Jarod Afiotor paused before adding another brush stroke to the canvas and stole another glance at his teacher. Yes; she was looking at him again. Jarod smiled winningly at her. Suzanna Cavendish coloured slightly and pretended to examine a piece of sculpture one of the other convicts had created.
Mrs Cavendish seemed full of admiration for the sculpture: "Dave, I really like the way you've managed to smooth the clay out on this side. If you can just manage the same thing all over, it will look great."
Jarod smiled. Suzanna knew as well as he did that Dave's artwork looked like a piece of shit, but, being a good woman, she always sought to encourage her students.
"Okay guys, this class ends in five minutes, so you need to start clearing up your equipment!" This announcement was made from the other side of the large room by Marc Cavendish, Suzanna's husband and fellow art teacher.
Jarod sucked his teeth in annoyance. He looked forward to these art classes and was in no mood to return to the boredom of being banged up. The room in which the classes took place had been the prison dining hall in Victorian times and, after being cooped up for days in a small dark cell, Jarod loved the high ceilings and large windows through which the sunshine streamed. He had also discovered a real love for painting and drawing thanks to Mr and Mrs Cavendish's lessons and he sorely wished that they took place more often than twice a week.
As the convicts began clearing up their art materials, Suzanna moved over to Jarod's side and examined his painting. It showed a couple copulating on a bed of crumpled sheets; the male, black and heavily muscled, on top of the white woman, who stared out at the viewer over her lover's shoulder. Suzanna couldn't help but notice that with her long blonde hair and blue eyes the girl in the painting looked very much like herself.
"Jarod, I'm very pleased that you joined this class," she said, softly, so no one else could hear. "You're really gifted, you know. The way you've captured the light on the man's back and shoulders is amazing."
Jarod grinned broadly. "Thank you, Miss."
Suzanna laughed. "Don't call me that; it makes me sound so ancient! We're the same age you know. In fact, you're two months older than me."
"Been checking my records, have you, Suzy?" Jarod found it hard to take his eyes off those perky tits she had. Although he also loved her shapely ass, slender waist, long legs and attractive face, it was her gorgeous breasts that he thought about the most. How he wanted to grab hold of those titties and fondle them...
Aware of Jarod's lustful stare, Suzanna felt her face flush slightly. "It's my job to keep tabs on all my students, Jarod," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly.
Jarod grinned broadly. "Especially your favourite students; like me..."
Suzanna was blushing fully now. It was totally true that Jarod was her favourite student. Marc had been teaching him for nearly two years, but she had only met him when she began helping her husband out at the prison three months before. From the first moment she saw Jarod she had felt a deep attraction to the man. She often wondered at this as she had never even socialised with a black person before. That first day Jarod had actually appeared quite intimidating, with his flashing brown eyes, shaved head and dark chocolate skin. He had loomed over both she and her husband, his muscular physique seemingly barely contained by the regulation orange prison jumpsuit all the convicts wore. He certainly looked like a violent thug; his bare arms, even his neck, were adorned with dark tattoos and when he smiled, amidst his brilliant white teeth, three gold ones gleamed.
Yet she felt attracted to him.
Suzanna remembered that when they had initially greeted each other, her white hand had been engulfed by Jarod's strong brown fingers, but the shake had been gentle. When Jarod spoke, his voice was deep, yet soft. Suzanna quickly discovered that Jarod was not only a gifted natural artist, but also intelligent and enquiring. Although he had not received a proper education, he was now reading widely and their conversations about art and music were always interesting and stimulating. Marc liked him too, having often mentioned Jarod to her before she started at the prison and talking about how amazingly talented he was at painting and sculpture. She and her husband both agreed that it was a shame that inner city youths like Jarod had none of the advantages middle class people like them enjoyed.
Standing with Jarod now, looking at the painting, Suzanna was just about to ask if the kneeling woman was meant to be anyone in particular when the door opened and two prison officers arrived to lead the convicts back to their cells.
