responded with a bemused smile. "This is my husband Lilan Tiberius."

"Pleasure to meet you both," she tilted her head, her eyes glazed for a moment and her fingers twitched before she started sketching the two of them. They weren't standing in front of her, however, but locked in a slightly more intimate moment. Lilan was laying his head on James's shoulder while James was looking down at him with a smile. "So, I've got a suitcase, but figure if you're wanting spanky stuff at the resort, we should probably buy it there." She turned to start walking towards the luggage area. "Canvas doesn't ship well by plane unless it's a cargo. The bigger the print, the harder to ship. Master Michael had me paint on-site, you're going to want to do the same."

"That can be arranged," James murmured with a bemused smile as the pair walked with her. Lilan had a much more muted smile on his face, but even he could not hide his amusement. She was such an artist that the stereotypical absent-mindedness was like a glaring neon sign.

She paused, pulled the paper off the sketchbook, and handed it to Lilan before continuing to walk, "So, I like food, no allergies, except to stupid people," she trailed off, her head tilted. Then when a massive silver suitcase clanked its way down the conveyor she reached out and pulled it off before turning to face them. "I'd like to go to a museum at some point as well, I've never been to this side of the country and you guys have that kicking World War Two museum. Other than that, I have nothing but time. Of course, if you have someone around me they might get annoyed. I have food alarms otherwise I'd forget to eat."

"Of course. If you've never been to New Orleans, we don't dare let you leave without seducing you with good food, good drink, and good jazz," James smiled. "And yes, the National World War Two museum is a phenomenal visit. Not to be missed."

They headed outside and she froze, "Sardines on a cracker, bright, too bright..." she flinched back from the sun with a hiss. Then pulled a pair of nearly opaque black glasses from her purse to put on, "Evil day star, it burns us precious...," she hissed again. Then shook her head, "Sorry, wasn't expecting the blast of heat death, I'm ready now." She grinned at them.

James nodded sympathetically. "It's the humidity that makes it worse. It can be sweltering if you are not used to it. Let's get you to the car and back inside some air conditioning." He led her to the Cadillac SUV that he drove and Lilan opened the passenger door for her before walking around and doing so for the driver's door for him before loading her luggage in the back and getting in the rear seat.

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling at Lilan, then looked at James, "So, do you have ideas as to what look you're going for or are we going to be social first, then talk business tomorrow?"

"I figured we'd be social first and talk business tomorrow. Jet lag is a real thing. Besides, my slave here cooks an excellent prime rib and I have the most delightful red to go with it...," James smiled.

"Sounds wonderful," she giggled, "Maybe I can borrow your slave and swap recipes. It's been a long time since I've had a good prime rib." She beamed at Lilan again, "Would you prefer for me to call you Master James or Mister Tiberius?" She tilted her head, "I'm peachy keen either way."

"Which are you more comfortable with, my dear? I am fine with either, but I find that it usually depends on the other person's...," he paused, searching for the proper way to phrase things, "level of involvement in the lifestyle we lead as to which they are more comfortable using."

"I've been in the lifestyle for six years now since I got a card for my eighteenth birthday. I'm a slave looking for a forever Master but most of the ones I met can't handle my muchness." She shrugged, "Plus I don't need a Daddy or someone to micromanage me, that shit's annoying. So, Master James it is."

He smiled, "Wonderful. I prefer that as well. Everyone knows where everyone else stands." He jerked his head toward the back seat, and continued, "So, as I was saying, my slave Lilan here is an excellent cook and I'm sure he would be only too happy to trade cooking talk with a fellow slave. Lilan, you may speak freely with Miss Johnson here, but remember your manners. She is still a guest in our house."

"Yes, Master. Of course, Master." He looked at Rieka with a shy smile, partly because of his excitement to talk cooking and partly because of the praise of such from his Master. "Do you have the opportunity to do much cooking around your painting, Miss Johnson?" he asked softly, though his tone was warm and friendly.

"I try to keep my hand in but it gets lonely cooking for one," Rieka responded. "Would it be alright if we simply called each other by our first names, Master James? I would feel more comfortable and would like to make a friend."

"I see no issue with it. Lilan, you may address Miss Johnson as Rieka, familiarly," he said.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you... Rieka," he said with another small smile.

"Thank you, Master James, and you're welcome Lilan," she beamed at them again. "I like making friends. It makes work much more enjoyable when I have friends around me." She beamed back at Lilan and started talking about the last time she cooked she ended up feeding her entire neighborhood due to stress baking.

The drive back to James' home was pleasant and he pulled into an older home, built from red bricks that looked to have had much of the exterior lovingly restored. White columns lined the porch outside and several pieces of wicker furniture were arrayed there for people to sit in. The yard was immaculate, filled with trees, and the house was lined along most of the side with flowers that set off the brick beautifully. They led her inside and she smiled as their taste for interior decorating was as impeccable as the one for the exterior. Everything was aged wood, polished with love, and well-used. The art was understated but beautiful and the furniture, while matching, emphasized human comfort over the visual aesthetic of manufactured sets.

"Oh I can already tell working with you two is going to be awesome," she babbled happily, inspecting the paintings and then beaming at the two men. "This is fantastic, it feels very homey, you've done a wonderful job."

James smiled, "It's supposed to feel homey. It's... home. If I'm going to live here the bulk of the rest of our lives, it should be both pleasing and comfortable. Sacrificing one or the other is foolish..."

"Yes, Master James it would be," her nose crinkled, "However I've been in houses that were stone cold and I was afraid of touching anything in case I break it. Some people have more money than sense, but I don't complain, they give me a shiny shilling for my painting."

"Well, I am a firm believer that life is to be lived as well as one may," James said, somewhat with an air of self-importance, but mostly with one of self-satisfaction at having found such wisdom early enough to enjoy it. "But come, sit, take your rest. Lilan, go and get her things and take them to the guest room. You can start dinner after." He turned to look at Rieka, "Can I get you some water or lemonade perhaps?"

"Water would be fine," she murmured, wrapping her hands together. "Thank you, Master James. I would like to help with dinner if that's alright, I don't like not having things to do." Her nose crinkled, "My brain gets frantic if I'm not busy."

He inclined his head. "I understand completely, Rieka. I'm certain that Lilan would be happy and grateful for the help. I will attend to some other business while you do. But let us get you some water first. Ice? Or Chilled?"

"Just chilled, please," she murmured, her hands twisting again, reaching for and stroking over her pencils in an almost soothing rhythmic gesture. "Thank you, Master James."

"Of course, Rieka. Of course," he said. He got her a glass of water as Lilan walked back in with her luggage and took it up to the guest room, before coming back down.

"Lilan, Rieka here has requested to help you with the cooking. I have agreed. Enjoy your time together," James smiled at him before kissing his forehead and wandering off to other parts of the house, presumably his office.

Rieka bounded to her feet and walked with Lilan to the kitchen and the two started chattering away at each other while making dinner. Lilan took care of the prime rib while Rieka chopped and sliced, then set the table. Rieka enjoyed Lilan's soothing nature, a far cry from the giggly slaves she was used to. After a bit, she mused, "I wonder if there are houses for sale down here. It's hot and muggy but you're wonderful to be around. More fun than most of the other slaves I've met at munches." Her nose crinkled slightly, "Bedrooms," her tone was slightly disgusted but also sad.

Lilan gave her a sympathetic look. "I understand completely. It was similar for me until, quite by accident, I found my Master. Male slaves are... well... not in very high demand. At least, not by those who take the lifestyle as... a lifestyle and not a dalliance."

She nodded, then patted his arm in understanding, "I'm glad you found him," she smiled at him. "I'm just glad to be here and have someone to talk to. Honestly, when he first mentioned him and his slave hosting I was afraid I'd have to be polite to a bottle-blond who thinks it's a game. I'm glad I was wrong." She continued explaining about how the last time she was offered to host it was to a couple that actually wanted to be a throuple and thought she'd be interested. Her nose crinkled in disgust, "I'm far too possessive for poly."

He gasped and patted her arm, "Same. Though, I could perhaps dye my hair if you think it would help..." He reached up and flicked his hair back from his forehead and eyes. "What do you think? Should I ask Master to let me go blonde for you, my dear friend?" His eyes twinkled with mirth. "I would not deprive you of your expectations...," he teased.

"No!" Her nose crinkled, "No blond, that wouldn't suit you at all, however a nice burgundy." She pondered, stroking her chin, then reached up to stroke a lock of his long hair, "Perhaps with a few lighter streaks, that would be hot. I bet your Master couldn't keep his hands off you." She winked at him playfully.

"Now you have me intrigued, my friend. I am tempted to ask...," he mused.

She grinned, pulled out her tablet, and started sketching, then painting. Several minutes slipped past as she focused on what she was doing, then when she finished she spun it around. It was him, with the hair just as she had described, but she had added a few waves to it. "Tada."

"Damn, girl. I look Gooooood," he said appreciatively. "Do you think you...," he hesitantly reached to touch it, "could show this to him?" His voice was shy now, almost bashful.

"I would love to, perhaps at dinner?" She beamed up at him, "And if he says no, then he says no, but you'll still have this picture, OK?" She impulsively hugged Lilan, "He loves you, and he's very proud of you. You can hear it in his voice."

He hugged her back and sighed in contentment. "My... head knows that. Sometimes my heart forgets. Doubt is kind of an insidious thing, no?"

"Indeed," she murmured in response. "So, you listen to your Master when he tells you that you are wonderful, no?" She grinned as James walked in silently, "After all, Master James wouldn't keep you if he didn't love you."

"I know. I just... I love him so much and I don't ever want him to regret choosing me...," he trailed off, his eyes closed as he hugged her. Releasing her he turned to go back to the steaks and as he opened his eyes, he saw James. Blushing a deep red, he stammered, "M-Master..."

James walked over and slid his arms around Lilan and kissed him passionately. "I love you too, my slave. I always will," he murmured when their lips parted. Playfully, he swatted at Lilan's ass with a firm smack. "Now, go finish dinner for us. I'm hungry."

"Yes, Master. Of course, Master." He raced over to the stove and murmured as he started working, a smile once again on his face, "I love you too, Master." James looked at Rieka and winked before wandering over to the wine rack and pulling out a bottle. It looked old, but she could not read the label as he held it. Pulling out a corkscrew he opened it and set it out to breathe. She noticed the date: 1945.

Rieka smiled then moved to James, "So, we were talking hair," she showed him the tablet, "What do you think, Master James?"

His eyes rested on the tablet then widened. "Oh my...," he murmured, cocking his head to the side as he thought. Glancing up to look over at Lilan, then back to the tablet several times before looking at Rieka and nodding, pointing at her and mouthing 'You?'

She shrugged and nodded, "Yes, Master James." She tapped on the tablet, "Most of a day to do it properly."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit chip. Tapping on his phone for a moment he touched it to the device, then handed it to her. "If that's not enough, tell me and I will give you more," he said softly.

"Happy to help," she beamed up at him. "Do you want to tell him?" She mouthed after a moment.

He smiled and nodded. "Lilan?" he called. "I understand that you and your new friend Rieka have been plotting behind my back to change things about you...," his voice was firm, but his eyes were playful as he struggled mightily to contain his smile.

"NO MASTER! I mean... well... yes, Master. I mean... sort of... We were just...," he scrambled to explain, turning and looking at them with an expression of horror on his face at his Master's disapproving tone.

It promptly changed. "I approve. I think such a change would bring your inner beauty out even more if it is possible. I have given permission to Rieka to assist you at her convenience." He turned to face his slave squarely and smiled a big smile. "I love you, Lilan." He paused for a moment, then added, "but I agree with her. You're going to look smokin' in that color...,"

It was all Rieka could do not to giggle as Lilan's blush covered his face and even his neck in red. "T-Thank you, Master," he breathed, his eyes glistening.

The rest of the evening passed in pleasure and joy, the food was divine and Rieka was effusive in her praise for the work Lilan had done. She made plans to help Lilan with his hair next Saturday, then as her tiredness set in she begged off to go sleep. She passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, and judging by the ginger way Lilan was walking, along with his beaming smile, she was very, very grateful for that the next morning.

She rode with James into work as he talked about what type of paintings they were considering. She had her kit beside her and then he led her to the first conference room with bare walls. "Are you wanting a painting or a mural?" She asked curiously as she started measuring. "Murals have started being all the rage in Seattle."

"Honestly, I was mostly planning on trusting your judgment. I figured we'd take you out to the first resort so that you could get a feel for the... layout... the aesthetic... the feng shui... and then you'd take it from there." He paused, then added, "But for my money, I've always kind of liked those pieces where the picture is broken into three or five and the shape is at least partially part of the aesthetic of the art itself. I haven't found one that I liked well enough to go in my home, yet, but... The idea always intrigued me."

"Ooo," she paused, her eyes glazed and she whipped around her tablet. She perched on the conference table and started sketching. As he watched she didn't even seem to be looking at what her hands were doing, only lost in a vision in her mind. "When did you want to go to the resort or do you want me to start here, Master James?"

If you're ready, I can take you there now," he observed. "Mr. Harrison has requested that these resorts be opened to the public as soon as possible. The artwork is the longest lead time item left on the schedule, but I wanted to make sure we had someone who would understand the... unique tone we are trying to set."

"Ten more minutes," she murmured, her voice soft and almost hazy, "Or we can go to the car now, will just need help not to bump into things, Master James."

"Ten minutes is fine. I'll just sit over here and let you work...," he murmured with a queer kind of a smile as he took a chair off to the side and watched her in fascination.

She continued working, then blinked as she came out of the artist haze at the ten-minute mark. She blushed at his gaze, "Sorry, when an idea hits...," she shrugged and trailed off. She beamed at him then spun it around to show him. "Tada!" It was a picture of Lilan, with the hair she was going to give him, only it was in four sections, the upper right had his face turned slightly, the upper left had one hand fisted in what looked to be a sheet, lower left and lower right were of his bare back, once more on a sheet with faint red marks down his back as if he had been flogged. What caught James's attention most was Lilan's face though, the pleasure and love she had captured.