by Sadie Grey
I knelt quickly and gathered the robe around me gratefully, feeling secure again now that I was covered up. I rolled my neck to loosen the knot that had formed there and got to my feet. The tension in the air disappeared and I could breathe normally again.
The next robed model approached the platform. He was a thick, brawny man. His robe barely closed over his barrel chest. I stepped down from the dais and walked past the circle of students. My eyes gazed steadfastly at the floor.
I ducked into the dressing room and leaned against the wall with my eyes closed. Shame and exhilaration pulsed within me. I had done it. Despite my fears about my less than perfect body. Despite all the voices in my head screaming no. I had done it.
Those fifteen minutes had been agonizing. And yet, a part of me had definitely enjoyed it. Enjoyed it to the point where I had gotten physically excited.
A flush crept over my cheeks. What had taken hold of me out there? No. Not what, but who? I knew exactly who had elicited those feelings from me. His blue eyes still burned in my soul as if they had captured a part of me and refused to let go.
I shook my head to clear it and hurried to put my regular clothes on. My simple cotton underwear went on first, followed by my jeans and a heavy sweatshirt. These clothes were a far cry from the sumptuous silk robe, but they were comfortable and familiar. I was back to my old self again. Whatever had happened out there, I was just glad it was over. I could get paid and get out and put the whole thing behind me.
But I didn’t leave.
I lingered on the edges of the group and watched the students work. I was all thumbs when it came to drawing so seeing them turn pencil lead into living, breathing figures on the page was magical.
I found myself drifting over to Mr. Blue Eyes. I wondered if his sketches were as good-looking as he was. There was no way. No one could be that attractive and talented. Life couldn’t be that unfair.
I stood behind him and leaned in to get a closer look at his drawing. The scent of him tickled my nostrils. He smelled like cinnamon and something citrusy. I found myself leaning closer and breathing him in greedily, intoxicated by the essence of him.
His hands moved skillfully across the paper on his easel. The model he currently sketched was the squat, brutish man that looked like he could grace the cover of a bodybuilding magazine. But the drawing I looked at had redefined the man somehow. It brought out the fire in his eyes. It brought out the determination in his shoulders and in the set of his jaw. The artist had taken a lump of a man and made him graceful. Almost delicate.
“What do you think?” Mr. Blue Eyes asked without turning around.
He caught me off guard. I hadn’t realized he’d noticed me watching him draw. I thought I’d been sneaky. I spoke without thinking.
“You’re amazing.”
He did turn around then, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
The heat rose in my cheeks. I found myself flustered and stammering.
“I mean, the drawing. It’s, well, it’s gorgeous.”
He ran his thick fingers through his messy hair and turned back to look at his drawing. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I love it.”
He flashed a grin at me, and my heart thudded in my chest.
“Can I see the one you did of me?” I asked.
He tilted his head uncertainly and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Are you sure you want to see it?”
My heart sank. “Why, did I look that bad?” I asked in a quiet voice.
“Not at all. I thought you were great. I’m just not sure you’ll like it.”
“Please. I want to see it.” I flashed him my best doe eyes and batted my eyelashes at him.
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “How could I say no to that face? Here.”
He flipped the page in the large sketch pad. The muscle man disappeared, and there I was, staring myself in the face.
My breath caught in my throat and my hand flew to my mouth.
He sighed. “You don’t like it?”
I shook my head. He laughed ruefully to himself.
“Yeah, I knew I shouldn’t have shown it to you.”
I shook my head more fervently. “No, it’s not that. It’s just, you made me beautiful.”
And he really had. The woman on the page was clearly me, but it was not the me I saw when I looked in the mirror. All my rough edges had been smoothed over. The parts of my body that I hated were on display, but instead of being unpleasant, they were elegant parts of a whole. They combined to form the image of a confident, sexy woman.
This version of me looked like how I felt on my best days. The days when I felt in sync with the rhythms of the world. When I was swimming with the current instead of against it. He had looked inside of me and found my favorite me and had somehow laid it out on the page.
Emotion welled in my breast and tears stung my eyes.
“Oh, hey,” he said, standing up. His eyebrows furrowed together. “Are you alright?”
I sniffed and nodded, feeling foolish for getting so emotional. “Yes. Sorry. I just love it.”
“Don’t cry.” He reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. His touch was electric. “I'll tell you what. It’s yours.”
“What?” I smiled and wiped at my eyes. “No. I couldn’t.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
I smiled. “Thank you. But let me pay for it, at least. Wait, scratch that. I don’t have any money.”
“I couldn’t take your money, even if you had it. The fact that you like it is payment enough.”
“I feel bad though. I should give you something.”
He tapped a finger to his full lips. Lips that any woman would be lucky to kiss.
“How about this? Pose for me again.”
I looked at my feet. “I don’t know. This was really a one-time thing.”
“You didn’t like modeling?” he asked, frowning.
“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone.”
“Nonsense. You looked totally natural up there. Trust me. You did better than most of the models that come through here.”
I shuffled my feet from side to side, feeling uncomfortable and flattered all at the same time. “Sorry.” I said. “It’s just not for me.”
“I would, of course, pay you for your time.”
I bit my lip and considered it. I could use the money. With a heavy sigh, I shook my head. “No. It’s tempting, but I think my modeling career is over.”
His shoulders slumped, and he nodded. “That’s a shame, but I understand.”
He carefully tore the page from the pad with my image on it. He flipped the page over, and, on the back, he wrote down a phone number.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”
“I won’t. But thank you.”
He put his hand out. “I’m Dominic, by the way. Dominic Bell.”
“Angela,” I said, shaking his hand.
He smiled. “Fitting. Please promise me you’ll think about it.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Fine. I'll think about it. Thanks again for the drawing.”
“Thank you for being my inspiration.”
I turned and walked away, but I was sure I could feel him watching me go.
Chapter 2
Cool night air drifted in through the window of my cramped apartment, carrying with it the vibrant sounds of the city. The hum of rushing cars. The bubbling up of anonymous laughter. The strains of an old jazz recording sauntering through the night.
When I had first moved here two years before, it had all been noise to me. It kept me awake at night as I huddled beneath my covers. Now it was a lullaby that sung me to sleep. I couldn’t imagine ever going back to my little, dusty town in the sticks. Not when I knew a place like this existed.
But that’s exactly what would happen if I couldn’t find a way to earn some money for next year. I sighed as my eyes prowled over the help wanted ads in the
newspaper. Everything seemed to require experience, and experience was something that I was sorely lacking. I flung the paper to the linoleum tiles in disgust.
I should have been studying instead of worrying about money problems. The spring semester had ended and my first final was just days away. All my money problems would mean nothing if I failed all my classes and got kicked out of school.
Still, I couldn’t focus. I was a worrier by nature, always fretting over tomorrow instead of enjoying today. It was a helpful quality that kept me motivated and always reaching for that brass ring, but at a time like this, it made it impossible to concentrate on my immediate problems instead of my future ones.
I found myself drawn back to Dominic’s sketch. It rested on the cluttered table in my living room. I had been forced to clear books and binders and old food wrappers to make space for it. I only had the one table. It was all I could fit into my tiny apartment and it doubled as a dinner table and work desk.
My pulse quickened every time I remembered myself standing on the dais a few days ago with my body on display. It was something I could have never done before I came to the city. The old me would have run screaming from the merest suggestion of getting nude for strangers. Hell, even now, I could hardly believe I’d gone through with it.
I had been floating all day afterward, feeling thrilled and proud and excited. I had never really thought of myself as brave, but I knew it took real bravery to bare my body like that.
Then the spell had worn off and grim reality had set back in. I still needed money. A lot of money. I was on my own with no one to turn to for help. I had to find work or the new life I had built for myself would come crashing down around me.
But instead of job hunting or studying, I couldn’t stop looking at the drawing of me. I couldn’t stop staring at the version of me that Dominic saw. It was by far the most beautiful thing in my apartment, including my actual self. It was a ray of light in the crowded darkness. I thought about framing it, but I didn’t have the money for that.
Besides, I liked holding it in my hands. I liked feeling the rough texture of the paper. I traced my finger over the lines and felt a connection with the man who made it. Dominic. His signature graced the bottom corner of the page in bold, swirling loops.
Part of me wanted to show it off to the world, to my friends and family, and to anyone who would look at it. To point at it and say, “See? This is who I really am!”
But I didn’t want them to see my nakedness or for them to know that I had posed nude at all. Some people could be so prudish. Besides, there was something nice about having it all to myself.
It was my perfect little secret. And quite the secret it was. The more I stared at the image of me, the more I thought that Dominic had uncovered a part of me that I never knew existed. A part that hadn’t existed until I had moved to the city.
There was something in my expression, something in my posture. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but I could see hints of it, like a dark figure emerging from the mist.
I needed more. I was sure that if I allowed him to draw me again, I could solve the puzzle of myself. The mists would part and I could figure out who I really was and who I was supposed to be.
I also felt the urge to pose again. To experience that shivering mix of fear and excitement, and that feeling of being exposed both physically and emotionally. I wanted to reveal myself to him again. He liked what he saw, and I liked what he saw when he looked at me. I also wanted to see him again.
Screw it.
I flipped the drawing over and jabbed his phone number into my cell. He answered on the third ring.
“Hello.”
At the sound of his deep voice, my courage fled, leaving me unsure and stammering.
“Uh, hi, is this Dominic?”
“It is. Who is this?”
“Um, Angela.”
“Angela, what a lovely surprise.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Have you reconsidered my offer?”
“Umm, yes. I mean, maybe.”
“Hmm. I want to hear more yes and less maybe.”
“Well, the thing is. I could use the work, but I’m not really comfortable in front of so many people. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding relieved. “Well, that’s not a problem. I actually wanted to hire you for private sessions. Just you and me at my studio.”
“You have your own studio?”
“Well, it’s nothing impressive. Just a space downtown. But it’s mine. And private.”
Private sessions, I thought. Just the two of us. I liked the sound of that. My love life was as bleak as my money problems, and even the possibility of spending time alone with Dominic was enticing.
“I can pay you a hundred dollars for a two-hour session. Is that alright?”
My brain reeled at the number. I could never make that much at any of the jobs I had seen in the paper or online.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Fine, two hundred a session. Say you’ll do it.”
My head bobbed back and forth with indecision. It was an insane amount of money. It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. Weren’t artists supposed to be poor? Then again, he had his own studio. Maybe he was more successful than I’d thought.
I wanted to say yes. I mean, that was why I had called him. But a part of me was holding back. My lips opened to speak the word, but no sound came out. With an almost physical effort, I forced the air from my lungs.
“Yes,” I said finally, feeling like I had just jumped off a cliff.
“Fantastic! I promise you won’t regret this. When are you available?”
“The rest of the week is pretty free, I guess.”
“What are you doing right now?”
The question shocked me.
“Right now? Well, nothing, really, but it’s the middle of the night.”
“The middle of the night is when interesting things happen.”
“I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow.”
“No. If we wait, you might change your mind. Come over now.”
The tone of his voice sent a shiver marching down my spine. He didn’t sound angry. It was more like commanding. I knew I couldn’t say no.
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Excellent. I’ll text you the address. Be there in an hour.”
Chapter 3
Less than an hour later, I stood in front of a wide five-story building in the heart of downtown. It looked like an old factory. The kind that had been closed for years until some real estate developer converted the space into condos.
I assumed there would be some level of nudity involved in posing for Dominic so I had chosen clothing that I could slip off with ease. I wore a loose peasant blouse with a low cut neckline and a long flowing skirt that fit my hips just right. I figured even if I wouldn’t stay dressed for long, I could still look good until then.
An imposing set of metal doors loomed over me as I located the intercom and punched in the number for his studio. The responding buzz trilled loudly in the darkness and I almost jumped out of my skin. The doors unlocked with a click and I pulled one open, trying to still my jagged nerves.
I found the elevator in the entranceway just beyond the doors. I rode up to the fifth floor and emerged in a narrow hallway with pleasantly dim lighting. Two doors stood on either side of the hall. They were made of dark polished wood and looked positively medieval. The one on the right was Dominic’s studio.
I knocked loudly. The pounding of my heart seemed louder than the sound of my knuckles on the door.
It opened and Dominic’s face emerged into the hall.
“You came,” he said, smiling. He wore paint spattered blue jeans and a blue plaid button shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his thick forearms.
“You sound surprised.”
He smiled. “Not surprised. Pleased. Come in.”
He pulled the door open all the way and stood to the side,
gesturing me in with his hand. I stepped in to the enormous studio and he locked the door behind us.
The place looked like one massive room and must have taken up half the top floor of the building. Most of the cavernous space was blanketed in shadow. Exposed steel beams stretched from the floor to the ceiling at various intervals around the room. Strings of Christmas lights spiraled up the beams, looking like fireflies floating in twilight.
