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."
"Today", I retorted.
A long pause followed. Was I too direct or was he taken back that I called his bluff so immediately? I said no more but waited. He emerged from behind the easel and stood at such an angle so nobody could catch what he was saying. "I told Marian I would drop her off at ballet practice. I know what you are thinking but it might look strange to my friends if you were along too." As much as I was irked by his comment I did understand. Carl has a social image he must maintain and associating with the likes of me did not fit that image.
"Does that take you very far out of your way? If you want to stop you may." I commented as I tried to project a matter of fact indifference.
"Will you be there?"
I looked up with my best 'why do you even ask such things' expression and nodded my head. "I take the commuter train, so you may still be there before I am. Just wait on the street."
Carl disappeared behind his easel without a word and continued to toil in silence until the final bell. Without a word or glance from him, I left the studio and made my way to the train and the normally uneventful ride to the stop at the foot of the hill.
The afternoon heat made me break into sweat as I trudged up the potholed road towards the house. The air seemed exceptionally heavy and made my clothes cling to the film of sweat that formed over my body. When I caught sight of the woods beyond the house I fought the urge to wander back behind the overgrowth, find a quiet spot and masturbate. I imagined myself reclining against a tree on the hillside; spreading my legs to whatever preying eyes there may be in the distant houses below and furiously finger myself. Oblivious to my surroundings I would moan loudly as I came violently. I concentrated so much on my musings I almost did not notice Carl's car parked in the shade of a leafy tree across from the house.