Page 31 of Under the Shade of the Sycamore

“Nice. I do love older men. Sure, some folks call it creepy but no one knows how to tickle your tinderbox like a man with some experience.”

What a relief. He wasn’t going to yuck my yum. “Right, and they’re so sexy. But like… is there a thing as too big of a gap in ages?”

He reached down to tug off a sock which he let fall to the floor. “He old enough to get it up?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” I rushed to say like I was defending Claude’s masculinity or something. “I mean I assume so. He seems really vigorous but who’s to know unless…you know…you’re handling the goods.”

“Then it’s not a problem.” His other sock came free then joined its mate on the floor.

“Okay, cool, so that’s a good thing. So, uhm, say you meet a dude that you’re really attracted to, right? And he and you hit it off well, like the vibes are incredible, and you think he’s into you but you’re not sure…” His eyes narrowed slightly. “No, he’s for sure into you. I think. I think this imaginary older man is into me. Let’s pretend he is. So he’s into you, not me, you. And you’re into him and so where does it go from there?” I stared at him as he gawked at me like some alien was sitting on my head. “Hypothetically. What’s the next step? Do not laugh at me. I swear I’ll shove a wad of muslin the size of your damned boot up your ass if you laugh at me.”

“Easy, easy.” He raised a hand, palm out, in a calming gesture. “I’m not going to laugh. I think it’s actually kind of cute you’re still a virgin. We are skipping about that here, right?” I nodded, face burning. “Right, well, then first off I might be into your fist up me arse but skip the muslin.” I snorted, the burn of embarrassment easing just a little. “Second, if you and this imaginary bloke are hot items then you maybe offer to buy him dinner, or take him to a movie, or suck his cock. I’d go right for the cock but then again I’m a dick whore.” He shrugged.

“Sure, okay, that makes sense. Movie, blow job. Should we kiss first? Probably, yeah, a kiss for starters. Then maybe cock sucking. I’m uhm…” I forced myself to peek at him. “Any pointers?”

A smile as wide as the Seine lit up his face. “Dearest roomie, I got all kinds of tips for you. Get your sketchbook. You’ll want to take notes.”

***

The next morning we gathered at the runway, at the crack of dawn, roused by a grumpy Camilo, to sit in our little seats and wait. For what we had no idea. At least they had the caterers bring in coffee and baked goods. Chewing on a buttery croissant as I read over the copious notes I’d taken last night about oral sex I had to admit the thought of fingering Claude’s ass while I sucked him was pretty hot.

Mickey – possessor of vast knowledge of all things sexual – elbowed me in the side. My sight flew from my phone to the runway as Soline and Claude sashayed out onto the runway in slinky little bits of cloth, both carrying stuffed teddy bears. My jaw hit my chest. Soline was wearing a mulberry silk spaghetti strap nightgown that showed off her famous legs to perfection. Claude…My god Claude was sporting a sailor set. Bright blue box briefs with white trim and gold buttons complete with a white ascot and captains cap. His chest was gorgeous. Nicely formed, lean and muscular, with a fine peppering of curls – more silver than dark - that led down into his little shorts. My mouth literally watered. I had to swallow twice.

Cameras came to life; all centered on the two stunning people wearing bits of cloth that would fuel all kinds of saucy dreams tonight.

“Good morning!” Soline crowed, smiling like the cat that not only ate the canary but feasted on the whole flock. “You all look so shocked.” She laughed gaily while Claude dared us to say a word with a glare which could melt steel. “I thought this would be a fun way to introduce you to your next assignment. Do you have any thoughts as to what it could be?”

“Sleepwear?” Esme called out.

“Close.” Soline gave us a little wink. “You’re to design and create lingerie. For a female model and a male model.”

“You’ll have two days for this assignment as you are clothing two models,” Claude announced, shifting from one foot in boating shoes to the other. He was obviously very uncomfortable showing so much skin but he had no need to be. His body was stunning. “Accessories and textiles are yours to pick through. Do bear in mind while we are asking for lingerie we also must state our designs are done tastefully. That means no side boob or bits below the belt can be showing. We here in Europe have fewer regulations about nudity than in America, so nothing that will incite the American censors can be seen.”

“Your models will be chosen for you from the applications the students have sent in, and as always, each model will be reimbursed for their time on screen. You’ll have thirty minutes to sketch out your two designs so get drawing!” Soline was far too bouncy about this assignment.

“I will give you all one word to remember,” Claude called out as we moved to different chairs with more space for privacy. We went nowhere without our sketchbooks just for this reason. You never knew when you’d be called on to create. I found a chair on the back row, sat, and looked up at Claude. His gaze touched mine but briefly before he gazed out over all of us. “Cohesion.”

I nodded then opened my sketchbook. Bowed over it I began mulling over a two person set for a couple who were open to something less racy but still sexy. Black and white felt right, a bralette with a bikini brief for the woman while the man would sport some tight ball hammock boxers. They could both have sleek coverup robes as well, sheer chiffon possibly.

Glancing up I caught Claude wrapping a robe around his shoulders, his dog sniffing around Soline’s tiny bare toes. He had to feel me looking at him but wouldn’t meet my gaze.

When it was time to shoot again Soline clapped her hands while Claude cradled Pamplemousse in his arms.

“Time is up. So, why are you all still here? Get to work! Remember sexy does not mean slutty!”

We all jumped up then raced out, tossing empty cups of coffee and half eaten pastries into the trash as we barreled to the textile repository. A few early rising students cheered us on as we raced to get our hands on the materials we wanted.

Entering the textile storage room felt like a scene from Hunger Games. Instead of grabbing weapons we were battling for bolts of lace, satin, and the popular spandex/cotton blends which were what I had my eyes on.

I found a perfect material buried under some pretty ugly florals. This was black, white stars and moons, and would go well with a white or black robe. I ran to the cutting area, asked for four yards just to ensure I had enough. Once that was cut, folded, and placed in my pile I ran to the sheer stuff and that was where the real battle was taking place. Esme and Enzo were about to come to blows over a beautiful rose-toned lace fabric. I moved around them, ignoring the snide comments they were exchanging with a camera not five feet from them, and drove my hands through Mickey’s spindly legs to grab a bolt of black silk Georgette. The crepe-like surface would make for excellent draping for a sheer, flowy yet modest look.

“Oi, most of the time when men are on their knees in front of me their reaching for something with a bit more girth.” I snorted at the crude wink Mickey gave me then got to my feet, punched him in the arm, and made a mad dash to the notions section. Here I grabbed buttons, elastic, thread, and anything else I might need to create this look.

I spun around, arms full, and bounced off Enzo.

“Asshole,” he snarled low and soft.

I ignored him. There wasn’t enough time to get into a fight with a jerk who was only playing it up for the cameras. Sure, yeah, that was what we were supposed to do but I had my eyes on the prize. Let Enzo stalk around, throw himself, and be a general dickhead. My time was better served focusing on the challenges.