And then Tyler looked over at what she had rendered in her pad, and for all his concentration on his goal, his heart couldn't help but skip a beat. All he could think was, Damn, is this because she really wants me or is she really this good?
Tyler was not an artist. Except for his looks, his body, and riding motorcycles he had no special talent. His major was Undeclared. He had no background in art appreciation as such. But he knew beauty when he saw it. He knew Janine was beautiful. And he could see that Janine, on page after page, had drawn him beautifully. Looking at her work, he suddenly saw himself in a way that he had never seen himself before. The drawings were strong in line and delicate in tone. Somehow she had captured in strokes and shapes and fields of black and grey a delicacy and grace that he never knew he possessed. It was as if she had either exposed an unknown side of him, or transformed him into someone new. He lingered on the sketches, on the way she captured his face, his limbs, his muscles, his buttocks, the hanging of his tool and the roundness of the package behind it. Tyler was accustomed to sex-charged screaming from women. Janine's quiet perception of him was something new. More than ever now, he wanted to know how she would respond to him when they were alone and naked together.
"Have you always drawn?" he asked her.
Janine found her voice and lifted her eyes to look at him. "And painted. Since I was little, yes, I always have."
"It shows," he said. "You're really good." And in thought only, he silently added, And so am I. You'll see that soon...
"I've never seen you around before," Janine said. "Are you a student here?"
"Yup," he replied. "Just transferred over. My name's Tyler." He offered her a hand and she shook it--their first skin-to-skin contact. Only the beginning, he thought. Just wait...
"Janine," she said. "Janine Fields. You know, it's unusual to have another student for a model. Most of our models are, like, all these middle-aged people or senior citizens, or people in their thirties and forties trying to make extra money."
Wordlessly, they both added, ...and pretty plain or dumpy-looking.
Quickly, Tyler said, "I'm here to make a buck too. I just wanted to do something besides busing tables in the dining halls or cutting the lawns or the other odd jobs they have around campus. I wanted something different."
"Well, this is different," said Janine. "You're different. I wish we had other models like you."
Now he was getting somewhere. He allowed his smile to broaden. "Different is good. But being an artist, you know that." And to his satisfaction, Janine broke into a smile of her own. Oh yes, this was definitely progress. "I'm just a different kind of guy," he added.
"What's your major?" Janine asked.
"Haven't got one. Haven't decided."
"Maybe you should consider Theatre...Drama, you know. You could be an actor. I'll bet you'd be good at it."
Tyler nodded thoughtfully. This Janine Fields was beautiful, talented, and smart. He was now doubly sure he would enjoy seducing Shawn Brown's girlfriend out from under him. "Huh. You know, I never thought of that," he said.
"I'm surprised," said Janine. "TV is full of guys who look like you. Just like art classes should be."
Tyler chuckled at the notion. All those months dancing and dry-humping almost naked on a stage, and the career path that this one girl brought up had never crossed his mind. That's what happens, he supposed, when you have your mind focused on one set of goals. He said, "Well, I guess we'll have to teach 'em a thing or two, you and me."
Janine grinned warmly up at him. "I guess we will."
Professor Kellaway called the class back to order for another round of sketches before lunch. Tyler excused himself to Janine with another come-to-bed smile and took his place back on the platform, where for the rest of the morning he let Janine feel him up on paper. It would not be long, he was sure, before he would have her moaning, "Shawn Who?"
_______________
The class reconvened after lunch for the "crit," which was what they called the critique of the morning's work in which people in turn put their drawings on an easel in the center of the room and everyone gathered round with the professor to make remarks, comments, and criticisms of what each other had done. Tyler, in his robe, was permitted to sit in on this and noted to himself with a wry and naughty amusement how much the word "crit" sounded like a given part of a woman's special anatomy--a part with which he was well acquainted.
The professor and the rest of the class spoke very well of what Janine had done with Tyler's nude figure this day--which was of course nothing compared to what Tyler expected he and Janine would soon be doing with each other's nude figures. He took a certain quiet pride in it, confident that he had provided her with a special inspiration to do her best work. Hearing the commendations of her classmates directed at Janine, Tyler sat behind them, growing thoroughly stiff down below under his robe at the thought of the work he would be doing on her--and on her relationship with her no-good boyfriend. He would just keep modeling for her, become better friends with her, bide his time, and wait for his opportunity. That one part of him surged and throbbed impatiently, but now was not the time to let that part do the thinking. For now he would let the brain above his shoulders stay in charge. The time for the one below would be along when it was right and not before.
_______________
That evening in her room, Janine was occupied not with art but with what seemed to be the other major pursuit of her college life: writing a paper. This one was for her English Literature class, and it was tough going. Getting the words out of her head and onto the screen of her MacBook felt like trying to move a stiff paintbrush through congealed acrylic paint without benefit of turpentine for lubrication. Sitting up on her bed with the MacBook in her lap, she very keenly wished that that particular analogy had not come to mind. The thought of "lubrication" took her back to this morning in class. The still vivid memory of Tyler posing there made her feel very "lubricated" indeed.
The whole time, she had been unable to shake the feeling that Tyler was posing just for her. The idea was completely out of line, of course. There were almost two dozen other kids in her Life Drawing class, and Tyler was standing, sitting, leaning, crouching, and reclining for all of them and for the little money it brought him, not for Janine alone. But there was the way he had seemed to find opportunities to pose facing in her direction. Was it only her imagination that the looks that came from off the platform to her easel spoke of an interest beyond that of the relationship of artist and model? There was no question that Tyler was a masterpiece. He was not built in the same way as a football player or a weight lifter. His body was more like that of a high diver. Janine could not help but wonder if somewhere out there on campus there might be a very lucky girl--or even, she allowed, another boy--into whom he liked to dive. What he had displayed below the waist must surely take a most satisfying "plunge".
Utterly distracted, Janine shook her head and let out a long grunt of frustration. Perhaps by giving in to her distraction for a while she would vent enough of it to get some work done. Saving her work on the computer, she closed it up and set it on her nightstand. Then she went over to the chair into which she had piled her books and supplies. Leaning against it was her portfolio, which she unzipped. From inside it she removed the drawings that she had taken from her sketch pad this morning. There he was, in charcoal if not in the flesh. Tyler: all sleek, taut muscle; stubbly-handsome bedroom face; generously proportioned appendage hung below the waist. What was he doing in a drawing class? He belonged in front of a camera. He was...he was...
Janine frowned at the thought that pushed its way rudely to the front of her mind. He was not her boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. A very hot boyfriend who had been satisfying her very well for months. What was she doing mentally rolling around with her art class model when there was a hot Business major who would be only too happy to roll around with her for real? She slipped the drawings back into the portfolio and zipped it back up. Then, with a se
nsible resolve, she went back to her nightstand and picked up her phone, which lay beside her MacBook. Janine brought up Shawn on her Contacts and tapped out a text: What are you doing? Want to come over?
His words returned a moment later: Was just about 2 ask if u wanted me 2. Be right there.
And I'll be right here, she tapped back. With an exhale, Janine was satisfied that she was now directing her attention where it rightly belonged and that she would soon be satisfied even better. Shawn was no doubt bolting out the door of his room and making rapid tracks in her direction even now. She wanted to be ready for him the moment he arrived. She went to her closet, pulled off everything but her bra and panties, and slipped on one of the extra-large Wilson Varsity T-shirts that she kept for just this purpose. She dumped her clothes into her laundry basket and returned to her nightstand, from whose drawer she pulled out a brush and passed it briskly through her hair. The English paper would have to wait, perhaps until later tonight while Shawn was asleep--assuming they got to sleep before the wee hours. Changed and brushed, she settled onto the bed and waited. And looked across the room at her portfolio and tried to push from her mind what it now contained. Staring at the leather case, she thought Shawn could not get here soon enough.
_______________
Shawn, in a manner of speaking, was quick to arrive and slow to come. The fastest thing that happened in Janine's room that night was the undressing. In nothing flat, Shawn's clothes and hers lay on the floor even as Shawn's naked body lay with hers on the bed. Janine offered herself up to him and welcomed him. Shawn did the rest.
With the smooth, muscular nakedness and long, proud erection of her boyfriend to please her, Janine felt guilty for the thoughts she had allowed herself to think about the subject of her class. What did Tyler have that Shawn did not? Shawn was not rakishly unshaven like Tyler, but his face was just as handsome, his body was just as smooth and hard, and his muscles were actually better defined than Tyler's. Nothing about him was anything less than a sensual delight. She had everything a girl could want in bed with her, right here, right now. All she had to do was let him have her, and let herself enjoy him. And she did.
Spreading Janine out on the bed, Shawn kissed his way from her mouth down her body. He grazed over her breasts with his tongue and took her nipples in turn into his mouth, sucking at them to reward the pebbly hardness that they presented him. After sucking her nipples until she thought she would melt into the bedspread, Shawn continued kissing down her stomach, pausing to lick around her navel and poke the tip of his tongue into it, then went further down to rustle his nose in the dark thicket of her pubic hair, filling his nostrils with her girl-scent. Janine's stomach rose and fell like a tide as his mouth reached its destination and he deployed his tongue on the parted and glistening lips of her femininity. She quivered on the bed, her heart singing with the feeling of Shawn tasting her. The wet flicks of his tongue on her equally wet petals let her know that he was hers.
Shawn took her petals into his mouth as he had done her nipples, sending quakes of joy up into and through her, and probed her inner reaches with his tongue like a butterfly drinking the nectar of a flower. Janine pushed herself up into his face, offering him everything she had, and he gladly took it, filling his mouth with her sex and French-kissing her down there. She showed her appreciation with long sighs and sweet moans, happy to be the blossom at which he fed. He moved his tongue from her passage to the pulpy little love handle that was unique to a woman's body, and swirled his tongue around and over it, causing her to squirm with a growing elation until her pleasure rose to the top of her being and flowed over. Janine felt as if her muscles were melting on her bones at this rise and overflowing of her climax. She felt herself drifting down on a thermal current of pleasure, even as Shawn, purring like a tiger, lifted his face from her sex, lifted his body onto hers, and pinned her there. With a smooth and sure stroke, he let the piercing length of his piece move into the tight wetness between Janine's open thighs and filled her with every inch of him. Bearing down on top of her, he gave a long, husky curse of pure bliss and eagerly put his tool to the work for which it was made.
Janine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rejoiced at welcoming Shawn's pumping and penetration. Shawn had a mind and body made for sex as much as he had a head for business, and whenever he was on top of her and inside her he gave her no room for doubt that with his erection thrusting to her womb he was all business. Hot, eager, passionate, sensuous business. Shawn screwed her with a rhythm and a precision calculated to drive them both into dizzying ecstasy. He was like a machine built for pumping and thrusting. She imagined him counting every beat of his steel-hard rod inside her, every strike of his crotch against her mound, and adding them all up in the "plus" column of some lusty ledger of sex. With each impassioned stroke into Janine's tight but yielding wetness, Shawn built them up to a generous profit on their investment of their bodies, an abundant dividend on the capital of their desire. Panting on top of her, mixing his hot breath with hers, cursing and moaning with a drunken ecstasy, Shawn drove his shaft home within her, going deep each time, growing faster and pumping harder. Janine wrapped herself around him and held on tight, eager to receive every slamming beat of his tool and his crotch, awaiting the final payoff. At last, Shawn delivered, pounding her hard enough to rattle the bed frame and her bones alike. His thick white yield poured and flowed from his glans into Janine's womb, and he held himself deep inside her to ensure that the balance of their ardor was paid in full.
Shawn pulled out of her and rolled off beside her. They wrapped themselves up in each other's arms and legs, and Shawn gave her a bonus of long, luxurious kisses at the close of this first deal of the night. Presently he shifted her onto her back and climbed on top of her again, moving his piece back inside her for another long, hot, deep exchange of liquid assets. He closed the deal a second time, filling Janine's column with another outpouring of white ink and making her shudder at the skill of his trading. With that, the market closed for a time. After another round of kisses, Shawn went to sleep.
Janine lay beside him, wet and sticky below and tingling all over. She looked over at him, sleeping there after two jobs well done. She remembered thinking how lucky some other girl (or boy?) on campus must be, and with the memory of Shawn's sex rippling in her body, she counted her own blessings. What would she ever need with a model from her classes, scruffy-hot as he may be, when lying just a few inches away was a boy who made her so happy every time he topped her?
Yet in spite of knowing her own good fortune, Janine could not help turning over to the other side of the bed and what lay beyond it: the portfolio containing the likeness of Tyler. And she could not help but wonder when she would see him posing again, naked and lean and hard and tempting. Just so tempting. She should feel guilty, she knew, thinking of another boy while lying beside a lover who had just screwed her twice and done it so beautifully. She should feel guilty...
...and yet Janine was an artist, and as an artist she appreciated things of beauty. And there was no denying that Tyler the model was just such a thing. And that she did look forward to seeing him again.
_______________
The next afternoon, Tyler spied Janine in the Student Union and saw an opportunity for a little quality time.
It was lunchtime and the place was as busy as would be expected at that hour. People were in and out of the concession area with their food, populating the tables, and hurrying to and fro at the business offices on the upper level. Tyler had just come from submitting his voucher for his modeling session to the bursar's office and was at the top of the stairs leading down to the dining area when he spotted Janine sitting by herself at one table, absently sipping on a drink while leafing through some sketches. Her portfolio rested in the empty chair opposite her. By the discreet way she was looking at the drawings, Tyler guessed they were nudes. By the intent look on her face as she did so, he guessed--or hoped--that they were some of the drawings she had done of him.<
br />
He paused to watch her look at her work. From this vantage he could not tell for sure what the drawings were. But one corner of his mouth turned up wickedly at the sight. Is that me you're looking at, Janine? Are you checking out the work you did with me--thinking about me? Are you thinking about what a private session would be like, just you and me? Where would it be--your room or mine? I'd pose just for you, just like I was really posing just for you yesterday. You could draw me as much as you wanted--then I'd let you touch what you were drawing. Touch it all over up and down. Touch and feel--and kiss and lick. And suck. And then we'd have ourselves another session--lying down. After you showed me what you can do with your stick of charcoal, it'd be my turn to show you what I can do with my...
Just then came an interruption to Tyler's mental coitus. Janine looked up from her drawings at someone approaching. Tyler glanced in the direction that Janine was looking--and there he was.
He looked every bit as stuck-up and self-satisfied as Tyler remembered him. Shawn Brown, the golden boy with his king-of-the-world smile, came sauntering up to Janine's table. Janine, smiling, happy to see him, at once put her drawings face-down on the table. Face-down--a further suggestion of the nature of the pieces. If they were a lot of still-life drawings, she wouldn't have bothered to conceal them. Tyler opted to stay where he was at the top of the stair and look on discreetly, inconspicuously, at whatever happened next. If need be he could duck around the corner behind him and keep himself out of sight. He just wanted to see, if not hear, whatever exchange Janine had with good old Shawn.
ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: Bad Boy Brother (Stepbrother Interracial College Romance) (Contemporary Stepsister Taboo Romance) Page 68
