I smiled a little. It was the same lecture as she’d given to the students at the beginning of the university course.
She stopped, looked around.
“Any questions? No? OK, Ty, I’ll ask you to step up on the platform. I want you standing, left foot forward, leg straight out as if you’re walking.” I adjusted my posture as she continued.
“Will you be comfortable with that?”
“Yes.”
Without further ado, she held out her hand; I slipped out of my housecoat, handed it to her, resumed the pose.
There’s always a moment when a model first appears nude, one in which the ‘no-staring’ rule is at best thinly-observed. This was no exception; Gale was of course cool with everything, but the gaze of the other three felt like soft fingertips running over my skin.
That was part of the challenge for me.
Gale (bless the woman!) cleared her throat lightly. The other three women abruptly turned their eyes away from me, sought out pencils and such. Gale and I refined the pose she wanted me in.
The position wasn’t hard; I could use most of my brain for something else. I let my mind roam over the assignment my Composition prof had given us to work on over the summer. I made a few initial tries, compared them, expanded one, shifted words around, ran the lines through my head.
It hadn’t seemed like twenty minutes when Gale called a break, but I realized then that I needed one. I stepped down from the platform and scooped up my robe from a chair where she’d left it.
“Mind if I go outside for a few?”
“Not at all.” She looked at her watch. “Five minutes?”
“Gotcha.”
The sun was still warm in the yard. I tied the waistband of my housecoat, smiled at the feeling of soft grass under my feet.
It was a lovely spot, very quiet and as good for the soul as it was pleasing to the eyes. The hedges were tall enough that Gale had perfect privacy, like living on another planet. I stopped, spread my legs a bit, swung my arms in a circle, then bent down to touch my toes a couple of times.
I turned suddenly and saw four pairs of eyes watching. I grinned to myself, headed back. None of them would meet my eyes when I entered the room and there were a couple of fading blushes. Tammy in particular still looked embarrassed.
A minute later, I was back in my pose, trying to blank my mind, send it back to find something rhyming with ‘slake’.
There was a second break, then another period on the platform.
“OK, guys,” Gale announced presently. “That’s it. Let’s see how everybody did.”
I could see why Gale had referred to this as an ‘advanced’ class, for all of them clearly had had some experience. To my surprise, I liked Tammy’s chalk rendering the best. That shy young woman had real talent. It always feels odd to see an image of yourself naked, but I had little trouble with this one. Quinn had used charcoal sticks in what I thought of as an impressionistic style — lots of fine strokes building to make a solid image. It was pretty good, I had to admit. Heather’s pencil rendition was technically perfect, almost draftsman quality, but to me it lacked a little soul, that spark that turns Good into Great. I didn’t say that to her, of course. It’s not like I’m an expert anyway.
When Gale began discussing techniques, I quietly slipped out and got dressed. When I returned, I discovered the four of them had found the wine again.
“Would you like a glass, Ty?” Gale asked.
I looked at my watch, shook my head.
“No, thank you. I’ve an early morning tomorrow. It’s been a pleasure meeting everyone.”
The four thanked me and Gale handed me my envelope as she saw me to the door.
“They were impressed, Ty. Thanks very much!” She gave me a quick friendly hug.
“You’re welcome.”
+
Gale asked me back for another session a week later. It went well but I suppose she was using other models after that. Three weeks passed before I got a text from her inviting me for a coffee at a campus outlet.
We made small talk for a few minutes before she got to the point.
“Would you be interested in modelling for us again, Ty?”
“Probably,” I said, somewhat surprised. “but I thought you wanted to use different models each time?”
She grinned.
“Erm, would you accept ‘back by popular demand’? What can I say? The girls were impressed and want you again.”
“OK, I guess. Same time?”
“Mmm-hmm. There is one other thing.”
I waited, intrigued by a slight blush growing on her face.
“Um…” she stammered. She took a deep breath.
“Ty… Look, this is going to sound weird, but — and I’m saying this as an artist — we’d like to ask…”
As an artist? It struck me that if she was talking as an artist, Professor Swanson wouldn’t be half this tongue-tied. I leaned back in my chair, grinned and stared at her over the rim of my coffee mug.
Her words came out slowly, with pauses as if she was trying to find the right phrasing.
“Oh, poop! Look, you’re just gorgeous and the girls, they — OK, we — want to see more of you.”