Chapter 1

[Dale] Early October

Now, after three futile weeks, he was more discouraged than ever.

Dale Rubens, and particularly Muriel, his mother, had been thrilled when the full ride scholarship to Thurston College had come through. It was one of several full rides that he was offered, of course. His high school grades and his stratospheric SAT scores had made him an object of desire for some of the premier economics departments in the country.

As far as Dale was concerned, one of the larger universities would have been a good choice. Muriel, however, was absolutely blown away by the honor of an offer from such an elite institution. And there was no doubt that Thurston had produced far more than its share of renowned economists. After what she had sacrificed to give him a chance at a top school, he did not want to raise any objections at all.

It was a matter of grim humor between mother and son: Dale's passion for economics when he did not have two quarters to rub together. Somehow, the complex interactions of economic systems and even the imprecision of the discipline fascinated him.

Unfortunately, there was a lot about Thurston that one could only find out from being there. Even Dale, who was not very socially aware, quickly understood that Thurston ranked at least as high in snobbery as it did in economics. That correlated strongly with enormous average family incomes for its student population.

While most of the few thousand students seemed hard pressed to find ways to spend their leisure time and their excess money, Dale was desperate to find a job just to keep a few dollars in his pocket. So far, he had come up empty. The community was small, and there was not a whole lot of commerce. With only a bike and a totally inadequate bus system for his transportation, Dale's choices were even more restricted.

He had lied to his mother a little. He had assured her that his scholarship would provide what he needed, and that he had enough saved up for incidentals. In fact, his cash hoard was only three hundred dollars when he arrived, and that had almost evaporated. Given how hard it had been for her to come up with bus fare to get him there, how could he say anything? They had managed to purchase an old car, but it was definitely not up to a cross-country trip.

As it had been for years, Dale's major weapon against depression and stress was exercise. He had been a promising wrestler when he entered high school, but with his father's death and the discovery of the financial mess left behind, he had to drop out for a job. After yet another session of unsuccessful job-hunting, he headed for the school's activities center and the nicely equipped workout area. He would work off some of his frustration before dinner.

Dale had been a heart-breaker in high school, but not intentionally. He was universally proclaimed a hunk by his female classmates. Unfortunately, he did absolutely no dating. Between his fanatical commitment to his studies and the hours he spent at his part-time job, there was just no time. Not to mention the need for every penny that came into the household.

If there was any extra time, Dale spent it with his mother, who lived on the ragged edge of emotional breakdown. Muriel had had to enter the work force for the first time in many years. Her feelings of inadequacy because of the low-level position that was all she could obtain just contributed to the other pressures on her psyche.

One additional time and money commitment for Dale had been taking accounting courses at the local university extension. He really did not have to study much to get top grades in high school and he thought that a grounding in accounting would be valuable to him. Not only would it aid in his study of economics, it could give him a fall-back employment choice.

At first, the extension courses were free, part of a co-op program through the school system. All it took was a recommendation from a teacher, and Dale had two or three standing in line for that privilege. When he quickly ran through all of the co-op options, he was faced with having to pay tuition.

Dale was ready to give up on the co-op courses then. He was at a point where he could have graduated from high school a semester, or even a year early. Muriel, however, got together with Dale's math teacher, Clark Renfrew and they found some scholarship money for three more courses.

Clark was also the wrestling coach, and it was indeed strange that he took such an active interest in helping Dale. Dale's inclusion on the team would have made it better, but Clark did not hold that against him. Of course, the fact that he had a definite interest in Muriel was a factor, also. As yet, Muriel showed no inclination toward any romantic involvement.

Dale's father had been a wheeler-dealer. He made good use of his natural charisma and the model's physique that he had passed on to Dale. Not at all a shyster, he was hard-working and ethical, but a risk-taker. He had used everything they owned as collateral for one penultimate real-estate deal. In his defense, his risky venture had a high probability of making them very rich. That is, had the small plane he was riding to a podunk town not gone down.

There was no way the creditors could make Muriel pay back the uncovered debts, but literally everything of value was taken from them - house, furnishings, cars, cabin, boat, jewelry. In retrospect, filing bankruptcy might have saved their home, but they had neither the resources nor the sophistication to pursue it.

Besides being left destitute after a life of relative luxury, Muriel loved her husband deeply, as did Dale, and she suffered greatly from the loss. Despite the dangerous risk he had taken, he had been a good husband and father. With almost no family on either side, and none with any extra money, mother and son were really set adrift.

Within weeks, they were evicted from their house and forced into a one-bedroom apartment where Dale had to use a fold-out couch for his bed. They both took whatever jobs they could find, just so they could qualify for the lease and get food on the table.

As he set up the weights for his first machine of that workout, memories of the past few years' struggles once again cycled through Dale's mind. Also on his mind was his mother and his concern for her. He had wanted to go to Addison University, in the town where they lived. It was a highly-regarded private school, strong in most subjects, but not particularly renowned in economics. He would have been able to live at home and not leave Muriel on her own. It was an argument he lost.

The workout room at the activities center was not large, given the small enrollment, and Dale was naturally observant. He noticed an attractive fiftyish woman that he had seen working out before, but thought nothing more of it. It did seem that she was watching him at times, but that was no new phenomenon. He was aware of his exceptional body and its appeal to women. He had just never been able to act on it.

The locker room and showers at the activities center were very nice, and Dale generally used them, rather than showering in the dorm. The dorm facilities were also excellent, but it was definitely a dorm. The underclassmen were housed two to a room, with a large common bathroom on each floor. Dale's roommate was fine, but he did not feel comfortable with many of the residents of his floor.

The dorm was co-ed, with alternating male and female floors and no restrictions on movement between floors. He had lived in close quarters with his mother, and they had agreed that total modesty was unreasonable, but the casual attitude in the dorm still bothered him. The gym was much better.

When he left the locker room that night, the woman that he had noticed earlier was waiting and approached him. "Mr. Rubens," she said "I'm Professor Claremont. Could I buy you a coffee? I'd like to speak with you about something."

Dale was surprised that the woman knew his name and was reluctant to join her. She was, however, a professor, if she had told the truth. That gave her instant credibility, so Dale just nodded. The gym was in the same building as the student union, so the coffee shop was right next door.

Unaccustomed to women buying him food, Dale nevertheless let her do as she had offered. With his money shortage, he had literally eaten nothing that was not covered by his meal plan, and he was not about to splurge on coffee.

When they were seated with their drinks, Professor Claremont said "I am a professor of art. I would like to have you model for my figure classes. You have a classic male physique."

"Model? I ... I've never done anything like that," Dale protested.

"It pays $25 per session and over the rest of the school year, I could use you for at least twenty sessions. I don't know if the money makes any difference," she told him. Actually, she was sure that the money did make a difference, since she had researched her prospect quite carefully.

Finding models was always a challenge for her. Not many students needed the money, and the town was so small that there just weren't many good prospects. It never seemed to be a problem finding female models, but finding men was tough. She had been trying since before the semester started, and she had rearranged her schedule about as much as she could. She needed Dale badly.

It did not take an economist or accountant to calculate the $500 dollars the job would add to Dale's anemic bank account. Even after taxes, that much could mean survival for the year and maybe enough to travel home for the holidays. His momentary excitement was quenched when he remembered from somewhere in his reading that 'figure' usually meant nude. His face must have shown his alarm and disappointment because she caught it and understood.

"Yes, the posing would be undraped. That's an artistic euphemism for nude," she said.

He just shook his head, blushing. "I couldn't do that. Sorry. Th ... thanks for the coffee."

He was on his feet ready to leave when her hand on his arm restrained him. "Mr. Rubens - Dale - wait. Please. Let me just talk to you for a minute."

"Professor, I'm sorry, but that's just not something I could do. This is a small school. Some of the people I would pose for - I would see them on campus. I might have classes with them."

"Some of the girls, you mean. That's what worries you, isn't it?"

He nodded, blushing.

"Dale, please don't be offended, but I've done some research on you. I know the struggle you've had, and I know that you need the money. I suspect that you could also use a friend on campus.

"I'm well aware of the wealth and the attitudes of the people here. I don't come from money. I worked my way through school. I know what you're facing. If you can just ignore the nudity for a moment and think about the opportunity..."

"How can I ignore that?" he protested.

"Believe me, before very long, you CAN ignore it. I know you have been unable to find work. The hourly pay is much better than anything you could have found. It is right on campus, so transportation is not a problem, and it is not physically exhausting.

"Beyond that, Dale, you have been blessed. Besides the intelligence that won you the scholarship, you have a body that deserves to be seen and ... and worshipped. That's what art can do, you know. It can be a way to worship something beautiful in creation."

Intellectually, Dale could understand what she was saying. The money sounded too good to be true, as well. But it wasn't just creation that he would be displaying for worship. It was HIS DICK! Hanging that out for women to look at and paint just wasn't possible. He just couldn't do it.

Catherine Claremont could read what Dale was thinking, and before he could utter what she was sure would be his final rejection, she said "Dale, I'll bet you haven't had anything but dorm food since you arrived, have you?" Not waiting for an answer, she went on. "Come to my house for dinner. Right now. It's Friday, and you can afford a little time off."

"Really, Professor, it won't do any good," he declared. "I just couldn't model for you."

"Dale, please. Be honest with yourself. If you can't find a job, you won't be able to stay here. You know that. My guess is that you've done a lot of things you didn't think you could do, just to survive, right? This is honorable work. Something that very few people could do. Maybe you can't do it, but give me a chance to persuade you. A home-cooked meal would be nice, wouldn't it?"

He already knew all of the possible choices at the cafeteria. He was puzzled why the quality of the food was not more in line with the cost of tuition. Almost anything that the woman could offer him would be a welcome break from the cafeteria food that was already monotonous. Besides that, she had an air of natural sympathy and kindness about her that he had been hungry for, even though he did not yet realize it.

He just gave a slight nod, and Catherine was on her feet, grabbing his hand. "Wait, I need to take this to my room," he said, indicating his gym bag.

"No need. I'll bring you back later." She was steamrolling him, but she understood how close he was to just walking away. Besides, she found him very likable, and she genuinely wanted to help him.

On the ride to her home, Catherine got on her phone and made a couple of quick calls. "Two of my very good friends are joining me for dinner. They are very bright ladies. I'm sure you will enjoy chatting with them."

"I ... I shouldn't horn in on your dinner plans," he objected.

"Oh, they know how much I need to find a model. They won't mind, at all."

The house was not far from campus, in an older, rather genteel section of the town. The first thing that Dale noticed upon entering was the delightful smell. Somebody was already cooking. The next thing he noticed was the two women who came to greet them. One looked very much like Catherine. At his questioning glance, she nodded and introduced her older sister. The other woman was in her thirties, and turned out to be Catherine's niece.

After the introductions, the sister and niece disappeared back toward what he assumed was the kitchen, and Catherine took on a rather serious expression. Opening her purse, she took out five twenty-dollar-bills and held them out to him. "This is yours if you will undress and spend the evening with us nude."

"WHAT?"

"You would be a perfect model for me, but you consider the nudity to be an insurmountable problem," she explained. "I am willing to pay you to spend the evening nude with three very courteous women. I want you to see that it is something that you can do, and that it is an excellent way for you to earn the cash you need so badly."

Dale just shook his head in disbelief, but Catherine was not done. "Dale, you are a really nice guy. I think you are in a situation that you didn't expect, and I would really like to help you. I know you are brilliant, but right now, in this town, that is not going to earn you any money. Your other major asset is a wonderful body. Let me help you use it to earn enough to get by. There is nothing dirty about modeling."

"But this is ... it's ... it's so embarrassing!"

"My sister and my niece are totally discreet. If it helps, my sister Caroline is a psychiatrist. Her daughter Carla is a pediatrician. Nudity is not something that will upset them."

"I wasn't worried about them."

She could not suppress a little chuckle at his unintentional humor. It just made him blush even more furiously. With a sigh, Catherine picked up a phone and dialed. When someone answered on the other end, she said "Talk to him," and handed him the phone.

"Hi, Honey," he heard the familiar voice say after his 'Hello'. "It's so good to hear your voice."

"But ... but ... what... ?"

"Sweetie, Catherine thought she might need my help to get you to take the job."

"Job!? Mom, I can't..."

"Dale, Honey, you know I would send you every last dollar. There just aren't any more 'last dollars' to send. I'm so sorry! Catherine is really a nice lady, and I know she wants to help you out. If you're worried that I might be upset about you posing naked, I only have one problem with it."

"Wh ... what's that?" At this point, he could hardly talk.

"I wish I could be there and take the class."

All Dale could generate in response was a strangled groan. Catherine took the phone from his limp hand, said goodbye to his mother, and hung up. "You can call her for a nice long chat before I take you home, later." She did not say it, but the implication was clear that it would be after he spent the evening naked with the three women.

Whether it was intentional or not, Muriel had played the trump card. She always felt guilty that she could not provide for her son what she thought he deserved. Dale knew that she blamed herself and he hated that. He would do anything to help assuage that guilt, even go naked.

Catherine saw that he had given in, and gave him a quick hug. Pulling back, she kept her hands on his arms and told him "Dale, this is a totally unorthodox way to acclimate a new model, but I need you in a hurry. Usually, in art circles, artistic nudity is considered completely separate from casual nudity. Every attempt is made to keep the setting rather clinical. I will be honest with you; it takes time and experience for the model to have that attitude. I need to try a different approach.

"Now, I've been working with male models for twenty-five years, and I've seen quite a few get aroused. My sister and her daughter are doctors. If it happens tonight, I don't want you getting all upset. We won't be. Why don't you use that bathroom to disrobe. Maybe you should, um, relieve the pressure a little while you're in there."

Catherine had said all of that in a very gentle way, and he was certain that she was trying to make it easier for him. All it did, though, was highlight his worst fear. Still, he had passed the point of no return. If he did not do this, his mother would worry, and her guilt would drive her to push herself to make more money for him. He could not allow that.

When he came out of the bathroom a while later, Catherine was waiting for him. His knees almost buckled when he saw her standing in front of him, and the urge to cover himself was almost overwhelming. She was looking at his face, though, and the look of genuine caring in her eyes went a long way toward relaxing him.

For long moments, they just looked at each other. Then, she raised an eyebrow slightly in question, he shivered but nodded, and she let her gaze sweep down over him. When her eyes came back up, she made a little twirling motion with her hand. He understood and did a three-sixty for her.

"Dale, I need to warn you right up front. You are going to hear many gasps from women the first time they see you. It is unavoidable. You have a body that just demands to be memorialized as art. Caroline and Carla are waiting in the dining room. You will see what I mean."

Not knowing if it would help him or make him more nervous, she took a chance and held his hand to lead him to meet the others. Only Carla gasped audibly, but Caroline's eyes widened noticeably. Both women were as gentle and as complimentary as they could be. Dale was not sure whether he welcomed the attention or not. What he really wanted to do was to hide.

When he first sat down on the towel-covered chair that Catherine led him to, he was not at all sure that it was safe to try to eat anything. Between the fact that the food smelled unbelievably good and the fact that his genitals were screened by the table top, he found the courage to try to eat, and he was soon digging in with a vengeance.

It took the better part of the meal for him to progress beyond short answers to questions. Just when he was beginning to actually converse, they adjourned to the living room for coffee and all he could think about again was hiding his crotch. He knew that Catherine was doing it purposely to force his exposure, and he understood why. It still set his conversational ability back to almost zero. It was another half hour before he was doing anything that resembled conversation.

Just when he was starting to put some energy into a very stimulating discussion, Carla stood up and said with great glee "Look, it's starting to show!" She pulled her clothes tight across her stomach to show a small but definite protrusion. He never knew whether it was a planned move or not, but it caught him off-guard and the blood rushed to his penis.

Even if the move was unplanned, the reaction of the women to his arousal must have been discussed beforehand. He never noticed eyes directed at his crotch, and there was no break in the conversation. Carla turned a brilliant smile toward him and said "I'm over three months along, and I was wondering if I was ever going to show. I was just so anxious! We had to wait so long for her. I had to finish my residency and get established. I was told that it was still too soon to interrupt my practice, but we couldn't wait any longer."