Ch. 1: When I started modeling for art classes a few years ago, I handed out some homemade business cards in case someone wanted to hire me for private sessions. No one ever did, and I had forgotten about it, until I received an email from a woman asking if she could draw me. From several classes I had posed for, I remembered her as a very attractive woman who drew quickly. I agreed to pose nude for her and we scheduled a time for me to come to her home.
When I arrived she seemed a bit more relaxed being at her home than I recalled from seeing her in class. It was a warm day and she was dressed in shorts and a tank top, looking terrific. She welcomed me, thanked me, offered me a cold drink, and got quickly to work. I undressed in the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my waist, then returned to the living room which was all windows with great light. She had put on an apron over her clothes, something I had seen many artists do before. She directed me to a chair and asked me to choose a comfortable pose. I placed the towel on the chair and got comfortable, crossing my leg for a bit of modesty. She had me adjust my pose slightly, then began to draw. As I remembered she worked quickly, her eyes moving regularly between me and the paper. I had chosen a painting on the wall to focus on in order to keep my head still, but my eyes were drawn to her. Her face was prettier than I remembered, but her legs and arms were covered by neither her clothes nor the apron and I had to try hard to keep from staring at her lovely, exposed skin. I tried timing my glances to the moments when her eyes were on the paper, but she caught me several times when she looked back more quickly than I expected. I thought she might admonish me about it but she didn't say anything. In fact, I thought I detected the tiny beginnings of a smile in her mouth and her eyes.
I decided to redouble my efforts to keep my eyes fixed on the painting, which worked for a few minutes, but then my mind began to wander. The intimacy of the situation began to push propriety right out of my brain. I was naked, with a desirable woman, alone, in her home, and she was staring intently at my body. I thought of her bare leg, much of which was exposed to me; I thought of her arms, I thought of the parts of her body which I couldn't see. Then I started to think about her naked, about kissing her, touching her. And I began to become aroused. Up until now I was sure that my penis was of no interest to her and had not been catching her attention. But now that familiar feeling took over my groin. I could feel myself getting hard, so I glanced down to see what she might see. I realized I was in trouble. I wondered what she would do: throw a pencil at me? Demand I leave immediately? Call the police?
