Chapter 3

Nine the next morning found me opening the iron gate of Danielle's place and walking around to the carriage house, wondering what was waiting for me. I knocked on the door, and Laurie opened it, dressed in what was obviously a painter's smock. She welcomed me in and directed me up the stairs, following behind and then leading me back to her studio.

"As you noticed, I have a gift for nudes," she started as we entered the studio. "I've never had a chance to do a male. Will you sit for me?" She looked at me with a façade somewhere between whimsy and dedication. Dedication to what, I wasn't sure, but Laurie was being the chameleon and not giving anything away.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure. We've got all day, and if you're patient, I can get a really good product out of this. Please?"

What was up here, I wondered? Could I do this? Why would I want to do this? Could I get away with this? Would I want to be naked for her? Why wouldn't I? Why would I? She was obviously talented, and while she could get a female friend or two to sit for her, where would she find a male without being in jeopardy? I could do this for her, it was safe (or was it?), well, safe enough.

"O.k. Where do you want me? Do you have a pose in mind?"

I could hear her breathe out sharply. "Yes! He's going to do it for me! Yes!"

"On the lounge. You can undress in the other room if you like, if that would be more comfortable."

"No, I'm fine here, if you are."

"Yesss."

I started undressing, removing my shoes, stripping my shirt and pants off, then my underwear, and I was nude, standing in front of Laurie, who was standing in her smock, with her beautiful legs and arms extending beyond their covering. And my dick was rising. I headed to the lounge and she directed me into a reclining position, facing her easel. She took her place behind the easel, sitting on a tall stool, crossing her legs which were partially hidden by the easel and canvas.

She started by sketching for what seemed an hour or more, and I held my position. Well, my body did mostly, but my dick would gradually rise as I viewed her legs and watched her arms working back and forth behind the easel, then I would look at the skylights or walls and it would gently slumber downward, 'til I caught sight of her legs again, when she would gently bounce one over the other, or switch one leg to the other.

"Break!" she announced, and swung down off the stool. "Feeling relaxed?"

"No, I feel incredibly tense, holding that pose so long." I sat up and grabbed a towel to put it across my midriff.

She reached for her box, opened it and brought forth another Texas Special. "Here. This should help you relax." She walked toward me, handed me the joint and a lighter and then walked backward to her stool.

"Are you offering to French me?" I asked.

"Not yet!" She had a glittering sound to her voice. "Just for you, now. It messes up my perception."

I lit up the joint, took a few deep inhales, rose and stretched (keeping the towel around me), then sat back down. "O.k., I'm ready again."

"Good. Go back to the same pose. You look lovely there."

She was, it seemed, the consummate professional. If ever I could imagine being a model for a professional artist, in a professional setting, she was doing it. Then she went back to the canvas, now painting over the sketchwork she had done earlier. She worked intently for at least another hour, casually bouncing one leg off the other. I began to notice that there was a lot of leg under that smock. And thigh. Maybe it was the dope, but I swear I was seeing a lot more of her body than earlier in the morning.

Finally she called "Break!" I groaned as I released myself from the couch, pulling the towel again over my lap.

"How ya' doing?" She asked cheerfully?

"I'm surviving. How much longer do you have in mind?"

"Another hour should be enough. I can finish the rest from memory."

"You must have some memory to do that."

"You're helping my memory a lot." She smiled again. "Another joint?"

"Ya, that would help. I don't feel my muscles so much then."

She again walked toward me, handed me another j, then walked backward again. Why did she do that, I wondered? Always facing me? She perched back on her stool and I laid out again on the lounge.

This time around she seemed to be tossing her head a bit, those blond curls waving in the late morning light, glistening, sparkling. Those legs kept bouncing, and I swear she was opening them up a bit, for there was certainly a darkening void between her legs that wasn't there before. I was starting to have visions. Ah, must be that Texas stuff I had been smoking. I found it harder to keep my body propped up, and started to slide just a bit.

"Ah, ah! Don't break the pose," she chided. I pulled myself back up.

Now I was really starting to hallucinate. I swear she was pulling that smock up her thighs as she painted and all I could see was skin. Lots of lots of skin. My dick thickened up and was pointing straight at her.

"Ah, you're changing the pose. What can we do about that?"

She slid off the stool and walked toward me, stopping a few feet away.

"That's certainly not what we started out with, now is it? I never knew male models would be so hard to do." She looked straight at my penis and then reached behind her and untied the smock, which slipped down her body to reveal her... totally nude!

Laurie closed the distance and sat right down on top of me, her pussy resting on my erect, very erect, well, thing.

"Ron, I have a confession. I lured you here under false pretenses."

"Pretenses?" I almost gasped.

"Yes. When we came back from your place, I noticed my mom was much happier than I'd seen her in some time. Then, when we got home, she really started bossing my dad around. I heard them one night and she told him that since he was going to cheat on her, she'd done the same and he needed to decide if that was going to go on. I got an idea and confronted her, and she confessed to your 'encounter' up at your place. She told me why she did it, and that it had worked out for getting my dad back in line.