Here it is, my debut into adult fiction.
Hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed righting it.
A few years ago, our local high school was converted into a community centre.
The school sat at the fringes of the CBD and had once drawn upon surrounding suburbs full of young and growing families. Over the decades the demographics changed and when enrolments dwindled below sustainable levels the decision was made to close the school and redevelop the land for high-rise apartments.
The local community protested. Whilst yes, it could be agreed that the school was no longer viable; the community still considered it to be a local asset and the last thing we needed was a bunch of yuppies in high rise apartments.
The alternative was to maintain it as an educational asset offering classes and courses to all comers -- be they older citizens looking for a means to occupy their time or younger people looking to improve their skillset and hopefully their employment prospects.
The local council, didn't like the idea one bit. However, their considered plan was to let us have our way, and once we'd failed miserably, they'd quickly revert back to plan A, the aforementioned high-rise apartments.
The expected point of failure was the local council's stipulation that the community centre would be self-sustaining and not draw on any form of support from the council. We'd have to pay our own way.
After a bit of a shaky start, we've now established a very solid foundation. We have yoga and fitness classes in the gym, cooking and catering classes in the former cafeteria, metal and woodworking folk recycling furniture for affordable housing projects, art and drawing classes, etc. The list keeps growing. The latest is the former chemistry labs making perfume and soap. We even have a gift shop selling the products of our collective effort.
My role, as the manager of the community centre is the help manage the competing priorities and personalities as well as looking for opportunities to grow our roots with the community. My latest initiative is marketing ourselves as a "decompression zone" where folk leaving behind a hard day in the city centre can take a class in the early evening one or two days a week before continuing their journey home.
I was in my office, sorting through paperwork when there was a light knock at the door.
Caroline was our coordinator for art. Her classes were popular with young and old. She also helped out Stephanie (our yoga and fitness coordinator) from time to time. Caroline was around my age, mid 30s, and worked for a city legal firm during the day. Her legal activities centred around juvenile justice. I hadn't taken too much notice of Caroline until she filled in for Stephanie as instructor for a yoga class about 4 months ago. Seeing her in yoga shorts and sports bra made me realise what a shapely figure she had - medium sized boobs, taut abs, a killer arse and long slender limbs. She'd been on my radar ever since, but given she had a partner, I didn't look to indulge in too many fantasies.
"Hey Caroline -- is that a new hairstyle?"
"Yes, I'm glad someone noticed" she said with a hint of exasperation.
The hair style was shorter and complemented her pretty face.
"What can I do for you?" I asked putting the paperwork down and giving her my full attention.
"Well, I have a favour to ask" she began somewhat tentatively. "I need someone for a life modelling course I'm doing and I was wondering if you were interested in helping out. I had someone else lined up, but they bailed on me."
Now at this point I should have asked exactly what life modelling was. I assumed it related to her work on juvenile justice. Something along the lines of mentoring young people who've interacted with the justice system and helping them to steer a better course and make better choices -- life modelling. Right?
"Sounds good, when do you need me?"
She had a surprised look on her face. "Ah, Tuesday next week would be great. The session starts at 7 o'clock".
That fitted well with my schedule.
"OK. That works for me." I agreed.
"Wow, that was easier than I was expecting. I thought you'd take some convincing. But I thought you'd be great, so I'm glad I asked." She was clearly delighted that I had so readily agreed.
"OK now I have a smaller, additional favour." She was on a roll.
"Yeees." I enquired -- my radar a little alert.
"Well, as part of the session would you mind working with Kirstie?"
Kirstie, in her early twenties, wasn't exactly trouble, but she had some interesting ideas. Like me she was a semi-regular for yoga classes and was often in the gym doing weights. We knew each other well enough to say hi and wave. With tattoos, body piercings and fairly extreme hairstyles and colours I'd always assumed she was a little "edgy". I'd seen her and Caroline together often and I assumed that related to Caroline's role in helping out young people. This reinforced my earlier assumption regarding the nature of life modelling -- Kirstie and juvenile justice went hand in hand in my mind.
"OK, I don't see that as a major problem and maybe this is a good area for Kirstie to be involved in."
That comment bought a slightly confused look to Caroline's face that she let pass.
"OK. Thanks David. I really appreciate it. If I don't see you beforehand, I'll see you next Tuesday. The session will be in the art centre. Could you be there at maybe 6:30?"
I nodded and with a quick smile she was gone.
I didn't give it another thought until the following Tuesday.
As it turned out I was a little early so I spent some time looking at the various pieces of art, some in the midst of completion, scattered around the art centre. I'd previously been pleasantly surprised by some of the artworks that had found their way into our gift shop. We certainly had some very talented artists in our midst.
Caroline arrived about 5 minutes after me and ushered me into her office/workshop.
"I'm so glad you came. I've been looking forward to this since last Thursday." She certainly had an air of excitement about her.
"Should I give you a little background?" she offered.
"Sure, that would probably be very helpful." I agreed.
"OK, we're expecting about 15 people in the class, mostly women, but a few men."
This had me a little confused as I would have expected her to use the terms "girls" and "boys".
"Most are very talented artists. They've very kindly agreed to donate some of their works to the gift shop."
OK. Now I was more confused. I couldn't see a direct link between mentoring young people and how good an artist they were.
"There's even some enthusiasm for an art exhibition." Caroline added.
OK. Now I was totally confused. It was unlike Caroline to be so unprofessional to be focused on artistic ability over more important issues.
"Of course, we wouldn't put any artworks that you were the subject of in an exhibition without your prior approval" she added reassuringly.
"Caroline, I may have missed the boat on something here. Why would I be the subject of a work of art?"
Now it was Caroline's turn to look confused. I could see by the look on her face my question was causing a deal of consternation. She tried to speak a couple of times before finally simply asking, "Isn't that what we agreed to?"
"I thought I'd agreed to help with a life modelling session"
"Exactly!" she was happy that I was clear on that.
