**Author's Note: This story was revised and re-released 9/3/2022 due to a need to update the timeline for continuity with another group of stories that I am working on in this universe. This one needs to happen after those. Sorry for any confusion.
~~New Orleans, April 2070~~
Paint streaked her knuckles as she focused on the canvas, broad sweeping strokes elegant in their simplicity. Finally, she stepped back and tilted her head, "Huh, that's a new one." She shook herself out of her creative trance and snapped a picture of it to add to her portfolio. Turning, she walked to her now cold lunch and devoured it before contemplating her next project. It was at this point her phone chirped merrily. "Johnson," she answered the phone, her fingers already itching for the brush again.
"I hope I haven't called at a bad time," the firm masculine voice answered. "My name is James Tiberius. I was given this contact by Michael Moorwind's executive assistant."
"Oh, sure, I know her, she's good people, what can I do you for?" She responded, dipping the brush in the paint and streaking the next canvas, his voice made her think of chocolate for some reason, the dark, mellow stuff that you use just a pinch of.
"I need paintings, lots... and lots of paintings. I've been told you're the best and I need a group of resorts finished out that are being converted to... a more exclusive clientele. I would like to fly you out to our corporate office and discuss the particulars with you." He continued smoothly, "My slave and I would be delighted to host you while you are here."
"Peachy Keen," she murmured abstractedly, her mind already adding strokes, ripples of color. "I'll just need the particulars emailed to me, and after I confirm you are who you say you are I can fly your way."
"Why would you... Never mind, I completely understand and condone your precautions. Please, feel free to check me out." He smiled bemusedly, "I have your email and will send you the information, expect it shortly my dear." She made a noise of affirmation, already lost to the call of the paints, and hung up.
Across the country, James chuckled to himself as he sent off the email. He rose and strode to his boss's office, knocking briefly before peeking in. "I've got an artist coming in next week to start discussions with. Do you want to meet with them or just let me handle it, Kody?"
He waved his hand absently, "Take care of the particulars, I'll look at it when they've got some proof of concept art." He had not looked up from the report he was looking at. Absently typing some notes for the sender, he returned it via email before finally looking up at James. "Who is it, anyway?"
"Rieka Johnson," James replied, "She did those paintings for Moorwind Industries last year."
Kody's eyes widened slightly as he remembered. "Those were really good. Good choice. I look forward to seeing what you two come up with."
It would be several days later when Rieka disembarked the plane, her sketchbook in hand. She headed for the exit, her eyes absently scanning the area before she strode over to the man holding a sign, 'R. Johnson.' "'sup? I'm Johnson." She stared up at him, "Who're you?"
"James Tiberius," he responded with a bemused smile. "This is my husband Lilan Tiberius."
"Pleasure to meet you both," she tilted her head, her eyes glazed for a moment and her fingers twitched before she started sketching the two of them. They weren't standing in front of her, however, but locked in a slightly more intimate moment. Lilan was laying his head on James's shoulder while James was looking down at him with a smile. "So, I've got a suitcase, but figure if you're wanting spanky stuff at the resort, we should probably buy it there." She turned to start walking towards the luggage area. "Canvas doesn't ship well by plane unless it's a cargo. The bigger the print, the harder to ship. Master Michael had me paint on-site, you're going to want to do the same."
"That can be arranged," James murmured with a bemused smile as the pair walked with her. Lilan had a much more muted smile on his face, but even he could not hide his amusement. She was such an artist that the stereotypical absent-mindedness was like a glaring neon sign.
She paused, pulled the paper off the sketchbook, and handed it to Lilan before continuing to walk, "So, I like food, no allergies, except to stupid people," she trailed off, her head tilted. Then when a massive silver suitcase clanked its way down the conveyor she reached out and pulled it off before turning to face them. "I'd like to go to a museum at some point as well, I've never been to this side of the country and you guys have that kicking World War Two museum. Other than that, I have nothing but time. Of course, if you have someone around me they might get annoyed. I have food alarms otherwise I'd forget to eat."
"Of course. If you've never been to New Orleans, we don't dare let you leave without seducing you with good food, good drink, and good jazz," James smiled. "And yes, the National World War Two museum is a phenomenal visit. Not to be missed."
They headed outside and she froze, "Sardines on a cracker, bright, too bright..." she flinched back from the sun with a hiss. Then pulled a pair of nearly opaque black glasses from her purse to put on, "Evil day star, it burns us precious...," she hissed again. Then shook her head, "Sorry, wasn't expecting the blast of heat death, I'm ready now." She grinned at them.
James nodded sympathetically. "It's the humidity that makes it worse. It can be sweltering if you are not used to it. Let's get you to the car and back inside some air conditioning." He led her to the Cadillac SUV that he drove and Lilan opened the passenger door for her before walking around and doing so for the driver's door for him before loading her luggage in the back and getting in the rear seat.
"Thank you," she murmured, smiling at Lilan, then looked at James, "So, do you have ideas as to what look you're going for or are we going to be social first, then talk business tomorrow?"
"I figured we'd be social first and talk business tomorrow. Jet lag is a real thing. Besides, my slave here cooks an excellent prime rib and I have the most delightful red to go with it...," James smiled.
"Sounds wonderful," she giggled, "Maybe I can borrow your slave and swap recipes. It's been a long time since I've had a good prime rib." She beamed at Lilan again, "Would you prefer for me to call you Master James or Mister Tiberius?" She tilted her head, "I'm peachy keen either way."
"Which are you more comfortable with, my dear? I am fine with either, but I find that it usually depends on the other person's...," he paused, searching for the proper way to phrase things, "level of involvement in the lifestyle we lead as to which they are more comfortable using."
"I've been in the lifestyle for six years now since I got a card for my eighteenth birthday. I'm a slave looking for a forever Master but most of the ones I met can't handle my muchness." She shrugged, "Plus I don't need a Daddy or someone to micromanage me, that shit's annoying. So, Master James it is."
He smiled, "Wonderful. I prefer that as well. Everyone knows where everyone else stands." He jerked his head toward the back seat, and continued, "So, as I was saying, my slave Lilan here is an excellent cook and I'm sure he would be only too happy to trade cooking talk with a fellow slave. Lilan, you may speak freely with Miss Johnson here, but remember your manners. She is still a guest in our house."
"Yes, Master. Of course, Master." He looked at Rieka with a shy smile, partly because of his excitement to talk cooking and partly because of the praise of such from his Master. "Do you have the opportunity to do much cooking around your painting, Miss Johnson?" he asked softly, though his tone was warm and friendly.
"I try to keep my hand in but it gets lonely cooking for one," Rieka responded. "Would it be alright if we simply called each other by our first names, Master James? I would feel more comfortable and would like to make a friend."
"I see no issue with it. Lilan, you may address Miss Johnson as Rieka, familiarly," he said.
"Thank you, Master. Thank you... Rieka," he said with another small smile.
"Thank you, Master James, and you're welcome Lilan," she beamed at them again. "I like making friends. It makes work much more enjoyable when I have friends around me." She beamed back at Lilan and started talking about the last time she cooked she ended up feeding her entire neighborhood due to stress baking.
The drive back to James' home was pleasant and he pulled into an older home, built from red bricks that looked to have had much of the exterior lovingly restored. White columns lined the porch outside and several pieces of wicker furniture were arrayed there for people to sit in. The yard was immaculate, filled with trees, and the house was lined along most of the side with flowers that set off the brick beautifully. They led her inside and she smiled as their taste for interior decorating was as impeccable as the one for the exterior. Everything was aged wood, polished with love, and well-used. The art was understated but beautiful and the furniture, while matching, emphasized human comfort over the visual aesthetic of manufactured sets.
"Oh I can already tell working with you two is going to be awesome," she babbled happily, inspecting the paintings and then beaming at the two men. "This is fantastic, it feels very homey, you've done a wonderful job."
James smiled, "It's supposed to feel homey. It's... home. If I'm going to live here the bulk of the rest of our lives, it should be both pleasing and comfortable. Sacrificing one or the other is foolish..."
"Yes, Master James it would be," her nose crinkled, "However I've been in houses that were stone cold and I was afraid of touching anything in case I break it. Some people have more money than sense, but I don't complain, they give me a shiny shilling for my painting."
"Well, I am a firm believer that life is to be lived as well as one may," James said, somewhat with an air of self-importance, but mostly with one of self-satisfaction at having found such wisdom early enough to enjoy it. "But come, sit, take your rest. Lilan, go and get her things and take them to the guest room. You can start dinner after." He turned to look at Rieka, "Can I get you some water or lemonade perhaps?"
