“Now stretch your arms full length before you. Take your fingertips and ever so slowly run them down the length of your body.” Gerome was as much an artist with women as he was with canvass and paints. Grace, his newest model grinned at him knowing full well what he wanted.

“When I do that, I can’t contain myself.” Grace purred.

“I know, my dear.” Gerome said, sliding his pants to the floor.

“And now I see the most ferocious monster.” She said playfully.

“Enough of this- come to bed!” He said reaching for her.

Grace let herself be dragged to the bedroom before stopping in her tracks. “There’s such a smell of onions.”

“Is it me or you? Nevermind, in a few minutes, it won’t matter at all.” Gerome said confidently.

“I don’t know.” Grace said, suddenly uncertain. “Isn’t there an old saying- onions in the kitchen make you cry, onions in the bedroom make you die.”

“Come now, that comical joke?” The artist said smoothly.

“I’m afraid.”

Gerome leaned in. “I promise you will be in full control, darling.”