Growing up in an average size town in an average family, with two brothers and a younger sister, the first eight-teen years of my life were seemingly ordinary. Right after graduating high school, I met John while working as a secretary. It wasn't long after that I found myself married and pregnant.
The first part of my life was somewhat expected, well-structured, and understood; the next leg took me entirely by surprise, unknowingly revealing a piece I never knew existed.
John was a good husband and an avid fisherman. His hobby occupied a lot of his spare time, leaving me to handle the mundane maternal duties of raising our children. Yes, I had fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. Years of practice kept our lives running on time, scurrying to and from all of their school and social activities.
My life was centered around them, like most mothers. Rusty and Vicki were entering their second year of high school this year. Now thirty-five, with the kids somewhat self-sufficient, my motherly duties were becoming less involved, providing more free time. I was desperately searching for something to do outside the house to keep my mind occupied and take a break from sixteen years of caring for others; time for just me.
My friend Jane recommended that I should look into taking an art class. She had taken one at the School of Art in Glendale, about an hour's drive from here, and highly recommended it.
My artistic talents were scarce; my experience was strictly limited to what little I did to assist my children in school. I never considered myself talented in any form or fashion. After several days of indecision, I decided to try it. They offered several classes, including drawing, painting, photography, sculpturing, and mixed media. I chose the drawing class.
I enrolled for the Saturday class option. The small class consisted of five adult students who seemed close to my age. We drew various things, from vases to animals and even architecturally famous buildings. I struggled with drawing but wanted to see where it would lead. John and the kids always complimented the sketches I brought home, but I knew they were being kind. After six weeks of drawing, I felt jaded and switched to the painting class.
The painting lessons were much more complicated than I had imagined. I tried for weeks to get the hang of it, but mixing colors and stroking a brush proved very troublesome; I continually ended up with more paint on me than the canvas.
"Victor, I am sure that I was never meant to paint. I must be color-blind or something. This is a total waste of your time trying to teach me to paint."
"Karen, I always try to be positive about a person's abilities; however, in your circumstance, I might have to agree with you; this may not be where your talent lies."
"I am beginning to wonder if I have any talents."
"We will begin the next phase of this class next week, painting the human form."
"I know for sure that I could never paint a person. I will have to pass on that."
"You might be right, but perhaps you might be interested in another aspect of it, being the subject."
It took a minute to understand what he was asking; I was a little puzzled. "What exactly is expected of a subject?"
"All that is required is to remain in the same position for several hours."
"Oh, I can do this." Next Saturday, the class went slower than anticipated. Training myself to be perfectly still for hours was much more difficult than I had imagined. I eventually got the hang of it after four sessions.
Several of my classmates had finished a rendition of me; Hans agreed to lend me his to show my family. It was a perfect semblance of me. I was beginning to feel like I had found something that I was good at, even if it meant being 'the subject.'
"Mom, this is nice. Did you paint this? Rusty, come look at mom's painting."
"Why is it only your shoulders and head."
"It's called a bust portrait; Hans painted it. I was the subject; I had to sit very still for hours while being scrutinized for the fine details to be replicated on the canvas."
"So, you're like the model being painted, cool mom."
~o~
Next Saturday, after Ellen finished her painting of me, Victor announced that we would be starting the next area of this assignment. He called me over as the class settled down and began cleaning up.
"Karen, you are very good at this. The portraits of you came out excellent. Would you consider doing something a bit more risqué for next week? We need more diversity for the next chapter as we will concentrate on the entire body."
"What do you mean, risqué?"
"There are several ways to accomplish this; perhaps unbuttoning your blouse a bit, maybe show a little cleavage or a shorter skirt; long crossed legs always enhance the subject matter, providing additional interest.
His request shocked me, and I knew I could never do anything like that. Besides, I don't have any cleavage. "No, thanks; I..... don't think I could do that."
"Just consider it!"
Was he asking me to show my body? The walkout to my car was filled with alien thoughts; my brain was in a daze trying to understand this strange feeling twisting through me. I opened the door and sat there for a minute, attempting to make sense of all of this. "What is confusing me so much about this?"
Thoughts of his request infiltrated my sanity at a hundred miles an hour, too fast to make any sense of it. Unexpectedly a warm sensation made its presence known between my legs. I lifted my knee-length skirt finding moisture in my panties; a vaguely familiar spasm raced through me as I trembled on the seat in utter surprise. Did I have an orgasm thinking about his request? I had almost forgotten what one felt like. "I can't believe this just happened." I was angry at my body for abandoning me. Embarrassed and nervous, I could barely make the hour's drive back home.
I tried not to think about the peculiar experience for the next six days. My body reminded me each time I thought of it. This was crazy; I was like a lost child trying to find my way out of the forest. My brain attempted to convey that this was irrational, but my hormones were in the lead, telling me this was ok; I was too curious to let this go unanswered.
The following Saturday, after much agonizing, I drove towards my destination, art class. I worked myself into a frenzy, trying to come up with any possible scenario that might occur. I was in real distress. My body was in total despair, teased by small tingling sensations undulating through every muscle in my body. My nerves finally won. "I can't do this." At ten o'clock, I found myself sitting in my car outside of the school, an hour after class had started, completely bewildered.
A quiet knock on my window shattered my consciousness. I almost jumped out of my skin. It was my teacher, Victor. "I see you are considering returning to class; I noticed your car through the window." It seemed like an hour before I could utter a word, although, in reality, it was most likely seconds.
"After days of agonizing about your request, I am still unsure about this."
"Come inside and let's get your nerves settled; if you are not ready, that will be OK."
After ten minutes of visiting with everyone, I began calming down.
"Let's get started, class. Karen, you can come up and take your seat when ready."
"What should I do first?"
"Make yourself comfortable. I see you have worn a button-up blouse and skirt. Perhaps start by loosening a couple of buttons. Strike a pose you deem suitable, and let us know when you are ready so we can start."
My blouse was very moderate, concealing my small-size thirty-five-year-old breasts, which had never been revealed to anyone but John, supported today by a silk bra.
I unfastened one or two buttons giving a slight glimpse of my bra, then undid several of the lower buttons on my skirt. My skirt retreated to the upper half of my thigh when I crossed my legs. This was more than I had ever done in the company of others.
A feeling of nervousness and pleasure trickled through my veins. This felt good; I had not experienced such sensations in a long time. The class went by fast as I eventually settled into the new routine boosting my confidence; I surprised myself.
~o~
I spent the following week contemplating how risqué I was willing to be, obsessing about how much I would reveal. I chose to wear a knee-length button-up dress with small shoulder straps; this meant wearing a strapless bra that I was uncomfortable wearing.
Driving to class was nerve-racking as I attempted to build me up. Just how far can I go? Everyone was very complimentary of my dress as I took my seat. I was still trying to figure out the extent I was willing to show myself.
"Karen, we are ready when you are."
I took my seat and unfastened five or six buttons at the top, leaving my chest primarily visible. A jolt of nervous energy raced through me as I released several buttons at the hem, leaving three fastened at the waist, showing most of my thighs when I crossed my legs. Those three buttons were just enough to conceal my white cotton panties. I was a bundle of nerves, sitting mostly exposed as never before in front of my class.
"Karen, that is perfect, giving us a bit more to concentrate on. Your legs and a hint of your silk bra make a nice addition."
"Class, concentrate on her physique; try to capture the subtle display of her chest, the striking tone of her legs, and her facial expression."
I can do this, I kept telling myself, trying to convince my brain it was ok. My body was benefitting, enjoying the ordeal as I sat there and watched each student study me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins constantly as I sat riddled with anxiety, much more so when the instructor and students kept roaming up to survey me, standing inches away, studying my body parts.
