Chapter 1

It all started on a cold autumnal day. It was about fifteen years ago, and I was still studying at college, walking round the local town. The sky was a wonderful clear blue colour, and my breath hung in the air in front of me. Dragon breath, we used to call it when I was little, because it looked like you were blowing smoke.

Money was tight back then. Sure, I received a student grant from the government, but half of that went to the college administration for the rent of a tiny room in a large wooden shack that they called a hostel. Once you'd taken out food and various other essentials, there wasn't a whole lot left to have fun with. And so, when I saw the notice in the newsagent window, I took more than a passing interest. "Models Wanted", it said in big letters, and below, "Ordinary people needed to pose for amateur art class. £20 per session." Well, £20 was not to be sneezed at back then, and I certainly fitted the description. I was no Brad Pitt, still aren't in fact, though a couple of years on a college diet meant that I had no spare fat at all. Ordinary just about summed me up. I made a note of the telephone number and back at college I gave the teacher a ring. The response to the advertisement had been under whelming and she was delighted to hear from me. We arranged to meet later that same week.

I went to the meeting with some trepidation. After all, it's easy to accept that you are ordinary looking, but it's quite another to be told that you are far too ugly to model. I needn't have worried. Suzanne was absolutely charming, and assured me that I was just the sort of person she was looking for. On my part, I found her completely beguiling. Remember, I was only eighteen years old, and at thirty-two (as I found out later) she oozed confidence and sophistication. She was not bad looking either. I've always had a thing for brunettes, and her long dark hair was gorgeous. Matched with a pretty face and voluptuous body it was almost irresistible. With just a few flutters of her eyelashes she had me eating out of her hand, and I readily agreed to attend my first session the following week.

And thus it was that I began my short modelling career. I had been told to arrive wearing my everyday clothes, and I stood in front of the class in my jeans, t-shirt and second-hand leather jacket. Surprisingly, all the pupils were women. There were about twelve of them, ranging from a little older than me to a well preserved mid to late forties. The town was located in the affluent southeast of England, and they were all dressed considerably better than I was. They all looked a lot more attractive than me too, and a couple of them were downright stunning. There was plenty of friendly chatter as I posed, and I soon felt completely at ease. The class was over all too quickly, and I helped Suzanne to clear up afterwards.

"Same time next week?" she enquired, slipping me my £20 wages.

"Fine," I replied, still somewhat tongue-tied in her presence.

After a few weeks, they had almost finished their works, and I had to admit that none of them were as talentless as I had been expecting. Actually, some of them were really rather good. As we packed away at the end of that final session, I was expecting Suzanne to give me the brush off, thanks for everything; it's been really nice of you to help us out, but goodbye. Her next comment surprised me.

"You've been great, Matt," she said. "We're moving on to a more classical style next week. Would you be willing to carry on as our model?"

I could hardly believe my ears.

"Yes, I would," I stammered. "I'd be delighted to."

"You'll have to wear clothes that we'll provide for you," she continued. "Will that be a problem? There's a little cubicle over there, so you'd have some privacy while you change."

I readily agreed. The extra money each week was providing a welcome boost to my social life, and I enjoyed being with these women. I could handle wearing strange clothes if that's what it took. And so I found myself reclining on a chaise longue, wearing a Roman-style toga and holding a bunch of plastic grapes. I must have looked a right twit, but they all seemed content and we carried on pretty much as before. Watching their pictures develop over the weeks was fascinating, the more so because I was clearly recognisable as the subject. Talk about an ego boost!

The class didn't run over the Christmas break and I returned to my family in a different corner of the country. On my return, Suzanne had another proposal for me.

"Matt, we're moving on to look at the human figure in more detail this term, and I was wondering. Would you consider modelling nude for us? It's so difficult to find that kind of model, and we all feel so comfortable with you."

"Crikey," I blushed furiously. "I... erm... well it's just that I'd never thought of doing that. Taking my clothes off, I mean. I know I did the toga thing, but that was different, wasn't it? You never saw me naked."

I was beginning to ramble, and Suzanne put a finger to my lips.

"I know you think it'll be embarrassing," she spoke reassuringly, "but you've got nothing we haven't all seen before. We'd be willing to double your fee for these sessions, if you agree."

£40 was about half my weekly grant allowance, and I just couldn't pass up that kind of money. Reluctantly I consented. Suzanne was delighted.

"Just turn up in your normal clothes next week," she instructed me. "You can change into a dressing gown in the cubicle, then when we're ready you just slip it off. That's all there is to it."

I left, not at all convinced but desperate for the extra money. All through the week I tried to persuade myself that it was a good thing. My friends at college made extra money stacking supermarket shelves, or plying other people with booze whilst they themselves remained sober in one of the many local public houses. Posing nude in front of twelve attractive women had to be better than that, didn't it?

Well let me tell you, it was pretty bad at first. I actually showed up, I think to Suzanne's surprise. She had been fairly sure that I would bottle out at the last minute, and grinned like the Cheshire cat when she saw me. I squeezed into my little cubicle and changed into the towelling robe that she had provided. Shivering slightly, I walked out in front of the class and stood on my little dais. Twelve pairs of eyes looked at me expectantly. I stared back, blushing furiously.

"OK Matt, are you ready?" asked Suzanne.

Slowly I nodded. I untied the belt of the robe and reached up my hands. I hesitated for a moment, then quickly pulled it from my shoulders and allowed it to slip to the floor. And there I stood, completely naked. I tried to avoid eye contact with any of the women, although several of them smiled at me encouragingly as they took up their charcoal and began to sketch. One of several things that I had worried about was that I would be unable to control myself, but that proved to be no problem at all. My cock looked as though I had just stepped into an ice cold shower. Suzanne kept up a running commentary clearly designed to put me at ease, requesting that I shift my pose slightly, lift an arm here, turn my head to the left a little there. The other women chatted just as they normally did. No one mentioned my nudity, and by the end of the class I'd almost forgotten it myself. When Suzanne called time, I bent down to retrieve the robe and covered myself before stepping over to see how they'd done.