Sharing His Muse with the World (with Words and Conviction)

“More wine, signori?” Marianna Valentino asked, holding up the bottle of fine red wine. She bent over him ever so slightly, as she poured the deep burgundy liquid into his glass, affording him an all too brief view of her ample cleavage. She could feel Count Foretti's drinking in her body, rather than his wine, but that was fine. Intoxication was the couple's goal, but whether it was brought on by the wine or by her beauty, she did not care. She poured herself a glass, as well as a third for her husband, who was out of the room at the moment. “Tell me Count, how did you enjoy Florence?” She asked, running her fingers down from his shoulder to his elbow.

Before she met Marcus, Marianna had trained to be a courtesan. music, classic literature, etiquette, all the popular topics of conversation, and, most importantly, seduction. Had she not decided to pursue love instead of profit, she would have most likely become a famous and favored courtesan. Regardless, her skills made her perfectly suited for the task of convincing The Count to patron Marcus' art. Evening now, as her soft turquoise eyes followed him, as he spoke of his rather uneventful trip, her expression betrayed nothing but utter captivation. Even though his eyes rarely met hers, preferring to fix his gaze upon her body. She didn't dare make a fuss about it, she knew all too well how dire the couple's financial situation was, and if the Count would not support them, it would be months before they could attempt to impress another nobleman.

Marcus arrived, wheeling in a large marble statue covered by a paint splattered sheet. Under the canvas was Marcus' latest work, a piece she herself had not yet seen. She had no doubt that it was absolutely stunning, as all his work was. It was what originally attracted her to Marcus, as he told her that she was his muse, and that if he could not have her hand in marriage, he would never create a meaningful piece of art in his life. She certainly couldn't deny the world his works now, could she? While their marriage was extremely happy, money was always an issue.

Marianna and Count Foretti turned their attention to the unveiling, Marcus was beaming as he carefully pulled the sheet off. Marianna let out an impressed gasp as the statue came into sight, a completely nude figure of a woman. Long curly hair framed her face, falling just below her shoulders. Her arms were down at her sides, holding a sash that rested on her hips, and was the only scrap of clothing present on the figure. Her teardrop breasts were much fuller than most marbled statues of women. The nipples were perky and incredibly detailed, drawing ones eyes to them. Just below a slender waist narrowed and widened once more as it formed into round hips, ideal for childbearing. Nothing covered the public mound, as the vulva was intricately sculpted. Soft, thick thighs formed from there, growing leaner as the legs grew longer.

It was easily Marcus' greatest work yet, but that was not what inspired her gasp. She recognized every line on this statue, because she had seen them before. Often, every single day when she looked in the mirror, and in Marcus' eyes when they made love. He had sculpted her, down to the smallest detail. She looked over at Count Foretti, and she could tell that he recognized her in the statue, at least the parts of her he had seen so far. A deep crimson blush covered her face as she felt as though she had been stripped before the man who had already been leering at her all evening.

Marcus De'Jaroc -- He had two great loves in his life and that was summed up as easily as his art and the muse that inspired it. A man of mixed descent with both French and Italian roots he'd been somewhat shunned by the fiercely loyal artisans as they wanted nothing more then to support local talent. That in itself was crippling to Marcus who'd spent the better part of his childhood in Italy. He knew that Count Foretti's support could potentially break him and although he dreaded the idea he knew that abandoning his passion may be necessary to support his love and muse Marianna as she deserved better then what he'd thus far been able to provide. No one could deny his unmistakable talent and that his precise hands crafted a work of art both behind closed doors and in the public view. Hazel eyes twinkled with pride as he watched the reactions of both Count Forreti and Marianna as they drank in the image of the flawless beauty sculpted into permanence.

Marcus was no warrior but visibly athletic even behind the loosely fit cotton shirt that clung to his torso, the collar had been frilled and it was clearly a more formal wear that Marianna had insisted he wear rather then his artist's smock when the Count was present. Medium length chocolate hair spilled loosely around his face and although he was a few years senior to Marianna he looked much like a child in that moment with his enthusiasm and his expression lit aflame with his passion. "I spared no detail, if you'll come around to the other side.." Marcus gestured with a sweep of his arm and although the Count was entranced by what he saw he had enough sense to follow Marcus' direction.

The Count came around to the opposite side and it was his turn to relinquish a soft gasp of excitement, breath drawn in sharply as his vision saw even more of those delicate curls spilling down the woman's back. The intricacies evident as he saw some minor flare of her vertebrae in certain spots of her back and it spilled down to a full heart-shaped rear end that was near flawless. It's abundance causing a slight wrinkle of the flesh where the cheeks met the thighs and the sight of her delicate folds of womanhood peeking just below her ass as the sculpture had been made to scale and anatomically correct. "She looks as beautiful from behind as she does from the front, wouldn't you agree Count?" Marcus inquired.

Little did Marcus know but perhaps Marianna could sense it the thoughts of perversion that ran through the Count's thoughts like purified sin. Yes, indeed the back of the sculpture was equally impressive but it just made the Count silently wish he could reach out and pry apart the supple cheeks before him as he gazed over the statue's ass. Marcus gaze drifted to his beautiful wife and his pride swelled further, she could probably sense his desperation though as he looked back towards the Count. A silent gesture for her to reinforce her husband's message.

Sensing the desperation in her husband’s eyes, Marianna drank down the glass of wine. Taking a deep breath, she made her way over to the Count, sliding up to his side and placing an arm on his shoulder.

“What do you think, signori? Wouldn’t it look just lovely in your home?” she asked, standing on her tip toes to reach his ear, and whispering, “Maybe in your private office?” She could feel the shudder radiating from his body, as he imagines stroking himself to the immaculate work.

“Tell me, Marcus, Is there anything greater than a fine wine and a beautiful woman to get the blood pumping?” The older man asked, laughing hardily. He ran his hands all over the statue, as though he could get a feel for Marianna’s body by touching the cold marble. Her face grew warm she watched his hands slid down the waist and hips, moving towards the rounded ass.

“This is such an exquisite piece, Marcus. I think it would serve as a lovely memory of a delightful evening with you and your wife. Of course, the night is young, and memories can yet be made.” He suggested, turning his gaze to Marianna.