Wherein an evening at the Guggenheim becomes confession: two souls collide between abstraction and truth, and art witnesses the unraveling of restraint.
I’ve been waiting to sink warmly into the lusciousness that your words surround me with, Demetria.
From the very first line, the sensory richness — the light, the gallery hush, the way colour almost hums — pulls me straight into that velvet world you build.
The pacing feels like the slow curve of the Guggenheim itself, each sentence another spiral upward.
There’s such tenderness in the way restraint and revelation move together here — a quiet collision between art, emotion, and truth.
What really lingers with me most, though, is the feeling beneath it all — That moment when presence replaces performance, and the air itself seems to hold its breath.
The vulnerability between your characters feels like standing close to a painting that suddenly sees you back.
Even though I’m joining at Chapter 5, I’ll be wandering both backwards and forwards through your other beautiful work, letting it all unfold in its own time.
Mark, thank you for such a heartfelt comment. I am glad you are enjoying this story, and by all means go both forwards and backwards at the same time. The portion of the story I have written so far unfolds as a series of vignettes, there are little things that carry over from chapter to chapter, but nothing really that requires you to have started at the beginning in order to extract enjoyment from each chapter by itself. Of course, reading them in order will allow you to see more clearly the journey each character makes, but do as you wish. Looking forward to more of your own writings, my literary friend 💗
Oh this one absolutely got me. The art + emotional landmine combination?? I was just standing there like… guys… please… the Kandinsky hasn’t done anything wrong.
The whole dance between them feels so beautifully tilted — like they were both wearing masks and suddenly someone switched the lights on. And that moment he says her real name? My breath actually did a tiny jump. You wrote the shift so cleanly it almost felt like the temperature changed.
And then the reveal… and then her reveal… they’re both disasters in completely different flavours and, god, the tenderness at the end? That quiet hug? It melted me a bit. It’s like watching two people realise the world is bigger and messier than the fantasies they’ve been holding onto.
The museum setting made everything sharper — all that geometry, structure, tension, and then these two humans just… spilling over. It’s so cinematic I can picture the whole spiral in my head.
I really loved this chapter, honestly. It leaves this slow, aching hum in the chest.
I am in awe. What a chapter. The revelation and fantasy... Incredible writing thank you
Thank you so much Katie! 💗
There’s something profoundly tender in how you’ve written this, Demetria—
two people standing before art, and ending up as art themselves, suspended between revelation and restraint.
The way you let their masks fall without stripping away their dignity—
that felt deeply familiar.
It’s what happens when power stops performing and starts listening,
when desire finds its truth not in possession but in presence.
That red orb at the end, that unreachable distance—
it felt like the quiet pulse of every D/s bond that refuses to die,
because it has learned how to live in space instead.
Exquisite writing, Demetria.
You make honesty feel like art.
—Louis
I’ve been waiting to sink warmly into the lusciousness that your words surround me with, Demetria.
From the very first line, the sensory richness — the light, the gallery hush, the way colour almost hums — pulls me straight into that velvet world you build.
The pacing feels like the slow curve of the Guggenheim itself, each sentence another spiral upward.
There’s such tenderness in the way restraint and revelation move together here — a quiet collision between art, emotion, and truth.
What really lingers with me most, though, is the feeling beneath it all — That moment when presence replaces performance, and the air itself seems to hold its breath.
The vulnerability between your characters feels like standing close to a painting that suddenly sees you back.
Even though I’m joining at Chapter 5, I’ll be wandering both backwards and forwards through your other beautiful work, letting it all unfold in its own time.
A wonderfully rich and deep piece of writing!
Mark, thank you for such a heartfelt comment. I am glad you are enjoying this story, and by all means go both forwards and backwards at the same time. The portion of the story I have written so far unfolds as a series of vignettes, there are little things that carry over from chapter to chapter, but nothing really that requires you to have started at the beginning in order to extract enjoyment from each chapter by itself. Of course, reading them in order will allow you to see more clearly the journey each character makes, but do as you wish. Looking forward to more of your own writings, my literary friend 💗
Oh this one absolutely got me. The art + emotional landmine combination?? I was just standing there like… guys… please… the Kandinsky hasn’t done anything wrong.
The whole dance between them feels so beautifully tilted — like they were both wearing masks and suddenly someone switched the lights on. And that moment he says her real name? My breath actually did a tiny jump. You wrote the shift so cleanly it almost felt like the temperature changed.
And then the reveal… and then her reveal… they’re both disasters in completely different flavours and, god, the tenderness at the end? That quiet hug? It melted me a bit. It’s like watching two people realise the world is bigger and messier than the fantasies they’ve been holding onto.
The museum setting made everything sharper — all that geometry, structure, tension, and then these two humans just… spilling over. It’s so cinematic I can picture the whole spiral in my head.
I really loved this chapter, honestly. It leaves this slow, aching hum in the chest.