<span style="font-family: 'times new roman'">Even if Morgen had known of Jourdan's scheme -- newly hatched and promptly-conceived -- he would not have conducted or comported himself any differently in the choice he made in whose hand he took when leaving John Harvard's Brewpub. Jourdan was not his to take or claim -- and the hint of potential kinkiness might very well have been ruined to ash by the flames of jealousy if Jourdan was seen taking Morgen's hand with an abundance of eagerness. Besides, Morgen had not entirely resolved the idea of a tryst in his ethical mind.<br/>
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Morgen thought that he was in store for something sexual after the 'tour' of their apartment; otherwise, it would have been an episode of abject cruelty to flaunt the life they found at his expense. Still, the signals that Jourdan gave him suggested much more could transpire -- but that's where Saoirse came into play. Morgen remained unaware and ignorant of the details of what transpired in the secret hollow -- the nefarious den -- of the ladies bathroom. What had they discussed? Had something been understood, mutually, and/or agreed upon? Morgen resolved to inquire further with Saoirse afterwards ... whatever and whenever that happened. He would have asked in transit, but Jourdan appeared to be playing social hostess during the walk. Freya spoke with Morgen about the tribulations of architectual restoration in Cambridge while Jourdan conversed with Saoirse, and then his former lover found time alone with him as they rounded the corner of Ellery Street toward their loft near Central Square.<br/>
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Morgen took Jourdan's hand briefly for the time that they walked -- a modest connection of what once was and an affirmation that more would indeed be in store. The feel of her hand brought back feelings he'd long ago forced himself to abandon for the sake of his emotional sanity -- funny how such self-imposed edicts of preservation melt away as if turning his heart away from Jourdan had -- itself -- been a dereliction. He kept these feelings and thoughts locked within his chest; and when they arrived at the loft, Saoirse's hand was once again in his.<br/>
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Being subject to such tours came as inevitability when someone learns that your profession is architecture. Morgen considered it routine to be shown spaces and buildings, ostensibly for his keen interest though Morgen had grown wise enough to determine the true motivation such such apparent charity. People, more often than not, wished to have their poor choices validated and their egos stroked -- very seldom did the proud owner wish for a true assessment wrought with critical rigor. Morgen's colleagues in the landscape department suffered the same indignity -- oftentimes fathers wanting their children's 'expert advice' while showing them pedestrian and mundane banality purchased on sale from Home Depot.<br/>
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Thus, it was with great surprise and more than a modicum of delight that Jourdan and Freya's loft actually held extraordinary aesthetic appeal. For a non-professional to bridge the divide between style and function with exquisite grace came as unusual, though it really wasn't that much of a surprise given Freya's background as an artist. The combination of materiality and the rhythm of apertures for natural light gave the space a quality most architects spent years pursuing -- balancing solidity and weight with transparency.<br/>
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In spite of the esteem he granted Freya and Jourdan's abode -- a product of joint effort and vision -- Morgen kept his comments to himself, often nodding when Freya explained an aspect of the deign and occasionally muttering words such as 'remarkable' or 'very interesting' with a look of genuine engagement. The sight of Jourdan half naked, on the other hand, proved far more difficult to swallow in dignified silence. The raw spectacle of Jourdan's partial nudity came to offend Morgen the least; it was the representational associations -- heinously subjective -- that gnawed at Morgen's gut and caused his chest to tighten in painful constriction. Wanting to paint fresh new women they found nude had been one of Freya's 'angles' for getting their clothes off and seducing them, and he wondered how close to the infidelity this particular portrait had been painted. Morgen felt himself transported back to that time of peak vulnerability and his eyebrows furrowed at the knowledge that Freya had been in a room with a naked Jourdan under his very nose.<br/>
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"Hey you ..." came a soft, caring voice of Irish lilt. Morgen seemed to wake up, turning his face toward <a class="link link--external" href="https://i.imgur.com/OPUFGon.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">the ginger</a> whose arm wrapped his bicep. "Everything alright up dere?" she asked in a whisper, tapping on his noggin. <br/>
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It was hard for Morgen not to become enrapt in Saoirse's presence and persona just then; she's unwittingly brought Morgen back from a very dark edge of that part of his interiority that he's thought had been firmly barricaded. Apparently, his ties to the past were not as strong as he had hoped. Morgen's chest decompressed at the sight of Saoire's smile. "Yeah," he told her quietly, noticing Freya in proximity. Morgen motioned toward the painting of Jourdan with a cock of his head. "I recognize the brushwork," he offered before walking back toward the portrait's subject in the center of the space -- Saoirse at his side. <br/>
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"I have to admit," Morgen announced with a voice of minor projection to ensure Freya also heard, "stunning in every way. You both should be commended. I might just need to bring my students by here sometime to sketch and study what you both have done." The flattery felt like a wind-up, because it was. "Although, the one room that escaped our tour was the bedroom," he noted. Morgen refilled his wine glass, freeing himself of the Irish lass's embrace as his eyes focused on Jourdan. Morgen's eyes held a look of hunger, and though the painting had been an unpleasant journey down memory lane, it also invigorated his libido -- reminding him why he'd agreed to stopping by under the sham excuse of looking at their living quarters. <br/>
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"Unless it's off limits for the evening?" he asked, the question loaded.  <br/>
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