Odalisque
Copyright© 2020 by aroslav
Fifty-three
Coming of Age Sex Story: Fifty-three - Of course, there is pressure. Tony is in a new school-and his old one. New friends, new paintings, a new style, another racquetball competition. And the pressure of getting ready for their first show. He always seems to be half a step behind, but is determined to be more involved in life. That involvement places Tony at the heart of a tragedy lessened by his presence. Tony must find the heart and the discipline to be something he never imagined he could be. A true master.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/ft Consensual Romantic School Sports DomSub Polygamy/Polyamory Masturbation Oral Sex
THE NEXT WEEK SET THE PACE for some intense work. We had good painting days on Monday and Tuesday, but I mostly worked alone. Deb or Bree kept track of the volunteers who came out to help an hour here or there. Tuesday afternoon, I had to take a break for Doc’s class. I tagged Coach Frederickson early in the mornings for a run. We focused on painting the backgrounds and larger expanses of less detailed work while we still had scaffolding. It came down Monday.
In order to switch to the scissor-lifts, we all had to be certified. That was a four-hour training course and test. We met for the course on Wednesday morning and were done by one o’clock. I was thankful that everyone was willing to take a class-cut. Bree took the course, too, even though she wasn’t painting. Several painters from the scene shop had already been certified, so we had fifteen people who could continue painting without the full scaffolding in place. There would be four scaffold units that were just one tier and were on wheels so work on the various textures on the bottom grid tier could continue.
We still had the tent awning over us to protect from rain, but once the scaffold was out of the way we’d be working entirely with natural light. The shape of the work was changing along with warming weather, even though nights were still dipping into the thirties.
“Wow!”
That was the consensus among the group that came out Wednesday to look at the project without the scaffold. This was our first chance to actually look at the wall of the building we were painting, and it was awesome.
“Tony, I’m so proud of you,” Lissa said as she hugged me. It was just my family, Doc, Bree, Maggie, and Jim. “A whole wall of painting and not a single nude!” she continued. Everybody laughed.
“Yeah, well, it’s not all done yet,” I said. In fact, while we were all pleased with the progress, it still looked to me like an awful lot of paint yet to be applied. The eight blank areas on the wall that were focal points waiting to be painted just glared at me. I could see that for all our care in painting the field areas, they all still needed work as well. Some of the shading and texture was just too subtle and from the distance most viewers would be, the large areas looked flat and stark. I felt a hand on my shoulder as my heart-rate was rising.
“Don’t panic,” Doc said quietly. “It’s just what you knew would have to be fixed. It’s why you needed the scaffolding down. The view from fifty and a hundred feet away is different than from eighteen inches.”
“I don’t want anyone to see it,” I said. Kate had made her way to my side and gave me a hug. I could tell she knew what I was thinking. Jim and Maggie had moved forward a bit and were holding a conversation while pointing at various areas. Melody, Lissa, and Wendy had walked farther out in the field to just view and enjoy the sight. My biggest fear was that someone would come and criticize what was obviously not a finished project, or worse yet, that they would make a joke of it.
“Well, that’s why we have the retractable awning,” Doc said. “When you aren’t actually working on it, we cover it up.”
“And when you are working on it, we’ll charge admission,” Bree said. I didn’t realize that she’d been close enough to hear what we were saying, but she was right behind me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’m going to sell tickets to watch you paint. If anyone wants to see what’s going on from closer than the field fences, they’ll have to pay admission,” she said. “Before you cover it up, come back and look at it from the fence.”
We walked the eighty yards or so to the far fence around the athletic field at the end of the track opposite the painting. When I turned to look, I was relieved. From this distance it didn’t look nearly as bad as from seventy-five feet away.
“If people want in closer, it will be to watch you painting and to listen to the entertainment,” Bree continued. “I know you like to listen to music while you paint, so we’ll start by piping your music out here this weekend. I’ve talked to a couple of local groups and Thor talked to his music director. As long as it isn’t too cold or raining, we’re going to have live music in front of the wall while you’re working on the weekends. During the week, the area is off-limits.”
“Wow!”
Doc and I went over my plan, progress, and budgets. Thursday and Friday, I’d gone to the site and sat in the rain looking at the wall. Kate and Bree went with me and held umbrellas as we viewed from different distances and made notes on what we would try to accomplish this weekend. I sketched several places where we needed more contrast in the detail. I discovered that there simply wasn’t a one-to-one correlation between my eight-foot rendering and the eighty-foot wall.
Nonetheless, Saturday and Sunday had gone better than I expected. The rain finally let up and by ten on Saturday it was warm enough to paint. The temperature stayed above fifty for the rest of the weekend. Jim, Maggie, and Amy occupied three of the lifts working to enhance the highlights and shadows in the areas that were already painted while Kate and I used the other one to touch up focal points that we had thought were completed. Melody, Sandra, and the scene painters worked on the rolling scaffolds and on the ground to re-texture the large areas. We were learning to be bolder in our use of paint.
“We made a lot of progress over the weekend,” I said, “but it was all in re-doing what was already done. The sections we got completed all look better now, so I feel a little better about people seeing it. It still ties my stomach in knots, though.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be out there this weekend,” Doc said. “I’ll come out and look again on Wednesday. I know you are short-handed this week, so I’ll try to set aside time to really get some painting done with you. It’s a tough time for the PCAD students right now.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “I don’t remember being that stressed out about finals last year.” Doc laughed at me.
“You were riding a pretty high wave last year,” he said. “Which reminds me; what are you exhibiting in the gala?”
The gala? Shit it was next weekend!
“I guess I don’t really have anything to exhibit,” I said. “Yours is the only class I’ve taken here this year and we didn’t do exhibition work in class. I learned a ton, though. Clarice doesn’t really want me to show anything that will be in my exhibition in June. I guess I’ll pass this year.”
Doc looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
“I guess that’s your choice,” he said.
It was a pretty good painting week and I felt like we were plugging away in spite of the rain that started late Tuesday night and lasted the rest of the week. We got nearly an inch by Saturday. In spite of the fact that Saturday was a good painting day, I took an hour off in the afternoon to join Lissa at a four-way women’s track meet at the football stadium. We watched Whitney blast away runners from all four schools in the 100 meter and 200-meter hurdles. I couldn’t believe the power she displayed when she launched off the board for a school record long-jump. Wow! That girl has legs! I couldn’t stick around for all the awards and the congratulatory kisses as I’d left a working crew and Doc with the red hat. I got back for another two hours of painting.
The first week of May was crap. The temperature fell again so there were only a couple hours a day that were above fifty degrees. And rain. And rain. And rain. By Thursday the rain was so heavy and blowing so hard that there was no sense even going to the site. Friday, I was showered and scrubbed by Melody, Lissa, and Kate and sent to the mall for a haircut. Donna was really going to hate me. I hadn’t had a haircut since Valentine’s Day. But I was escorting half a dozen young ladies and two small boys to the PCAD Gala tonight. For PCAD, the school year was over. Damon was officially escorting Lissa and Whitney. Drew would be taking Meddy and Bree. That left me with Kate and Wendy. Well, there wasn’t really a bad choice that could have been made. Drew did have a little trouble grasping that “Pretty” Amy was being escorted by Thor and Sonia. Of course, Sandra would be with Walt. It appeared that there would be a number of others of our friends that would also be making the trip to PCAD from SCU for the first time. I really didn’t figure that we’d see Rio, Amanda, June, Brent, Franklin, Justin, Eric, Kevin, Tonya, or Rachel until the after party at our house. We had to tell everyone that we weren’t planning on getting naked that night.
Donna and Howard wanted to know all about where we were going and how many women I was escorting. I gave them the basic details. I hadn’t done anything for a month but paint. I told them a little about Intercollegiates, though, and they thought I was making up the story as I went. No imagination. When no one came to pick me up, I heard Howard mutter something about losing all of them. I think he was really disappointed.
I guess we created a stir when we walked in to the gala, but I was feeling a little detached. It was different going to a big opening when you know you’ve got a couple of great pieces on display than going in with nothing. We were all focused on what Kate and Melody were displaying Kate was only showing one of her major pieces for the year that would be in our gallery opening next month. But she had several charcoals and we gave her permission to display the triptych of Melody, Lissa, and me. Melody had items from her fashion line, dying, and some of her weaving on display. When the six ladies and we three boys walked in, heads turned. I knew it was all because of the stunning women and not because Drew, Damon, and I were in tuxes. I had to admit, though, that the boys looked great and were determined not to throw up like they did last year.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.