Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

45 - Tied Up

Alison
***

The anticipation grew as I handed the ticket to the lady at the museum entrance. Chris and I had agreed to enter separately so we wouldn't risk running into someone in the queue. He had gone in first, so I had to find him inside.

I walked down a dimly lit corridor with the other museum goers. This corridor had information on the walls regarding the pieces we'd see, as well as a backstory of the famous painters. I walked right past it, already knowing quite a lot about Monet and Klimt. At the end of the corridor, there was a man standing in front of a black door, letting people in one by one. He opened the door for me, wishing me a pleasant visit. I nodded curtly, eager to find Chris.

I wasn't expecting the exhibition room to be so dark. I was barely able to see my own feet. The only sources of light were special spotlights pointed at the artworks that didn't disperse the light. I sighed in relief, confident that Chris and I could walk around together without being spotted.

All I had to do was find him.

As I made my way through the exhibit, every man that passed by looked like him. I made a double take, never sure if the person standing next to me was him or not.

Around me, people chatted among themselves quietly, commenting on the paintings. Since I couldn't see them, the voices became indistinct and jumbled.

As I searched, it was impossible to ignore the artwork on the walls. The paintings absorbed me, demanded my attention. One in particular caught my eye: the landscape depicted a field of tulips, a stream passing through it, and a windmill in the distance.

Suddenly, a hand rested on my hip ever so slightly.

"I get it, it's more interesting to look at the paintings than to look for me."

I giggled, Chris' hand never leaving my hip. It felt surreal to have him show such an affectionate gesture in public. He was standing on my right with his hand on my left hip, so I leaned into his shoulder.

"I got distracted, sorry." I said. "These are incredible."

He rested his weight on one hip, averting his gaze to the painting in front of us. We were careful to stand at a distance so that our faces wouldn't be illuminated by the painting's spotlight.

"You know, it's quite clever that they chose to have the exhibition in the dark." He commented quietly. "As you know, natural sunlight is an essencial part of the impressionist movement, so it's quite ironic that we, the viewers, are in complete darkness and the paintings are the only source of light."

"It forces us to admire the theme of light even more, don't you think?" I asked, wanting to know his opinion.

He looked at me. "Yeah, you're right."

We spent the rest of the evening walking around together, admiring and analyzing the paintings. I could tell it was hard for Chris to detach himself from the professor role when we commented the most technical aspects of a piece. It filled my stomach with butterflies to know he wanted to impress me with his knowledge.

It felt great to explore this part of ourselves, the intellectual, art savvy part. I couldn't help but realize how we clicked on so many levels, our love for art being one of them.