‘Today, we’re going to discuss the beauty in art.’ I said when everyone had settled down in the classroom.
‘Like naked women?’ said Dexter with a wide grin on his face. There was always a teenager like that in every class.
The rest sniggered at the 15 year old jock. Of course he’d be the one to say something like that. He was already cocky enough to be a football star at college, but he still had a few years to go before he’d become a local sports hero. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his wild head of wild black hair, smirking and basking in the attention from his fellow classmates.
‘Yes, but also some muscled men especially for you.’ I said.
His smirk vanished. He frowned and stared at me. ‘Why especially for me?’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you enjoyed that more than women, seeing how many photos of those big men playing football are tacked inside your locker door while there are none of women.’
The class laughed while he crossed his arms. ‘I’m not a fag!’
I shrugged. ‘No shame in it.’ I said and turned on the projector displaying Michelangelo’s David. ‘If the first thing you think of sex when you see a naked person, you don’t appreciate the art of beauty enough.’
‘It might not be art, but I’d definitely appreciate seeing Julia naked.’ said Johnny, another one of the popular boys and who thought of himself as bad with his leather jacket and the motorcycle he drives back in the woods.
‘In your fucking dreams!’ the curly blonde cheerleader girl said while she gave him the finger.
‘Exactly!’ he said with a huge grin at her.
The class laughed again, but I could see she’d be dating him in a month or so. Girls are attracted to bad boys.
‘Settle down.’ I said. ‘You can discuss your fantasies later in the evening with the box of tissues you keep under your bed next to your old man’s wrinkled porn magazines.’
‘Aren’t you interested in knowing what Julia looks like naked, Mr Gould?’ Johnny said, his grin still wide.
I looked at him, then at Julia. I could see the shiver running along her spine at the thought of me watching her in her natural state. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t like her eyes. The brown colour was fine, but their shape was all wrong. No beauty in her lines. And the thick make-up didn’t help either. Not to mention I saw her in her swimsuit when I stood in for Jim, the gym teacher. Her breasts were too large. They sagged a little and that doesn’t make for smooth, beautiful curves.
‘Not my type.’ I said with a smile.
Brenda, another one of the cheerleader clique leaned forward in her front seat. ‘So, what is your type then, Mr Gould?’ she said and ran her fingers through her short black curls while she smiled deviously. ‘Me?’
The class sniggered again.
I smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry to let you down, but no.’
‘So, you don’t like pretty girls?’ said Dexter. ‘Aren’t you the gay one then?’
I looked at him. ‘Oh, I can assure you I’m into the female side of things. So much so I prefer to look at them instead of a bunch of sweaty men on a field chasing balls.’
The class laughed at the burn and I held up my hands. ‘Now, settle down.’
Julia grinned. ‘He’s an art teacher. I’ll bet he’s into plain girls.’ She glanced around and her eyes rested on the fourteen year old quiet girl in baggy clothing with blonde hair almost to her shoulders and thin frame elliptical glasses. ‘Like Lissa.’
Lissa didn’t look up from the art book she had open on her desk and sighed.
‘That’s very stereotypical.’ I said. ‘Who says I don’t have a secret relationship with Crowina?’
Julia watched me with obvious disbelief. ‘Oh please, the leader of the punk band?’
I smiled at her. ‘I’ll let you find out for yourself.’ I said and leaned with both hands on my desk. ‘But for now you’re going to find out about aesthetics.’
It was with delight that I saw Lissa in the school library at the end of the day after I made a visit to the biology and chemistry labs. She was alone and sat at the furthest corner of the table at the far back, gazing at the book in front of her. She always chose a spot as far away from other people.
She jerked up when I came close, then sighed and slumped a little.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.’ I said and gave the couple of art books in my arm a pat. ‘I was just returning these.’
She gave a quick smile. ‘It’s okay.’ she said. ‘I was just daydreaming.’
I cocked my head to take a look at the paintings in front of her. Lucas Cranach the Elder’s Venus, and The judgement of Paris. ‘Ah, Lucas.’ I said. ‘Nice paintings. You want to know more about him?’
She shook her head. ‘Just looking to see what artists prefer.’
‘Ah, supermodels or plain girls?’
‘Stupid shallow Julia.’ she muttered.
I smiled. ‘Do you think she’s right?’
She sighed. ‘You must know how all the boys look at her. I just know she shows off her chest whenever she can. Just because she’s got big ones.’
I chuckled. ‘You think that has anything to do with beauty?’
She stared at Venus for a moment. ‘All the boys think so.’
‘Well, the boys just run on hormones now.’ I said and again remembered her looks in swimsuit when I chaperoned the class during gym instead of the sick gym teacher. ‘She’s not really beautiful.’
Lissa looked up at me. ‘But she has great hair, and her make-up is good, and, what I said!’
I looked seriously at her. ‘She uses too much conditioner in her hair, her make-up is overdone, and her breasts don’t curve nicely on her chest. Yours do.’
Her eyes went wide.
The image of Lissa in swimsuit filled my mind again and the same excitement when I saw her perfect curves filled my chest. ‘You have exquisite curves. The lines from your feet going up along your legs, never flat, never excessively round, just perfect smooth curves that shape your calves and thighs, then flow together with the roundness of your behind at your hips and going up along your smooth waist where they split up at your chest, curving along those perfect little hills topped by nipples not to small, not too large, and further up to frame your neck and head in a perfectly integrated whole.’ I gazed into her soft, blue-grey eyes, her glasses reflecting my silhouette against the light behind me. ‘You are a perfect canvas and I want to show everyone just how beautiful your curves are. I will not let your beauty fade.’
She jumped out of her chair. They all thought they could outrun me. I dropped the books in my arm and grabbed her by her arm. She tried to cry out but I jerked her backwards into my embrace and clamped my hand over her mouth and pinched her nose.
She struggled. Flailed her arms and legs. Hit and kicked me any way she could. It only made her pass out quicker.
I pulled my hand away from her face, waited to see if she’d suddenly awoke again, then put her down on the chair while I picked up the books and placed them on the shelves where they belonged.
I watched Lissa and smiled softly. I knew I’d make her my next masterpiece sooner or later so I was prepared for this. I carried her in my arms, checked the hallway before going to the backdoor where I always parked my car, that being convenient when I lug around a cardboard box or two of books home to prepare lessons, slipped outside while no soul was in sight and put her in the boot. I smiled softly at her unconscious face. Such beauty.
I tied her hands behind her back with duct tape and placed a piece over her mouth just in case she woke up before I’d be home. I closed the boot, went back inside, locked the back door and walked up to the front where I saw Gerald, the janitor.
‘Good evening, Vincent.’ the old man said with his usual uplifting spirit. Needed something to cheer you up when you were in a bad mood? Talk to him.
‘Good evening, Gerald. I just locked up the back door, and I saw no students in the hall.’ I said while I placed the back door key in one of the drawers of the desk near the entrance.
‘Okay.’ he said. ‘Then I’ll lock up after you so I won’t be disturbed while I clean up.’
‘All right.’ I said and walked to the front doors. ‘Good night, and see you tomorrow then.’
‘Good night.’ he said and rolled up his sleeves to get to work.
I drove away from the school campus, waved at Maria, the math teacher, while she drove on her bicycle home, and sang softly along with Jim Morrison on Riders on the Storm.
My home was on the outskirts of town. A simple home surrounded by a grass field and trees, where I can work on my drawings in my spare time. It’s a quiet and private little piece of the world.
I parked the car backwards into the open garage, got out, went into the kitchen to drop off my bag and books, turned on the stereo in the living room for some background music, checked my wine rack, pulled out a Merlot of two years old, went into the back room where I kept my art gear and put the bottle on a high table at one of the walls.
I loved the smell of paint, paper, pencils, charcoal, canvas and wood in this room and took a deep breath. A thick plastic lay over a thick rug on the floor in the middle, curtains were drawn in front of the large windows I had installed when I moved to this place years ago.
The sturdy H frame to hold canvasses behind the rug made my heart beat faster in anticipation of creating a masterpiece once again. I had waited years for another perfect subject to appear. To enhance another beautiful natural art object.
A shiver ran through my body and I giggled, unable to suppress my glee.
I went back into the kitchen for a wine glass and the cork screw, stared at the remaining half of the previous day’s dinner on the counter, pondering about eating first, but my excitement to begin on my project was stronger than any desire to eat.
I hurried to the back room to uncork the wine, went back to my car and unlocked the boot. Lissa looked up at me with frightened and wet eyes. I pulled out the syringe I had prepared. Knowing enough about biology and chemistry makes for some fun and useful things.
‘Don’t worry, it’s just a muscle relaxant.’ I said, grabbed one of her lower legs firm and stuck the needle in her calf. The injection took but a few seconds. ‘All done.’
She tried to resist of course but soon her whole body relaxed. I’ve been perfecting the formula over the years with others and it would only dull her skeletal muscles. Respiration and senses weren’t affected. I didn’t want to deprive my canvasses of the experience of becoming wonderful pieces of art.
I laid Lissa down on the plastic and cut her bonds. She whimpered softly and her eyes turned every way as if she could run away on them. I rolled her on her back and smiled gently at her. I looked at her clothes and a little childish sensation as if getting to unwrap a gift soon came over me. I chuckled.
She whimpered and tears fell down her cheeks while she stared at me. Ah, those eyes with that wonderful mix of fear, puzzlement, and helplessness in them. So beautiful. I took the bottle of wine and poured a little in my glass without taking my eyes off of her.
I twirled my glass lightly, smelled the scent of the smooth grape and sipped. The wine was good and would complement the evening of creating fine art.
Lissa’s eyes followed me to the table where I kept all my art tools. From there I took a large pair of special scissors and sat down next to her. These were made to cut through thick material and incredibly sharp. She whined almost inaudibly to let her please go, to not hurt her.
I smiled softly at her. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, I’m going to make your beauty into perfection. Then no one will every be able to say you’re plain again. They will revere you forever.’
I took off her flat sneakers first and placed them in a large plastic bag on the floor next to the frame. Next was her jacket. I used the scissors to cut along the length of the arms, which made her whimper more. I could have just undressed her but I love to cut the wrapping instead. It’s not like it was going to be used again. With both arms cut in two I could pull the jacket off of her, folded it and placed it in the bag.
I have a particular order in which a person should dress or undress. I loathe seeing people wearing their socks when they don’t wear the rest of their clothes. Doesn’t matter if only their chest is bare and they still wear pants. Wearing socks is just not done. With one exception. A cute young woman can wear socks if it’s the only thing she wears. Nothing else. But she can’t wear them while dressing or undressing the rest. She’ll have to put them on or take them off separately.
I wasn’t going to display Lissa in her plain white socks with a red band on top, so I pulled them off to reveal the pretty feet I had seen that wonderful day at the swimming pool. The socks went into the bag.
I hesitated for a moment, but I wasn’t going to touch her feet just yet. I’d wait until I bared her whole. I stood up and smiled a little at her oversized heavy metal t-shirt. The colourful skull held up by a skeleton’s hand poking out of a grave on the front was funny. It would be a bit of a shame to cut it in half, but there was nothing that could be done about it. The shirt would be destroyed later anyway. I cut the front in half while Lissa whimpered just a little louder in a higher pitch, then cut the arms and pulled the shirt off just like the jacket.
I held the remains in my hands while my eyes examined the lines of her chest. She trembled ever so slightly. It wouldn’t affect my drawing later so I didn’t need to change the relaxant dose. The room was warm so it couldn’t be from feeling cold. I smiled at the light blue sports bra she wore. Her small breasts wouldn’t match a regular bra, and even fancy lingerie that wouldn’t disturb her curves would be difficult to find.
I placed the shirt in the bag and looked at her again. She reminded me of an action movie where the heroine fought bad guys with her martial arts in similar baggy pants and a tank top. Baggy pants look more interesting than tight jeans with a nearly bare chest. There’s something about jeans that just looks wrong then.
I placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘Don’t worry, I have no intention to defile your beauty.’ I said and rolled up her belt before it went into the bag as well.
I was a little glad this was the last large piece of clothing I had to cut with my scissors, although I also felt a little regret that the excitement of unwrapping her would soon be done. But there was still the moment of removing her bra and panties.
I cut the front of the legs slowly from the bottom up, smiling more while my heartbeat went up with each part of her legs that I exposed. Her legs were like shallow waves in tropical water. A master painter couldn’t have made more beautiful curves with the best of his brushes.
Lissa whined in her high pitch again when I pulled the remains of her pants away and put them in the bag. I took a few deep breaths to dampen my heartbeat before I’d look at her in her almost completely revealed natural beauty.
My heartbeat went up again though when I saw she wore light blue panties that matched her bra. I was so glad I could almost cry and I smiled happily at her. I can’t count how many times I saw women in unmatched underwear. How could they justify something like that!? The excuse that they change panties more often than bras was bullshit! Nothing prevents them from buying multiple panties with each bra. I had to stand back a bit to take in Lissa’s appearance and filled my wineglass to enjoy the moment. She was a great canvas even without doing anything yet.
I emptied my glass, took a deep breath and sat down next to her again. She whimpered, tears still falling down her red cheeks. Her eyes were red, but that would dissipate later. They still held that innocence though.
I opened the scissors and slid one blade underneath her bra in the middle. I could see the shiver shooting through her body.
With one snip I cut the bra in two.
It parted barely but that was no surprise. A large pair of breasts would have flopped to the side and pushed the two halves apart. Ugly. I cut the shoulder straps and pulled the bra away from her back. The tiniest of shrieks coming from her sounded cute. Especially with her tightly closed eyes. I guess she couldn’t handle watching me do all this anymore.
I dropped the bra on the floor, moved down on my knees and licked my lips at the sight of her panties this close before my eyes. The last piece.
I must admit my hands trembled a bit when I slid the scissors underneath one side of her panties. It was as if I cycled up a mountain and saw the summit just before me, knowing that I only needed one more push to fly down the other side towards the finish at the bottom.
I cut one side, then the other. Lissa tried to clench her thighs together and barely managed to hold on the the crotch of her panties hanging between them at the top.
The tuft of her young blonde pubic hair above the front of her slit looked soft. I blew softly against it. She squealed and her whole body tensed. Her hair waved slightly. It was soft indeed and I caressed the little patch of fluff with the tips of my fingers. I decided to leave the patch in place and not shave it off this time. It was part of the art.
I pulled her panties slowly from between her thighs, her high squeal almost sounding like it aroused her. Maybe she was one of those girls that wanted to be submissive. It would make things more interesting when they’d knew this when they’d see her later.
The bra and panties disappeared into the bag, I placed it next to the door and and filled my glass again, smiling at the bare canvas in front of me. Such a great piece to work with.
As any good artist can tell you, having multiple variations of a tool makes things easier. Whether it be different levels of hardness of pencils, sizes of brushes, hues of colours. I had prepared three art knives. The outer layer of the human skin, the epidermis, has a variation in thickness depending on the body part. It can be just half a millimetre or one and a half. Which is why I taped the knives to leave half, one, and one and a half millimetre of exposed blade length at the tip. If I cut too deep into the skin it would bleed too much. I didn’t want that.
The chances of that were low now. Like any other art form I practised first on disposable canvasses, like junkies, cheap and often diseased hookers, one runaway. The ugliness of them was terrible, but I knew I had to endure it before I could create something worthy of the name art. Some of the practice pieces turned out much better in the end than what I expected from the materials.
Lissa was one of the few with excellent lines that you’d meet in your life. I took my time to watch hers. Not a single line out of place, not a single fold where it breaks the flow of any line. I let my eyes travel up from her left foot along the inside of her leg, enjoy the smooth inward sway at her knee, then the long, gentle curve of her inner thigh, the bend at her Venus hill going around her pubic hair and towards her hips, then around her abdomen and the lightly visible curve of her lower ribs. I already saw all the lines I would paint on her and the glee made me shiver.
I took another drink, set down the glass, picked the half millimetre knife, moved to her right hand, pressed her fingers against the wood of the frame, and made a cut from the tip of her pinky to her wrist at the side of her hand.
The tape muffled her high pitched cry.
The red line grew just right. No blood welling up causing ugly blotches. She did lose control of her bladder though. Piss ran down her thighs and dripped onto the plastic. One reason why I used it.
I was prepared for it. I put away the knife and headed for the kitchen to fill a small bucket with warm water and return with rags and a towel. I soaked up the piss on the plastic and wiped it from her legs with a couple of rags. Those went into the bag as well. I did use a big one for all of this.
She was crying and I used my hands to wash her face with one hand, wiping away the layer of dried tears from her cheeks. I washed her legs next. Her skin felt so smooth and soft under my fingers. There’s nothing that can match that sensation. No artificial materials, no fur, not the surface of water. I followed her curves not only with my eyes, but with my own fingers as well. I realised my passion for these beautiful curves gave me an erection as hard as steel.
Her legs trembled while my wet fingers glided along it. Another cry sounded when I stroked her mound. Of course it was sensitive. I washed her slit and around it gently, taking my time to clean her up and finally dab her dry with the towel.