Art class returned to normal. Carl and I assumed an amicable distance in class, as before, and we did not mention a word between us about the episode. I continued my lunchtime routine of sketching in the park and Carl picked up with the crowd 'his own age' in the deli. Although I did have a fondness for Carl and his foppish affectations I was put out by his aloof attitude. We had an exciting experiment and I never intended anything more.
After about a week the novelty of the episode wore thin. What was adventuresome a couple days ago was now prosaic. This also happens when I masturbated too often to the same fantasy. So, to reignite my imagination, I mentally conjured my next escapade.
When I arrived at the studio I found a large brown envelope tucked inside the sketchpad on my easel. Instinctively I knew it was Carl's doing so I secreted it with my supplies so I could open it in private. Several times that morning in class I caught Carl staring my way but I did not return his glances.
At lunch I packed my sketchpad, along with the envelope, and made my way to the park. I found an unoccupied bench at the east end, with the view that stretched over the city's industrial skyline, and surreptitiously opened the envelope. Inside I found a dozen matted drawings of me posing naked. Carl added details to the background, the bar, shelves and even a reflection in the mirror to make them more complete. He enhanced the precision of the drawings by shading, tints and touch-up in strategic places on my body. In one sketch I was redrawn in watercolor. This rendition lost some of the sexual exactness that made the sketches so erotic but created a faux photographic quality of a low-grade pornographic flick.
Staring at my pictures made my body responded with lustful urgings. My nipples, which I affectionately refer to as my 'pixies', firmed under my light blouse and warm arousal spread throughout my upper thighs. I could almost feel my cunt moisten as I examined the depictions of my body. I imagined finding an out of the way spot and furtively rubbing my clit until I came. Instead I suppressed the frustration and replaced the drawings in the envelope.
Carl was at his easel when I returned. I presumed he had checked that I took the envelope but he did not disturb anything in my area to confirm that. When I faced my easel to begin the afternoon exercise, I heard a raspy, disembodied voice from off to my side. "Did you get them?"
"I did", I replied, "They are quite fascinating. I like them a lot. Thank you very much."
There was no reply, only the usual flamboyant gestures that he thinks go along with creativity. I nodded a vote of approval otherwise I reckon he would sulk.
I was not concentrating on the class but was mentally working myself into a sexual lather. Think, almost out loud, about my posing, the pictures and Carl's warm cock in my hand. The afternoon droned on and all I could think about was getting back to the basement, laying the pictures across the bar, stripping and then masturbating as I stared at them. I did not plan to visualize a sexual encounter when I did, just stare at my naked body and work my cunt hard.
"Hey, Monica!" It was Carl. "Are you asleep?" I shook myself from my reverie. "What? Did I miss something?"
Carl gave his swishy titter. "No. I just wanted to tell you that I was daydreaming about last week."
"A good daydream or a bad daydream?" I countered.
"Oh a good daydream! In fact I have been daydreaming about it every day" he tittered, "if you know what I mean."
"Oh! I know," I laughed. "If you ever need a model again, just let me know." I was emboldened by his idle jesting which I was sure hid his real motive.
"Anytime you are available," he breathed with an air of accommodation, "I will adjust my busy social schedule."
