Delta of Venus - Anais Nin [33]
‘This morning while I was painting there was a very gentle knock on the door. I went to open it and there stood a rather handsome young man, but shy, embarrassed, to whom I took an instant liking.
‘He slid into the studio, did not look around, kept his eyes fastened on me as if begging, and said, “A friend sent me. You are a painter; I want some work done. I wonder if you would … will you?”
‘His speech was tangled. He blushed. He was like a woman, I thought.
‘I said, “Come in and sit down,” thinking that would put him at ease. Then he noticed my paintings. They were abstract. He said, “But you can draw a lifelike figure, can’t you?”
‘“Of course I can.” I showed him my drawings.
‘“They are very strong,” he said, falling into a trance of admiration for one of my drawings of a muscular athlete.
‘“Did you want a portrait of yourself?”
‘“Why, yes – yes and no. I want a portrait. At the same time, it is a sort of unusual portrait I want, I don’t know if you will … consent.”
‘“Consent to what?” I asked.
‘“Well,” he blurted out finally, “would you make me this kind of a portrait?” And he held up the naked athlete.
‘He expected some reaction from me. I was so accustomed to men’s nudity at the art school that I smiled at his shyness. I did not think there was anything odd about his demand, although it was slightly different having a naked model who paid the artist for drawing him. That was all I could see, and I told him so. Meanwhile, with the right to observe that is given to painters, I studied his violet eyes, the fine, gold, downy hair on his hands, the fine hair on the tip of his ears. He had a faunish air and a feminine evasiveness which attracted me.
‘Despite his timidity, he looked healthy and rather aristocratic. His hands were soft and supple. He held himself well. I showed a certain professional enthusiasm which seemed to delight and encourage him.
‘He said, “Do you want to start right away? I have some money with me. I can bring the rest tomorrow.”
‘I pointed to a corner of the room where there was a screen hiding my clothes and the washstand. But he turned his violet eyes towards me and said innocently, “Can I undress here?”
‘Then I grew slightly uneasy, but I said yes. I busied myself getting drawing paper and charcoal together, moving a chair, and sharpening my charcoal. It seemed to me that he was abnormally slow in undressing, that he was waiting for my attention. I looked at him boldly, as if I were beginning my study of him, charcoal stick in hand.
‘He was undressing with amazing deliberateness as if it were a choice occupation, a ritual. Once he looked at me fully in the eyes and smiled, showing his fine even teeth, and his skin was so delicate it caught the light that poured in through the big window and held it like a satin fabric.
‘At this moment the charcoal in my hands felt alive, and I thought what a pleasure it would be to draw the lines of this young man, almost like caressing him. He had taken off his coat, his shirt, shoes, socks. There were only the trousers left. He held these as a stripteaser holds the folds of her dress, still looking at me. I still could not understand the gleam of pleasure that animated his face.
‘Then he leaned over, unfastened his belt, and the trousers slid down. He stood completely naked before me and in a most obvious state of sexual excitement. When I saw this, there was a moment of suspense. If I protested, I would lose my fee, which I needed so badly.
‘I tried to read his eyes. They seemed to say, “Do not be angry. Forgive me.”
‘So I tried to draw. It was a strange experience. If