Thirty-seven

I WAS EXHAUSTED when I went to bed last night, but my mind was in turmoil. I had flashes of naked models dancing in my head, moving around downstairs like chess pieces on a board. I’d shift one and then another, trying to get the perfect pattern.

It’s not like there weren’t obvious focal points that could create a path that the eye would follow. But getting the right one—the one that would say more than here’s a party of naked college students—was the hard part. If our theme was Bacchanalia, there were a few conventions that had to be adhered to. But I liked Rio’s description of the Rubens nudes looking like their clothing had just fallen off. I wanted to see what would happen when their clothes really did fall off.

“Okay friends,” I said. “Everyone have your props? This one is going to be our pose for the day. Damn! I wish I had a bathtub. Justin, I need to raise the air mattress up. Wendy? Can we steal the mattress off your bed for a while? We’d never get Kate’s moved in and out of her room without having to rearrange everything.” We managed to get the mattress into the right spot and then put the air mattress on top of it. I got some pillows and managed to get Justin in a pose that looked like he was relaxing in a tub. Bree stood over him with a bunch of grapes, feeding them to him one at a time. Melody had a big clay pot that she was supposed to be using to pour water into the tub.

I kept Amy, Sonia, and Thor together with him tipping a flask to drink from and the two women poised to kiss each other across his chest. I’d been so struck with the way Wendy was curling up on Kate lately that I put them in that position with Lissa hovering over them. Whitney, June, and Amanda whispered together nearby. Front and center, Sandra and Walt were looking expectantly at Rio who was supposed to be telling them jokes.

I liked the flow and felt that with the food laden table, various champagne and wine glasses, and the other props I’d picked up integrated into the scene, I about had it right. I snapped reference photos and asked people to memorize their positions right now. I scrawled through a few rough sketches and was ready to begin. I glanced at my cell phone. It was ten o’clock Sunday morning. Most of these people had been up till at least three last night and I was amazed that I managed to get them all dressed in their formal wear again after breakfast at half past eight. But everyone was excited to be in the actual scene.

We took a quick break after twenty minutes and I called everyone together to look at the picture of where they’d been.

“This time, I’m going to be looking for natural reactions,” I said. “Whenever I say ‘Freeze!’ I want you to literally hold that position while I take a reference shot and sketch. One thing you need to know is that not every photo will be of the whole group together. Eventually I’ll need you all to come to the studio in your small groupings so I can do detailed sketches instead of the kind of general stuff I’m doing today. But you’ll all get an individual drawing out of it, too. I’m sorry I can’t pay you, but that’s the life of a starving artist.” Everyone laughed.

I went back to the easel, and did another quick sketch, more to get them relaxed than to actually record anything. I put a fresh sheet of paper on the board and stepped around to approach Rio. I’d gotten them used to my moving them around between sketches a little. This time, though, I came up right behind Rio and leaned in so I could whisper in her ear.

“Last chance,” I said. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I moved my hands down her shoulders to the zipper on the back of her dress. It was strapless, so when I let the zipper down, it was just going to fall off. I moved the zipper just a little. Rio was shaking like a leaf. She tried to speak but only a squeak came out. She nodded her head. I began slowly pulling the zipper down, holding the top of the dress up and together so it wouldn’t fall until I let go. As I pulled the zipper, I let my hand glide down the bared skin, all the way to the middle of her butt. “Don’t move now,” I said. “Just let it fall.”

I let go and quickly moved to the camera, snapping several pictures as the dress fell in a pile at Rio’s feet. People’s expressions changed. Their heads turned. Their mouths opened. I yelled, “Freeze!” and started sketching.

Yes, Rio is overweight by most standards. But just try to find a skinny girl in a Rubens painting. The truth was she was voluptuous and beautiful. Her skin wasn’t dimpled, it was just full. Her thighs were smooth, not like cottage cheese. Her belly was soft and round, but didn’t hang down over her neatly trimmed pubic hair. Jeez! In Rubens’ “Judgment of Paris” even Venus had little tits, big hips, and thunder thighs. And unlike Beth, who had huge tits when she was overweight and didn’t lose them when she dropped the pounds, Rio’s breasts were no bigger, really, than Lissa’s.

“Only me?” Rio squeaked. Everyone laughed.

“We’ll get you some company,” I said. “Sandra? Would you mind?”

“No.” Her answer was short and abrupt. She wasn’t moving.

“Um ... Sandra? What’s the problem?”

“You took hers off of her. You can undress me, too.”

I looked at Walt, seated between the two babes. He was laughing.

“You created her,” he said. “I’ve got this to look at.” Turning his head back to unabashedly stare at Rio got him a slap on the back of the head from Sandra, but she laughed, too. She still refused to move.

Sandra was in her signature Cadmium Scarlet dress. That girl knew how to wear red! This dress was a one-shoulder affair that had a bow on top of her right shoulder. A tie passed through a slit in the left side and another wrapped around the outside on the right. Two knots that held this masterpiece around her body. I glanced at Walt again and he was nodding.

“Sandra,” I whispered in her ear, “are you a virgin?” She giggled.

“Not anymore.”

“Did Santa bring you what you wanted for Christmas?”

“Oh, yes. Santa came. And came. And came,” she breathed. “So did I.” I worked on loosening the bow on her shoulder but left the straps lying there so the dress didn’t fall yet.

“Did Santa suck on your big fat nipples?” I asked as my hands stroked down her sides.

“Yes,” she moaned as I reached the bow tied in back.

“And how about that big fat clitty of yours?” I asked as the bow came undone. “Did Santa like that?”

“He sure played with it a lot,” she said. She let out a long, slow, and very audible moan as she felt the fabric loosen.

“Breathe deep,” I said as I let the straps slide off her shoulders. The dress caught for a moment on those huge nipples and then slid off, lying partly across Walt’s left leg. I heard him moan. “You have to get his shirt off while holding your pose,” I whispered in Sandra’s ear. I returned to my easel. Another reference shot. Sandra did her best not to change her body position as she unbuttoned Walt’s shirt. She got some unexpected help from Rio, who got the message that she wasn’t allowed to break the pose, but still used her upstage hand to help slip the jacket off Walt’s shoulder, quickly followed by his vest and shirt. I was surprised to see that Rio and Sandra had their eyes glued to each other as they worked and snapped another reference photo.

I sketched other parts of the scene. Thor had leaned forward and was nearly crushing Amy and Sonia against his chest. Their cheeks were pressed together.

“Oops!” I heard Melody’s voice. I glanced up. Intentional or accidental? The adhesive tape that held the right side of her dress to her boob had given way and the fabric of her dress fell to her waist, baring the right side of her torso and that delectable breast. Justin’s head had come up as if he was reaching to grab that morsel between his lips while Melody’s water jug had tilted more directly toward his face. Another click and another sketch.

Amanda and Whitney looked like they were about to devour June. Their hands had moved to her shoulders and she looked at them as if she was their last meal. I nodded to Amanda. In a second, June’s dress was at her feet. The little Korean girl had a wild and untamed bush and her dark skin in contrast to Amanda’s pale skin was amazing. Another click. Another sketch. I walked to where the three women were standing and examined the tableau critically. I moved Amanda’s arm, put my hand on Whitney’s hip and pushed her a little more forward. I circled again and pulled Amanda’s zipper down, but didn’t push the straps off her shoulders. I moved behind Whitney. Thinks she’s a tease, does she?