Muse: Israeli Actress, Singer and Model Daliah Lavi
Musician: German Musician, Model, Actress and former member of The Velvet Underground Nico
Time: Early Seventies
When her manager told her he'd found the perfect nude model, a celebrity was the last thing Eliza was expecting. Nico sat at the paintress' coffee table, still in her trench coat as she was trying to warm up from the snowy weather she'd just escaped. Her gloved hands swiped up and down her biceps, the friction relieving her chills.
Disregarding the biting cold, it was actually a rather pleasant Saturday morning. It was just before noon, and the sun was already high in the sky. The sky itself, being painted a clear-blue, was crowded with fluffy white clouds that danced before the crystal-colored and even-tempered background.
Eliza's nails tapped against her kitchen counter as she waited for the whistle of the kettle. She kept her eyes trained on any and everything but the beautiful woman seated on her couch. Although she wasn't a huge fan of Nico, in fact she only vaguely knew who she was, knowing the amount of influence that the woman in her sitting room had was enough to leave Eliza feeling shaky.
She had a large piece due in a number of months for a community art center just outside of her neighborhood. The owner had requested that she paint a floor to ceiling piece on the wall of the foyer, stressing that it should feature a woman au naturel. Why he was so adamant on this, Eliza didn't know, nor did she care to know. She just wanted to get the work done and get her pay — as quickly as possible. But, that would prove to be a little more nerve-racking with the knowledge that she'd be alone in a room with an international celebrity. An international celebrity who'd be in the nude.
The kettle shouted to signify it'd finished its job, the loud release of tension being something that Eliza envied. She placed a teabag in each cup, sugar, tea, and cream already sitting neatly on a silver tray.
Eliza had offered the model tea upon her arrival, an offer which the woman accepted graciously, and was currently preparing the cups in her kitchen whilst in the midst of an internal freak-out. Her focus was pointed at the window to her left, although there was nothing to see beyond the straggly branches of an old willow tree. Nico is in my apartment, Nico is in my apartment. Nico is in my apart— shit! Eliza cried out in pain as the piping hot water pooled around her fingers which were absentmindedly hooked over the lip of the teacup. My mother always warned me not to do that, she remembered.
Nico came rushing into the kitchen at the commotion, walking in to see Eliza hunched over and clutching her throbbing fingers. The brunette was still groaning in agony, the kettle thankfully having landed on the counter and not broken on the floor. "Do you have bandages?" Nico inquired, stepping closer to Eliza with her hands outstretched to pull the burned fingers closer.
Eliza moaned a laborious 'yes', voice straining with her eyes screwed shut. She gave the blonde vague instructions about where her first aid kit was located in the guest bathroom, putting most of her focus in trying not to cry at the searing discomfort.
Nico swiftly exited the small space, but soon returned with the kit in hand and pulled up a stool from the corner to treat Eliza's wound. She took the brunette's injured hand by her wrist, dabbing her fingers in the unscrewed jar of ointment to carefully slather the burns with. She then took up the gauze and wrapped it around the irritated fingers, still red-hot with pain.
As Nico worked to heal her, Eliza used the thenar of her healthy hand to soak up the few tears that'd slipped from her tightly closed eyes. "There. This'll do for now." The blond said, releasing Eliza's hand to pack up the first aid kit.
Once Eliza finished cleaning up her mess, they finally had their tea, not saying much as they hastened to get out of the door. After having practically chugged their drinks, they headed to the coat rack to prepare to leave.
Eliza's deep brown peacoat swallowed her small figure, noticeably a size or two too large for her frame. The collar tickled the lobes of her ears, shielding her chin and lower lip with a wall of stiff felted wool. They stepped out of her apartment, quickly hailing a yellow cab and informing the driver of the studio's location.
The taxi driver was silent, the radio set to an agreeable level as he swerved through the streets of New York City.
"You're not American." Nico's voice snapped Eliza out of her trance, causing her soft brown hair to whip over her shoulder as she turned to face her. She regarded the blonde's stale and concentrated expression — to her, it seemed almost as if the singer was trying to find a crack within Eliza, a way for her to see inside of the girl and uncover all of her deepest secrets.
"No, I'm not." The brunette replied simply, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. "Was it my accent?"
"No." The blonde smiled with playful intention. Her hand descended into a deep coat pocket, retrieving a pack of smokes. "I guessed it by your name, the way you carry yourself. You're from Western Europe, Eliza?" Her German accent stamped each of her words, the ink of her heritage bleeding through the paintress' name — Eliza.
"No. The Middle East." She replied, avoiding eye contact as she began to feel intimidated.
"I'm from Western Europe. Germany. Does this bother you?" Nico spoke, her index and middle finger carrying the cig between her lips and training her Zippo on the end.
"No, no! I have no problems with Germans."
Nico chuckled, smoke still unlit, and removed it from her mouth.
"Not that. The cigarette." She'd by then successfully lit it, the ash beginning to burn away as the cigs rested in her lap, idling between her slim fingers. "I noticed you're avoiding my eyes."
"Oh. No, it doesn't." Eliza felt a pang of something she didn't recognize at having been caught. She thought that she was being rather slick in steering away from the blue eyed woman's gaze. "I'm a smoker myself, actually."
"Care for one?" Nico inquired.
"Yes, sure. Thanks." Eliza smiled, saying 'yes' for what felt like the first time that whole day. The two smoked their cigarettes in silence, enjoying the city sounds as the driver skillfully took them to their destination. Nico's jaw could've dropped when she saw the massive and expensive looking Victorian-style building. They exited the cab, paying the cabbie and disposing of their cigarette butts responsibly.
The two ascended the few steps, the brunette taking a silver key out of her pocket. She shook it around in the lock to admit them access to the building. The heavy brass doors where admittedly a challenge to push open; Eliza often struggled with them when she was on her own. She found herself thankful that Nico was with her to make it easier on her.
Once they entered the decadent foyer, the blonde's eyes immediately latched onto the seemingly finished painting that the wall to her left adorned. It was across from what appeared to be a registry desk, similar to one you'd find in a luxury hotel, and it stretched all the way up the generous space, ending crisply and abruptly just before the bronze ceiling.
Nico was shocked by the look of the building. When she was told she'd model for a 'community art center', she'd pictured something small and modest — not a giant, flashy ballroom fit for New York's snobbiest socialites. The room was ample and warm in appearance, but everything about it felt biting. The enchanting painting within the hallow space served as an escape from the cold marble floors and the beautiful yet stiff and un-lived-in sofas.
A strikingly tall wooden ladder (that had a few broken pegs on one side) stood off to the right of the painted wall. Nico figured that this was likely how Eliza managed to paint the magical piece. She also figured that the paintress was rather clumsy.
Nico began to step out of her shoes as her eyes scanned the artwork, the sound of Eliza shuffling around in her bag to unpack her supplies filled the wordless foyer. After all, it couldn't be put into words; it was a feeling. It took you out of your body right where you stood.
Eliza turned her back to Nico as she prepared her materials, sifting through tubes of oil paint and organizing her brushes. She softly hummed to herself in an attempt to drown out the sound of the heavy fabrics that Nico adorned slinking onto the sparkling marble of the floor. Once she'd finished setting up, she was met with the sight of Nico kicking her pile of clothes to the side.
"Em, I have a scarf here." Eliza approached the now nude model, holding a soft white scarf in her hands. "I'd like for you to wrap it over your hair." Nico took it without question, stepping over to a scarcely paint-splattered and slightly cracked mirror to put it on. She took great care in wrapping her hair up, leaving only her blunt blonde fringe and the few defiant strands that framed her chiseled face to be seen.
The paintress took this as an opportunity to begin distributing paint onto her palette. She didn't get to do this for long, though, as the model's rich voice abruptly brought her out of her little zone.
"How do you want me?" Nico teased, bare and sprawled across the scarlet fabric of one of the extravagant sofas, decorated in gold embroidery. Her left arm rested seductively over the cherry wood armrest, cushion by slightly itchy olefin upholstery. Eliza felt slightly out of place; still wearing her baggy coat and lacking entirely in seductive and witty lines.
"Over here." She replied simply, pointing towards a small crate to the left of the painted wall as she tried (in vain) to blink away the ruby blush that had conquered her cheeks.
Nico stood where she was instructed, spinning on the balls of her feet to look over the girl. The blonde was a good few inches taller than Eliza, something that she hadn't noticed until they exited the taxi, and she looked even taller when standing on the apple crate that served as a makeshift step.
With the massive wall fully decorated in a breathtaking backdrop, Eliza was ready to paint Nico. She'd already finished the rest of the painting, so the model would be the final addition. The painting featured a lush field of flowers and trees and a gushing waterfall that poured into a clear, rolling stream. Woodland creatures pranced jovially in the background, dotting the horizon which was backed by a pale orange and icy lilac sky. In the center of it all, there would be a woman: Nico.
Eliza walked up to the ladder, but didn't climb it quite yet.
"Just put your arms above your head... like this... yeah." Her instructions were shy; she hesitated not only in her demonstrations of what she wanted Nico to do, but also in her words. The blonde brought her arms up above her head as she was told, her fingers softly grazing each other.
"No—" Eliza interrupted. "Bring your wrist behind..." Giving up on trying to use her words, she placed her palette onto the vast and sparkling floor, stepping towards the model. The artist gently took hold of Nico's soft skin to cross her dainty wrist behind her opposite forearm.
"There." She said under her breath, returning to her normal height as she had to stand on the tips of her toes to comfortably grasp Nico's arms. Their eyes met as she pulled away, a lightheartedly smug look on the blonde's face.
The brunette avoided speaking further, returning to that ladder to gather up her things. Eliza's burns prickled underneath the gauze as she took up the palette. There was a small wince, but she otherwise managed to push through the pain. She made a few steps up the pegs, looking back over to her subject.
"Nico, would you please shift your weight to your left leg?" She asked, making sure to be extra polite as she was still quite intimidated by the tall blonde.
"Oh, enough with the Nico. It's always Nico this, Nico that. Call me Christa." Eliza's cheeks grew red with Christa's correction, embarrassed to have failed in her mission to keep from getting scolded by her muse.
"Sorry, Christa." At this, the singer obliged, letting her body weight fall onto her left hip.
"I'm trying to get away from the old Nico. I'm trying to get away from that. My career starts now." Eliza hummed in reply, but didn't part her lips as she didn't know what to say.
She started working on a rough outline of the blonde's figure, dragging her brush across the wall and leaving a trail of nearly-translucent lines of white paint in its wake. After only a few minutes, she noticed that Nico's position had shifted just slightly. But that shift, however slight, would make a big difference in the painting.
She didn't want to be a nag, but she knew what she wanted the painting to look like, and she needed Nico — or Christa — to comply. As she scanned the room in slight frustration, her gaze found a long, abandoned pipe leaning against a back wall. She got the idea that if Christa held onto it, she'd be able to better keep the pose.
She slowly and carefully descended from the creaky ladder, being extra mindful of her bandaged hand. Stacking her brush onto her pallet and resting them on one of the lower pegs, she made her way over to the pipe, grabbing it with her good hand and dragging it towards Christa.
"Here. Maybe if your hold this pole—"
"Would you like a strip-show?" Christa cut off Eliza's statement, chuckling at her own joke.
"You're already naked." Eliza reminded, growing more confident and less afraid. The blonde woman smirked, shifting her weight.
"Then watch me get dressed. Like a voyeuse."
"Voyeuse?" Eliza tried the unfamiliar word on her tongue, knitting her brows at the German girl.
"It's the feminine version of voyeur. Do you not know what that means? Or are you not a woman?" Christa's arms were now folded over her head, her hands dangling beside her ears.
"I am a woman. And I know what voyeur means." The brunette defended. "It's the French word for peeping Tom, correct?"
Christa laughed, unbothered by her complete nudity. "Yes, that's right. So, do you like to watch people?"
"I like people watching, but not indecent people. I sometimes go to shopping centers and sit on the bench, watching people go about their lives and taking candids. I used to want to be a street photographer." Eliza admitted, positioning the pipe by Christa's side.
"Aha! You're an asexual pervert!" The model laughed, taking hold of the pole with her closer hand and falling back into her original pose. Eliza playfully rolled her eyes, ascending the ladder and ignoring the pain with each touch of her bandaged hand against the wood.
"I'm not any kind of pervert, thank you." Eliza said, beginning to paint the outline of Christa's body. She started with her scarf-enveloped head, making her way down to the arches of her feet. Christa trained her eyes on a specific one of the pear-green flowers that littered the cream wallpaper behind the long, wooden desk.
Eventually, two hours or so had passed with no trouble. They'd taken a few water breaks and agreed to get lunch together after they'd finished their work for the day. Eliza had made significant progress by then, especially considering just how massive the wall truly was. She hadn't a single doubt that she'd finish the piece with ample time.
As if Christa could read her mind, she broke the comfortable silence with an inquiry. "How many days do you think this will take?" She asked, shifting her attention back to Eliza. The brunette shrugged, adding some highlights to bring dimension to the hallow outline of Christa's chest.
"Maybe two or three weeks. I could probably finish it in around six days if we had longer sessions and I saw you every day."
"Then I hope I won't see you for a while. I'd like to drag this on as long as possible." Eliza was quite confused by Christa's comment, but tried not to think too much of it. She seemed like a natural flirt; the kind of person that says sensual things without even realizing it or meaning to.
"I think we're done for the day. I'm starving." The blonde slid the scarf off of her head, stepping down from the crate and starting to pull her clothes back on. Eliza began to protest with several 'but's, but by the time she was finished cautiously scaling down the ladder, Christa was basically done dressing.
"I was a model for many years. I'm finally done with diets and I want to eat a big lunch." She stepped into her shiny black loafers. "Let's go."
Eliza's eyes widened at the realization that Nico was waiting for her. She hurried over to her belongings, quickly packing her things into her bulky and unfashionable leather bag before running back to Christa's side. They stepped into the freezing New York air, Eliza locking up the building and securing the key into the pocket of her trousers.
"Where did you want to go?" The brunette asked the blonde, their strides slightly out of sync as they made their way down the few concrete steps.
"I'll like whatever you like." She replied, stuffing her hands into her pockets. The two engaged in small talk as they stalked the streets, peering into and rejecting every restaurant and café that they passed.
As Christa was going into a rather poetic and confusing anecdotal story, Eliza found herself unable to help staring at her face. Although fully aware of her lips moving, Eliza could barely hear a single word. However confusing it was, she knew that she was content. She felt warm in the snow: warm in Christa's company.
There really isn't any need to rush, she thought as Christa erupted into laughter at another one of her own jests, I think I'd like to drag this out as long as possible.
***
Ty ty ty!!! This book is nearly at 555 views! I love you all so much kfksjf thank you!! I'm thinking I'll bring back an existing pairing to celebrate 555 since it's my favorite angel number. Message me or let me know in the comments if you have any suggestions for a chapter you'd like a part two for!!
This one shot was fueled by my recent rewatching of Nico 1988 (A Nico biopic from 2017. A few lines in this chapter were inspired by it). Since my brain is now 100% Nico, I had to write this. Also idk why she ends up nude whenever I write for her lmfao
This one shot is inspired by this picture of Salvador Dalí and Amanda Lear. Obviously, I had to censor it, but the uncensored version is out there and easy to find (I'll send it to you if you'd like lol. Just message me). I censored her bottom half even though you can't see anything, just to be safe😭
Anyway!! Here's a few of my fav pics of Miss Christa Päffgen herself😌
She looks so innocent when she smiles😭
Then so serious when she isn't smiling
Muse time!
Daliah Lavi, born Daliah Lewinbuk (or Levenbuch, Hebrew: דליה לביא) was an Israeli Actress, Model and Singer of German-Jewish and Russian-Jewish descent, born in the British Mandate of Palestine (now Israel).
She was fluent in many languages, acting in films in German, French, Italian, Spanish and English.
She appeared in her first film in 1955, a Swedish adaptation of the 1887 novel The People of Hemsö by August Strindberg called Hemsöborna.
However, her career took off in 1960 when she began to appear in many American and European films.
Many consider her best performance to be in the 1963 witch-hunt themed film Il Demonio.
After a decades long and beautiful career, Daliah sadly passed away in 2017. RIP angel❤️
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