Whose Muse?!

Liz Jordan steps into the studio, and Ana Foxxx meets her at the door. The painter’s eyes light up—she’s already reaching for the brush, clearly pleased with the woman standing in front of her. “Make yourself at home,” Ana murmurs, flashing a quick, playful smile before heading toward her supplies. Moments later Bella Rolland sweeps in from the other side of the room, tall, sharp-featured, all business. She takes one look at Liz and decides the matter is settled. “Perfect. Clothes off. On the platform. I’ll be right back.” She says it without waiting for a reply, already striding away to gather her oils. Liz stands motionless between the two easels, unsure who she belongs to now. Then the artists return, and the air snaps with sudden quarrel—Ana’s softer voice colliding with Bella’s cold certainty. Liz watches them argue over her like the curve of her hip is disputed property, until a small, sly smile touches her mouth. She steps onto the low wooden platform, skin bare beneath the skylight, and turns so the afternoon sun hits every line of her body. Her voice is clear, almost lazy. “Both of you can paint me. I don’t mind.” She arches slightly, lifts her chin, and the fight falls quiet behind her.