Nicholas Wilde is a 50-year-old painter shunned by the art elite for his unflinchingly representational depictions of the female form. Rose Selavy is the 24-year-old muse who refuses to let him own her. When they meet, their passions burn red hot, then bloody, and inspire one another. But when Rose leaves, Nicholas is left impotent, unable to seduce the other women he meets - no one can light the same flames as she had.
Fine arts and sex mix well - both painting and erotic writing are, at their best, about exposing the essence of your motif, your character, and yourself, scraping away the surface to lay bare the core - but even through Perkins' eviscerating lens, and old man's obsession with youth isn't quite my cup of tea.