"Tristan, what is this?" I asked as I turned to take hold of his of his hand and looked around in the darkness.
"Wait."
He spun me around to face the other wall, and I watched as lights began to illuminate the room. Unlike all the other rooms in the house, this one had very few furnishings and little decoration. It was painted white and had a single couch and table. Otherwise, the room was bare.
I reached my hand out to touch the wall and felt cool, smooth glass against my skin. "Are these windows?"
"Yes. I have something I want you to see," he said in a low voice in my ear.
My excitement grew with each second that passed until I saw two people enter the room, one woman and one man. Both were attractive and young, and they acted as if they were a couple.
Confused, I turned toward Tristan. "What's going on?"
"I want you to paint them."
Looking around, I saw an easel, canvas, and paint pots at the far end of the narrow room. "I don't paint portraits. I simply paint what I feel."
He caught my face in his hands. "Exactly. I want you to paint what watching them do makes you feel, Nina."
"What do you mean? Can they see us, Tristan?"
For the first time, a tiny grin formed on his lips. Shaking his head, he answered, "No, but it wouldn't matter. All I care about is what you paint."
Just in case somewhere in the back of my mind I doubted what was going to happen next, the man and woman showed me I was right in my suspicions. As I watched, they began to undress, the man slowly easing the woman's dress off her body to show her wearing nothing underneath.
"Tristan, who are these people? Why are they here?"
"They're here because they like to have people watch. We're here to watch them, and you're here to paint what it makes you feel to watch them fuck."
I wasn't sure if I was embarrassed or excited by his words. It didn't matter, though, because in seconds they were both naked and the show he'd brought home for me had begun.
I stood transfixed at the sight in front of me. The woman knelt down in front of the man and took his cock in her hands, running her tongue the full length of it. The expression on her face was one of pure joy, as if licking his cock gave her a kind of happiness that was only found in the way she made him feel.
Tristan stood next to me and whispered, "Watch her. She loves sucking cock."
His comment instantly made me wonder if he'd been with her. "How do you know?"
As he watched the woman take the man's cock deeper into her mouth, he said, "They love having people watch them. I've seen it at parties."
I liked to think I'd seen a lot, but never had I seen people perform sex at parties. That usually happened behind closed doors at the parties I attended. Jordan was right. Wealthy people were different.
His hand touched mine and I was torn from my thoughts on wealthy people and their wild parties. "You thought I'd been with her, didn't you?"
I looked at the woman sucking her boyfriend's cock and then looked at Tristan. "Yes. Since I know nothing about you before I met you, I did."
He lifted my hand to his mouth and softly kissed my palm. Looking up at me, he smiled. "She's not my type."
"Why? Because she's blonde?"
"No, because she likes to fuck in front of people so she can get off. I tend to like my women a little less attention whore."
I couldn't tell if his tone was sharp because I'd asked if he'd been with her or because he had no respect for her. Either way, I felt better knowing at least he hadn't slept with her.
Tristan pulled a chair out from the corner of the room and sat down, motioning for me to join him. "Come sit on my lap, Nina. I want you to tell me how this makes you feel."
I sat down on his lap and noticed that he wasn't aroused. He pulled my face toward his and kissed me hard, sending a rush of excitement through my body.
"Don't you like watching them?" I asked as I ran my palm over the front of his pants.
His tongue slid over his lip, and he grinned. "It does nothing for me."
"Me neither," I lied. In truth, he did it for me. I couldn't have cared less if the people doing their sex act disappeared and never came back.
Sliding his hand slowly up my leg, he gently stroked the tender skin of my inner thigh. "Nina, watch them. I want you to show me in your painting what it makes you feel."