"What?!" I managed to blurt out.

He shrugged casually. "Your clothes. Take them off."

It wouldn't exactly be the first time Mr. Weston had requested this, but it was the first time from "Arthur." Plus, the idea of cameras being involved made me a bit nervous. I wasn't exactly trying to be the mansion's centerfold.

"Don't you think that seems a little inappropriate for a picture, sir?" I asked nervously.

"God, no!" He shouted, taking a bite of his apple. He spoke between bites. "It's a return to the true age of art! Birth of Venus by Botticelli, Michelangelo's David, da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Uncensored images so raw and powerful they are still spoken about to this day. The human body is a mystery we can never hope to unravel, but we can capture its beauty. Preserve it for future generations to be in awe of."

"I dare say the 'future generations' seeing these pictures is my worry," I muttered.

"Why is that? Your body is beautiful, Ms. Walton," he said simply.

I blushed at this.

"Ah," he said, catching himself, "sorry if I've embarrassed you."

"No, sir," I said quickly. "I-I'm sorry. I'm just not comfortable with the idea of nude photos of myself being passed around."

He stood and walked toward me. "This isn't like one of those filthy magazines, I can promise you that if that's your worry. My pictures aren't meant to be gawked at by desperate men who have their tongues out, panting like dogs. My pictures are art. Paintings brought to life. True beauty captured in a moment. I'd never ask you to do something so distasteful." He gently put his hands on my shoulders, he looked worried. "You know that, right?"

I looked away from him. "Well, of course. However, I'm still not comfortable with the idea of strangers seeing my body. Aren't there any other pictures you'd like to take?"

He seemed conflicted. Thomas mentioned how dedicated Arthur was to his work. Ignoring all else to accomplish his vision. Me begging him to change his mind must be upsetting to him.

He let out a deep sigh and squeezed my shoulders. "Ms. Walton, I fear I will be able to focus on nothing else until I have completed these photos." I opened my mouth to protest, but he raised his hand to stop me. "However, I do have a compromise that might satisfy both of us. I don't do my art for the sake of others, I do it for the love of art. If you allow me to take these pictures, then I swear to you that no other living soul will see them. I won't even attempt to show Thomas."

I paused a moment. No one else would see them? Mr. Weston had already seen me nude before, whether he remembered it or not. I trusted him enough to think none of his personas would try anything with them. As uncomfortable as the idea made me, was it really so bad?

Mr. Weston could see my will weakening. He took the opportunity. He grabbed his camera and gave me a gentle smile, pleading.

"I suppose it's also my fault for rushing you," he said softly. "We don't have to jump straight to nudity. After all, it's not as if you do this all the time. Of course, you'd feel uncomfortable. I know I would be." He grabbed my arm and led me over to the backdrop. "We can start slowly. Clothes on. When you feel more comfortable we can start to remove them."

I was still hesitant about this whole idea, but by that time Mr. Weston had already positioned me in the backdrop and started adjusting the lights. They were bright. I covered my eyes with my hands.

"Don't look directly at the lights, Ms. Walton. Look at me," he said.

I did. As embarrassing as this situation was it also felt familiar. Though he wasn't "Jack" right now, Mr. Weston was again making me the center of his attention. Seeing the way he stared at me made my heart flutter. I looked toward the ground.

A sharp click caught my attention. Mr. Weston looked at his camera.

"A lovely picture, innocent in a way. However, I will need you to look up, at least for some of these," he said, smiling.

I nodded. It was like being in the garden again. A few different poses, several dozen pictures. Comfortable and familiar. Occasionally, Mr. Weston would come over and adjust me, it made my heart race each time.

He was trying to adjust my posture to his liking. Pressing his hand against my back to straighten me up a bit. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Are you comfortable, Ms. Walton?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said. After all, the session in the garden was much more demanding than this.

I felt his hand slide up my back. Was my posture still wrong? However, as his hand slid back down I heard the distinct sound of my zipper.

I pulled away from him. "Mr. Weston!"

He seemed shocked. "What's wrong?"

"I-I. Why-" I was too flustered to speak clearly.

He tilted his head in confusion. "I thought you felt more comfortable? Was I wrong?"

I understood where the confusion was.

"Oh. No. Sir, I didn't mean that-"

"I wasn't going to remove everything. Just your dress," he explained. "Slow, like I promised. Do you think you're comfortable enough to do that?"

I paused. He seemed hopeful. My dress. Only my dress. I sighed and turned away from him as I slid it the rest of the way off my body. He smiled.

"Good, just toss it off to the side somewhere," he said, rushing back to his camera. "As I thought, your body is absolutely beautiful."

Would I ever get used to his casual compliments? I tried to distract myself by putting my body back in the pose he had me in before.

Just a picture, just a picture. As much as I repeated the phrase in my head I couldn't separate my thoughts from what I was doing. The hot lights only made the chill on my exposed skin more noticeable.

"Try looking down for a bit," he said suddenly.

I did as I was told. It was the first time I really thought about the fact that my bra and panties didn't match. Although, in my defense, I wasn't exactly planning to take my clothes off in front of anyone today. Was this another thing I'd have to start taking into consideration?

I heard a frustrated sigh. I looked up to see Mr. Weston glaring at his camera.

"Is everything okay, sir?" I asked.

"No, not at all," he mumbled, annoyed. "I'm not getting the results I was hoping for."

I wasn't sure if I should take this as an insult or not. He walked over and grabbed my waist. I felt how hot his hands were against my skin. I might have gotten embarrassed again if he hadn't been moving me so forcefully.

No, this wasn't "Jack" taking his time to worship my body or treat me gently. This was "Arthur" adjusting his model around to find that perfect photo. I might as well be a doll. He seemed to realize this around the same time I did because he quickly let me go. He stared at me a moment, his face seemed conflicted.

"Sorry, Ms. Walton," he muttered. "I seem to be abusing you again."

I shook my head. "No, it's okay. You weren't hurting me."

"Maybe, but that's still not a good reason to shove you around like a lump of clay," he said, sighing. "If I could just get this photo to work I could finally relax and stop obsessing over it."

"How can I help, sir?" I asked.

He gave me a half-hearted smile. "Well, I already know my final product is to have you fully exposed, but I've made a promise to you that I wouldn't push you beyond your comfort zone and, as painfully frustrating as it is, I intend to keep it."

He sighed again before going back to his camera to flip through some pictures. I almost felt guilty. I knew my body was my own and I was in no way required to become his toy, but still, knowing how passionate Arthur was about his art, I couldn't help but feel as if I was holding him back.

I heard the clock in the distance. Mr. Weston didn't even flinch at it. I counted the chimes in my head. Already nine. Time seemed to fly when he was "Arthur." Maybe it was how fast-paced he always was. Still, even he must have his limits. He yawned at that moment as if to confirm my thoughts. At this rate, he might never get the picture he wanted, and he wouldn't have the chance tomorrow.

I turned away and faced the backdrop. I wanted to make him happy, to give him the satisfaction he desired. This was nothing different from what I'd already done for Mr. Weston, right? So why was it so difficult now? Arthur had no expectations or ulterior motives, if anything it should be easier.

"Turn back this way," he said.

I paused a moment. Would it somehow be easier if I pretended he was still Jack? It was his body, his voice, it was him. Just a different version, right?

"Ms. Walton, face front please," his voice was slightly annoyed.

I tuned everything else out. I took a deep breath and reached back to unclasp my bra. I didn't look at him as I tossed it to the side with my dress. He stayed silent. Was this the way to stop his tantrums? I almost laughed at the idea. The bit of humor gave me the extra confidence I needed to slide off my panties. I kicked them over to the side with the rest.

Fully exposed. Just like he wanted.

"Anna."

I almost jumped. Arthur never called me by my name, but his tone was far more shocking. It was surprisingly gentle, like when he took care of me in the garden.

"Anna," he said again, softly, "please turn this way."

I was used to the demanding and stubborn Arthur by now, so this kind tone was almost uncomfortable. Any confidence I had moments ago vanished without a trace. Even with the hot lights, I felt the heat of blush creep through my body. I was frozen.

Click.

The sharp sound snapped me out of the trance enough to turn my head in his direction. He was smiling ear to ear. He readjusted and took another picture. I turned away from him again.

His smile wasn't inappropriate at all, but perhaps that was the problem. If he stared at me with lust-filled eyes and a mischievous smile then I would be used to that, but this was different. It was innocent, filled with simple joy, the way a child looks at a toy on Christmas. It made me feel as if I were doing something wrong.

"Ms. Walton," his voice called from right next to me.

I gasped and covered myself instinctively. I heard a soft chuckle. His hand pressed against my waist.

"As lovely as your backside is I'd like the opportunity to capture the rest," he said teasingly. "Would you mind turning toward me? Just a little bit?"

My heart was racing. I still felt frozen in place. I couldn't move, I couldn't even think. He brushed my hair away from my neck, it sent a shiver through my body. He gently applied pressure to my waist, leading me in the direction he wanted me to go. It wasn't much force, I could have resisted it easily, but I felt powerless in his hands. My strained emotions finally gave in, my mind went blank and I surrendered my body to his will completely.

Luckily, this was Arthur. He did nothing more than adjust me into the pose he had been desiring. As soon as I was in position he rushed back to his camera and began taking photos. Then it was business as usual.

Click, click, click, change position. Click, click, click, change position. The cycle went on and on. In my numb mind, it felt like an eternity had passed. As if to mock me the hall clock chimed for ten. Only an hour. For once, he actually noticed.

"Goodness, is it already ten?" He asked, mostly to himself. "I suppose we should probably finish up then. I've worked you rather hard today. You must be tired."

I nodded my head vaguely. I wasn't sure if it was the modeling or the emotional strain, but I felt absolutely exhausted. He walked over to my pile of clothes on the floor and gathered them up. He handed them over to me with a sympathetic smile.

"I'd like to thank you, Ms. Walton. I know I'm not an easy man to deal with, God knows it's cost me plenty of assistants in the past, so I really appreciate you putting up with all my ridiculous demands today. I hope we can work together again in the future," he said cheerfully.

I took the clothes and gave a weak smile. I was too tired to fully appreciate his words right now. I started to walk toward the door.

"Ms. Walton! Your clothes!" He blurted.

I almost laughed at how urgent he was to remind me. "It's okay, sir. Thomas went to town for the night, so it's just us. I'm not sure I have the energy to dress only to undress again in a moment."

"Ah."

He said nothing else. I paused at the door.

"Will you be coming to bed, sir?" I asked.

"What?" It seemed as if I'd broken his train of thought. "Oh, no, no. I'm going to stay up a while and work with the photos. Sort through them, print off the best, organize. I might be a while."

I still felt a little nervous about the photos, not that it really mattered by this point anymore. He seemed to notice though. Maybe being an artist made him more observant. He looked around a moment before going over to a bookshelf and pulling down a book. He brought it over to me. Advanced Astrophysics the cover said. I stared at it in confusion. He gave a sly smile.

"The best place to hide something is in plain sight," he said, opening the book.

Thomas' sleeping face stared up from a group of photos. I didn't know what to think. Most of them he was sitting in one of the armchairs in the studio. I guess Arthur usually had him working until late. He shut the book suddenly, waking me slightly.

"Do not tell Thomas about this," he said firmly. "That man is stubborn as they get about having his picture taken, so I only have a certain window of opportunity to take them. Now, I showed you this to prove to you that I can indeed keep my pictures to myself and hide them away just as securely. I'm trusting you not to use this information against me."

A smile crept across my face. Arthur was weird. Arthur was very weird. But he was also kind, understanding, and someone I felt I could trust. I nodded toward him.

He gave a satisfied nod and placed the book back on the shelf. "Then go to bed with your mind at ease, Ms. Walton. I'll see you next time I'm in town."

In town? The realization struck me. Right, "Arthur" would be "leaving town" for a while. According to Thomas' book, I should see him again soon though. I was somehow glad about that.

I opened the door, the hall air was cold after all the hot lights from the studio. I looked back. Arthur was still staring at the shelf. Was he lost in thought again or waiting for me to leave?

"Goodnight, Arthur," I called gently.

It might have been my imagination, but he seemed to stiffen a little when I called him by name.

"Goodnight, Ms. Walton," he said without turning.

I shut the door behind me and walked back to my room. Our room. It seemed so empty without him there. I tossed my clothes into the hamper and laid on the bed. It was big. Too big.

I stretched out, trying to fill up more room, but I couldn't even reach from one end to the other. I wrapped myself in the blanket but I still felt cold. As much as I wanted to rest, something was missing, or someone. I wasn't even going to try to pretend like I didn't miss him. In the short time I'd been here I'd already gotten so used to him. When did things start to feel so empty? When did I start to need him so much?

Exhaustion forced me into a fitful sleep, but I kept waking up. I could tell I never slept long. I wasn't sure how much time had passed before I finally gave up, but it was still dark.

Did Arthur sleep somewhere else in the mansion? Had he even gone to bed yet? Thomas mentioned something about letting him sleep where he collapsed, but I should still probably check on him. Make sure he had a blanket and pillow if nothing else.

I dragged myself from the bed and went to the closet. In the dim moonlight, I fumbled around until I found an extra blanket and pillow. It was quiet. Dead silent except for some far off crickets and the ticking from the hall clock. My footsteps were barely audible, but they still seemed to echo in the empty hall.

I saw the light up ahead and let out a sigh. I hoped he was at least sleeping in the room. I cracked the door and peaked in. He was sitting in a chair, facing away from the door, but I could tell his eyes were closed. Sleeping. I smiled a little. He really was just like an overgrown child. Running around endlessly, until he finally collapsed.

Cautiously, I turned off the lights. He didn't move. I crept closer. Nothing. As I got closer I noticed he had a book in his lap. Was this the "album" he had been putting together? Curiosity got the better of me.

I picked it up and walked over to the window. I examined the photos in the dim light. They looked okay, I guess. I wasn't really vain enough to say my body was fantastic, but he did take good photos. There was a certain beauty in them, even if I wasn't crazy about being the subject. I closed the book.

The Nine Muses: A Discussion. The title shone in gilded letters in the dark. A beautiful book, but by no means interesting sounding. I doubted anyone would bother to look in it.

I walked over and placed it on the shelf. I heard a soft snore. Panic filled me before I remembered Mr. Weston was still sleeping in his chair. I gave a small smile and placed the blanket on him. He shifted slightly. I saw his eyes open just a sliver. Had I woken him?

They stayed open only a second before he curled up under the blanket.

"Anna," he muttered.

I froze. He didn't say anything else. A moment later he was breathing deeply again, sleeping. I let out a sigh of relief. Thomas said waking him was bad, I'd rather not find out what he meant.

I tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. Anna. I heard his voice echoing in my head. Who was he when he slept? Jack? Arthur? Someone else?

As I laid back in bed I instinctively turned to his side. Empty. I knew it would be, but it was still upsetting. Who did I share this bed with at night? Would I ever know?

The clock rang out. Midnight. Congratulations, Anna. You made it to day four. I half-smiled at this thought. I should feel proud. It was an accomplishment. I'd already achieved more than some of the most respected caregivers on the planet. So why did I feel so empty?

Wait for me. But for how long? Jack Weston will always return. But when?

As amusing as today was, it bothered me. Jack, but not Jack. Giving my body to a lover and a stranger. Everything the same but different.

How long do you really think you can do this for? It was the question I had been fighting all day, but now there was nothing else to fill my mind.

Did I love Jack Weston? Maybe. Love is a big word for a man I'd known for two days. Did I care about him? Absolutely. Enough to stick things out until he "came back?" Probably. But was it fair to stick around so long if I was just going to leave in the end? Probably not.

I sighed. And what about poor Thomas? He'd been trying for so long to find a good caretaker for Mr. Weston. If it took Jack longer than a week to reappear, what was I going to do? Just accept the job and stick around? Leave if things didn't work out? Who would take over?

I wasn't going to force Thomas out of the retirement he'd waited so long for, but if his experience was any indication I might be an old woman myself by the time I found a replacement. And what about my future? A husband? Children? Thomas had given up so much to stay here.

The idea flashed in my head a moment. A husband? Who wouldn't remember I was his wife half the time? Who I share a bed with each night knowing he's not the man I married? And as for children...

The thought trailed off in my head. I didn't even want to think about it. Go to five doctors and you'll get five different diagnoses. No one had answers about Jack. Not real ones. Who's to say that my children wouldn't have the same problem. Could I handle that? An impossible question with an even more impossible answer.

I felt trapped. I made a promise to Jack, but if I couldn't stay forever I should leave now. My heart felt heavy. I didn't know what to do. I decided to sleep on it. With any luck maybe I would wake up as someone else.

A dreamless sleep should be empty, peaceful, but mine wasn't. No images, no voices, only the general sense of panic filled the space. When I finally woke the sun had already risen.

Was Thomas back yet? I got up. My body ached. Too much time on my feet I guess. I got dressed quickly and went downstairs. It seemed empty. I was about to head back and check on Mr. Weston when the front door clicked open. Thomas.

He seemed shocked. "Oh, Ms. Walton. I wasn't expecting you up this early."

He seemed flustered. Very strange for Thomas. And his suit seemed ruffled and wrinkled. Was it the same one he wore to town last night? He cleared his throat and dusted himself off a bit before closing the door. I caught the hint of a familiar scent.

A smile crept across my face. "What a lovely perfume, Thomas."

He flushed slightly but otherwise kept his composure. "I agree."

I walked over and nudged him gently in the ribs. "How did your 'important business' go?"

He couldn't help chuckling a bit. "Ah, Anna. I feel like I'm sixteen again. Sneaking home at the crack of dawn after a night of mischief."

"Is this serious trouble?" I asked playfully.

"Your employment pending, we're hoping to get married next month."

"Thomas!" I cried excitedly.

His slight grin turned into full-on beaming. I felt happy for him. It was finally time for him to start his life. The worried voice from last night crept into my head again, but I pushed it back. If I could know my staying here helped a sweet old man finally achieve his dreams, then maybe it would all be worth it.

"Um, Mr. Weston-"

"Collapsed in the studio like you said. I gave him a blanket," I said.

He smiled and gave an approving nod.

"Hey! Tommy!" I heard a voice shout.

Thomas' face immediately went from smiles to pure panic.

"Tommy! Where are you at, Tommy?"

"No, God no. Not today, please," I heard Thomas whisper under his breath.

He buried his head in his hands. I was confused. The voice sounded like Mr. Weston, but his way of speaking was different from anything I'd heard him say before.

"Tommy! Come on!" The voice was getting closer.

Thomas suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm desperately. His eyes were pleading.

"Ms. Walton, please, please grant me some of that angelic patience of yours today. I swear I will not leave your side for a single moment." He was almost begging, it was getting scary. "I will immediately cut off any rude comments, force him to seclusion for any inappropriate gestures, I will be here to protect you at absolutely any cost. So please, I beg you, forgive anything that happens today as it is an incredibly rare occurrence. I swear to you."

His grip was tightening. I pulled away from him and rubbed my sore arm.

"Jeez, Thomas! What the hell is the matter?" I asked nervously.

"Hey, Tommy! Who's that?"

As he rounded the corner Mr. Weston saw me. He stopped dead in his tracks. A smile slowly spread across his face. I didn't like it, there was something shady in it. He walked toward me slowly.

"Well, good morning, beautiful! Victor Weston," he reached out and grabbed my hand immediately.

"Sir-" Thomas started.

"Hush, Tommy," he said sharply. He smiled at me and spoke gently, "Can I get your name, beautiful?"

"A-Anna!" I blurted out.

He laughed. I took a deep breath before composing myself and trying again.

"Sorry, Mr. Weston. You startled me. I'm Anna Walton. I'll be taking over as your assistant soon."

Something flashed in his eyes as I said this. He moved closer to me. I was frozen like a deer in headlights.

"Anna," he mumbled huskily, running his free hand through my hair. "I think you and I are going to work very well together."

With that, he leaned forward and crushed his lips against mine.