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Michelangelo was in the next room, doing the dishes. He actually enjoyed it, feeling the squeak of the plates and the titter of the silverware. The cups especially enjoyed being painted. The cool ticklish feel of the wet brush reminded them of the soft melting feel of a cotton candy machine. He seductively licked the cups, but his mind was elsewhere, far away in a distant memory. When his tongue tasted wet paint, it snapped him back and he spat furtively. Isadora happened to enter the room at that very moment, carrying another set of dirty dishes.
"What do you think of these?", he said hopefully, holding up a platter. She glanced casually over his work,"Don't quit your day job".
Just once he wished Isadora would say a nice word or even smile. But Noooo!!! She was too good for him. She cared nothing for art or beauty - all she cared about was his getting her dishes clean, but he was gonna show her. His agent was working on a deal with the diMedici's, and it just might be his ticket out of this place. Little did he know that she would someday pose for some of his most well-received works.
