She keeps the clipboard over her face. "I expect to hear a zipping sound soon, Nate."
I force a lump down my throat. It's okay, she can't even see me. It's nothing. Besides, how long have I fantasized about something sexual happening with Nell? I flick open the two buttons on my polo collar. It's nothing, it's nothing. It's just the same as taking a shower.
I pull off the polo and drop it to the floor. I unbuckle my belt and finger the button on my jeans. It's nothing. I pop the button open, unzip, and drop everything. The second my pants hit the floor, my penis pulls itself into the air, hard as can be. That vicious cycle of embarrassment and arousal has started. Damn, why couldn't I be normal like the guys who couldn't get it up when they were nervous?
"That's it. See, wasn't so hard now was it? Why don't you get comfortable, walk around a little?"
All I can think is, "I'm nude in Nell's office." My inhibitions are making me queasy, my sense of normality is scratching its head, and my libido is shouting with joy. But it all comes back to that simple statement. I kick off my shoes so I can pull my pants all the way off and walk circles around the chair. My erection bobs in time with my steps. You know, this doesn't feel half bad.
"Oh, I've got an even better idea. I want you to get more comfortable. I want you to imagine Bijou seeing you like this." She pulls the canvas back up and sits it on her lap, dispensing with the clipboard.
Despite her amateurish appearance in the portrait, she seems to be stepping right out of it. "'Allo, Nate," she says, then glimpses my nudity and gasps, covering her mouth with one hand. I give her a sheepish smile and cover a certain part of my body as well.
"I am sorry, I didn't realize." She emphasizes the last syllable of each word, as always. Her hand travels down to mine. "You know, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I am naked underneath this sheet too."
She lets go of the cloth. My eyes shoot all over her exposed figure while she moves my hand away. I stare at the erect nipples on her tiny breasts. Her hand wraps around me, so gentle yet so stimulating.
"How is it?" Nell asks, jolting me out of my fantasy. I become aware, all at once, of my hand making gradual strokes along my member and Nell's self-exposure. She's holding the canvas to her torso, which had pulled her skirt up so that the length of her thighs and her panties were quite visible. I remove my hand, not wanting to leave a mess on her floor.
"It's okay." I couldn't believe I had lost myself like that right in front of her, even if she couldn't see anything. The portrait of Bijou still stares at me, though.
"All right, our time is nearly up. Tell me when you're dressed." I throw my clothes on and tell her I'm ready, crossing my legs again to make my problem less apparent. She drops the portrait. "That's good, Nate. Very good. Actually, this has given me a great idea. I want you to pose for my class."
As before, I don't trust my ears. She goes on, "It'll be good for you. And I'll tell you what. I won't be there so we can maintain a professional relationship. Everyone will see you once and that's it, you'll be done."
"I can't do that."
"I want you to try. No, I want you to do it. I'm going to tell the professor that you're coming in next week. I'll make sure she makes you feel comfortable with the whole procedure. I can just ask one of the students the week after if you kept your word."
---
Somehow I find myself sitting on a bench in a locker room wearing only a robe. The art professor, Doctor MacConnelly, has one hand on my hips and another on my head, demonstrating the poses I need to hold.
This is all Nell's fault. I couldn't say no to her, especially because I let myself believe she would let this whole thing go further. Whenever I leave her office, I wonder if she thinks about me. I always hope she does – that she thinks of me with some fondness. I know I'm probably just another sad sack of neuroses to her, though, most likely one of her milder cases. She no doubt deals with raging maniacs; cases that require great effort to solve and far more attention than mine. I know that she's just trying, as she put it, to kick me straight into the water. She's not even going to be in the class tonight.
Professor MacConnelly leads me out the door toward the classroom. I calm myself – these people aren't going to see you again anyway. And they've been painting nudes or near-nudes the entire semester. It's nothing.
As the professor shepherds me through the door, though, everything changes. All eyes are on me. Even though it's a small class, it might as well be a sold-out crowd at a baseball stadium. I see Bijou. She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh, then waves to me. Of course, if Nell had painted her, she would be in this class. I don't know how I hadn't realized that. But then my eyes fall upon Nell herself. The liar!
I nearly jump out of my skin. I can't believe she's here. When I talk to her this week and every week after, I'll feel just as naked in front of her as I will today. But, at the same time, it gives me a feeling of ease, as if I have a cheerleader in the crowd for me. Someone who will be able to fix things if they go wrong.
The professor sits me down on the stool in front of the class. "Go on," she says. I untie my robe, only able to do so because I feel as if I've entered a dream, as if this can't possibly be real. As the robe parts, the professor grabs the opening and pulls it from my shoulders. "Here, I'll hang this up for you."
That's it, I'm nude. I didn't even get a final word in the matter. I have to sit with my head pointed to the left and my back to the class. This isn't so bad, I guess. All they can see is my back. But I can see two girls out of the corner of my eye, a blonde and a brunette. They're sitting almost to my side and I know they can see nearly everything.
They start whispering to each other while I shake in nervousness on the stool. My hands grip the sides of the stool for balance. The professor comes over and moves my hands behind my back where they're supposed to be, saying "Be still, now. Hold your pose."
My eyes dart all the way to the left so I can see the two girls. One of them smiles at me. I can't tell if they can see all of me. Deliberating about what they can see, though, is fueling that vicious cycle. I look back to my lap, trying to ignore the girls. My penis wriggles against my bare leg. Watching my sprouting erection is only making it worse, so I move my eyes back to the left.
The blonde pops a button on her shirt and runs her fingers down her open collar. The brunette is playing with the end of her brush, touching it to her lips. Her tongue slips out and licks the brush handle. Then she puckers and slips the handle into her mouth, fellating it. I swallow nervously. She winks, noticing me give off a slight tremor.
I had never taken a class that used nude models, but I had heard stories from some of my friends. They said that there were always a few girls who tried to get the male models riled up. That they would tease and giggle and flash while the guy was captive in front of them while he attempted to keep himself from getting too excited.
That's all it is, they're just fooling around with me. Don't play their game and you'll be fine. But now that I know the two girls are trying to get into my head, it's only making the situation worse. They've got to be imagining more than just painting my body. Their impure motives are pushing lewd thoughts into my head.
I look away again only to find my member inching down my leg. The friction from my skin isn't helping the situation. A feeling of warmth washes over my entire body. I had taken a triple dose of my meds before I came to the class just in case, which apparently just caught up with me. I feel half-drunk.
I stop my little shifting motions as the medication calms me. I wonder what the girls are up to. Though I know I shouldn't look over, I do anyway. The blonde has another button undone, showing a hint of cleavage and the top of her bra. Her legs are spread apart enough to allow a peek up her skirt. The brunette is sucking her brush even harder, the handle making a bulge in her cheek.
I've lost the battle. My dick climbs into the air until it points straight up. The blonde taps the brunette and the two giggle. A blush crosses my face. There's no doubt that they can see it now. Professor MacConnelly distracts them for a moment by checking up on their progress, but they are back to tricks before long.
"Second pose!" calls out the professor. I seize. I'm supposed to be facing the class for the second pose. The professor says again, "Second pose, dear."
I'm still frozen. Professor MacConnelly's hand grips my shoulder as she leans toward me from behind. "Is that," she points with her free hand to my erection, "the reason you don't want to do the second pose?"
More giggle from the two girls. I panic. The girls can see me and the professor is pointing her finger right at my hard-on. I can't turn around – visions of the beach incident are already creeping back into my mind.
I slap my hands over my crotch and leap off the stool. The tiles beneath my feet are sand. The students are bikini-clad girls, laughing at my nudity. My member is stiff from my exposure. I'm running to my bag to get a towel I can use to cover myself. The students are my first paramour, reaching for the buttons on my shirt. Pushing her hand away, covering myself with the towel. Both things brought me great relief, but I secretly wish that the gaggle of beach babes had run off with my towel, that I had let my kissing partner strip me.
