"Ah!" The woman who had opened the door beamed at me. "You must be the male model."
"I am," I said.
Maybe that should have tipped me off. The "male" model. But, you know, people do call me that. Most of the time it's not to distinguish me from someone else - it's their perception of what I do and who I am.
She beckoned me inside. "The class'll start soon," she said, closing the door behind me. "Can I get you anything? Water, tea?"
I shook my head. "I'm good, but thank you."
She nodded repeatedly, a small but excited smile on her face. It was a pretty face, too: she was in her early thirties, I thought, with neatly tied-up hair, black glasses with thick round rims that suited her slim face, and a floral... what's the word? Like a long semi-opaque bit of fabric, almost like a cross between a cape and a cardigan. Anyway, she had one of those over a simple black T-shirt and jeans. I thought she had a nice figure herself, from what I could tell, but I didn't look too closely. I was here to be looked at, not to do the looking. Flashing from between her smiling lips were neat teeth with slightly fox-like canines I could only think to describe as "cute".
Overall, her look was what you might call artistic, which... well, made sense.
"I'm Laura," she told me, leading me quickly through the entry hall over to a door that opened into a small, plain room with a dressing table against one wall and a white gown hanging in from a simple rail. "If you want to get ready in here, I'll call you in when we need you."
"Thanks." I gave her a quick smile as she closed the door.
Her footsteps faded quickly. Rapid footsteps, I thought, eager to go where they were going. I was used to this side of the job: people found it inherently exciting to have a real, live human naked before them. Even in less serious groups, though, I'd learned that there would usually be a few minutes of silliness before people started to find themselves getting absorbed in their drawings, finding the art in the human form. There'd be an occasional giggle or whisper, but something about seeing a naked body and treating it as an object of artistic beauty rather than something silly or even something sexual (and hey, it can be all of those things at once) seemed to unite people.
Usually, anyway. I'd had to walk out of a few, er, interesting gigs, but those are stories for another time.
I undressed, folded my clothes on the dressing table, and slipped into the robe. It was softer than some I'd had: you could tell some people just bought the cheapest ones as an afterthought. I mean, some people didn't provide robes at all, which was why I tended to bring my own, so anything was a bonus really.
I wondered idly what Laura did. She was the one who'd contacted me and made the booking. We'd had one brief conversation about what she needed, which was pretty much just the usual - stand in a room while a group of people drew me - and other than that I hadn't spoken to her until I arrived today. Her house was nice, though. Like, not just "a nice house" - it was Nice. Not quite a mansion, but certainly a lot closer to a mansion than most houses I'd been in, from what I'd seen of it.
Not the sort of place most normal art teachers could afford, but maybe she was renting it? I shrugged internally. Not important.
Laura's eager footsteps reappeared, followed closely by a quick, sharp knock on the door.
"Are you decent?" she asked, easing the door open. "I mean, not that you need to be, necessarily, but..."
"It's fine," I said, opening the door the rest of the way for her. Her cheeks were a little flushed - from the quick walking, perhaps, but I suspected not. "I'm used to people finding this a bit weird," I told her. "Don't worry - however awkward you think you might be, I've had worse."
She let out a nervous chuckle at that. "Yeah, I bet."
Laura walked me out of the little room, across a hall with an expensive-looking rug lining the middle, and up a wide staircase to an intricate set of double doors. "This is us," she said, flashing me a smile.
She pushed open the door.
Inside was a pretty normal setup: maybe a dozen people, all women around Laura's age or younger, sat at easels arranged in a circle. What was unusual was the beauty of the room itself: the space surrounding the circle was like a ballroom out of a Disney movie, complete with stained glass windows at the opposite side from the entrance.
"Please," said Laura, gesturing politely for me to enter the circle. I headed to the centre, where a plush, comfortable white rug had been placed so I wouldn't be standing barefoot on the lacquered wooden floor. The room was comfortably warm, which was something of a relief: bigger rooms, even if they felt alright at first, often started to feel chilly pretty quickly when you were standing still with no clothes on.
I untied my robe and moved to remove it, but Laura held up a hand.
"Before our model for today reveals himself," she said, "I think we all ought to thank him for coming."
There was a brief round of applause. This wasn't usual, but I had to admit I sort of liked it. Twelve women, all very beautiful, smiling and nodding at me was a pretty nice experience.
"Without him, none of us could be here to appreciate... what's beautiful in life. So thank you."
I nodded, then opened my robe and removed it from my body.
This part was often interesting. You could tell a lot about someone from their initial reaction to a naked body. Some people would break into nervous laughter. Others would blush. Some would become very fixated on certain parts; others would be visibly doing all they could not to look.
