Still Life 8

The floor was cold against her bare feet. Goosebumps covered her skin as she stood there waiting. She shifted her weight from one side to the other nervously and pulled the robe in tighter as if someone was going to snatch it away from her. Through the door she could hear his muffled voice speaking to the class. His familiar tone was steady and strong. She tried to focus on him and not the sounds of the students. Paintbrushes and pencils clicking together. Easels being placed on tripods. Wooden stools scratching across the linoleum floor. For a moment she felt like running. Turning around and not going through with it. She paced back and forth in the small room as if to try and give herself a running start to flee.

Suddenly she heard his voice getting closer. She could see his arm moving for the door knob through the small, frosted glass window. It was too late. No time to run. Taking a deep breath in she tried to collect her senses. The knob started to turn and the door swung open. Bright light flooded in, forcing her to squint momentarily. And as her eyes adjusted she saw him standing in front of her. His hand reaching out and took a hold of hers, guiding her to the forward. Lights hung from the ceiling and shone brightly on the small stage where she was to stand. Fear began to grip her, but the soft touch of his hand seemed to somehow give her the strength to keep walking. To put one foot in front of the other one step at a time. The soothing sound of his voice as he continued to speak to the class she was unable to see. Nothing but shadows in a dark room to her.

Her feet finally found the stage as she stepped up and looked out across the dark room. She felt his hand slip away from hers and she turned around. Wanting to see his comforting gaze one last time. But he had already disappeared into the dark edges of the room. She stood there on the bright stage. Alone.

And then she heard him say. "Then let us begin." He called out her name like she had heard him do so many times before in his bedroom. It was their little secret, though. No one else in the room could hear the familiarity in his voice. But she knew. It excited her and brought a tingling pleasure between her thighs knowing that she was his and no one knew. All the little college girls who would flirt and fawn after him. Probably most of the ones in this room now. For a brief moment her fears slipped away. Her hands found their way to the belt holding her robe together. And quickly, before her courage left her, she gave a gentle pull and the robe fell from her shoulders onto the stage.

She was an elegant woman. Her soft, pale skin radiating under the stage lights. Her perfectly formed breasts and round bottom forming smooth curves and lines for the students eyes. And his. She knew he was watching her hungrily. He told her he would be. He told her to imagine his eyes on her body the entire time she was on the stage. To imagine his fingers tracing the edges of her body. As she posed there in front of everyone she could feel his touch across her neckline. Finding it's way down the curve of her spine and across her legs down to her toes.

She had posed for him before. But it was always in the privacy of his apartment studio. Never in front of others. He would wrap her in red satin sheets until she was comfortable enough to let them drop and stand before him completely naked. Every time he sketched her it was as if she felt his pencil tracing along the edges of her delicate skin. And now it was as if every hand in the class was upon her body. Sketching her curves and taking in her body in details that only an artist could.

He was right. The feeling was intoxicating. The room was completely silent except for the faint sound of pencils against paper and brushes clicking against water glasses. Every so often she would hear his voice from somewhere guiding a student. Drawing their attention to the curve of her breasts, the lines of her back or the delicateness of the soft, pink lips between her thighs. With every word he spoke a warmth began to grow inside of her that was starting to take over. The feeling of pleasure washed over her like a wave against the beach shore and she feared that everyone would see it. That all the eyes looking upon her now would see the ecstasy welling to the surface. But no one did. At least they didn't show it. The pencil scrapings and the brush strokes continued as they had been. So she closed her eyes and enjoyed the remainder of her time on the small stage.

And afterward, when the last brush was cleaned and the last student had left, they stood in the empty room in silence. He walked up to her, slowly stepping out of the shadows. A smile formed across his face as he took her in his arms and kissed her lips passionately. Pulling the belt of her robe he let the fabric drop from her body once again. And she finally felt the delicate touch of his hands tracing the soft curves of her skin as she had imagined it all night long.