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Casanova's Portrait

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Giacomo Casanova was known for many things in Venice, however, patience was not one of them. He groaned when Beatrice asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time to stay still. He was growing tired of staying in one position for so long. He yearned to reach out and touch Beatrice. Just to feel her warm hand within his grasp. As his hand inched towards her though she smacked him sharply with the piece of charcoal she was holding, leaving a cruel black mark upon his slender hand.

“OW!” Giacomo yelped.

“The more impatient you are the longer it will take for me to finish, Giacomo.”

He seethed a bit at the pain in his hand but pouted and slumped back into the position that his beloved was drawing him in. He sat incredibly still and Beatrice smiled at him from over the canvas in her hands.

In his head Giacomo had begun counting to see if he could name all of his former conquests but he could not for the life of him remember his 92nd lover and it began to weigh on his mind greatly. But perhaps it was for the best that he did not get any further since Beatrice was almost done.

“You can relax now, Giacomo.” She said as she touched his hand which she had hit earlier. Her eyes widened a bit when she felt the small dent on the top of his left hand and gasped.

“Ah! Oh, Giacomo, did I hurt you? I did not mean to strike you so harshly!”

“Oh er, no.” Giacomo said sheepishly, “I’m fine, really.”

“But you’re not fine!” Beatrice said, standing quickly. “I ought to dress the wound. I think that Daniela has some bandages in her medicine b—”

“Beatrice, I swear it’s fine.” Giacomo insisted. “I do not anticipate it getting any worse and it will heal if it were simply cleaned and kissed by your tender lips a hundred times.”

Beatrice turned to him. He beckoned for her to come sit beside him on the chaise. She instead went over to the canvas and looked at it quizzically. “I’m not quite sure I got the angle of your right arm correctly.”

Giacomo hastily said, “I’m sure the angle is fine. May I see?”

“No, it needs to be perfect! You’ll be gone in the morning.”

“I will indeed be gone in the morning which is why…” Giacomo trailed off suggestively.

“Which is why I need to finish the drawing so I have the perfect image of you.” She said, picking up the charcoal.

Giacomo threw his head back and sighed. There was no way he was getting out of this so easily. He submitted to his beloved’s will and while he was still very impatient he was thankful when Beatrice had finished and showed him the portrait. They sat side by side on the chaise, curled up in each other’s arms, admiring Beatrice’s exquisite work: Casanova’s portrait.