Sandy 18 - Studying Sandra
After her jazz dance class on Monday, Sandy put on her dress over her leotard and walked to the on-campus credit union. She got in line for a teller. When she got to the window, she handed the teller the envelope that Professor Brown had given her and said, "I would like to open a savings account."
The teller called an account manager over to help Sandy open an account. The account manager took Sandy to an office in the lobby and handled the paperwork. When he opened the envelop, he asked, "Do you want this all to go into savings?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. So, $500 into savings. I'll be right back. Here is the note that was in the envelope."
It read: 'Sandra, This amount was not what we agreed. It is what your effort is worth. Thank you so much. S.B.'
Sandy stared at the note. She had agreed to work for $200. She wondered why Professor Brown had paid her more than twice the agreed rate?
A few minutes later the account manager came back with a stack of papers and a passbook. Sandy looked at the amount that had been deposited, $500. She stood, thanked the manager, and left in a bit of shock.
Sandy had not spent much time on campus near the credit union. She noticed the university art gallery and decided to visit. She wanted to stay out of the way while Professor Brown met with her mom. Plus, she figured that even if she wasn't an art major, she might benefit from learning more about art if she was to be a model, if only temporarily.
The exhibition was art by university faculty members outside of the art department. Sandy entered and turned left. The gallery was mostly empty. There were a couple of students sketching, but that was it. She walked slowly, sideways, looking at each of the displays. The art included paintings, drawings, sculpture, even pottery. Even though the artists were not professionals, the art was excellent.
Sandy had gone most of the way around the gallery when she encountered a piece by Jorge Castaneda. It was really seven pieces that had been framed together. It was called 'Studying Sandra'.
Seven charcoal and pencil drawings had been arranged into a single large frame. Centered in the top row was the study of a face. The second row had three studies, hand, breasts, hand. The next row had one drawing of a vulva. The bottom row had two drawings of feet.
Sandy was mesmerized. She recognized Professor Brown immediately, even if she was deconstructed. Sandy stood rapt. As she gazed into the eyes of the face, Sandy remembered holding the circle pose and looking into Professor Brown's eyes. As she gazed at the breasts, Sandy remembered reclining on the sofa cushion and watching Professor Brown's nipples and areolas dance as she drew.
When Sandy looked at the vulva, she entered a meditative state, seeing her remembered image of Professor Brown's vulva overlaying the image of the study. She felt her vagina moisten and her clitoris engorge. A wave of sexual arousal washed over Sandy.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" said a voice from her side.
The voice shook Sandy from her reverie. She recognized the voice. Without turning Sandy said, "Hi Jorge. Thank you. Your art has fused with life. It might not be a masterpiece for the masses, but I love it."
Sandy turned, "Jorge, thank you so much for including this piece in the non-art faculty display. It is spectacular."
Jorge said, "First, Sandra was the one that submitted this work. Second, you are one of the few Americans that has pronounced my name correctly. I thank you."
"I admit that when you introduced yourself on Saturday, I heard George. It was only when I saw the name of the artist that I realized that I had heard incorrectly."
"I work in a high-stress position as a cardio-thoracic surgeon. Long hours and tense emotions, especially when I lose a patient. Though we know that eventually we will lose all patients.
"When I started in my career, I was married to a wonderful woman. But after a time, she could not handle the loneliness of my long work hours, my bitter moods when I lost a patient, and my inability to give her the attention she needed. She found a new lover and divorced me.
"I needed to find a way to relieve my stress. I tried the gym, running, ballroom dancing, and other physical activities. They helped, but I wanted something with tangible results. I tried pottery, which was great. Writing poetry, which turned out to be almost as stressful as surgery for me. Then I saw an ad that the local community college had an adult class in life drawing. I thought that that class might help me as a physician.
"The instructor was a graduate student at the university, Sandra. She was an absolute tyrant in the art lab, but she was also an excellent artist and teacher, and all the students loved her.
"During the last session of the semester, we students were all seated at our easels ready to draw when in walked Sandra, wearing a long robe. She apologized, telling us that she had just learned that the model was ill and could not be there for the last session. She would be the model for the session. She gave us our instructions; create studies of her face, hands, and feet. She lay on a sofa-like cushion and said, 'Start, now.'
"I was stunned. But I also knew that Sandra expected each of us to do our best. I drew like a madman for the first three sessions.
"Before the fourth session Sandra said, 'Now pick any body part and draw it in as much detail as you can. You have 20 minutes.'
"She removed her robe and assumed the same position on the cushion as before. Again, I drew as a madman.
"After 20 minutes she sat up, put on her robe, and said, 'Please sign and leave your studies on your easels. I will collect them. They will constitute your final exam for this course. You can retrieve them next week.'
"I could not get up from my chair. I organized my pencils and charcoal sticks and just sat looking at the studies that I had created.
"A few minutes later, Sandra emerged from the office dressed in her normal attire and started collecting the studies from the students' easels.
"When she got to me, I was still in a state of shock. She asked, 'Dr. Castenada, are you ok?'
"I told her that I thought so. But I had a question.
"Had she ever been to the Museum of Modern Art?
"She had not. So, I said, if I promise to never take another art class from you, would you be willing to accompany me to visit the Museum of Modern Art this weekend?
"Sandra is always very formal and strict in the classroom. She asked, 'Are you asking me on a date?'
"Ms. Brown, I replied, this class is finished tonight. It is graded pass/fail and everyone passes. You will never see me again in a classroom, so there is no student-teacher issue. Yes, I am asking you for a date.
"Her eyes drilled into mine. It was like she was trying to see into my soul. I almost flinched but returned her look.
"It seemed like she had been staring into my eyes for hours when her demeanor suddenly softened. She smiled and said, 'Dr. Castaneda, I would be honored to join you to visit MOMA.'
"Friday afternoon we took the train to New York City. I had reserved a private cabin. We talked. We talked. We talked some more.
"It was too late to visit the museum that night, but we had dinner at a small bistro and went to our hotel. I had booked a suite with two rooms. We slept in separate rooms.
"We spent the next day at MOMA. It was not at all what I expected. Sandra pulled out a sketch pad and started drawing. It was like I had evaporated. I roamed the museum, occasionally checking to see where she was. She did not stop for lunch. If she went to the restroom, she did it when I wasn't looking.
