Mr. Marcus is summoned when Anna submits a problematic project to her art teacher. All parties agree that beauty is in the [insert body part here] of the beholder.
I just crossed the threshold of my house when it started.
"Harvey!" The shriek of my wife's voice. No 'Welcome home, ' no 'How was your day."
There's a message for you from Anna's art teacher."
"She's taking art? I thought our idiot neighbors voted down that school district referendum."
"Where have you been? Not at school. It's a Park District program she started last month. Remember?"
Not a clue. "Oh yeah, sure."
"She wants you to come and see her tonight."
"Annie? Is she upstairs?"
"No! Her teacher."
"Damn it, the Bears are on tonight."
"Watch your language. Besides, it's preseason, isn't it? It doesn't count."
Harriett didn't get it. Watching gladiators in hand-to-hand combat was a great way for me to purge the venom I accumulated all day. And, it kept my thoughts and me out of Annie's friend's panties.
She handed me a scrap of paper with the address, time, and teacher's name. Bourgeois. Wasn't that a kind of red wine? "Can I eat first?"
I kicked off my shoes and dropped my coat on the floor. Harriett handed me a plate. I wolfed down a lukewarm casserole with anonymous ingredients in a variety of colors. Then it was back to the car to one of the scattered Park District buildings. Only one car, a Chrysler convertible, remained in the lot. I pulled in beside it and headed inside. The receptionist's desk had been abandoned at a reasonable hour. The building directory said the art rooms were in the east wing.
"Hello?" My own voice echoed the question. "Is anyone here?"
A lanky woman with black hair, black blouse and long black skirt came into the hallway. "Mr. Marcus?" She carried herself straight, almost stiff, with an accent that was either French or Hungarian.
"Yes." I completed the hike up the hall.
"My name is Ms. Bourgeois. Follow me, please."
I entered the classroom after her, an art studio complete with easels, stools, tall half-open cabinets brimming with supplies, a raised modeling platform and the teacher's desk at the far side. Paintings and sketches decorated the walls, and sculptures sat on side tables along every wall.
"Please, have a seat." I slid a stool closer. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice." She put one buttock on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs. Close to a dozen gold chains adorned her otherwise flat chest. A slit in the center of her skirt allowed it to open like a theater curtain. Her legs were long and well shaped, as if a master had sculpted them. I was staring at them when she cleared her throat. "You're wondering why I asked you here tonight. You, instead of your wife."
I had no idea I had been singled out. Didn't Harriet have a previous engagement? Isn't that why I was here? "Yeah, sure. Something about Annie. She's in your class."
"Correct. Anna shows great promise. She could move on to bigger things." She smoothed a strand of hair back over one ear. It waited until her hand returned to her lap, then fell forward to its original position. "Depending on how she does here, with me, there could be a scholarship for art school, no?"
"Yes. My wife told me about that."
She leaned forward. "Anna is one of two candidates for the scholarship. It has been difficult to decide. However, Anna's last project put her in jeopardy. Unless you can satisfy me, I'll have no choice but to award the scholarship to the other student."
Satisfy her? Does she want to fuck? No, she's too formal and proper. I glanced back at her legs. Her movement had parted the curtain even further. The tops of her stocking peeked out. No pantyhose for this woman. Good old stocking and garters.
"Let me show you." She leaned back. The slit was now open to her upper thigh. The garters were exposed, as well as the edge of her lacy black panties with significant pussy hair showing on the edge. When she straightened up, she had grabbed an easel pad, with a cover over it. She tugged once at her skirt, which barely moved, and crossed her legs. "The last class assignment was a still life, drawn from something real from the student's experience. Something that had a significant impact on them." She pointed to a series of drawings hanging up for display. "As you can see, some chose objects; others chose family members." Sketches and paintings of books and dogs and parents adorned the wall.
I pointed at the object in Ms. Bourgeois's hand. "Is that Annie's?"
"Yes, and the source of the problem. Anna chose to draw an unusual, uh, family member." She threw back the covering page. It was a life-size drawing of my penis, will a full erection.
For the first time in a long while, I was speechless. It didn't last long. "I'm so sorry. Of course this subject matter is completely inappropriate. I'll speak to Annie at once. She'll draw something else, as a make-up assignment."
"The due date is past, Mr. Marcus. No other student got an extension or a second attempt. Anna will get no special treatment." Ms. Bourgeois stared at the image, her jewelry running through her fingertips.
Even though it was a picture of me, I felt blood flowing, both to my face and my crotch.
"I have no problem with the subject matter. The work is quite good, actually." She traced the wood end of a brush along the canvas. "See the details, like this vein that runs the entire length." She took a deep breath. "Of this cock."
That was a word I didn't expect. She seemed to be caressing the image of my penis with the brush handle. I wondered what she'd do with the real thing. No, not the proper Ms Bourgeois.
"Annie has quite an imagination." I fumbled a forced chuckle.
She looked deep into my eyes. "Anna has no siblings, correct? So, this is your cock?"
There was that word again. "I guess so." No reason to agree too forcefully. "You said it's good, right? So, what's the problem? Give Annie an appropriate grade."
"You clearly don't understand my grading method on this assignment. It was to be a realistic still life. For each student, I compared their work to the subject matter." She pointed to a sketch of a dog on the wall. "I visited the Hampton's to see their Labrador Fritz." Her finger directed my attention to a watercolor of two adults. "And I went to Sarah Bernbaum's to met her parents, in the flesh."
My forming erection withered. "So you're telling me you need to look at my -"
"You have a simple choice, Mr. Marcus. Allow me to examine the subject of Anna's portrait, or I will fail her on the assignment. That will reduce her grade so that she will no longer be a scholarship candidate."
"Not to be dramatic, but what if I can't get it up? That hard, I mean?" My dick was thick in my pants, but nowhere near what Annie had drawn. It must have been when I was with her, Janie and Jake. Janie's bare pussy had me hard as nails.
"Precisely my point." She tapped the illustration with her brush. "A cock of this magnitude must be Anna's fantasy. In which case, she fails."
I hesitated. What was it any of her business what my penis looked like?
"Come now. It's been a long day, I really must be getting home to bed." She uncrossed her legs as she stretched and yawned. Both silk stockings, both garters and the lacy blank panties were in plan sight.
No art teacher was going to call my Annie a liar. I stood, unbuckled my belt, popped the snap on my pants and unzipped. With one swift tug, I pulled my pants and jockeys to my knees. My semi-erect penis waved in front of her.
"Perhaps Anna does not have such a vivid imagination as I thought. The vein is there." She ran the paintbrush along my dick. The bristles tickled, and I started to grow firmer. "My goodness, this is quite amazing! Please, sit on the desk so I can get a better comparison."
We swapped places, me sitting on the edge of the desk, Ms. Bourgeois crouching in front of me, face at crotch level, legs spread. I got even harder at the display of her black lace panties, stretched tight across her hairy pussy. I didn't get much harder than this, precisely as Annie had drawn.
"Let me see." She turned and twisted her head, getting ever so close to the object under consideration. Her breath was warm, and my prick lurched with each exhale. "Yes indeed. Tell me, under what circumstances did Anna see this formidable organ?"
"I don't know." My pulse raced. "Maybe when I got out of the shower -"
"For this level of precision, Anna must have had a good, hard look." She tapped my erection with her paintbrush with the word "hard." "Perhaps she has seen you in bed?"
My face was burning.
"Or been in your bed, hmm?" She stood, hands on her hips, legs slightly spread and mostly covered by her long skirt. "None of my business if you enjoy the company of young girls. Even your daughter."
"Are we done here?" I stood and reached to pull up my underwear and pants. Ms. Bourgeois held them down with her brush.
"Not yet. If Anna is to have the scholarship, I must assess her artistic pedigree."
It sounded like Ms. Bourgeois was asking about some dog. "Her what?"
"Are you or your wife artistic? Does Anna get her talent genetically, or is it some random accident?"
"Annie's mom isn't much for art. I used to draw cartoons back in college." Not real art, but perhaps enough to convince Ms Bourgeois that Annie met her genetic criteria.