Friday December 9th 1910
A little after 6am.
Somewhere in Paris...
Don't know why I waited until last night to go down to the clay mill. I've known for days that I was low on clay and would need it by today. It's not like I dread digging it and hauling it to my studio or even preparing it. I enjoy it. Just haven't felt like getting out after hours the past few weeks.
I probably made it to bed around 1am last night. Had to prepare enough clay to start the newest project today.
As I walk I notice the street lamps are still burning even though the sun will soon rise. It's cold this morning and the sky is spitting snow but not as bad as it was last night. My studio will be nearly freezing until I get some wood in the stove and give it some time to warm up.
I'm not looking forward to today's job. One of the more well to do citizens wants a nude done of his wife. She's not what I would call pleasant to look at or listen to for that matter. Any mistake I might make could only be an improvement but I'm sure they would take it as an insult.
After arriving and unlocking the door I stand in the bitter cold, my breath forming clouds as I exhale. I love the smell. The smell of clay. Not too many people can pick up on it and the few that do don't like it, but I do. I take a moment to smell it every morning before I grow accustomed to it and start setting up. Not many can say it but I love my work, less so this week but still love it.
With the stove full and burning I step back, eyes watering from the smoke and go about setting up for the arrival of today's model although using that term is really a stretch for her. I go about setting up my tools and rewetting the rags covering the clay to keep it at the consistency I like. When I'm finished the morning sun, despite the snow and clouds, is casting long shadows through the windows across the tables and floors, making the dust particles in the air visible. The heat from the stove is beginning to take the bite out of the air.
Preparing the pedestal where the model will sit I almost wince at the thought of her dusty 100 year old pussy touching it. I arrange several pie cut shaped pieces of wood by the stool to get her feet and legs in the right position.
Getting everything set in place I check my pocket watch, one more hour until the gargoyle arrives. Not much else to do until then but wait for the room to finish heating up. I'm kind of tired maybe I can take a short nap within that time. There's a hammock set up not too far from the front window so if she should show up I can be ready by the time she comes in.
I lay down and pull the blanket all the way up to my nose. It's nice and warm and if somebody happens to look in the window I probably won't be seen. I hate sleeping in my clothes but I wont have time to get dressed from the time I see her until she comes in.
Through the window the streets become busier the later it gets. Just as I'm about to fall to sleep I notice a girl sitting on the steps in front of the book store across the street. She's all bundled up but still cold from the looks of her. Her cheeks are flushed and the rest of her face is pale with almost bluish lips. Even through the coat she wears I can tell she's shivering. She begins rocking back and forth. The sun has crept back into the clouds and the snow has gone from spitting to a slow steady fall. Why doesn't she go inside or back home? She'll catch her death out there?
Another 30 minutes pass and she doesn't leave. She's freezing and nobody seems to notice or care. I can't take it anymore. I get out from under the blanket and stand up. The room has gotten much warmer. I walk to the front door, open it and step outside. The temperature has dropped considerably with the steady snowfall. Doesn't look like the sun will be visiting us again today.
I walk across the street to the steps she's sitting on. She has her head down and doesn't seem to notice me.
"Mam?"
She didn't notice me.
"Mam?"
She looks up a little startled.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Just figuring out where I'm going to go from here."
"While you're thinking it over would you like to wait in my studio? I have the stove going and it's nice and warm."
"No thanks, I don't want to be a bother, sir."
"It's not a bother. I have a client coming and I'm not going to be able to concentrate worrying about you freezing to death out here. So, you'll be doing us both a favor if you just come in until you get things sorted out."
"Thank you sir. I'll stay out or your way. You won't even know I'm there."
I help her up. She's so stiff and has a hard time walking. I wrap one arm behind her and hold her wrist with my other hand guiding her into my studio. When I open the door the heat rushes to welcome her. The snow flakes on her clothes and hair melt quickly and dampen her clothes.
"You better let me take your coat and hat so I can set them next to the stove to dry. I can pull a chair close to it so you can warm up faster if you would like."
"That would be nice," she says.
I grab a chair from under one of my work tables. I almost forget to to clean the tools off it first then put it a safe distance from the flames.
She seems nervous and I don't blame her. She doesn't know me from Adam. I could be a slasher for all she knows.
I hold out my hand. She looks confused for a moment, then unbuttons her coat and slides it down her arms and hands it to me followed by her hat releasing a long mane of beautiful blond hair that ends just above her waist. Straight and shiny. She's not homeless, her clothes are too nice and she's very well maintained. I decide not to ask any questions and just let her relax.
Damn, I almost forgot about my appointment. I look at the time. She should be getting here any minute.
I spend the next hour getting to know my guest while waiting on my extremely late client. I find out she caught her husband cheating on her and now had nowhere to go. The only family she has are in the United States so she doesn't know what she is going to do until she can contact them. I tell her she can stay in the back overnight if she needs to. She seems like a nice girl in a bad situation.