“Professor Tate,” she panted. “He had a stroke. I hate to ask on such short notice, but is there any way you can sub in for his class this afternoon?”
I tried to hold in a groan. My head was throbbing, and the last thing I wanted to do was teach another class. I’d stayed up late drinking way too much, trying to send myself on some misguided journey of creative liberation. Instead, I’d ended up with a hangover and a few drawings I’d quickly wadded up and tossed in the bin this morning. At least I’d drawn something, but it was complete and utter shit. I consoled myself with the thought that I’d been drunk at the time, so what had I expected?
“Which class is it?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t something I had little experience in—like sculpture.
“It’s—” She glanced down at her tablet, pushing her red glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Advanced life drawing. There’s a model scheduled for today, so you won’t need to deliver a lecture, just make the rounds and provide commentary.”
Her breathing had returned to normal, though her pale skin remained flushed. I should’ve said no; I had intended to do research for my exhibition pieces after all. But I knew she needed my help, and if a good excuse to procrastinate presented itself, who was I to turn it down?
“Sure. No problem.”
Theo was going to kill me.
“Thank you so much, Xander.” She glanced at her watch. “It was supposed to start five minutes ago, so you better get going. It’s just down the hall—Room 237.”
She handed me a piece of paper, and I rushed down the hallway, my large strides eating up the floor. I swung the door open, and all eyes turned to me as I marched into the room.
“Good afternoon, class,” I said, ignoring their curious gazes. “I’m Xander Kline, and I’ll be subbing in for Professor Tate.”
My eyes darted to a woman standing on the dais, clad only in a floral-patterned silk robe. I stared at her bare feet, following the long lines of her toned, firm legs. The hem of her robe rested mid-thigh, the smooth material draping over her curves. I knew it was completely unprofessional, but I couldn’t wait to see what was under that robe. I wanted to know if the rest of her was just as stunning as the parts I could see. For the first time in weeks, I felt a tingling, an excitement stirring in my soul.
“Did everyone sign in?” My voice sounded as if it came from somewhere else, someone else.
The students nodded, and they seemed to be alert and prepared. Even with experienced students, like the upperclassmen in this advanced life drawing class, it was always important to restate the ground rules for working with a nude model.
“We’ll start with standing poses, then progress to sitting and, eventually, reclining. There will be a break every twenty minutes. Please put away all cell phones, and do not leave the room until the break is announced. If you are late coming back, you will be locked out until the next one. Only I will address the model.”
The idea that I was the only one who could speak to her shouldn’t have gotten me as excited as it did. But every time my eyes scanned the woman on the dais, I felt that same zing of excitement again. That same spark I’d often felt in the past when creating something I just knew was amazing. It was a rare feeling, but one I knew better than to ignore.
“Any questions?” I asked, even though this was all pretty standard.
A student raised her hand, and I pointed to her. “Should we be focusing on any specific part of the model?”
Mandy hadn’t mentioned anything about the syllabus, and I didn’t want to waste a lot of class answering questions. I wanted the students to be able to spend as much time as possible working with the model. I could hear a number of them shifting on their feet, antsy to get started. I understood their impatience, and it was frustrating to know that I wouldn’t get to join them. My job was merely to observe.
I shook my head. “I don’t care whether you focus on her feet or her profile, I just want you to convey a sense that the represented form is alive.”
When there were no more questions, I glanced down at the sheet of paper Mandy had handed me. “Before we get started, I’d like to introduce our model, Kate.”
The woman’s eyes snapped to mine, wide and innocent. She lifted her chin, revealing the graceful line of her neck. “Yes?”
She was stunning, and I itched to draw her, to see more of her. For the first time in weeks—perhaps even months—I felt…inspired. I cleared my throat. “When you’re ready, please disrobe and choose your first pose.”
She didn’t move, didn’t blink. And after a few moments passed, the other students began to whisper. I inched closer, lured to her like a priceless work of art. A living, breathing masterpiece. Despite the fact that she was standing on the dais, she still had to lean her head back to look at me.
I couldn’t decide whether she was going to barf or bolt, but she certainly looked pale. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, and a few strands of hair fell into her face. I had to stop myself from reaching out to tuck them behind her ear. I didn’t know what it was about this woman, but I felt drawn to her.
“I’m… Yeah, I’m good,” she said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced.
This close, I noticed that her eyes were gray. A beautiful shade of gray like gathering storm clouds—both alluring and potentially destructive. I was so focused on her eyes, on the curvature of her lips, that I didn’t notice the fact that she’d loosened the tie on her robe. I held her gaze as the material slid from her shoulders, puddling at her feet. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her skin flushed with color, which only made her more appealing.
I didn’t just want to draw her; I wanted to consume her.
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” I heard myself say as if from afar.
There was something light about her, almost ethereal. I wasn’t sure whether it was her long golden hair that flowed around her like a halo or perhaps those captivating eyes. Or maybe it was her perfect proportions. I didn’t know the answer, but I knew it was the type of beauty sculptors immortalized in stone and poets wrote sonnets about. She possessed a rare quality that made me want to put pencil to paper just to try to capture it.
