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Chapter 8
Leyna
Igo through the sameritual I always do before the class. Washing, waxing, plucking, shaving. I might be anonymous, but I still feel more comfortable going through this routine I’ve developed over the last two months.
The truth is, I still get nervous.
I thought I’d be more terrified. At first, I thought I might get there, get in front of everyone then get stage fright. Turns out I’ve discovered that I’m some sort of weirdo, freak exhibitionist. Well, anonymous exhibitionist. But I love it all the same—on display for everyone to see.
I never expected how alive it would make me feel. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. It’s empowering. But most of all, it’s freeing.
I have no idea what it feels like to be on the other side. I’m pretty sure they couldn’t care less who I am. I’m literally a naked body, simply there for their creative artistic development. I’ve seen some of the sketches afterwards. Some of the artists don’t even bother with my face. Just a nude body. Which suits me fine too. Everybody wins.
Karinna, the woman who runs the class emailed me earlier to ask if I could bring some brightly coloured shoes tonight. Any type. So long as they’re very bright: blue, yellow, pink, whatever. But I have a pair of yellow, flowery heels that I’ve been saving. I wasn’t saving them for this, exactly, but I’ll take any chance to wear them.
They’re bright yellow, like the Mediterranean sun, with red, pink, and green flowers. The underside of the high heels are black and when I slip them on and take a step, they hug my feet perfectly and feel fantastic. I knew I had to have these shoes when I lit upon them in the shop window in Castle Eden. I’d bought them a while ago in the tiniest little shop that likes to blare deafening heavy metal as ‘background’ music. They simply called to me, and like a lover beckoning in the night, I couldn’t resist.
I put shoes in my bag, along with my robe and large sunglasses. I wear the wig. Today it’s long, maroon-coloured hair with a thick fringe. Perfect for covering a significant portion of my face. I make sure I wear a top that I can take off easily without disturbing the wig because it takes me ages to get it just right.
I pack up and get in my car. I drive back to the university for my second shift.
––––––––
EVERYTHING GOES ACCORDINGto plan. I meet with Karinna. I know she’s a psychology professor and an amateur artist. I like her. She’s warm and friendly and extremely grateful that I’ve agreed to do this. She once told me that she’d put an advert out and never got a single reply for months until I contacted her. She always puts me at ease, tells me to take all the time I need and then walks me out and into the classroom where she has already graciously placed a cosy blanket and some cushions. I recline as gracefully as I can. Once she gets everyone settled, sometimes she sketches as well, usually in pencil.
It seems like everyone who comes, and there must be about a dozen people, all bring their own materials. Some have paints and brushes, some pastels, some pencil, like Karinna.
I’ve been told that today the group will be focusing on a reclining pose, so I position myself with my face to the wall and my back to the audience.
I keep my mind busy, thinking about things I need to do later, or errands to run tomorrow. But my concentration is broken when I hear the door open. There is a late comer. I can barely see them out of the corner of my eye because my gaze is facing in the opposite direction. I think it’s a man though, to be fair, I’m not sure. I’ll have to wait until after the class to have a look. Not that it matters.
I can hear Karinna walking over to the newcomer. From the sound of their voice, I can tell it’s most definitely a man. I’m sure Karinna will be helping him settle in. She’s a wonderful mentor. I’ve seen her work with everyone and she is patient and generous. As I recline facing the wall, I start to wonder what has brought this new artist here tonight.
Chapter 9
Jack
