Professor Amy N. Lowman, Ph.D., closed the door to her art studio a little louder than I was used to. And being all worked up tonight, the slamming door didn't help my nerves. It was exam night. But in an art class, a final would constitute a painting, and with my nerves, I knew I'd have to calm down in order to get an A.
Of course, it didn't help that this was my third college class. My high school let advanced juniors and seniors take college courses, and as a 18 year old senior, I was well younger than the other 4 college aged guys in the class who appeared calm as clear blue sky.
The studio was set up a little differently than usual, and as I set out my brushes and paint, I glanced around to notice the changes. The five of us were situated in a circle facing inward, around a two tiered circular platform. The inner circle was 2 feet in diameter and rose 5 inches above the outer circle which was about 10 feet in diameter and also rose 5 inches above the ground. Very odd.
"Before we get started I just wanted to say that it's been a great quarter. All of you are technically very good. But for tonight I want you to use more emotion in your work. Express how you feel. Stay relaxed. And let your work flow from your inner self. Tonight's final will be a portrait." Dr. Lowman stood up onto the platform, which didn't budge under her beautiful body. She had her hair up, which I loved, and her glasses were on the tip of her nose. She wore a white button up shirt with her sleeves rolled up, and a black bra underneath which could easily be seen. Her shirt was un-tucked and fell over a black mini skirt that zipped up the back. Her elegant legs were bare, and she wore flip flops on her feet. She was always beautiful, probably in her late 20's, and always made my heart pound a few beets faster than I would have liked.
The professor looked to her office and motioned for someone to come over. In a white robe and also wearing flip flops, a young girl walked over to the platform and stepped up to the top step with the aid of Dr. Lowman's hand. The young girl kicked off the flip flops.
"This is Stacie. She is the subject of your portrait tonight. And she will be nude." With that, Dr. Lowman pulled the neck of the robe back and down off of Stacie's shoulders, revealing a naked, fair skinned, trim body with perfect breasts, and a fully shaved pussy. Her shoulder length hair flowed down around a face that was young and innocent. She looked 16, but she was probably 18, considering certain laws about minors and nudity. I had never heard our professor talk about Stacie before, and I suddenly became curious about their relationship. Dr. Lowman walked off the platform with the robe. Stacie was very calm and comfortable standing there, and the other guys were calm as they handled their brushes, but I was losing my concentration, my heart beating faster, my dick bulging in my pants, and my breath getting shallow. The platform started to rotate with a slight hum of a motor. Stacie was able to look at everyone in turn. She didn't really hold still like I thought portrait subjects were suppose to. And the rotating actively changed the perspective. I was the last person that Stacie looked at in the rotation and when our eyes locked she smiled at me. I don't know what came over me but I froze with lust.
"Having problems?" Dr. Lowman whispered into my ear as she snuck up behind me and past me.
"Obviously this is an action portrait. Try and capture the motion, react to it, let it grow on you." Dr. Lowman smiled and stepped up onto the platform again, this time without her flip flops, and joined Stacie on the upper circle. The professor stood behind her, her left hand resting on Stacie's left thigh, and her right hand began tracing the line from Stacie's crotch to her hip. Stacie responded with a heavy breath looking down at the professor's hands, putting her left hand on top of Dr. Lowman's left, and her right on Dr. Lowman's cheek, which was next to Stacie's face as the professor looked down over our subjects shoulder.
I couldn't believe my eyes. Another painter let his brush fall and stared like I did. But the other three still tried to concentrate on painting. Did these two beautiful creatures share an intimate relationship? One that none of us students even remotely detected. True none of us had ever met Stacie but usually people drop hints, and our professor never eluded to anything like this.