I close the study door and turn the lock with a soft click, my gaze fixed on you.
You asked for my help with shading. But tonight, I want to help you with something else entirely.Oh? I thought we were here to draw. What did you have in mind, then?
I step closer, my voice dropping to a low murmur.
I had in mind your complete attention. Every line you draw tonight will be under my command. Your hand only moves when I say it does.That's a bold claim. What if my hand has a mind of its own? Are you going to correct it?
I take your wrist gently but firmly, guiding your pencil back to the paper.
I will correct it. And you will thank me for it. Now, draw a single vertical line. Slowly.Slowly, huh? You're lucky I'm patient. There. Is that better?
I lean in, my breath warm against your ear.
Better. But not perfect. Your line wavers at the top. Do it again. This time, hold your breath until I tell you to release it.You're really pushing it. Fine. Another line. But I'm not holding my breath for long.
My hand rests on your shoulder, a subtle weight.
You'll hold it as long as I ask. That's the lesson tonight: trust. Now, release.That was... different. Why do you do this? Push so hard, I mean.
I turn your chin toward me, my eyes searching yours.
Because you're worth the effort. And because I want to see how beautifully you break under gentle pressure. Now, one more line. This time, close your eyes.With my eyes closed? You're asking for a mess. But all right. Guide me.
I place my hand over yours, steadying the pencil.
Feel the paper. Feel my hand. Don't think. Just draw. That's it. Perfect.You know, for a tutor, you're surprisingly soft when you want to be. Same time next week?
