And that’s when two things hit me—One was that I wouldn’t have sex with a girl unless she was perfect, and two, the only perfect girl I knew was Katie.
I broke up with Petra that night. I uncorked that sad old cliché on her, “It’s not you, It’s me.” She slapped me and stormed out yet again, but I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t her. It was me. All me.
27
Katie
I fell hard for Phil senior year. He was a sculptor, and I volunteered to pose for him because he was hot in that long wavy dark hair, brooding artist, and intense stare kind of way. I mean, he wasn’t an Adonis, but as far as artists go, he was tall and had a tight body.
Part of me had given up after Rob, but loneliness and hormones pushed that aside, and I still tried to find that special someone. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had much success with guys, mostly because college guys tended to be shallow idiots without the intelligence and soul that Max had. But Phil seemed different.
So I figured, what the hell, I’ll pose. He needed someone to pose for him practically every night for a full semester, and if nothing else I thought the forced time together would lead to at least something.
The first night he greeted me with a firm handshake. “Katie, I’m so glad you volunteered for this. You have the perfect body for what I have in mind.”
I laughed. “In a bar that would mean something entirely different.”
He smirked, and the way the light from his workroom lit up his face sealed the deal. I had finally found the guy who could take my mind off of Max. “Yeah, well this isn’t a bar.” I loved his response, too—blunt, to the point, not afraid to ruffle feathers. So unlike Max.
“Okay, take off your clothes.”
“Uh, what?” It’s not that I minded getting naked for him, but the professor expressly told me that this job did not entail nudity. “I thought you were to focus on fabric.” At least that’s what Professor Greene had said.
“No.” He stated in a very matter-of-fact tone. “The rest of the class is focusing on fabric. It’s hard to sculpt. But I’m going to surprise Greene and focus on something higher.” The look on his face was intense, and I found it exciting. I couldn’t help but nod my head and agree with his vision, whatever it was. “I’m going to take your beautiful body and provide it the permanence of stone.”
Oh, I was all in for that. Despite my being a virgin, I considered myself quite the free spirit. I kicked off my shoes, pulled my shirt over my head, and removed the rest of my clothing. I stood in front of him, completely naked, and focused on his eyes as I shifted my weight from one leg to the other with my hands on my hips. I was a little self-conscious as I prepared for him to stare at my chest and then look my body up and down with a hungry look in his eyes. I’d experienced it plenty of times with my clothes on.
But he didn’t do that.
He looked at my eyes, then my mouth, and his attention followed every curve and angle of my body from top to bottom. He paused while he looked at my chest, but I wasn’t sure if that’s because he liked my breasts or was figuring out which tool to use to carve them. He frowned when he looked at my crotch.
“You’re shaved.” He sounded annoyed. I couldn't believe it. Everything I had read and heard said that guys loved that.
“Yeah. I like how it feels.” Holy shit. I couldn’t believe the conversation we were having. The words were so full of erotic potential, but they were all spoken in this clinical context.
“I won’t get to that for a couple months, so don’t shave between now and then and we should be okay.”
“Uh, look Phil. I’m not going to stop shaving because you can’t sculpt girly parts.” My intent was to tease him, so I said it with a smile. But he marched forward, reached down and grabbed my bra off the floor.
“Fine. I’ll find another model.” He threw my bra at me. “Get out.”
My heart fell, and at that moment all I wanted in the entire world was to be sculpted by Phil. I walked backward to the riser where I was to pose and stepped on to it. “Fine. Do you want a landing strip, a tight trim, or the full monty?” I stared at him, a grim determination on my face.
“Just grow it. I’ll let you know if you need to change anything.”
I shook my head. “So what’s the pose?” At that his face lit up, and he walked over.
“Sit on the edge of that.”
I sat down on what looked like a cube of wood covered in a blanket, and he immediately said, “No. That’s not going to work, stand up.” I got up, and he put a stone slab under the block of wood. I sat down, and then he had me stand up again. He added more height and only stopped when just the balls of my feet touched the floor.
“Great. Now spread your legs.” Phil turned posing for a sculpture into porn direction, only the most boring unsexy porn ever. “Lean forward, intertwine your fingers and drop your hands between your legs with your elbows on your thighs.” I did as he asked. “Great, now look up at me, and smile with a look of confidence. Heck, you have that look naturally. That’s perfect.”
I pictured how I looked from his vantage, and I guess the best way I could describe it was if I were sitting down and leaning forward to listen to someone speaking. “This isn’t too bad, but I’ll need to stretch every few minutes.”
“That’s fine. Sculpting marble takes a long time.” He stared at me with his hand on his chin. “Yeah, this is perfect. You’re perfect.” He walked back to the large block of marble that he would be working on. “By the way—” he turned and looked at me. “—It’s called ‘Quiet Confidence.’”
He grabbed a drill off a shelf and moved to the block. I sat and watched while he spent the next ten minutes making progress as he carved down to the rough form I would take in the marble. When he stopped, I spoke up, “Do you really need me here while you are prepping the marble?”
He stood up straight, looking angry. “The marble is already prepped. I’m sculpting.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is there a reason I have to be nude for this part?” I didn’t really mind, but it was a question worth asking.
Sighing, he put the drill on the floor and walked over. “Look, Katie.” It was the first time he said my name since I entered the studio. “I’m capturing this—” He put his hand against the side of my face. “—in marble.” He took his hand away, and the forcefulness and directness of his touch was thrilling. It was electric how he touched me while talking about capturing my essence. I was falling for how he wanted to take the external me and know it so that he could understand it completely to capture the internal me. The only one who knew me, really, was Max. Would Phil be the other?
I nodded. “I don’t mind. I was just wondering.” He nodded, and I added, “I like being naked for you.” I almost kicked myself. That line sounded so desperate and sad.
“You’re not naked, Katie. You’re nude. Whores are naked. Muses are nude.” His response not only eliminated any self-consciousness over my comment, it made me fall under his spell even more. I was his muse. I going to inspire him.
A few weeks later I sat down, leaned forward, and prepared for the session. Phil had the outline of my pose down and was starting on rough detail work. He was working from the top down. I was looking forward to him using the chisel to start to reveal my face from the marble, but before he started he walked over to me.
“Don’t move.”
“Ha, I’m posing. I know I’m not supposed to move.”
He ran the palm of his hand over the top of my head. “Good,” he said, as his hand caressed the back of my head. He brought his hand around and I felt his fingers touch my left ear.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathlessly. His fingertips were rough and calloused, but his touch was electrifying. He ran his hand down the front of my face, his fingers lightly touching my eyelids and my nose and then, deliciously, my lips.
“I need to know every curve, every touch, every angle,” he said. His fingers slid across my lips, and I badly wanted to kiss them, but Phil w
as so devoted to his sculpture that I knew he would be angry. I had chatted with him during the day, had lunches and dinners with him, but he just didn’t seem interested in me in a romantic way at all.
Still, I loved the challenge, I knew the traps, and kissing his fingers while he was sculpting was clearly a trap. His fingers slid off my chin, and went back to the marble. He chiseled as I shifted a bit.
Later, Phil’s palms ran across my chest. Of course, he was preparing to carve my chest, and this was part of his process, but I caught my breath. I really wanted this to not be about the process but to be about the touch, and I hoped that even an artist would know what I was feeling.
I shuddered and gasped a bit when he ran his fingers over me. “Sorry, I’ll warm my hands up next time,” he stated, his voice all business.
I couldn’t believe he was so oblivious to mistake a shudder of desire for a shiver from cold. We had been in countless sessions so far, and I couldn’t figure Phil out. I was his muse, and he had just touched me in a place few guys had ever touched me. Did he not feel anything.
I grabbed his hand, pulled up it up to my lips, and kissed his palm. “No, not cold. It felt good.” He stared at me. “How did it feel for you?” I looked up, and the artist look was gone, replaced with an intense stare that seemed part desire and part something else.
Taking a step toward me, Phil leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I stood up to join him, and he wrapped his arms around me. We kissed long and hard, and the fact that I was completely naked while Phil was covered in sculpting apron made it even more exciting.
As wild as I liked to consider myself, I had never really crossed any boundaries, and being naked in the hands of someone with clothes, someone who was directing me as he created his art, was exciting and hot.
Phil’s calloused hands were against my lower back as he held me and we kissed, but they stayed there. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he would have started to take his clothes off or touch me in any kind of intimate way, but he didn’t.
He pulled back, looked at me, and smiled. “You are my muse, Katie. You are my muse.” As I waited for him to lean forward and kiss me again or remove his apron or something, he did none of those things. He turned around and walked toward his sculpture while wiping his hands on his pants.
The session continued, ending an hour later with Phil waving me off as I finished getting dressed, and he put his supplies away. I walked home angry and hurt and not understanding what was going on. Did Phil want me or not? Did I even want him?
I didn’t say a single thing the next session.
The session after that Phil was late. I was sitting, nude, in my pose when Phil walked in and marched over to me. He looked angry, and I tensed. He had never done anything more than make a sarcastic comment to me, but I sensed that he had a restrained temper that would lash out in unpredictable ways.
I looked up as he reached out, took my face in both of his hands, leaned down, and kissed me hard on the mouth. He pulled away, looked around, and said, “There’s no bed.” The raw passion in his face and how he just took me in his hands to have his way with me made me scared and excited. He clearly wanted to have sex, and I faced the sudden reality that I was about to lose my virginity.
And that thought was like jumping into a cold lake. All I could think about was getting out.
He nodded toward a pile of canvas drop clothes. “We could do it there.” Each time he spoke, I was both thrilled with the commanding certainty in his voice about having sex with me and horrified at his utter disregard of my feelings.
“I’m not having sex with you on dirty drop clothes, Phil.” Even as I said the words I realized that I hadn’t said “I’m not having sex with you,” I had said I wasn’t going to have sex with him in that location. I had left the door wide open and Phil knew it.
He leaned down and kissed me again. “I must have you.” He started to remove his belt. “I’ll take you here or you can get on your knees.”
The excitement over his commanding tone was fast receding as I got pissed over his selfishness. “Phil, I’m not getting on my knees for you during our first time.” I tried to be both firm and still somewhat open. The truth was that while I was angry with what Phil was saying, I still excited over his confidence.
“Fine, we can do it standing up. You can put your hands against the wall.”
And at that point, even my excitement over Phil’s alpha male confidence drained away. He had no interest in anything more than something physical, and while on a certain level I was excited by that, it wasn’t something that I wanted in any real sense.
I shook my head. “Let’s do this another time, Phil. A dirty studio just doesn’t exactly scream romantic to me.”
I could see the anger in Phil’s face as he turned and walked to his hunk of marble. “A muse doesn’t question her master!” Phil yelled out, his voice echoing through the studio.
He grabbed his chisel and angrily chipped away at the marble, as I wondered how the rest of our artist/muse relationship was going to go for the rest of the semester.
28
Max
Instead of a big family holiday, I went to visit Katie over Christmas. She was involved in some kind of art thing, and the artist wouldn’t give her time off for the holidays. I thought it was bullshit. Even I got time off for Christmas, and we were looking to win the national championship. Still, she was dedicated to art, and I couldn’t begrudge that. Being alone together would be better anyway. The last thing I needed was Mom and Dad interrupting in the midst of a conversation.
I had a very clear goal for my trip. I was going to apologize for what happened at the lake house four years earlier and everything since then. I was going to tell Katie just how much I loved and missed her, and I was going to ask her if we could put the past aside and look to our future—together. More than anything I wanted to let Katie know that she was the only person I ever wanted or needed to be with me.
I knocked on her apartment door, which generated a comment from a girl walking down the sidewalk. “She’s not home.”
“Do you know where she is or how long she’ll be?”
She looked me up and down. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m her brother.”
The girl's face lit up. “Katie has a brother?” She looked at me again. “I’m Chloe.” She walked up to me, and I shook her hand.
“Max.”
“You don’t look at all like Katie.” Her smile was kind of mischievous.
“She’s my stepsister.”
“Ah. Well, if you need a place to stay while visiting, I’m next door.” She winked, and I laughed. I was a swimmer where girls watched me all the time in nothing more than a tight pair of speedos. I was used to those kinds of comments.
“Thanks, but I’ll just stay with her, I think.”
“Oooh, kinky.” My face must have looked alarmed, because she quickly added with a smile, “Relax, Oedipus. She’s at the studio, posing for Phillip Waterford.” The way Chloe spoke the name Phillip Waterford made me think that he was some kind of big shot.
“Thanks, Chloe. Where’s the studio?”
“It’s that big red building over there. Through the big double doors and then the last door on the right.” I took a step, but she held up her hand. “But you should wait. You’re not allowed to interrupt art sessions. Very bad form. C’mon, you can wait with me.” She took my arm.
“You’re very kind, but I’m sure she won’t mind my poking my head in.” I slid my arm out.
“Oh, I’m sure she won’t mind, but Phillip will put your head on a platter.” She looked me up and down for the third time. “Then again, maybe he’ll just yell and scream at you.”
“I can deal with that.” Chloe shrugged and waved as I walked off to meet Katie.
The doors were unlocked, so I just walked right in. The first thing I saw was this frenetic guy with a hammer and chisel working on a statue. I could tell right away it was Katie, and the likeness wa
s amazing. It was only half done, but from the top of Katie’s breasts up the likeness was remarkable. As the Phil guy was going chink chink chink with his hammer I took a few steps to the right to see Katie.
She was kind of staring off into the distance to the right and didn’t see me. I couldn’t help but stare. She was completely naked, leaning forward. Her breasts were on full display between her arms. Her arms were between her legs, but I could see everything.
I wanted to stare at her forever. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But getting caught would have been a disaster, so I pulled myself away and quietly stepped back to the door. I then yelled out, “Katie, you around?”
The artist spun around, and I swore he was going to throw the chisel at me. “What the fuck are you doing?! This is off fucking limits, you idiot.”
“I’m here to see Katie.”
“She’s busy, fuckwit. What part of the sign that said you aren’t allowed in here did you misunderstand? Can you even fucking read?”
“Jesus, dude. Calm down. I’m her brother. I wanted to surprise her.” I took a few steps forward as Phillip at least quieted down a little bit.
“Max! Hold on, I’ll be there in a second!” There was a pause, and then she yelled out again. “I can’t believe you’re here!” At least she sounded happy.
Phillip must have realized that he was going to have to interact with me in some form or fashion more than yelling insults, so he walked over. I held out my hand, but he ignored it. “Give her a hug and get the fuck out,” he whispered. “We’ll see you later.”
Wait, did he say we'll see you later?
A Promise to my Stepbrother Page 9
