Professor
Astor’s drawing class took place in a regular classroom in a regular building on Drexel University’s campus. The building seemed to hold mostly art classes, and I passed rooms full of spinning wheels and easels, the students roamed the hallways with charcoal-smudged hands and paint-spattered shirts.
I had been thinking that somehow the moment I walked into the building everyone would know why I was there. “There’s the model,” they’d think. “There’s the girl who needs to pose nude so she can get her shit together.”
The only recognition I got was friendly faces. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
I found the classroom easily enough, and saw through the doorway there was just one person in there—a woman with frizzled, half-gray hair exploding from a floppy cloth hat in a way that somehow looked completely natural on her. She wore a gauzy tunic over flowing pants, and long strands of beads that clinked together as she busied herself with some portfolios on her desk. She was muttering to herself, and I had to clear my throat just to get her attention.
“You have the wrong classroom, darling, this is human form class.”
“Oh, no.” I said. “I’m it.”
“You are...?”
“I am the human form. And I’m pretty nervous.”
“Oh!” The woman threw her head back and laughed. “You must be Catherine.”
“Cat,” I said, nodding.
“Yes, you are beautiful,” she said, tilting her chin up to peer into my face. “And a gorgeous height. They’ll love this.”
Over my shoulder, someone said, “Whoa, we’re drawing a supermodel today, huh?”
For a split second I wondered who the hell he was talking about, until I realized he meant me.
A split second later, when I saw his face, I wanted the dull tile floor to split and swallow me whole.
I recognized him. And I wished I hadn’t. It was Hannah’s hot friend from the bar the night Jake snubbed me. Meaning, he was going to be drawing the nude model. Which was me.
His name popped into my head as my face flushed. Nate. The hottest guy I’d ever met.
And he was going to see me and my fat rolls naked in about five minutes.
Holy. Shit. Holyshit
.
He was one of the tallest guys I’d ever seen. I was guessing he was six foot three—almost a head taller than me. The hard angle of his jaw trailed down to a strong chin, and it was all dotted in a day’s worth of dark stubble. I drank in his dark, sparkling eyes. That tousled mess of dark chestnut hair that made him look like he’d just gotten out of bed. The round neck of his t-shirt dipped just low enough to give me a peek at his shoulder muscles and the tops of his pecs when he bent down to set his bag on the ground.
Then he rolled up his sleeves. Even his damn forearms twitched with muscle and tendon. His hands were wide and strong with long fingers, and smudged with charcoal, and in the space of three seconds I had a brief fantasy about a trail of charcoal outlining the path of his hands across my skin.
Whoa
.
“Yes, this is Cat, and she’ll be our model today.”
Nausea roiled my stomach.
“Are you all right, dear? There’s a little room through that door,” she gestured to a door behind her, “where you can change into your robe. You did bring a robe?”
“I...uh...” I just had my wristlet wallet, car keys, and cell phone.
“It’s your first time? Really?” The guy had such a look of surprise on his face.
“Well, I used to model, but then I got in an accident, and had some surgery, and…it’s just been a long time. I look a lot different than I used to.” The words came out breathlessly, like I wasn’t even sure I wanted to say them until they were already out. I couldn’t believe I’d said anything. It was his damn friendly face that made me want to tell him my life story.
“Let’s remember our guidelines, Mr. West? Don’t ask the models questions?”
The guy flushed red and shuffled some papers around on his desk. “I’m sorry, Professor Astor. You’re right.”
“Thank you. Now, get your materials ready, hmm?”
Professor Astor gently put a hand on my back and led me to the door. “
You,
Cat, can call me Julia. You can go ahead and get dressed back there, and I’ll come knock when we’re ready for you.”
My head spun. I’d known I was going to have to undress in front of other students my age. But the last thing that had occurred to me was a guy this hot would be part of that group. I gritted my teeth. Nate being here should not change anything. I wouldn’t
let
his being here change anything. He was just a guy, and I was just a model. I was here to feel beautiful, to feel powerful. I was not going to worry about what one guy thought about me naked.
He was just one guy.
One completely gorgeous guy.
The changing room was actually a storeroom, with spare metal shelves full of containers of paint, boxes of oil pastels, rolls of paper, and dozens of other art supplies. In the middle of the room, in the four feet or so between the shelves, was a small area rug covering the concrete and a small nightstand where I could put my things.
I took my time tugging my leggings, boots, and socks off, then did the old trick from junior high where you take your bra off under your shirt. I couldn’t deal with standing there alone with my naked self for the next five or ten or God-knew-how-many minutes while Professor Astor—Julia—addressed the class.
Even so, standing around without a bra was uncomfortable. It never had been before—I hadn’t ever been small, but I’d also never needed specially designed industrial bras to keep the girls high and in place. Now, with the extra sixty pounds and my boobs going from a full C to a DD-cup, I probably could have put a pencil under each one without it dropping.
Ridiculous.
I crossed my arms over my ribs, half to support the girls and half to ward off the chill in the air.
At least there was a small window on this door, I moved the curtain to the side and peered at the students taking their seats. I counted five girls, one petite, three average, and one pretty curvy girl. One hipster-looking guy with a long beard and weird hat who seemed very bored, and Gorgeous Guy.
Nate.
I watched as all seven students took out their supplies and arranged them on the desk in front of them. Professor Astor stood at the front of the classroom, telling the students something, even though her words were muffled by the thick door. My stomach twisted and churned. “Nervous” didn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling.
When she finally came to get me I followed her into the classroom, the industrial-tiled floor a shock on my bare feet. In the middle of the room was a platform, about the height of a doctor’s exam table, draped with a heavy white blanket. At the end of it was a solid black step stool, and with Professor Astor’s gentle nudging, I stepped onto it.
From this angle, the platform didn’t look so solid at all. “Are you sure this will hold me?” I whispered over my shoulder. A low chuckle came from the other side of the classroom.
Oh My God. Gorgeous Guy was laughing at me.
“Yes dear, it’ll hold you. Just go ahead and sit. Would you like help posing?”
I shimmied out of my underwear, and watched from the corner of my eye as Gorgeous Guy fiddled with his pens and adjusted himself in his seat. Weird.
I turned away from the arc of students to pull my shirt off over my head. I’d done a lot of strange stuff when I modeled, but this was absolutely insane. Seven people the same age as me staring at my naked ass. For art class.
“Is there a way I can pose without my—you know”— I gestured to my chest—“hanging out?”
Professor Astor smiled and nodded. Thank God.
“Class, Cat will be modeling a prone pose for us today.” She helped me sit down and then helped me roll onto my front. “She’ll keep her arms folded beneath her head, and legs flat.”
She briefly touched the top of my head, leaned in and said, “Just like a massage, dear.” A couple of the girls giggled, and I smiled.
Yes, like a massage. Without the sheet. I crossed my arms underneath my head and tried to imagine I was at a relaxing massage. But the air in the classroom wasn’t quite warm enough for that.
“Now Cat, go ahead and remain in this position for about twenty minutes. After that, we’ll switch.”
The classroom was silent except for the
scritch-scritch
sound of charcoal and pencil on heavy paper, and fingers smoothing lines across it. It would have actually been kind of soothing, if I weren’t so naked. The only person who moved was Professor Astor, who pointed at some of the papers and nodded approvingly, sometimes doing some sketching or smoothing herself.
Lying like this wasn’t so bad, actually. I knew the lines of my butt to my thighs were smooth, and nothing was bunching or bulging anywhere—except my boobs, just a little on the sides, which actually made me feel pretty sexy.
And then the twenty-minute timer was up.
“All right, class, we’ll break and be back in five.”
The girls walked off together talking about mundane things, like they’d just watched a documentary or learned about a geography equation. Like drawing naked girls was normal.
Because for them, it was. And I was doing a good job.
The hipster guy stalked out of the class, punching something into his phone, and Gorgeous Guy Nate hurried out with a bottle of water he’d been sipping the whole time.
Good. I needed a break from looking at him almost as much as I needed a break from that pose. He was blinding.
Professor Astor walked over with my shirt, saying, “If you roll toward me, dear, we can put this on a bit more modestly.” I smiled and took the shirt from her. “And then, if you’d like, you can just drape that blanket over your waist.”
“Thanks,” I said. “So, another twenty minutes after this?”
“Yes, and another after that. Did that pose feel comfortable for you?”
“More or less. I think it’s because my...um...privates were covered up.”
“Okay. So while we’re waiting, can I suggest something else?”
I nodded, my stomach twisting again. How much skin did this lady want me to show?
“Just go ahead and sit with your knees tucked to your chest, dear, and your back to the students. They’ll be able to get some good practice drawing the curve of your back into your bottom, and of course, your lovely hair.”
I smiled. My hair did look damn good today.
So I arranged myself again, and immediately realized that sitting up straight for twenty minutes would be tougher than lying down for that long.
The students arrived back in class, and Professor Astor said, “Thank you, Cat. Actually, if you could straighten one leg and sort of tent the other over it. Like the stretches you used to do in gym class, you know.” I smiled and did as she asked. She nodded, then held out her hand. “Your shirt, dear.”
So I pulled it off again. Nate quickly grabbed for one of his notebooks down onto his lap, and I fought a giggle. Okay, Captain Obvious Erection.
That
felt good.
But now there was just one problem. Or, multiple problems, depending on how you looked at it. Whenever I sat down, my belly rolled up on itself, and so did the fat on my hips. I adjusted and shifted, but no matter what I did there were still pockets and bumps of fat in places they’d never been before the accident.
I took a deep breath. I could have sucked in my belly, but I couldn’t really hold that for twenty minutes. Same for sitting ramrod straight. So I just held the pose as comfortably as I could, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Thinking of my happy place. On the beach, in California. Listening to the waves rushing in and out. In, and out.
After a few minutes of that, I felt steady again, and opened my eyes. Professor Astor was standing over Gorgeous Guy’s picture, with a charmed smile on her face. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
Yes. Gorgeous. Something about me is gorgeous.
Then Nate jabbed a finger at his easel. “Yeah, but what the hell am I supposed to do about that?”
Oh my God. What was he supposed to do about
what
? I wanted more than anything to fidget, to look, to whip my head around try to get a look at what part of me was so hideous that he didn’t know how to draw it. But I knew that would ruin everyone’s sketches.
She threw back her head and laughed. “Well, Nate, there’s nothing I can do about
that,
is there?”
My cheeks flushed red and tears welled in my eyes. What the hell could he be talking about? I know I wasn’t perfect, but nobody had seemed to have a problem with the last pose...Was there a huge chunk of cellulite on my ass or something? Did I have a weird zit somewhere?
Oh, Jesus, did I have a rash?
My mind raced, and I felt hot and itchy all over. When the timer buzzed, Professor Astor took one look at me and asked, “Are you well, dear?” There I was sitting naked on a table, and an art professor was reaching out to feel my forehead for a freaking fever.
But there was one thing I knew for sure: I couldn’t sit here any longer. I shook my head quickly. “I’m so sorry. Can I...I mean is it okay if...Whoa, I’m dizzy.”
I’d heard about panic attacks, and my best guess was that I was having one right now.
She handed me my shirt and I shrugged back into it, and I stepped into my panties, which were still resting on the step up to the table. Nude lace. Why had I worn nude lace panties? I shook my head and shimmied into them, my stomach fat jiggling the slightest bit as I did.
Oh, God
. I was going to be sick.
“Um, thank you very much Professor Astor and...everyone.” I managed a small wave over my shoulder, noticing Gorgeous Nate’s. His eyebrows were drawn together and his mouth was turned down.
Great
. I’d probably fucked up his drawing even more by moving too soon, or freaking out or something.
I couldn’t get into that little room fast enough. I scrambled to get into my clothes, and having to take off my shirt again to put my bra on was almost more than I could deal with. By the time I’d pulled on my boots and stuffed my arms into last year’s coat like sausages, which I couldn’t even button up any more, I was gasping for breath.