I made a choice, and my arms slowly fell limp, sliding away from my chest and taking my bra with them. In an instant, the hunger returned to her eyes. The smirk became a wide grin, and she said exactly what I wanted to hear. “That’s a good girl.”
I was done. I knew she had me, and I’d go along with whatever terrible wonderful plan was making her smile like that. I think that, right then, she knew it too.
“I don’t know why you’re so shy, Yuri. You’re easily the prettiest girl from our graduating class. We both know you’re probably smarter than me, and you’re more gorgeous than any piece of art I could ever hope to make.” Her words were going directly into my abdomen, and I could no longer keep myself from pressing my knees together, squirming as the moisture between my legs became uncomfortable. I hoped she wouldn’t notice. I hoped that if she did, she would pretend not to. She noticed. She didn’t pretend not to. “Is that all it takes to turn you into a squirmy mess? A few kind words and you turn into needy mess, huh?”
I whimpered, looking away. I tried to cover my face, but she snapped her pencil against her book.
“Eyes up.”
Reflex kicked in, and I was once again looking right into her eyes.
“Better. Now get back in position, but put your free arm under your breasts and lift them up a little.” I did as I was told. “Now, just keep looking at me like that. I want to immortalize that expression.”
She took her time drawing me. I spent longer like that than I had in any other position. Long enough that my supporting shoulder began to ache. I held myself steady, never looking away from her face. The whole time, she wore that wonderful, awful little smirk.
Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t stay still any longer, she nodded. “Relax.”
I tried to maintain my dignity, but the second I moved my cramped arm I fell onto my side. Rather than fight it, I rolled onto my back and stretched out my legs. Mary laughed at my escapades, standing up and coming to kneel next to me. She held up her sketch book, showing me the page she’d just been working on.
“Look. Tell me what you see.”
I looked up at the image, capturing me just from the waist up. It was rough in places, but just like Mrs. Campbell had said earlier, it only took a few specific details to make the whole thing come to life. “It’s… me.”
“Obviously.” She tapped my nose with the eraser of her pencil. “Tell me what you look like. What does your expression convey? Your posture?”
“I look…” I looked into my own eyes, rendered in enough clarity that it felt almost terrifyingly real. After a moment, I found the right words. And after another, I managed to just barely push them past my lips, whispering. “Desperate. I look like I’m begging. I look-”
I trailed off, afraid to say it. Mary finished the sentence for me. “Submissive?” I nodded, and she set the sketchbook aside. Then she took my chin in her hand and turned me to look at her. “And are you?”
“Yes.” The voice was small, and distant. But it was so completely certain of it’s own sincerity I almost didn’t realize that I was the one who had spoken.
“Tell me.”
“I’m desperate. Submissive. Begging.”
“What are you begging for?”
“I-” I faltered, “I don’t know.”
“Then I suppose-” She released my chin, leaning in. I felt her breath on my skin, but she paused, confusion on her face. Then, she snorted. “I just got charcoal all over your face.”
I blinked at her slowly, then I was giggling. It was almost hysterical, and she quickly joined me. We laughed, and every time we looked at each other it got worse, continuing the cycle until we were both lying on the stage, panting between little fits of giggles. “What are we-”
Mary interrupted my question, suddenly on top of me. Kissing me. I barely had time to absorb how soft her lips were before she’d pulled away. “I’m going to go wash my hands and get a cloth to clean your face. I want you spotless when you pose for my project.”
I admit it, I whimpered when she pulled away. It made her look so damned pleased with herself, too. I wanted to see more of that look from her.
She was true to her word, using one of the classroom sinks to wash her hands, then bringing over a warm, damp paper towel and holding me still with a hand on my jaw while she scrubbed off the smudges she’d left on my chin and cheek. “That’s better. Now, let’s talk about my project. I’m working on a series of paintings that I want to title ‘Intimacy’. Tonight, if you agree to it, I want you to pose for one of them. Your face will be in the painting, but I can adjust the colors enough that no one should recognize you.”
She paused, waiting for me to ask the obvious question. I wasn’t about to keep her waiting, “And how do you want me to… pose?”
I had a good idea what she was going to ask, and I could tell that she knew. It made me nervous, which made her nervous. Scared of scaring me away. “There will be three paintings, so you don’t have to do this one if you don’t want to. The others- it’s not all about-”
For the first time, it was my turn to stop her. I put a hand on hers, and tried to be bold. “You want me to… um, touch myself. Right?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I have a whole spiel about it too, in the contest of the others it’s… well, it’s not about the sex.” She took my hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Will you do this for me, Yuri? I want to capture real intimacy. That’s why I-”
Something about the way she stopped herself scared me. Mary was suddenly unable to look me in the eyes. “You… what?”
“I told Mrs. Campbell you volunteered to model for us.” Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I didn’t know how to ask you without scaring you away. I figured if you knew…”
“I never would have had the balls to show up.” I felt my shoulders begin to shake a little, unsure how to process this information.
“I’m sorry, Yuri. It was stupid, and cruel, and-”
“You owe me a date.”
Mary blinked at me. At the way I was flushed right down to my nipples, no longer trying to hide from her. “What?”
“You’re supposed to take a girl out on a date before you try to get her naked. That’s, like, dating 101.”
“What?” she repeated herself dumbly, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the way her brain just stopped.
“You’re gay, right? It was probably the worst kept secret in high school. You wanted me to do this because you wanted to ask me out, and putting me in your art felt like a way to establish intimacy.” Clearly, she was not expecting me to break down her motivations. Not that she was making it hard, mind you. “You’ve had a crush on me since… the beach trip, right? In high school?”
“I- yeah. Yeah! You wore that pink sundress, and those boys were being assholes-” She stopped, and it was finally her turn to blush. “You knew?”
“You’re about as subtle as a Banksy.” That earned me a snort of laughter.
“Then, why didn’t you ever say anything?” She wasn’t accusing me, which I appreciated immensely.
“Well, you never said anything to me, either.” She nodded, acknowledging the point, “And more importantly, I only recently learned that I was in to girls.”