“She’s a bit late, isn’t she?” J asked, peering nervously out of the window. He’d already been growing impatient himself. She’d assured him that she’d be able to find the place on her own, so he’d decided to wait for her at the studio rather than meeting at the underground station.

“Well, perhaps I’ll go down to the station.” He picked up his sweater and stood up, but just then they heard someone knocking on the translucent glass door. “Ah, here she is!”

J put down his cup of coffee.

This time she was wearing a chunky black sweater, with the same jeans as before. Her loose hair, naturally very black, was still wet; she must have washed it just before she came out. She looked first at him, then at J, then gave a quick laugh.

“I was very careful,” she said, touching her hair. “I didn’t get any water on the flowers.”

J smiled, looking relieved. He probably hadn’t expected her to seem so ordinary.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Me?” J’s eyes opened wide.

“She’s already been painted, so now I just have to do you.” Stifling a nervous giggle, J turned his back on them and got undressed. “You’ll have to take your pants off, too.” J hesitated, then did as he was asked. J’s body was slight, more so than he’d expected. Aside from the thick hair that ran down in a line from his belly button and spread to the tops of his thighs, his flesh was enviably white and smooth.

Just as he’d done with his sister-in-law, he had J lie prone and began to paint him with flowers, starting from the nape of his neck. Working as quickly as possible, he used a big brush to paint light purple hydrangeas, which seemed to tumble down over J’s back as though caught in a strong wind.

“Turn over.”

Using J’s penis as the center, he painted a single huge flower, the crimson of blood, so that it looked as though J’s black pubic hair was the sepals, and his penis the pistil. She sat quietly on the sofa all the while, sipping a cup of tea and carefully watching him work. When he was done, he noticed that J’s penis had stiffened slightly.

After painting the rest of the flowers on J’s torso he took a quick breather, then stood up and replaced the tape in the camcorder with a new one, wanting to make sure there would be plenty of running time. He turned to her and asked her to take her clothes off.

She did as he asked. The light wasn’t as strong as it had been the last time, but the golden cluster of flowers that he’d painted right in the center of her chest still sparkled brilliantly. In contrast to J, she was perfectly composed, as if declaring how much more natural it was to not wear clothes. When she knelt down on the sheet, the entranced look on J’s face didn’t escape him.