Chapter 36

On the following Monday, Barbara arrived at an old warehouse building, which had been converted into residential and artist lofts. When she entered she could smell paint. The man greeted her solicitously and led her through the space over to a large padded ottoman, six feet in diameter. "Why don't you sit here?" He offered.

"Ah, okay," Barbara replied, "what are you going to have me paint today?" growing leery as she was coming to the conclusion, looking around, that she was in an artist's studio.

"Oh, I don't think you understood me Friday; I'm going to be painting you." He said.

"Me?" Barbara said shocked.

"Yes. I figured that, as a homemaker, you would have the patience of a saint and would be able to sit still for me while I put you on canvass."

"Oh, I don't know..." Barbara replied.

"Really, I bid on you because you had the most perfect body, at least for my tastes. I'm painting a commissioned portrait of a lady for her to give to her husband, and I'd like her to have your body. I'll be having her sit later so I can add her face."

"That doesn't sound very honest." Barbara said, trying to find a way out of it.

"Oh, I think she will be pleased. She said at the Charity Banquet that of all the volunteers, she would most like to have your body." He explained. Barbara cringed inside at the use of the word "volunteers." "If I could just have you sit up on this, I'll quickly sketch some possibilities."

The painter asked her to remove the heels, frilly top, and skirt leaving her in her two-toned body suit. He positioned her in various poses and quickly drew rough sketches to decide which pose he would like to use for the canvass. He crumpled up the reclining and standing poses and went for one with Barbara on the round padded oversized ottoman on hands and knees. She was facing him off about twenty degrees to his left with her knees spread, haunches down and head up in a waking lioness stretch. "There, that says 'woman, hear me roar, ' just right for Mrs. Crenshaw. Are you comfortable?"

"Ah, sure, but for how long?" Barbara asked.

"I'll need you to hold very still while I'm painting. I'll give you a stretch break every fifteen to twenty minutes though. I want you to remember this pose. It's perfect. That's it, just like that." He said pleased. Barbara tried to relax in the posture. Her breasts hung full behind her arms and her pussy was open behind her. It made her feel wanton in this posture in front of this stranger in her revealing outfit. "Now, how about taking off that top. It hides the musculature of your upper body."

"Oh no, I couldn't do that." Barbara protested.

"Sure you can. I don't even know who you are or what you'd look like except for that fantastic body. I'm not asking you to take off the hood for god's sakes." He clarified.

"But, but..." Barbara hesitated.

"Look, I'm a professional. I paint the human body day in and day out, most of them are not as nice as yours, but each attractive in their own right. Come here; let me show you." He held out his hand in invitation for her to follow him over to some floor to ceiling doors. He pulled them open and pulled out shelves on rollers with paintings of all description, including many nudes. "There, you see, I've done this many times, and you're wearing a mask where these models didn't."

"Okay." Barbara said resigned but not fully in agreement. She shyly removed her top and wanted to cover her breasts, but got back into position. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can leave." She said to herself.

The painter sketched away the outline he wanted for the painting while Barbara tried to calm her nerves. It helped to realize that he had done this many times before. Her breasts felt free hanging down and dampness was growing from the tingling in her crotch. "Okay," the painter said standing straight looking at his subject, "Now the bottoms please."

"What?" Barbara responded with surprise.

"Please remove the hose, I need to be able to see the definition, of the thighs and haunches."

Barbara sensed that resistance was useless. He could reason the hood and could demonstrate his professionalism again, so she moved to the far edge of the ottoman and seated facing away from him, removed the pantyhose from her legs. Then she crawled back up turning shades of red at having her nether region open and exposed to any and all that would walk behind her. "He really doesn't see any more from this angle." She rationalized to herself.

"There, that's just fine. Now I'm going to need you to hold that posture without moving, okay?" He directed. Barbara nodded.

Barbara froze when she heard a knock at the door. "Excuse me." The painter told her. "I'll be right back." He opened the door and was surprised to see the visitor, "It completely slipped my mind. Come in. Come in. I was just working on a commission. I hope it will be appropriate for your class." He cautioned.

Barbara didn't feel like a lioness any longer, she felt like a stunned rabbit that should run and hide, but was too much in shock to respond, as the lady entered followed by her middle school class of students. They followed the painter to his canvass and looked at his outline, then moved up to Barbara and sat in front of her as a group awaiting instruction. As the lady talked privately with the painter, some of the kids moved up to the ottoman and circled Barbara staring up at her naked, hooded form. While the teacher seemed to flirt with the painter, a boy bravely reached up and touched Barbara's nipple, only to have his arm pulled away and hand slapped by a bossy girl next to him. Barbara broke her pose and covered her breasts with her crossed hands provoking the painter to remind her to return to her pose and hold still now that he was ready to get back to work.

Hearing that she was to hold still, a mischievous boy behind her put his fingers on her newly shaved pussy lips. The students on either side of him tried to hold their giggles with hands on their mouths, but the painter, teacher and the other students couldn't see his teasing activities, being blocked from view by her body. Barbara didn't know what to do. She had no place to go and hide; she didn't know which imp was tormenting her; and, she was fulfilling an obligation of the auction to act professionally for the painter. The painter was only half paying attention to his task deciding rather to flirt with the teacher now that all of the kids' eyes were riveted on Barbara's nude form.

With the success of the one boy, the other one next to him slid his fingers up and down the outside of Barbara's nether lips with impunity as well. Barbara's juices started to flow from the humiliation and embarrassment as much as the clumsy physical stimulation. The boys ended up getting their fingers gooey and uttered, "ooo0O0ooo" in unison. Barbara dared to turn her head back and sternly whispered, "Stop it!"

The teacher realized she had been neglecting the class and letting things get out of hand and addressed them to get their attention. She began to explain a cursory history of figure painting and asked the painter to address the class about his profession. Barbara took a break from the pose while he spoke by sitting on her heels and holding her arms across her sensitive breasts. The students mostly paid attention to the teacher and the painter except for one behind her who slid his hand in between her legs again and continued to fiddle with her pussy. Barbara pretended that it wasn't happening so she wouldn't bring the attention back to her. She let herself get lost in the sensation that the young demon was creating as his touch grew more and more skilled with each passing moment.

Her body began to slowly unwind. Her arms went to just her hands covering her breasts, her knees started to move further apart, her hooded head turned up to the ceiling, and her rear started to thrust back obscenely toward her molester's fingers. For his effort, the boy was treated to a wanton display of sensuous adult woman that he was affecting by learning those touches on the fly that caused her to move the most.

Looking over, the teacher yelled, "Rollie! Leave that poor woman alone..."

The kid pulled his hand back and ducked down behind the ottoman. Barbara gasped in surprise and fell forward, catching herself with her hands. Not wanting to let on to the class, now looking at her again as the lecture continued, she quickly got into the original position she was in when they first arrived. Outside of the redness from embarrassment evident on her upper chest, heavy breathing from deep down in her belly, and quivering knees, she was ready to be painted again.

"... and it is tough enough being a professional model, without you scoundrels distracting her. If you can't behave, I'll have to cancel the next 'Career Exploration Day.'" Then turning to her painter friend, "... and what are the hardest parts of the body to paint?"

At school, Brenda ran to catch up with Susan in the hall, "Hey, wait up."

"Gosh Brenda, I've gotta fly. Call you later." Susan said back.

Brenda wended her way through the students until she saw her friend Jennifer, "Hey Jen, I'll walk with you."

"Hi Brenda, I'm kinda late. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Jennifer said.

"Geez. What is it with everyone today?" Brenda thought. "Do I have cooties or something?"

Then as she was about to turn into her classroom, two girls grabbed her arms on each side and walked her forcibly past the door and into the girl's room.

"What's the idea?" Brenda said with her back against the wall, and the girls blocking her exit.

"You've been holding out on us, Sister." The one with the long dark brunette hair on Brenda's left said.

"Yeah, flirting that sexy body all around the school, making us think you're teasing the boys, when you were secretly into girls." The other in the short crop curly blonde hair said.

"No! No! You've got it all wrong." Brenda said with desperation. "That picture, that picture was taken at a modeling gig that went wrong. You see..."

"Pictures don't lie." The brunette said. "You were hugging Lambert. We can all see that. We've all wanted to be that close to Lammy Babe, but she'll only go so far with you."

"No. You see, Ms. Lambert isn't into women, she's into men." Brenda explained.

"You're just saying that to get out of here." The blonde said.

"No, really. She is just friendly, that's all." Brenda protested. "I swear to you. She's not gay and neither am I."

"If anyone can tell, we can tell." The brunette said. "One of these days Kim here and I are going to have a piece of her, just like we are going to have with you."

"No! Please!"

"We'll see just how straight you really are." The blonde Kim declared. "If you don't cum with what we do with you, then we'll believe you don't have a gay side."

"But if you like it, then we'll all know, won't we?" The brunette said.

"No, please. This is all a big mistake." Brenda pleaded.

"You're coming with us." The brunette insisted.

"No, I've got classes." Brenda protested.

"Open your blouse." Kim ordered.

"What?"

"Open your blouse, if you want us to let you go now and meet up with you later. Do it!" Kim said sternly.

"I can't. People will come in and see me."

"No they wont. Everyone is in classes for now. Do it or we'll do it for you." Kim insisted.

Brenda was feeling very intimidated by these two seniors she had only just seen a couple of times, but had no reference for. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse. "That's it." The brunette said with gleeful anticipation in her eyes. "Now pull open your blouse." She said when the last button was undone. "Nice. You're one lucky bitch. Look at these."

"Oh yeah." Kim confirmed.

"I'll hold your blouse while you take off this bra." The brunette offered, while running her index finger sensuously along the underside of the left strap. Brenda removed the blouse, blushing in humiliation and embarrassment. Then she closed her eyes to avoid the ogling she was sure to receive from the two girls as she lowered her bra down her arms. "What's with the handprints?"

Brenda opened her eyes looking down to answer, "That was just a lark my friend Jimmy Crandel and I did one day." She said trying to make it sound like he was her boyfriend.

"Kind of a small handprint, Jimmy a girl?" Kim asked suspiciously.

"No, he's a boy and he's my friend; and, he's my photographer." She thought to add. "I'm a model, you see."