Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series)

by Lisa A. Olech

  “Good. You don’t have any plans to stretch canvas, re-bristle your brushes, or color code your paint tubes after class, do you?”

  “No.” She smirked. “I am fairly happy with my paint tubes right at the moment. Why? Did you have something in mind?”

  “You have no idea, cupcake.” He smiled that famous smile of his.

  A rush of heat shot into her face.

  “We’ll talk about it later.” He squeezed her arm and looked passed her. “Morning, Leah.”

  “Morning, Jagger.”

  Zee turned and found Leah’s all-seeing eyes darting back and forth between them. Her eyebrows pushed toward her hairline.

  “Oh, Jagger.” Zee reached past Leah and grabbed his shirt. “Your shirt.”

  “You’re not the only one to forget something this morning, eh?” He winked. God, she loved it when he winked.

  When Zee dared look back at Leah, her friend stood there with her mouth agape.

  “Close your mouth, Leah.”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Zee’s ears got hot. “Not now.”

  “Cupcake?”

  “Later.”

  “Oh, you can count on it.”

  Madeline’s arrival saved Zee from any further intimate conversation with Leah. She greeted Jagger and the others. “Good morning, everyone. Before we get started this morning, I have some great news.” Everyone paused with what they were doing and gave Madeline their attention.

  “I had the most wonderful weekend,” she announced.

  “Perfect,” Leah grumbled under her breath. “Am I the only one around here that had a suck-ass weekend?”

  Zee shot her a sympathetic look.

  Madeline continued. “I received a phone call on Saturday from Daniel Bruce.” A small murmur ringed the room. “If any of you don’t know who Daniel happens to be, he is the owner of the Bruce Gallery at Copley Place in Boston. He’s just opened his sixth gallery in Chicago, and represents many fine artists.

  “One of you has caught the eye of the infamous Mr. Bruce, and he is very anxious to have your work in his gallery. He’s interested in showcasing one of our very own with a private showcase.”

  “Wow.” “How exciting.” “Who, Madeline?” “Private show?” “Who?” “One of us?” “At the gallery?” “Who is it?”

  Madeline held up her hand to quiet everyone. “Zee, how quickly can you frame up twenty to thirty pieces?”

  Gasps, applause, and congratulations surrounded Zee as her stunned brain took in what was happening. Leah hugged her and gave a happy squeal. “It had to be you.”

  Over Leah’s shoulder she asked Madeline, “Are you sure he wanted me?”

  “Absolutely. He’s very excited. He loves your work. I told him I had some exceptional artists this year, and he asked to sneak a peek before the end of semester exhibition. See me after class and I’ll give you his card. Daniel would like to meet with you as soon as tomorrow at the gallery to discuss space requirements. He’s had a cancelation and may want you next month. He spoke about hosting a champagne reception to open the show.

  Zee shot Jagger a look. He stood nodding his head with his arms folded casually over his chest with the biggest smile on his beautiful face. Nervous excitement raced through her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Bloody perfect!”

  “To Zee! Congratulations!” “You deserve it, honey.” “You make us proud.” Water bottles, travel mugs and all manner of drink holders lifted in a toast. “Better tell Bruce to get lots of champagne. “The good stuff.” “He does know we’re professional drinkers, doesn’t he?” “Oh, you have to get a new outfit.” “No baggy jeans, please.” “You can borrow my red shoes.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen…we can discuss the finer details with Zee another time. We have Mr. Jones waiting here, and I think it’s time we proceed with the class. All right?”

  Heads nodded and easels pushed back into place. Madeline looked in Jagger’s direction and he slipped off his shirt. He smiled at Zee before kicking off his jeans. He was so damn proud of her. This was fantastic news. A gallery showing was a big deal. And no one deserved it more than Zee.

  As he moved to the dais, he hoped no one would notice the marks on his shoulder. He caught sight of them as he finished his shower this morning. Small, red crescent marks made by Zee’s fingernails last night…or was that this morning?

  He caught her looking at him and smiled. Oh, it was this morning. Now he remembered. The kitchen. On his knees.

  Jagger stowed his things and positioned himself on the dais so he could face her. He loved watching her work. He was finding a lot to love about Zee. Buttoned up and reserved one minute, neon condoms the next. I’m not very good at this, Jagger, then knocking his bloody socks off. Hiding in the dark, then wrapping her legs around him and crying out his name. Last night had been incredible; she had been incredible. And it was only the beginning. As he settled into his pose, Zee’s gaze met his. Pink flooded her cheeks. She gave him a shy grin.

  Minutes ticked by in Jagger’s head. He tried to concentrate on the tension in the muscles of his thigh to keep his leg positioned for the time allotted. Zee’s eyes glanced in his direction every few minutes while she worked at her painting.

  She put her brush down to pull that wild hair of hers up off her neck, using a large clip to secure it. The sun poured through windows behind her making the room warm and haloing her hair. Zee pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and pulled a bottle of water from her bag. Uncapping it she put it to her lips to drink and proceeded to spill it down the front of her. Jagger suppressed a chuckle. He watched as she wiped her chin, shook her head and stripped off her wet sweatshirt.

  Good God, she wore that tiny black tank that fit her like the shine on a cherry. He remembered the smell of a cherry red condom. Zee took another drink of water and gave a little tug on the hem of her top before picking up her brush. Jagger watched as her chest rose and fell in the gentle rhythm of her breath. His breathing matched hers.

  Zee caught him staring and gave him another small grin, but this one wasn’t shy. She put her brush down again and placed her hands on the small of her back, kneading the area above the curve of her behind. Her cupcakes were on full display. His eyes devoured her. Then she arched her back…

  A flash of pure lust surged through him. All the muscles in his abdomen and his arse tightened as blood rushed into his groin like a heavy fist trying to push into his… No!! Panicked, his gaze collided with hers. Bugger!!

  Jagger whipped on his pants and grabbed his shirt to cover his erection. “Madeline! I need a break. Now!” Grumbles from around the room followed him as he raced out.

  He was pacing next to his van in his bare feet when Zee caught up to him.

  “Hey, what just happened up there? Are you all right?”

  “Come here and I’ll show you.” Jagger moved behind the van and pulled her to him for a crushing kiss. He took her hand and placed it boldly on his crotch. “Do you suppose Genevieve would paint this in miniature?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “This is your fault.”

  “I didn’t know you could move so fast. You left like your pants were on fire.”

  Jagger ground his hips into hers. “My pants are on fire.”

  “Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

  “You cheeky sheila. You’re not sorry. Wearing that top. Arching your back like that. You’re trying to drive me bloody mad.”

  Zee’s hand gave a slow squeeze. “How long do you think we have until Madeline sends someone to look for us?”

  Jagger groaned and took her hand off his cock. “I hope it’s enough time for me to figure out how I can be in the same room with you and not have my body act like I’m back in pre-academy.”

  “I promise not to tease you anymore. I’ll keep my clothes on.”

  “It’s no good, darlin’. I’ve seen you.” He pressed into her again, his mouth on hers. “I’ve tasted you.” His kiss left them both
aroused.

  “I could move to get another view,” Zee suggested. “Somewhere behind you so you can’t see me. Would that work?”

  “Football, ice cold showers, my grandfather’s hairy legs, chicken shit, liver…”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making a list of things that couldn’t possibly turn me on.”

  Zee snickered, then bit her lip. “Will that help?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “I am sorry.”

  Jagger shook his head. “Don’t ever apologize for making me feel like this.” He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her again.

  The remote alarm went off in Zee’s pocket as George’s siren blared.

  They rushed from behind the van. Zee pushed the button on the remote and cut the shrill, distress signal. No one was near George. No one else was in the parking lot. Jagger looked in every direction. Where was the bastard?

  “No one is here. Could it have gone off accidently?”

  “Doubt it.” Jagger scanned the area again. “I’d bet my last five dollars it was that tosser, Ed. Bugger moves fast, I’ll give him that. The yellow-tailed bastard is probably sitting somewhere watching us right now.” Show yourself, Zeigler.

  “Doors are still locked. I can’t see anything wrong. The siren must have scared him off.”

  Jagger dropped to one knee and looked under the car. Nothing looked out of place. No fluids leaking. He stood. The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t see anything.”

  “That’s good.” Zee stroked his arm, unclenched his fist and kissed the back of his hand. “The alarm did its job, Jagger. Thank you.”

  He slipped a hand around her waist and kissed the top of her head. He blew out a long breath. “Why don’t you give me your keys? I’ll put George over by the market. They’ve got security cameras. If he tries something again, at least we’ll have something to take to the police.”

  “I doubt he’ll touch George ever again.”

  “I’m not so sure. I’ll circle the block a few times and see if I notice anyone following. It will kill two birds.”

  “Two birds?”

  He nuzzled her ear. “It will give me a chance to cool off, in more ways than one. Go on up to class. I’ll be right back.”

  Jagger watched Zee head back inside, and he climbed into her car. “Okay, you bastard, where are ya? I know you’re here. I can feel it.” Jagger fumed. Angry and horny were not a good combination. He drove the block and a half and pulled George into the parking lot of the Pick & Pack grocery store. A quick glance told him what he wanted to know. There was a security camera on the corner of the building and one at the back of the lot. If he could just get this joker on camera, then Zee would have to go to the cops.

  He parked, locked the car, and switched on the alarm. Changing his mind he shut the alarm off. “No, let’s see if he’s as ballsy as I think he is.” Jagger walked away and left George ripe for the picking.

  On his walk back to the school, Jagger worked to get himself together. The last twenty-four hours had demolished any control he had. His body was acting like he’d never had sex before. Zee was all he could think about. How her mouth felt against his. How she tasted. How her body fit so perfectly along his. How she whimpered when he touched that spot between her— “Stop it, man. You can’t be sporting another fat in class.” Chicken shit, hairy legs, bastard ex-boyfriends. It took Jagger another walk around the block to settle his—mind.

  How he got through the rest of that class he’d never know.

  ****

  Jagger walked past Zee after class was over. He whispered for her to meet him at his van when she was done. A new painting of Jagger’s back sat upon her easel.

  As the other artists left, they stopped and gave her a hug or a pat on the back, and wished her congratulations again. Madeline placed a hand on Zee’s shoulder. “After you get cleaned up, stop by my office. I’ll get you Daniel’s card.”

  “Okay, I’ll only be a minute.”

  Leah was biding time to talk to her. As soon as they were alone, she spun on her. “You had sex! With Jagger!”

  Zee neither confirmed nor denied it. She didn’t need to. Leah was on to her. She gasped, “You had really good sex. Now I am officially jealous. Jagger and the Bruce Gallery. Shit, girl, when you go big, you go big.”

  “Leah…”

  “So was it incredible?” Leah sighed.

  “Um, yes.”

  “I knew it.” Leah bounced on her toes. “Do I get details?”

  “No.”

  “Aw, come on. I spent the last two days freezing my ass off and smelling like a herring. At least tell me you finally, you know…climbed the mountain? Touched the sun? Died the ‘little death’? Had a big O?”

  “Yes, yes and yes. And you were so right, it was incredible.” Zee felt herself warm at the memory.

  “I’m glad one of us yes, yes, and yes’ed this weekend.” She hugged Zee. I’m so happy for you. Pea green with envy, but very happy.”

  “Thanks. Hey, I need to go. Madeline’s waiting for me. I’ll give you a call after I meet with the great Mr. Bruce, okay?”

  “Wait, you haven’t explained the whole cupcake thing.”

  “Sorry. Can’t. Talk to you later.”

  “Did I mention I smelled like a herring?” Leah called after her.

  Madeline’s office was clutter at its finest. Stacks of files, papers, and artists’ work filled every corner and flat surface. The walls overflowed with every conceivable form of artwork from block prints to oils to crayon drawings from her nephew. Is that a bobble head doll of Warhol? A tall vase of peacock feathers stood atop another pile of paperwork, and a crystal chandelier crowned the cacophony of chaos.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Where exactly?” Zee teased.

  “Oh, hell, I know. It’s a mess. But it’s my mess, and believe it or not, I know where everything is.” Madeline scooped a pile of stiff watercolors off a worn leather chair. “Here.”

  Zee sat and watched Madeline settle into her nest like some techno-colored hen. She pushed back the cloud of feathered salt and pepper fluff that passed as hair and tugged up the sleeves of her lumpy suit. She wore an old men’s gold watch. “Now, where did I put that card?” She rummaged around her desk.

  “I’m still in shock. I can’t believe Daniel Bruce is interested in me.”

  “Why not you?” Madeline frowned. “You’re good, Zee. I’ve told you that before. Your work is technically brilliant. And, I must say—” She moved a small replica of the Venus de Milo. “Lately, I don’t know what’s happened, but I’ve noticed your work has…” She lifted a bejeweled pencil holder made from a tin can. “Where the hell did I put that card?”

  Zee would have been amused, but all her senses were on overload. “My work has what?”

  “Passion.” Madeline looked up at her and nodded her head. The fluff bobbed in agreement. “It has a zing. A spark.” She raised a snow globe of the Washington Monument. “There it is.” She puffed proudly. “See, I told you, I know where everything is.”

  Zee’s stomach did a nervous turn as she took the card. She stared at the heavy white card stock. Its design was clean and crisp, classically minimal. Daniel Bruce. The Daniel Bruce. The man famous for putting artists on the map. He wanted to meet her.

  The spritz sound of a soda being uncapped brought her attention back to Madeline.

  “Now, I don’t have to tell you how important this is.” Madeline rummaged through her desk. “A private showing is unheard of for a novice. But he really liked what he saw. If you nail this with Daniel, the Meade Fellowship is as good as yours. Add some pieces with the same fire as I’ve seen this week, and you’ll have an amazing show.”

  Zee was staring at the card in her hand as if any second it would flash and become a magician’s dove and fly away. Joke on her.

  Madeline sighed. “Zee, I have to tell you something, and I need you to promise me you’ll not repeat it to
anyone.” She pulled a huge bottle of Tums out of a drawer and ate a handful.

  That got her attention. “Of course. Something about the show?”

  “In a way.” Madeline tipped forward in her chair. She frowned again and Zee could feel her hesitation.

  “I won’t say anything.”

  “No one knows this, and it’s important that I keep it that way.”

  “Understood.”

  “The school is in trouble.”

  That wasn’t what Zee expected to hear. “What do you mean trouble?”

  “Money trouble. With things the way they are, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to continue.”

  That was so not what Zee expected to hear. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t. I’m like the swan, serene and beautiful on the surface, but kicking like hell underneath. We lost our biggest endowment last year. That, coupled with a huge decline in enrollments, and I don’t know if we can keep the doors open for another year.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I hate to tell you this on the heels of your good news, but I need you to know how important this show could be—not only for you and your fellowship, but for Stoddard, too. That little white card could be the answer to my prayers, as well as yours.”

  Madeline pointed. “Daniel’s gallery pulls in a certain clientele. A certain wealthy clientele. To highlight one of our students might inspire one or two of those deep pockets to make a nice healthy donation to the school. The publicity alone will attract more students into the program. I’m going to contact some of our more successful alumni and invite them to come. You know, have a meet and greet with our star artist. Who knows, I could get a few more donations there.” She folded her hands and leaned in closer.

  “I know how timid you can be. I mean, other times when you’ve had some of your work at a show, you were nowhere to be found on opening night. There are certain artists who crave the spotlight. You’re not one of them.”

  Zee opened her mouth to defend herself, but Madeline put up a hand. “I know how you work. You’re an intense, focused artist. That’s not a bad thing. I’m just worried that you’ll…”

  “I’ll what? Not show up?”