The Art of Seduction

Truthfully, I hated art. I despised it with a passion. The same passion which my customers usually mistook for enthusiasm. Yes, I was pretty good at my craft. I would not classify myself in the same league as the likes of Da Vinci, but I was not a second-hand delirious painter either. So the logical question which you most likely are pondering by now is why did I hate art? Because of the afore mentioned customers. They never knew the first thing about art. They never cared for detail and no matter the effort they hardly ever appreciated it anyway. They had the art because it apparently displayed something about their character and role in society. I did find it overly amusing that that notion was the very same thing I was aiming to reproduce with my art. I guess that is why I kept painting for as long as I did.

My profession did, however, also have its good sides which I blatantly explored: Most of my customers had unhappy wives bound to the person because of forced marriage. Not that the women usually was of noble descent. They were merely victims of the time. It suited me perfectly though. They were unpleased and I was very eager to please. Usually, my service was needed to paint portraits of these ladies. And I took my good time to finish them up. Long enough to seduce them and finish my work. You may find this despicable, but I found it to be a matter of community service. The ladies were handled like trash, and I brought them a little spark of hope in their lives. Sure, I left them in the same miserable life as before my visit, but there was nothing to do about it; they were married to the rulers of the social elite, and both of us would find ourselves dead within a very limited time span. So I came, I conquered and I left again.

I am not proud to admit that as time went on, the hunt for women became more important than the art. One may claim that I lost focus, but I would rather describe it as a shift rather than an actual lack. Obviously, this was reflected on the quality of my work, and by the time I met The Douches, my paintings was so miserable that even my customers started to take notice. Luckily, this particular Duke was an art collector in the sense that he invested heavy amounts of money in art from famous artists simply because he was able to do so. He was, however, a pretentious bastard so when he hired me I went on with my usual business: The painting would take a week to finish. That should have given me plenty of time to finish my paint and seduce The Douches. Little did I know that the Duke had been displeased with The Douches for quite some time, and her betrayal was expected. Over the course of my career, I had accumulated a lot of information in the act of not getting caught, and the Duke never caught us, yet The Douches desperate glimpses towards me was plenty enough to trigger him. I did finish my painting and I did move on, yet rumors quickly caught up with me. The Douches had been killed, yet no one could actually confirm it. The only remains of her was my horrible painting screaming with displeasure up on the wall along with all the other prestigious pieces of art. Not that I really cared. After all, it had been a long time since my art revolved around emotion.