pillows. “Sit here, lean back on pillows, knees bent to that side.”
“Okay,” she nodded. Her heart was thumping and her ponytail felt too tight.
“ Tres bien. ” He addressed the class and gave them their assignment, then gestured to Lisa. She took a deep breath and dropped her robe.
She lowered herself to the pedestal as gracefully as possible, considering that thirty strangers could see every naked inch of her excessively-curvy forty-one year-old body. A twinge of embarrassment touched her, but it felt artificial and muted, like it was brought on only because she had expected to feel embarrassment. Like when a sneeze sneaks away, but you make the noise anyhow.
The professor put on some soft music while Lisa reclined on the pillows. He adjusted the position of her legs, straightening one more than the other and tipped her chin down and to the left. Once satisfied with her pose, he confirmed that she was comfortable, then he set his timer for one minute.
Her heart rate slowed to normal surprisingly quickly. It helped that the artists were focused on their work. Most simply glanced her way occasionally for reference. No one stared or ogled, so she didn’t feel judged.
For the second pose, the professor asked her to stand with her hands on her ponytail, as if she were pulling it through the elastic. “Is only one minute, so your arms no fall off,” he chuckled. Holding her arms up like that forced her back to arch and pushed her breasts up. For sixty seconds, she stood still as a statue -- a naked statue with an audience of strangers.
When she and Braden had discussed this scenario, she was privately worried her arousal would drip noticeably down her thighs. In reality, the atmosphere was so completely nonsexual that despite her nudity her body was oddly relaxed. In fact, she found the whole experience rather meditative.
The longer poses were more challenging. One semi-reclining pose had her lying on her belly, propped on her elbows with her chest off the floor as if she were reading at the beach. By the time twenty minutes was up, she had developed an ache in one shoulder and her hand was going numb. Luckily, the professor gave the class a break, so she was able to get her blood circulating again.
She pulled on her robe and sipped a bottle of water. Most of the students had left the room, but a pretty artist with long blonde dreadlocks got her attention with a friendly smile. “Thanks for sitting for us. Is this your first time?”
Lisa laughed. “That obvious?”
“Not at all, I’ve just never drawn you before,” the artist chuckled. “You’re a great subject. Would you like to see?”
She had survived posing naked for strangers, but seeing those strangers’ impressions of her naked body was only asking to have her self-esteem punched in the neck. “No, that’s okay,” she hedged.
The younger woman gave her a knowing look. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”
She hesitated a moment, then walked around the easel. There were a number of bare-bones drawings on the sketchpad, various poses of a graceful woman with lush breasts, nicely-rounded hips and a tiny waist. Lisa found it hard to believe the subject of the drawings was supposed to be her. Maybe the nice hippie chick was high.
Lisa smiled politely and looked at the next easel. And the next. And despite variations in style and perspective, every drawing depicted the same graceful woman with lush breasts, nicely-rounded hips and a tiny waist. After circling the room, seeing her naked self through so many artists’ eyes, she had to blink back tears.
For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.
The university was close to an hour away, so by the time she got home it was early evening. When she took her phone from her bag, she saw she had gotten a text from Braden: Well? Should I start filling out applications?
Yes, but you can start tomorrow. Come over?
On my way.
She poured a glass of Chardonnay and drank it all in the
“Okay,” she nodded. Her heart was thumping and her ponytail felt too tight.
“ Tres bien. ” He addressed the class and gave them their assignment, then gestured to Lisa. She took a deep breath and dropped her robe.
She lowered herself to the pedestal as gracefully as possible, considering that thirty strangers could see every naked inch of her excessively-curvy forty-one year-old body. A twinge of embarrassment touched her, but it felt artificial and muted, like it was brought on only because she had expected to feel embarrassment. Like when a sneeze sneaks away, but you make the noise anyhow.
The professor put on some soft music while Lisa reclined on the pillows. He adjusted the position of her legs, straightening one more than the other and tipped her chin down and to the left. Once satisfied with her pose, he confirmed that she was comfortable, then he set his timer for one minute.
Her heart rate slowed to normal surprisingly quickly. It helped that the artists were focused on their work. Most simply glanced her way occasionally for reference. No one stared or ogled, so she didn’t feel judged.
For the second pose, the professor asked her to stand with her hands on her ponytail, as if she were pulling it through the elastic. “Is only one minute, so your arms no fall off,” he chuckled. Holding her arms up like that forced her back to arch and pushed her breasts up. For sixty seconds, she stood still as a statue -- a naked statue with an audience of strangers.
When she and Braden had discussed this scenario, she was privately worried her arousal would drip noticeably down her thighs. In reality, the atmosphere was so completely nonsexual that despite her nudity her body was oddly relaxed. In fact, she found the whole experience rather meditative.
The longer poses were more challenging. One semi-reclining pose had her lying on her belly, propped on her elbows with her chest off the floor as if she were reading at the beach. By the time twenty minutes was up, she had developed an ache in one shoulder and her hand was going numb. Luckily, the professor gave the class a break, so she was able to get her blood circulating again.
She pulled on her robe and sipped a bottle of water. Most of the students had left the room, but a pretty artist with long blonde dreadlocks got her attention with a friendly smile. “Thanks for sitting for us. Is this your first time?”
Lisa laughed. “That obvious?”
“Not at all, I’ve just never drawn you before,” the artist chuckled. “You’re a great subject. Would you like to see?”
She had survived posing naked for strangers, but seeing those strangers’ impressions of her naked body was only asking to have her self-esteem punched in the neck. “No, that’s okay,” she hedged.
The younger woman gave her a knowing look. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”
She hesitated a moment, then walked around the easel. There were a number of bare-bones drawings on the sketchpad, various poses of a graceful woman with lush breasts, nicely-rounded hips and a tiny waist. Lisa found it hard to believe the subject of the drawings was supposed to be her. Maybe the nice hippie chick was high.
Lisa smiled politely and looked at the next easel. And the next. And despite variations in style and perspective, every drawing depicted the same graceful woman with lush breasts, nicely-rounded hips and a tiny waist. After circling the room, seeing her naked self through so many artists’ eyes, she had to blink back tears.
For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.
The university was close to an hour away, so by the time she got home it was early evening. When she took her phone from her bag, she saw she had gotten a text from Braden: Well? Should I start filling out applications?
Yes, but you can start tomorrow. Come over?
On my way.
She poured a glass of Chardonnay and drank it all in the
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