She kissed me again, wet and growly this time. Then she broke away, “We need to get back. Me first,” she said, walking backwards to the door.
I groaned, clawing at the empty space she left behind and pushing out my bottom lip in a pout.
Before she left the room, she said, “Don’t you worry, cowboy. We can play more later.” Then, she winked and she was gone. I stood there for a minute or two before following her back to class to endure another hour of her brand of titillating torture that seemed specifically designed for me, only the second hour was different than the first.
Once my overzealous little friend reached his happy ending, I was able to focus on drawing her. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own. And I’m not going to lie, I think my familiarity with Maddie had something to do with it. It felt like all our sexual exploration was actually part of my work as an artist, like she was always a work of art to me. All my passion for her sexually was also a passion for her artistically. Every touch, every line, every kiss, every shadow… they were all related. The artist in me knew her, felt her in each stroke, and that knowledge of her beauty, her sweetness, poured out of me onto the page. Needless to say, drawing a naked Maddie was something I definitely wanted to do more, perhaps in private.
Finally preparing to eat more of her grilled cheese, Maddie looked across the table at me and asked, “So, I’m fairly certain I have a good grasp of what you were thinking during the first hour of class, but you seemed to have a different experience in the second hour. What was it like for you, having me up there…” she peeked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping and then lowered her voice to a whisper when she said, “naked?”
“I liked it,” I said, smiling mischievously because I knew that wasn’t going to be close to enough for her enquiring mind. She wanted to know me as deeply as I was looking to know her.
She had picked up her drink to take a sip and, in response to my answer, she slammed it down on the table and the root beer inside the glass sloshed around. “Oh, come on, Luke. Give me more than that. You were so different in the second hour. In the first hour, you were like a drooling fool—”
I interrupted her, “You mean, I was like an adonis in the prime of his manhood.”
“Yeah, that’s it, a sex-crazed gerbil,” she smirked. She was so fucking beautiful. She was in a maroon hoodie with her hair tied in a messy blue knot on the top of her head.
“Good to know we agree on this point,” I said with a straight face and she snickered.
“Anyway, you were hot to trot in the beginning, but then you were so focused. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you draw like that.”
“Yeah, you should definitely give me handy before class all the time,” I teased. “Does wonders for my concentration.”
She threw her napkin at me. “Come one, I’m being serious,”
“Sorry,” I smiled. “You’re right. You’ve never seen me draw like that. I’ve never seen me draw like that. At least, not that I remember.”
She bounced in her seat, giddy with excitement, “Can I see them?” she asked. “Your drawings?”
I wasn’t one of those people who never showed anyone my art. Like I told Maddie on our first date, I’d always drawn pictures anywhere and everywhere, but since starting this class, I kept my sketches to myself. It was my first real art class and I didn’t want to invite any criticism just yet. I was literally awake at night worrying about the student exhibition that was the culmination of our class because I didn’t know if I was good enough. Honestly, I didn’t think Maddie would judge me, but I’d also never drawn someone the way I was drawing Maddie. I wasn’t ready yet.
I stumbled, trying to answer her, “I… um... Maddie, I…”
She threw her hands up defensively, “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t. She was disappointed, I could see it in her eyes.
She continued, “You don’t have to show me. I get it. It’s personal.”
I wanted her to actually get it but I wasn’t sure how to explain. “It’s not that exactly. I’m just not ready. I promise to show them to you first, you can even help me pick which ones are in the class exhibition. It’s just right now they aren’t finished and I don’t trust myself as an artist and it’s like this part of me that feels vulnerable. I don’t know that I can capture you, that I can do you justice. You’re just so beautiful, Maddie. You’re this giant vibrant life and I’m just a rancher pretending to be an artist.”
“Okay,” she said, seemingly happy again. “But I bet they are good, your sketches.”
“You just like me,” I smiled.
“Well, yes, but also all the other students were looking at what you were working on.”
That was a surprise, “They were?”
She nodded.
“Are you sure that wasn’t during the first half of class, the part where my raging hard-on was bursting out of my pants like it was reenacting that scene from Aliens?”
She laughed. God, I loved making her laugh.
“I’m sure,” she reiterated.
“Maddie?” I asked. “I was thinking. I’d like to draw you more.”
“What do you mean?” She looked at me quizzically.
Suddenly, I was nervous. I wanted her to let me draw her whenever I wanted. “I mean, I was wondering if you’d let me bring an easel to the house and if you’d maybe pose for me?”
“Do you want to draw me like one of your French girls, Jack?”
“Titanic, really?”
“Come on, it’s a spot-on reference. And also, clearly more current than Aliens.”
“He dies in the end.”
“Maybe I’m a praying mantis.”
I laughed. “I think it’d still be worth it.”
She took a bite of her grilled cheese.
“So, will you? Pose for me?” I asked again, needing verbal confirmation.
She looked at me, looked hard. And then she said, “I think I will.”