LatinosUSA

The girl on the modeling platform was not nude–she was naked. Working for the university’s Art Department, she reluctantly provided a randy art instructor with a spectacular fantasy life. In his mind, he raped her again and again. Nor was he subtle about it. He coaxed her to assume a variety of frankly pornographic poses. The students, meanwhile, eleven undergrads, looked on dispassionately, trying to render the curve of her breast, the angle of her limbs, the tilt of her head.

The spotlights were hot on her bare skin, making her blond hair glow like the sun. The instructor adjusted a curtain that was draped over a chair and served as a backdrop for the model’s poses. He leaned in close, his breath hot on the girl’s shoulder. She felt him panting down her neck, too obvious to be real. She shook her head only slightly, but with genuine disgust.

The student artists waited impatiently for him to vacate the vicinity so they could continue their work. Suddenly, the instructor said, “Let’s do a few gesture poses, Jennifer.”  

Without any further ado, she launched into a battery of movements. She first twisted her torso in one direction, held the pose for sixty seconds. Then she arched her back provocatively, letting her muscles ripple, and her hair fall over her shoulders. This pose she held for one minute before assuming the next pose. The students hurried to capture the postures, shading, and using quick, bold strokes with their charcoal. The instructor actually licked his lips. At length, he called out, “Let’s take a break.”

Jennifer draped a soft terry cloth robe over her body and took a seat on the posing platform. The art students compared their drawings, ate snacks, and drank from bottles of water.

The instructor approached Jennifer and took a seat beside her. “How about we cancel the rest of the class?” he asked huskily. He smiled winningly. Seductively.

“I need the money,” she protested.

“Sure, sure, I can pay you–for a private session. He pursed his lips and moved his tongue provocatively over his thick lips. “You could maybe do a few gesture poses.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now, Professor?”  asked Jennifer blandly.

He grinned, flashing large, ugly white teeth. “I think we understand each other,” he said.

Carefully, she considered her next remarks. “I’ve got just two words for you, Professor,” said Jennifer.

“What?” he inquired smugly. “More money? You’ve got to earn it.”  

She shook her head no.

“Then what?” he asked.

She replied, “Me Too!”

He recoiled as if stung, completely rebuffed. “Now, there’s no need to…”

“But I’ll give you one more gesture, on the house,” she said, and extended her middle finger. With that, she hurriedly dressed and left the art studio, remembering that she had an appointment with the Dean of the Art Department.

Previously published in “Children, Churches and Daddies.”