I have a dream of worshipful artistic and spiritual communion under the stars. Your body will be painted tonight and you will wear your white cotton dress, sandals and nothing else, no panties, bra, or jewelry of any kind. Be ready at 8:30 pm as we will drive two hours north to my studio in the northern woods. My lake home and studio barn have been prepared and are waiting for you.
Once we arrive, I have a small dinner waiting, a salad with some baked salmon, fresh asparagus, some brie cheese and wine. A dinner table with white linens has been prepared on my outdoor deck and as we dine, we will listen to the loons calling from the cool waters of a glistening, glacial lake and look upward through the tall pines to a brilliant sky. I will have Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D Major playing quietly in the background. Tonight is the night of the dark moon and there will be an ocean of starlight to adorn our meal and communion with each other.
After dinner, I will lead you with the touch of my hand to the studio. It has a modern kitchen, a large master bath and Queen Anne four post bed in its upper loft. The entire middle of the barn is a painting studio. Hundreds of candles have been lit around a large circle on the floor of the studio. Many of the candles are in floor standing holders of various heights, some are on the floor itself. The circle is in the exact middle of this floor and, looking upward, you can look through a large glass skylight to the brilliant night sky above. There is wine, cheese and red grapes to the side and the emptiness of the studio is filled with Bartok’s Viola Concerto.
I will take your hand and lead you silently through the candles to the center of the circle. I have already painted the circle in swirls of jet black, gray, small amounts of green and dark indigo blue hues. You will remove your dress and be commanded to get on all four in the center of the circle. Taking the remainder of the black, blue, gray and green paints, I will use my hands to liberally apply these dark hues to every part of your body. Starting with your feet, calves and thighs, your legs begin to disappear against the dark backdrop of the Vitruvian circle. Now my hands apply paint to the smooth curve of your ass, the arch of your back, finally encasing your shoulders and arms.
Turning you over, I slowly cover the top of your legs, thighs, labia, tummy and breasts in dark hues, followed by your shoulders and the remainder of your arms and neck. The night sky is now quite dark and the stars luminesce through the skylight above. Taking a small brush, I begin to paint your face tracing around your lips, carefully covering your eyelids, your nose, cheeks and even your ears. Dark lipstick is applied to your lips. Then covering my hands in paint, I begin to soak your hair in indigo, black and cobalt until entirely saturated like the night sky above.
With my hand behind your head, I lie your naked, wet body down on the floor. Bringing your arms above you, I restrain your wrists to some black leather cuffs anchored with black chain above you, then your ankles below. You are now a dark goddess, spread and restrained in this worship circle. While the paint dries, I retrieve my camera from the studio’s dark room and set it up on a tripod. I also open small cans of phosphorescent, artistic grade white, yellow, light gray and red paints.
Entering the circle, I start to applying small dots of color and many white highlights on the dry, dark paint of the floor beneath you. Using a small pointed brush and the white paint, your body slowly transforms into a reflection of the galaxies above. Bartok’s concerto continues to play softly in the background while candles flicker as the wax drips toward the floor. Many more points of light are added on your thighs, your breasts and arms, on your face and the remaining surfaces of your body. Hundreds of small dabs of yellow, red and even blue are added to enhance the effect.
Finishing my work, I pull the paints and supplies aside and begin blowing out all of the candles, except for one. Your painted body now glows, filling my studio with your naked beauty from below and the divine light of the stars from above. Taking one picture without a flash, I reach down and kiss you tenderly on the lips. Pulling a book out of my artist’s case, I whisper the following poem in a gentle, reverent tone, from John Keats, entitled “Bright Star”:
“Bright star, would I were steadfast as though art-
not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
and watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors –
No-yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath
And so live ever-or else swoon to death.