I recognized him instantly even though he was much older than the pictures I had seen of him. What was Cameron Mapplethorpe - one of the most influential nude photographers ever - doing in this small art gallery?
Mapplethorpe's art had made an incredible impression on me - although it had not exactly benefited my art studies. The professor hated my paper on Mapplethorpe. He just couldn't get past the male nudity to appreciate the composition and technique. And he certainly didn't agree with me that Mapplethorpe's works were important - the most truthful portrayal of desire ever captured on film in my view. My professor just saw erections and was outraged that I called it art.
I plucked up the courage and approached Mapplethorpe, introduced myself and explained how his art had inspired me. Much to my shock, he took time out to talk to me - a random art student - about photography, eroticism in art and the exhibition. It wasn't up to his standard of course but he said he enjoyed the composition and use of light to create abstract sculptures of the naked male bodies of the subjects.
Cameron - or Cam as he insisted I call him - turned out to be a very charismatic and engaging man. Although I was more than a bit starstruck, I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation and when he was about to leave, he invited me to a private exhibition the next week! I couldn't believe my luck! I didn't even know he was still exhibiting new work.
I arrive at the gallery, eager to see his new works. Cam isn't here yet. There are only a few other guests here. All mature men with the air of money about them. I guess they are here to buy works for their private collection. That explains why I had not heard of any recent exhibitions.
Large pictures of nude men are hung on the walls in Cam's trademark style of very revealing extreme closeups in black and white. His new works are even more explicit than the ones from my paper. Large erect cocks, closeups of the glans, even one with a drop forming at the tip. Beautifully shot, exposing the anatomy of male desire.
At the end of the room a massive picture fills the wall. It's an extreme close-up of an anus, with every ripple of the opening visible. I blush slightly. I can only imagine the subject opening himself to Cam like this and letting the artist capture something so private and intimate. I feel my cock twitch at the thought but quickly move on.
The next room is empty except for a large black stone in the middle, a pedestal of sorts. I guess this is part of another exhibition so I adjust my pants and return to the main room.
As I return, an older gentlemen approaches me. "Incredible, isn't it?" he asks, indicating a picture of a veiny, erect cock with a large head.
"I didn't know he still exhibited," I reply.
"Oh, this is not for the general public. These works are for an exclusive audience only."
The man offers me a glass of wine and introduces himself as Charles. He is in his early 60s, in an expensive suit and a watch that probably costs as much as a year's rent for me. We chat about our common interest in Mapplethorpe's art. I talk about composition, his cultural importance in elevating the nude male to art and so on.
"To be honest, I just think he takes gorgeous pictures of cocks," Charles interjects. "They just turn me on."
I feel myself blush, not just because Charles is so brazen about his desires but also because it makes me feel like a snob, trying to avoid the obvious erotic nature of the images.
But Charles doesn't seem to think so. He's a very pleasant conversation partner and seems genuinely interested in me and my thoughts. I find myself enjoying his company, as well as that of his friends who soon join the conversation. Like him, they are older gentlemen who collect erotic art. I notice some of them checking me out and can't help but feel flattered. One of them even asks me if I am the subject in the pictures and I blush as I deny it with a laugh.
"When will the performance start?" one of the men asks Charles.
"Performance?" I ask.
"Yes, this is a live art performance. Didn't you know?" Charles asks.
"Who will be performing?"
"Well, my dear boy, we were hoping you would be," Cam says from behind me.
I hadn't seen him approach and I swing around. He looks me intensely in the eyes. Suddenly all conversation stops and everybody looks at us.
"What?" I stutter.
"I was hoping you would model for me. Be my muse. We all love the naked male form here and you inspire me."
"Me? Naked? For you?"
"Yes, for us."
"We think you will enjoy it too. Don't you?" Cam says, glancing down at my crotch and I realize I'm hard, and it is showing. He nods to one of the other gentlemen who locks the front door and draws the heavy curtains.
"It's just us, you are safe here," Cam says as he puts an arm around me. "We will make it worth your while. I'm sure a student like you could do with some extra spending cash?"
"But-," I begin.
"You want this, my dear boy," Cam interrupts, looking at my tenting pants. Somehow, his words relieve me of having to decide.
The group parts, clearing a path to a dressing room. He takes my hand and leads me there.
"Undress and put on the robe," he points to a robe hanging in the dressing room. "They enjoy the reveal," he winks.
He closes the curtain behind me. I hear them start talking again, an expectant buzz in their tone. They really want me to do this. They want to see me model for Cam. Cameron Mapplethorpe wants me to be his muse! I'm so flattered. But getting naked in front of a group of old men? Oh God, that would be so embarrassing.
I realize I'm already undressing as I'm debating whether I should go through with this or not. It will be a bit of fun, I rationalize. I don't know them. I'll never see them again. And to be a model for Cam Mapplethorpe? I can't say no to that.
I draw the curtain and a silence falls over the crowd as they watch me walk to the large black stone.
"Very good," Cam says. They gather around us and the black stone. "Now let me see you."
I hesitate.