Art Class Modelling

**DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are over 18 and purely creations of fiction. This is meant to be a fun story with only a loose connection to reality, so just have a bit of fun with it if you can, thanks!**

My first year in college had gone about as great as it could have. A huge scholarship covered my tuition, my grades were looking great, I had made a ton of new friends, and I was meeting and hooking up with girls all the time. Well that is except I had hardly gotten past acquaintance status with any of my classmates, I had not even so much as talked to a half dozen girls, much less hooked up with any, and to top it all off the organization that gave out the scholarship that covered my tuition suddenly and without much notice canceled it's whole program right at the end of the summer before my second year. The only silver lining was that my housing was taken care of since an old family friend who usually rented out a spare home near campus to students had agreed to let me stay there during my time at school provided that I keep up the place. And that my grades were actually very good, though by the time I knew that I would be saddled with the cost of tuition it was far too late to use my academic accomplishments to seek out and apply for any other scholarships.

Thus I was left desperately looking for any way to raise the money I needed in order to keep attending my classes and continue my chemical engineering degree with precious little time. I tried all the usual routes, finding every business within a short distance of campus and putting in an application, but I soon found out that nearly everyone had already hired the seasonal staff and weren't looking for any extra help at the moment. Trying coffee shop after coffee shop and even considering a few fast food places I was amazed at how I was getting exactly zero interest from anyone.

I was left attempting to see if there were any jobs left on campus, though I knew those didn't pay quite so well. I was certainly desperate enough to take just about anything at that point. All the normal positions were of course with my luck so far taken already at that point, and with the first week of classes arriving quickly I swallowed whatever pride I had left inside me and chose what I thought was just about the last choice available to try, being an assistant to one of the fine arts faculty. The job description was fairly brief, just including the need to be able to lift boxes of supplies and take direction well as there wouldn't be a set routine, just responding to the needs of the day. I was certainly decently strong, and now especially so. Having thought my second year would be taken care of financially I had spent my summer and most of my saved up money hiking through as many trails as I could find and get to. So I had trimmed down by losing any of the fat I had and gained a good deal of muscle as well.

It took only a few days before I received a message back, accepting me into the position. Reading the message I breathed out a sigh of relief, though a sense of dread still filled my stomach as I felt like even this wouldn't be enough to get me by. The message indicated I would be working under a professor Lynn, though since I had not even so much as stepped foot in any of the fine arts buildings on campus that meant practically nothing to me, but I found it a little interesting I would be working for just one of the faculty and not the department as a whole.

My first day of classes and beginning my new job arrived at the same time, and I found myself rushing from one of my advanced math courses to the arts building that was the furthest away and tucked into a mostly unused corner of campus that was surrounded by the woods that covered a few acres on the outside of the campus. Walking up to it I did not see anyone entering or leaving from the fairly large and unfamiliar building, but I did spot some smoke rising from what if I had to guess were pottery kilns that lined one side of the building. Walking in I still did not see any other's and begin to guess that this building was not much used, an idea that was only reinforced the more I walked through the halls towards the room indicated from my messages with professor Lynn, as each room I passed was not only dark and empty of people but most were bare of any furniture or any sort of equipment for teaching for even just creating art.

Therefore after going through what was almost seeming like a ghost building it came to be somewhat of a relief to find professor Lynn at the room written down on the note in my hand. Though at first I did not quite believe it could be her, as the woman standing in front of large stacks of boxes and crates could hardly have been much older than I was. I would have guessed her for another student except she was dressed in what I could only describe as a porn producer's idea of a teacher's outfit. A tight pencil skirt that hugged her ass so closely as she was bending down to examine the contents of one of the crates I could almost swear that couldn't be wearing any underwear. And as she turned to me I saw that her blouse was just barely containing against the press of her impressive breasts, and I was surprised that the buttons could even hold the shirt together, especially since quite a number of them were unbuttoned to give an overly generous glimpse of her cleavage, and just a peak of the lace bra she was wearing.

"Oh, are you Ryan?" Came her cheerful and upbeat voice as she smiled softly. Though her expression and tone of voice were warm and inviting there was something in the way her eyes moved up and down me that hinted at something like a hungry desire behind them. "I'm Professor Lynn, though really you can just call me Lynn." She told me without waiting for my answer, walking over with a spring in her step that made her breasts bounce enough that I might have swore they would pop out. Taking my hand she shook it with a light grip in both hands. "I was just so glad to have someone take up this position, I have been needing an assistant to help organize and work through and this material and to model for me ever so badly,"

So entranced by the sway of her breasts her energetic shaking of my hands created I completely missed the last part of her words referencing modeling for her as I just nodded my head, trying not to stare too openly and over long at her enticing cleavage. Which was actually fairly difficult as she stood about a foot smaller than my six and a bit foot height, and her standing so close made even just meeting her eyes give me a fair view of her rack.

"I was happy to find someone willing to pay me for a bit of work, I'll help you out with however much you need here," I told her, thinking my answer was just referencing the piles of boxes behind her and not promising me some of the most interesting work I would ever find myself in.

Professor Lynn's eyes lit up brightly at my promise and a curious smile snuck onto her face. "Oh, well that's quite the helpful spirit. I do hope you mean that young man." she said, letting go of my hand to brush her fingers down my arm for just a moment before turning back to the pile of supplies. "First though before we can get into the fun would you help me divide up all this? All the boxes and such are labeled with the room they will eventually go into, we just need to split up everything at the moment." She told me, bending down again to point to a label on one of the boxes near the bottom of the stacks, giving me a great view of the shape of her ass once more, seemingly on purpose. That idea was almost confirmed as she looked back to me without leaning back up, giving me something close to a smirk as she noticed my gaze drifting to her rear. "Do you see, perfectly clear is it not?"

My eyes drifted back to her ass, half a thought forming in my mind that perhaps she was making a hint that her behavior was trying to convey something to me. I quickly dismissed the idea, rebuking myself for thinking I was in some sort of badly written smut and was going to get lucky with the busty teacher moments after meeting her. "Uh yes, separate into piles, I can do that." I answered, dragging my eyes away to meet hers long enough to nod before beginning to pull out cases and boxes, creating distinct groupings in the mostly empty large room.

The work went fast that first day, and despite myself having dreaded needing to work I found Professor Lynn to be enjoyable company throughout the labor. She filled the hours with charming smiles flashed my way as she regaled me with tales of her travels. She apparently had been to nearly every spot I could name all over the world and quite a few I had never heard of before, doing paintings and drawings on commission. She described this adventurous life with extreme details of all the beautiful beaches and castles she had seen and sketched, and the many interesting and eccentric personalities that had hired her for stints of creating what I had to guess where phenomenal pieces of art in order that she kept getting new requests from increasingly rich and generous benefactors.

I left the arts building with more cheer and hopefulness than I had felt since knowing that I'd have to find a way to source my tuition this year, and it was more than just the thought that my student account would be just a little less in the red than when I had entered the building. And it was also more than just being able to ogle at Professor Lynn here and there from the many angles that well highlighted her curvaceous body. There was something of a kernel of hope that this year might actually be a good one for me, despite how awful it had started out.

My next few shifts working with Professor Lynn went about as smoothly as I could have anticipated from the impressions I got during my first day with her. I spent most of my time sorting and carrying various sorts of arts supplies from one empty room to another. I did learn that the building was an old one that had been once slated for some renovations and therefore decommissioned as an active place of learning, but those renovations never materialized and had laid dormant except for the use of the kilns occasionally. Eventually it was realized that there would be no update coming and the ball slowly started to roll on making the building ready for classes once more. Professor Lynn had been hired to oversee this 'new' addition, but since the work was only progressing slowly through the machinery of the university she was the only faculty pretty much ever there, apart when she had to teach the odd one or two classes.

Along with getting the story of why I was tasked with the seemingly never ending sets of boxes and stowed away equipment to sort and move I got treated with more tales of exciting views and travels from Lynn, as I began to simply call her more and more. Likewise increasing in frequency were the exciting views Lynn offered me as her wardrobe always seemed to highlight her amazing figure that would give any sorority girl a run for. From the near rendition of a Halloween slutty teacher get up on the first day to yoga pants so thin and tight they seemed hardly worth wearing I was amazed how she got away with such clothing choices without censure from the university's higher ups. But I supposed distance from any classes and other people in general shielded her from any chance of criticism, and had to assume she chose to wear slightly more appropriate attire during the times she did actually have to teach classes.

I might have thought her style of clothing just that, a particular style that left not much for the imagination, but Lynn gave several other clues that her inhibitions weren't very strict. Along with the stories of simple travel after a few shifts she began to drop hints that she had enjoyed many of her destinations in more physical ways, especially with her more wealthy clients and patrons. The descriptions never went so far as to explicitly state anything, or really even imply overly much but combined with how she always looked at me when coming close to speaking of hot and heavy action, or alluded to what could have been frisky encounters made it seem like she could tell what was not being said clearly told. And more and more as the days turned into weeks of working with her the telling of these stories would start to include light touches on my arms as she walked by me, or stray brushes against me as she carried a box by. These interactions always seemed to happen right before the details came to a pointed end, at the height of the leading and alluring action.

At the end of the third week of working with, and I was thinking more of it now as working with instead of for, Lynn she came to with her first very unusual request. Or I say request, but it was phrased as less optional when I first heard it.

"Well I think we finally have enough separated and moved in studio 4b to actually start on some modeling, I do hope you are excited. This should be a nice change of pace for you." Lynn announced with all her normal cheeriness and upbeat attitude one day as I arrived at the old art building. Before I had time to react and question what she meant she handed me a box labeled 'Murmillo' and gave me a wink. "Now go on and get changed into this, I really want to get this started," She told me, a little bit of forcefulness edging its way into her voice.

I stood there speechless for several long moments, still not knowing quite what was being asked of me and how I should respond. "Um, change?" I asked her, a strange flood of feelings confusing my mind enough that I barely even knew how to voice my lack of understanding at this new expectation of me.

"Yes, change. Oh I suppose if you are feeling a bit shy there's the old changing rooms in the back of the studio." Lynn answered, her voice almost a little disappointed in needing to direct me away, though if I heard that I was more than enough confused by the mischievous chuckle she made after her statement to pick up on it. "Please now go on and get ready, remember this is part of your job you agreed to when you signed up for this. I would really hate to have to tell the university that you do not want to continue and have them take away the money you have earned already. I know you need this job." These words came half a plea and half what would have been a threat in any voice other than her bubbly and musical one.

The thought of having all the work I had done go to waste and even worse be without a future job to help pay for my classes quickly put the idea of questioning this order out of my head and I went off to the changing room. So in haste I was from the threat of losing the only way I found to keep up with tuition that I was half stripped down inside the unexpectedly spacious room with two doors and a shower curtain like divider in the middle before I even stopped to check out what I was intended to wear. Shifting through the pieces of impressively realistic Roman wear and armor and recalling the name labeled on the box from some video game I had played, I eventually figured out that I was dressing up to be some sort of gladiator. This of course interested the very large nerdy part of me, though in sorting through the pieces I came to my next struggle. While seemingly much more well crafted and to my eyes accurate than any Halloween costumes I had seen, and probably even several movie outfits, the clothing given to me suggested very much it was to be worn without a shirt or pants, and even worse without any underwear.

"I can come in there and help if you are a bit confused there dear," Lynn called out just behind the door, an almost teasing tone blending into her voice now, especially with the before unheard dear making me feel almost an unruly child for a moment. "But if not, please do not waste too much time there, just set all your clothes aside and come out with however you can manage it, we can make a few adjustments before we start posing you." She instructed, her voice now like that of a teacher's than ever before, and her all referencing my clothes making me fully sure I was not to try and augment the outfit with pieces of my own clothing, even for modesty.

Gulping down my anxiety I surveyed the outfit one more time. A large, crested helmet with a cage like front to view out of, heavy looking fur trimmed boots, one going all the way up to the knee with extra padding. There was only one arm guard that went up from wrist all the way to the shoulder with a small pauldron, and worst of all what seemed like only a small step up from a loincloth. Stripping the rest of the way down I put on the belt and cloth piece and was a little surprised at how much more it covered that in my imagination, but still there was precious little keeping my junk out of view. The rest of the armor I put on fairly easily, its construction seemed to be made more for ease of use and how it looked than for actual protection, which I supposed was fair. I was especially considerate for this fact in regards to the helmet, which was actually very light, though it did limit my field of vision quite a bit.

Stepping out of the changing room I bumped straight into Lynn, her having stood so close to the door as she waited for me to come out and with my vision being narrowed down so much by the helmet. Half stumbling onto her I felt her hands push back on me, one halfway down my thigh and the other one my chest. My own hands sought to steady myself and found themselves somewhere I could not see on her body, but felt far too good to be anyplace appropriate.

"God, Ryan, not so fast, you haven't even taken me to dinner" Lynn said with a chuckle as I quickly found my footing and moved my hands off her. Her hands stayed on me though as if to steady me, but her hand on my thighs squeezed lightly as her hand on my chest slowly drifted down to my abs. "Well I thought you might be a good choice for this but I did not guess just how well you would pull this off, you stud." She told me with a grin as she stepped back and returned to my field of vision where I could see her looking up and down over my body with no shyness present at all. While I had gotten much stronger and built up my muscles over the summer, the need to ration my food spending with the start of the year had really cut down any fat I was still storing on my body and brought my muscles into clear view.

Though she gave no indication of impropriety in taking sweeping gazes over my mostly bare body I quickly began to feel a rush of embarrassment, and was glad the helmet hid the red on my cheeks. "It's a little... light on coverage," I said to her, the air suddenly feeling too cool on my skin despite the warmth rising on my face.

Lynn just laughed as she drew close again, her hands moving to adjust some of the straps holding on the armor on my arm and legs. "Oh I've seen far worse, I should tell you about this one weekend in Naples sometime," She tried to assure me as her hands danced none too sparingly over me, pausing here and there in places I was sure she did not need to check. "But you look great Ryan, an absolute treat. I already have a dozen poses I know I need to sketch you in."

I barely had time to even begin to form a response to that before Lynn took my hand and started to move me onto a large but low platform in the middle of the room. "Just take a relaxed stance for right now, while I get a feel for you and your figure." Lynn instructed me and started to move, grabbing a large sketchbook and an easel to set it upon. Before I could even ask if my pose was okay I heard the hurried scratching of a pencil across paper and stuck with the stance I had fallen into, fearing that any movement would ruin whatever progress she had started on.

Soon after though, maybe just several minutes or so Lynn called out to me. "Now stand with one foot forward, and put a hand on your hips." She told me, peeking out from behind her large paper to scrutinize my positioning. "There's fine for now," she told me, and the sound of pencil against paper once again resumed its furious pace. The next hour and some went on much the same, Lynn switching between calling out changes to my stance and drawing quickly enough that I never really got tired of any one pose. Judging by the speed of her drawing I had to assume they were just the most basic of sketches and wondered how much she was really getting out of it. Whatever she was doing I had never seen her more focused or intent during the whole time I had known her. Even her suggestive quips and cheeky smiles were down to just a few here and there, though they came more often when she was telling how to flex just so in order to show off a certain set of muscles or when placing my legs in ways I was almost sure would give a glimpse to way lay behind the loincloth.