Art Class

I think if you were going to put a list together of some of the most shocking things you could hear during an intimate moment, "I'm a witch." is somewhere near the top.

"I'm a witch?

I'm a fucking witch?"

What had she meant by that? Was she a witch that you read about in fairy tales? Was she crazy? Did she mean she was a modern witch? A Wiccan? Does she boil frogs?

But the evening had ended soon after, signaled by the ogre upstairs who moved the furniture. Why was he always moving furniture? I wanted Analise in the worst way, but--a witch, really? She did offer me sweets and invite me into her cottage... hmmmm... and yes, I did suck her hard confections and kiss her sweet lips.

I'm not saying I used the best judgment. My Aunt used to say, sometimes it takes a while for better judgment to catch up. If it doesn't come, then you either chose the right road, or you drove too fast. OK, so, yeah, Analise was married. That was a judgment error. OK, so... her friends were also hitting on me, and I kinda liked it-- probably also a judgment error... and that still brings me to the elephant in the room. She might boil frogs.

I'm sure she regrets the whole thing now. But I wanted her, and she wanted me. It was that forbidden magic of wine and hormones. Her husband had been right upstairs and we could have been caught. It was that bitch again, the heart. You try to cover the blinds and your heart throws open the window, screaming, "Live in the moment, sit on my cock, and let me fuck you till the cows come home."

The problem being, the next morning you wake up in the barn, surrounded by townsfolk, who just finished tattooing a big scarlet letter on your forehead.

And nobody wants that. I don't, and I'm sure Analise doesn't either.

I decided to go back to painting. I grabbed the nude sketch of Megan I'd worked on last night and pinned it to my easel. She was pretty. I filled in gaps, followed her curves, reinforced lines, practiced, always practicing my art. I would probably draw a dragon in the background.

"ZZZZZZZ!... ZZZZZZZ!" My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out.

Do you wanna meet me at the Kitschy-Kat? I owe you an explanation. - A

.........................................................................

The Kitscy-Kat, an old lounge that sat on a hill overlooking the coast. In the corner, an antique jukebox sat like an old card dealer. There were scattered lava lamps, Tiki miscellany, wicker furniture, hanging grass vines, bamboo dark and colorful, shimmering votive candles, and pull tabs and small posters pinned to every cranny. It was like a silent game show of twinkling lights and nostalgia.

Analise sat in one of the booths wearing a black hooded parka coat. I walked over and two eyes peered up at me. They watched me, unblinking.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you last night." She spoke.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"I could tell, and I didn't have time to explain. I'm sorry. Will you sit down with me?"

"I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have started unzipping things--" taking my coat off.

"No, I started it. I threw myself at you, I gave you wine, I squeezed really close to you in the bathroom, I got jealous and I wanted you." She looked down at the table and paused. "It's OK Kellan, I wanted to let you know, I probably shouldn't have seduced you... and," she smiled. "I don't boil frogs."

I laughed, and it pulled her sparkling eyes back to mine.

It was so weird to see her, outside her basement, in the real world--it was surreal. No, it, it was real. Very real, even inside this strange time warp of the Kitschy-Kat. Was this the same woman who peeled her clothes off the night before and straddled me in the chair? I felt my cock tingling.

A waitress appeared at the edge of the table. She wore a grass skirt and a flower in her hair.

"Welcome to Kitschy-Kat. Can I get you two something to drink? Our house special is the Mojo-Coco" She smiled as if we were tourists.

A few minutes later, the noisy hot chocolate machine fired up behind the counter and we were presented with two hot cups topped with a mountain of whipped cream, decorated with a black-cat cookie surrounded in sugar sparkles.

Analise sipped and came up with a white nose. "I had better explain..."

"You're a witch--"

"Carly, Dealla, Barb, and myself. We're all witches."

"You're ALL witches?"

"Shhh! Yes. I mean, we're artists too, but yeah... we ride the wild broom."

"Oh my god--"

"We don't ride brooms! We're special witches. We deal with white witchcraft in the economic sector."

"What?"

"White witchcraft, we disrupt markets. We keep things lively." Her fingers tapped on the side of the warm ceramic cup.

"So, how do I figure into--"

"I wished you here."

I laughed nervously, remembering my choice to move away from the big city. I hated that place. I remember riding my bike through the park every day. Hammering my body, building muscles to pound out frustration. And then it hit me. I... I remembered the vision of Whitney Crest... and how it came to me. The fact that I had only been through here once as a child, and how I had the inexplicable urge to move here.

"I needed you. I was lonely. I'm sorry."

Mind blown, reality check to come.

"I held a ritual," she continued. "And about a month later, I saw you in the gallery staring at my art. I knew you were the one."

"What do you mean?"

She reached out and grabbed my hand. "Because I had seen your art before."

"What?--"

"Your dragons..."

"My... dragons?"

"The dragon is our symbol, and it's a metaphor for what we do. It's an old term. A

witch

was said to use a dragon, or spirit, to transfer goods or money from one place to another."

I tried to follow, but the bread crumbs were becoming sparse. Analise was a book. A book with an exquisite cover, a conflicting summary on the back, and a plot inside full of twists and turns. I was hoping to delve into the sexier chapters.

"But enough about me. Let's talk about art again. I have a favor to ask. In light of last Wednesday, the art class..."

I gulped. "Bring some snacks?"

"Megan quit. She had an exam to study for."

"That's too bad. I was working on her picture earlier."

"Well, I had told the girls we'd do it again. And on top of that, there is going to be a special guest artist coming."

"So..."

"Would you pose for us?"

She was straight to the point. "Naked?"

"No. I don't want those other girls seeing your delicious cock. I mean, your--oh my god! Did I just say that?" She blushed. "Your, you know. Do it for me. Do it, please, please, please, please."

How could I say no to her? Especially after calling my cock delicious.

"I invited the head of the guild, a high priestess, in this area."

"The boss?"

"Yes. Madame Emi." She reached out and grabbed my hand. "Please do this for me."

"Well--"

"I'll find a way to make it up to you," she giggled.

I felt another chapter in the book beginning. "Give me a bit to think about it."

..........................................................................

The following Wednesday I stood in the kitchenette, it was like the green room before going on stage. I could hear the girls talking out in the basement, and there was a buzz of excitement in the air. I wore a soft robe. It felt good against my freshly showered skin. I had shaved most of my body and had extended my workout routine the past week. I had been running up and down stairs, doing stomach crunches, pull-ups, push-ups, and a lot of flex-posing in the mirror. I had been preparing like a fighter for a fight.

Analise came in to give me a pep talk and hugged me in a very intimate way.

"You are going to be wonderful. Go out there and take your robe off, and just relax. I brought you some wine."

She turned to peek through the louvered bi-fold doors that separated the kitchen from the basement. I stood next to her and watched. There was Carly putting on lipstick, and Barb pulling a wedgie from her tiger skin. Then little Dealla in her puffy coat walked into view. She unzipped, removing the big soft igloo, and stuffing it down by the wine fridge.

"You should probably stay away from Barb. She texted me yesterday--a picture of an erect penis."

"Ha! Sounds like Barb."

"I'm not saying I didn't like it." She winked.

We watched as the basement door blew open and a strange creature entered.

"Oh crap, Madame Emi--I better go. Good luck Kellan, but I know you'll do fine."

Analise darted out of the room and I watched her rush up to the leader through the wooden louvers.

The high priestess was younger than the rest--not what I expected. She looked twenty-five and wore a very low-cut black gothic Victorian dress, with white creamy face paint accented in deep reds, purples, and blues. She had a look of contempt, or perhaps boredom, I'm not sure which.

Analise took her gloved hand, greeting her.

"Your highness, fortune be,"

she bowed.

"You may rise. Check out my new headdress."

Madame Emi wore a crown with two horns protruding from the top, covered in glitter.

"It's very nice."

"It should be. I had it commissioned."

I could see the impatience of a child, that she tried to temper with a veil of grace.

Just then, Dealla appeared in the kitchen.

"Analise asked me to check on you Kellan." She grinned.

"Oh, Hi Dealla. I'm doing OK, I think." Gulping some wine.

She peeked through the slats with me.

"What time does the show start?"

The priestess blew a gum bubble.

"She's the head of the guild? She looks kinda young?" I said to Dealla.

"She's older than she looks." She took a sip from her wine cup and spoke hesitantly. "So, Analise told you about us?"

"She did." I continued listening to the conversation in the basement.

"I've made the decision to hold the annual ball at the Ribbington Bordeaux this year. I'll be wearing the Maleficent mini again."

"You'll look gorgeous, your highness."

"It's so fucking sexy, and I wear it well. When you're the head of the territory... sacrifices, you know."

"The Ribbington art gallery? Really? Very nice choice, Madame."

"She's really kissing up to her." Dealla said as she leaned on my shoulder.

"Analise is really nice."

"Yes. You know Kellan. She wants you."

I pretended not to know. "Really? No, she doesn't."

"We have a special model here tonight. He's actually a student, and very talented. I like him a lot."

Dealla smiled. "Kellan, can I tell you something?"

I didn't know what was coming. "I guess?"

"I, I... I--"

"Dealla?"

Her words tread cautiously like a deer leaving the forest. "Remember what I said about protecting you?"

"Yes, you always watch out for me. I like that."

"If you ever have another moment like you did last week... I can help. Privately, I mean."

Did she just say that? Somehow, the sincerity in her voice and that meek little unassuming way had crawled in my ear and down to my shorts. This was probably not good.

She smiled, looking up behind long bangs. "Just say the word and I will handle the job. It would be our secret."

"Dealla..." I said, not knowing what else to say.

Her face turned red and she rushed out of the room. I followed through the louvered window and watched her land on one of the throw rugs, smiling and embarrassed. I saw Analise dimming the room lights as the rest of the women were seated. Madame Emi was front and center with a sketchbook in her lap. She sat crossed-legged, her ruffled petticoat revealed milky white thighs and intricate lace stockings. She was flanked by her platformed gothic boots, recently removed and sitting like guards.

"OK Kellan, are you ready?" Startled, I turned to see Analise's head in the kitchen. "You're going to do fine. You look amazing by the way. Come on out."

I walked out into the dim basement, like a prizefighter taking the ring. I stood there for a moment, then Analise flicked on the stage light. Suddenly the world flipped upside down. I was on the other side. I was the one who normally sits, observant, quiet... and now

I

was the attraction. The light, the heat, all eyes on me. I felt a little shaky. It wasn't easy at first. I swallowed and dropped my robe, letting it slide down my body. A rush of warm air followed.

Barb cat-called, and weirdly, it calmed me down.

"Damn Kellan, you got a body! You're making me wet honey!"

I could feel Analise's face turn red as she sat down next to the guest.

"He is quite handsome. You say he is an artist?"

Emi spoke silently.

I pretended not to hear.

"Yes, he's very good. I'll show you some of his work later. I think you will like it."

Analise turned around to address the class. "Ladies, you may begin drawing. You'll have forty-five minutes."

I did my best to hold my pose, keeping all muscles tense. My abs were tight. My legs, my thighs toned, thanks to the long bike rides through the hills of Whitney Crest. I wore snug beige briefs that clung to my skin like a wet shirt. Damn't, if I was going to pose, I was going to do it right.

"He is spellbinding."

I heard Madame Emi whisper to Analise.

"Thank you."

She whispered back, but I wasn't sure how she meant that.

I tried to look down at the women's drawings without moving my face. I should have planned my pose better. Fifteen minutes had passed, and after a while, I got used to it. The room was quiet except for the sounds of pencil lead scratching on paper. The noise models had heard for centuries--a haunting noise that would foretell their future visage. It was almost empowering, knowing that the work you put into your physique was now being scrutinized and copied down for future generations. I know I pleased them.

"OK ladies, time's up," Analise called.

It had gone much quicker than I thought. I put my robe back on, only to be immediately mobbed by the ladies. I felt like a boxer having left the ring... a champ. They were all thanking me, so grateful. It was weird. On second thought, maybe I should have known--a model to an artist, is like water in the desert.

"You did a nice job, stud." Carly whispered in my ear as she hugged me.

"Now, this is an art class." Barb's smile spread across her face. "I drew you naked. You'll have to show me how close I came to reality." Then smashed her boobs into my side.

Dealla hugged me from behind, wrapping her arms around me, sliding her hands in front of Barb's breasts, as if safeguarding me from them.

Then Analise stepped in, her dreamy eyes wide, smiling. "Thank you for doing that, Kellan. I need to talk to you later. Please don't leave."

Then the crowd parted to reveal Madame Emi. She loomed over me, wearing the high chunky boots again.

"Very well done Kellan, I enjoyed our session. I understand you are an artist also? Perhaps you will hook up with us this year at my ball?--"

"Your highness, Kellan... is not, well, he's not part of a--" Analise hesitated.

"Rules... I eat them for breakfast." She turned and walked toward the door.

Analise tagged behind the priestess. I watched her. The way her body swayed when she walked, it was heaven. She followed Emi to the door, and they went outside.

Inside, we all talked, and the girls showed me their drawings. Carly stood next to me, sliding her sketch into my view and resting her shoulder on mine. I gazed at my body rendered in pencil. I wasn't bad-looking at all. Then Barb stuck her drawing over hers and I was confronted by my very large, imaginary, nude erection.

Carly's mouth fell open. "Barb." She giggled in shock.

"I calls em as I sees them."

"You can't draw that!" Dealla moved in and grabbed Barb's picture. "If people see this--"

"Who's gonna see this? I know you want to, Dealla."

Dealla turned red and Carly interrupted.

"Kellan, you know how to make a gal smile. By the way, nice choice of underwear color, dog."

The door burst open and Analise walked in. She had anxiety written all over her face. She instructed that class was over, and asked everyone to leave. She told me to go change in the bathroom while she closed up.

Something didn't seem right with her, but tonight had been a fun experience. I had gotten over my nervousness and actually enjoyed being a piece of eye candy. The thought that I had probably turned them all on gave me a fizzy head like when the champagne hits. I had just started putting my jeans on when a knock came at the door.

"Yes?"

"Don't bother putting them on Kellan."

Analise... did she just say?

"Ah, I'll be right out." I hadn't zipped and wasn't wearing a shirt when I opened the door. There she was, standing right in front of me smiling.

"Come with me. I promised you a thank you."

"I--"

She took my hand and led me into the bedroom. "You made me and the girls so horny tonight, and you did it on purpose."

"I... ah--"

"Wearing those tight flesh-colored briefs."

"Maybe... I was showing off a little."

"Shame on you," she smiled coyly, "taking advantage of us witch girls like that."

She pushed me down onto her bed, standing in mock defiance.

"You've been naughty, and you know when you fool with a witch, we get even."

"That's what I've heard."

She came around to the side of the mattress. "Actually, it went very well tonight, thank you. Even Madame Emi was entranced with you. I think she wanted to fuck you."

"What?"

"Oh Kellan... everyone wanted to fuck you."

My cock grew harder, and she continued.

"Why don't you take your clothes off, and I'll lie down next to you."

I pulled my jeans the rest of the way off and kicked them onto the dark floor. My cock shone through my briefs as the moonlight poured through the small bedroom window.

She looked down at me and smiled. "OK, now take off your underwear too."

Sliding my hands into the waistband, I pushed them down my thighs and slowly revealing an erection that laid hard up against my belly.

"Oh, Kellan..." she sighed and pulled her shirt off, followed by her bra.

My fingers wrapped around my shaft and slowly stroked. She smiled as she watched my hand going up and down.

"Oh my god... you do know how to tease a witch." She pushed her jeans down, revealing black lace panties. "Now move over."

She laid down next to me and continued watching. My forearm moved rhythmically, guided by my strong grip.

"I'd like to take over now." She whispered.

Her hands were incredible. Working in unison up and down my shaft, squeezing, pumping. Then moving down to massage my balls.

I moaned into a long, hot breath. "Oh fuck, Analise, you are so perfect."

"We can't tell anyone."

"I won't tell anyone..."

"Good, because if those other girls find out...."

"What would happen?" I played along.

"I'd tell them you tied me up and forced me to suck your sweet delicious cock before fucking me, numerous times."

"While they watch." I winked.

She laughed. "You know, you have to be punished for making us old gals so horny."

"Yes. I probably should be."

Suddenly, she reached over to the bedside table and fished out a pair of furry handcuffs. "I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be right back." Then latched my wrists to the bedposts. "Don't go anywhere." She giggled.

I watched her leave and turn the corner to the small bathroom. The bedroom door closed to a crack and I could hear the shower running, and then the metal rings of the plastic curtain sliding closed. What a night, I thought. Welcome to Whitney Crest, small town, and home to a witch's coven. If this is what being with a witch was like--or a white witch, or economic witch... or, eh, I wasn't sure exactly what she was... but regardless, I liked it. I was still a stranger, in a strange land--and I would eagerly accept its customs. I laid there in the darkness, in her small comfortable foreign bed. My erection was full, aching, bobbing against my stomach. I yearned for her. I knew she was right next door in the tiny bathroom. Naked, preparing herself, and I couldn't wait for her return. I wondered what exactly she was going to do with me? Truthfully, I didn't care. She could do anything she wanted.