The long awaited morning of May 22nd was clear and warm. I showered and shaved and couldn't get the nervous jitters to go away. It had taken a great amount of willpower, but I had refrained from masturbation for the previous two days in preparation for the class. So I was really feeling on edge. The contact list of the art department models was held by magnets on my refrigerator door. I was tempted to call Jessica to make sure she remembered and was coming. But I thought she might find that insulting. She had modeled for art classes all semester without missing one. I knew this because if she had missed, Rhia, the model coordinator, would have stopped putting her on the schedule.
Katherine Tate had written 10:00 AM on the back of her business card. I was ready to go before 8:00, but I stayed in the apartment surfing the Internet and messing around on Facebook, my leg bouncing under my computer desk. When I finally couldn't stand to sit at home any longer, I grabbed my modeling bag with my robe, got in my car, and drove to the university campus. The parking lots were almost empty since the spring semester was over and the summer session hadn't begun. That thought made me wonder again about Dr. Tate's class. Why hadn't it been listed anywhere on the university's schedule of classes?
I parked and took a long walk around campus, enjoying the warm sunshine, thoughts of college girls gazing at my erect cock filling my head. I reached room 214 of the nursing building forty-five minutes early. The room looked like a regular small lecture classroom, with desks arranged in rows and a whiteboard behind the instructor's lectern. I had heard Katherine tell Jessica that she would need to be on an examining table in stirrups, so I was surprised that there was no such table in the room. I sat in one of the student desks directly in front of the lectern and took my phone out to check my Facebook and email. My leg was still bouncing as it had been at home.
After finding nothing interesting on my phone, I finally decided to go for another walk. Katherine entered the room just as I stood up. She was wore a short sleeved yellow blouse and black slacks and carried what looked like a laptop bag.
"Dan!" she exclaimed. "You're really early."
"I know. I'm always early. Better than being late."
"This is true," Katherine said with a smile as she walked into the room. "It's a sign of someone who really likes his job. You love being a nude model, don't you Dan?"
"Yes, I do."
"I thought so. I think you will enjoy my class."
She sat her bag on the desk beside me, zipped it open and withdrew a file folder.
"Since you're so early, you can have a lot more time to do fill out the pre-lab survey," she said and handed me a packet of stapled pages.
"There's a survey?" I asked, taking the packet from her. My hand was shaking a little more than I would have liked.
"Yes. It's a big part of my research."
"Research?"
"Yes. This class isn't really a class, per se. It's part of an independent research project I've got going on. The twenty-one students are really just volunteers for the project."
I looked at the first questions on the survey, and they seemed simple enough.
"And here's a pen," Katherine said. "Your name will never appear in any reports or books, so please answer each question with brutal honesty."
I took the pen and sat back down in the desk.
"Is the class meeting in here?" I asked as I wrote the number 28 in answer to the first question, about my age.
"No, it's actually next door," she replied. "I wanted you to come here first so you could fill that out. I'm going to leave you to it and go get the room ready. Thank you so much for doing this Dan."
"You're welcome. Thanks for asking me to do it."
We looked at each other and smiled before she walked out of the room. I turned my attention to the survey. "Are you a virgin?" I wrote no. "Are you currently involved in an ongoing sexual relationship?" I thought about my last steady girlfriend and how she freaked when I started modeling for art classes. Again, I wrote no. "Do you consider yourself an exhibitionist?" I thought for a moment about how much I loved modeling and about that last class I did when Katherine had walked into the studio at the end and stared at my exposed cock, how much I enjoyed that simple thing. I wrote YES in capital letters. "Have you ever been arrested or cited for any offense related to your exhibitionism?" I wrote no.
The only question on page two was, "Have you ever gone nude in public, and were you seen by anyone or not? If so, please describe your experiences?" The rest of the page was blank, and I filled it in with how I, as a teenager, used to go to a local cemetery at night and take naked walks, something I hadn't thought about in years. I wrote that I didn't think I had ever been seen but that I had always fantasized about a group of high school girls finding me and making sexual sport of me.
I spent a half hour writing answers to the rest of the questions, and by the time I was done, I felt like a total deviant. Katherine and Jessica walked into the room just as I finished.
"Hi Jessica," I said. "You made it."
She shrugged, and I noticed that she had her own survey in her hand, along with a paperback book, something by Orson Scott Card. "Yep," she said.
"You can sit and start on that," Katherine said to Jessica, motioning to one of the desks.
Katherine took my survey from me as Jessica chose a desk near the door, and, letting her backpack slide off her shoulders and drop to the floor, she sat down. Taking a deep breath, she started writing her answers.
"I know you're both nervous," Katherine said, "but I want you to just relax and have fun. I chose you because you're used to modeling nude in a classroom environment. Yes, there is a sexual element to this that you may not be used to. And after my lecture portion, I want you both to really play, either with yourselves or with each other."
