Chapter 2

"Two hours today. I hope you all made arrangements." Professor Warners had a way of speaking without looking at any of her forty students. "This is your mid-term practical, so remember that I'm looking at elements and naturalism ... Not realism."

She loved theory and this wasn't my first exposure to it, or to the professor. I was in my second year at Princeton, working vaguely towards my bachelor's degree, and I tuned the woman out as I prepped my ground. We were doing charcoal, not my favorite medium as I was a painter, but I could live with it. Everyone had to take introductory drawing and I'd banked it for a rainy day, when I'd want a sleeper in my course load. Princeton had turned out to be a lot harder than I'd expected.

"I hope were not drawing a stupid plant," Linda said, preparing her easel next to mine. She was one of the friends I'd made at college and a pretty good sculptor, and decidedly unhappy about sketching for mid-terms. She'd put the class off for entirely different reasons.

"I doubt it." I smiled at her and she frowned.

"Don't look so happy," she snapped.

"What did I do?" I rolled my eyes. It wasn't my fault Linda couldn't draw.

"Our model today is Kurt, so let's behave ourselves," the professor said, opening the door to her office, which also served as a changing room. She paused, looking over her shoulder in our general direction. "And ladies ... I'm talking to you."

There followed a smattering of laughter and whispered conversation. We'd all seen Kurt before and naturalism was wasted on him, in our collective opinion. Naturalism was usually used to improve a subject and Kurt...

I took an involuntary breath as he walked into the room, which was actually a very old and small lecture hall. It had been redone sometime in the past to be a more functional classroom environment. The oddly cone-shaped dimensions were retained however, and it drew attention to the pinnacle, to the footstool upon which Kurt was now sitting in his white bathrobe.

He ignored us and I wondered how he could be so comfortable as he slipped the garment from his broad shoulders. As freshman, we'd all gotten a taste of modeling at the professor's insistence. My turn had come, standing for my classmates and trying not to giggle nervously in the two-piece bathing suit I'd worn. The exercise had been intended to give us empathy for our models and I think it worked, at least for me. I didn't take them for granted, not after that, and I hadn't even gotten naked.

Kurt, on the other hand, was very naked as he sat there. Professor Warners posed him for us, contriving to hide and reveal those aspects in which her students were most interested, depending on where one was sitting. Most of the class was female, nineteen and twenty-year-old girls who were hardly mature in any real sense of the word. I felt it, the attraction for the man, and it was a purely physical thing. The desire was not uncontrollable, of course, but it was a little more than just seeing a handsome boy at the mall. This boy, this man, was beautiful and naked and sitting there just for me.

For two hours I would possess him and after that, when he was free to escape, Kurt would leave a portion of himself behind. I'd capture him on my paper and keep him forever. That was my goal and the only reason I could push all other thoughts from my mind. I didn't worry about my grade, nor look at my friends and classmates; I barely looked at my paper. There was Kurt and the light hitting his body and the shadows falling across his face and...

Between one heartbeat and the next, a lifetime can be lost.

"Time's up! Thank you very much, people." Professor Warners clapped her hands, prompting weak protests and groans as the exercise finished.

I blinked, wondering where the time had gone. My sketch was largely complete. I was happy enough with it, but I could have used another ten minutes maybe. Around me it seemed obvious that most of the class wanted much more time than that. I watched Kurt put his robe back on, smiling as he shared a few words with the professor. He looked past her for a moment, looking at us, and I thought I caught his eyes with mine, but they didn't linger or show any recognition.

Kurt's gaze swept over me and I looked down with a secret smile at the drawing I'd done. He was looking at me there. I'd stolen his eyes and they stared at me from the paper, warm and gentle and all mine. It hadn't been easy, getting his attention the way I had, but I was more than pleased with the result and I understood then the real definition of naturalism. The art of depicting subjects as they might exist. Kurt might look at me that way, I thought. Maybe, if I could just find a way.

"Is he here?" I asked, not bothering with hello.

"Kris! About time," Linda said with a smile, leaning close as I entered the kitchen through her back door.

I let her kiss my cheek impatiently. "You've started early," I observed, grinning as I could smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Three years ago!" She laughed. "As soon as I stepped off the bus."

Her small house was full of people, the kitchen full of girls specifically. Talking, smoking, blending margaritas. It was a typical Friday night at Linda's place, a house just off campus that she shared with two roommates. The Princeton art community was small, the real artists I should say because there were a lot of people around who weren't. Would-be artists and bohemians of all sorts, groupies even, and the amateur critics. They were largely intelligent and entertaining and a lot of fun, so none of us complained really. I'd found myself enjoying college immensely.

"So?" I demanded, returning to my immediate interest. "Is he here?"

"You asked..." Linda held me around the waist, speaking into my ear as we made our way through the small crowd, " ... and I delivered, girlfriend."

"Really?" I felt a rush of nervous energy; beyond accepting her invitation, I had no idea what I was doing.

"You'll have to make your own introductions." She gave me a squeeze, pulling me towards the open doorway and I could see him, standing near a bookcase with two other men, talking and smiling, holding a bottle of beer.

Kurt was there.

"Shoot," I breathed. "Did he come with anyone?"

"God!" Linda shook her head. "Does it matter?"

"I need a drink," I decided, postponing my intentions. I felt tight all over.

"Uh-uh ... Empty handed." My friend gave me a push into the room and a gay laugh. "Like the beggar you are!"

I gave her a dirty look, but I didn't know if I wanted her to give me another push or talk me out of it. I'd been trying to meet the guy for a month already, but not really trying, just wanting to try. I was good at wanting and I think I even enjoyed that. There's something noble about being alone and loving from a distance, or so I'd told myself and my friends, but of course they wouldn't tolerate that for long. Not Linda certainly. She was all about action, hands on, the way a good sculptor must be. I was a painter and so I merely observed and interpreted, but I could also be impulsive, impetuous, and often far too bold for my own good ... Once I built up a little steam anyway.

And Kurt made me hot all over, inside and out.

"I was at that game; sat right behind third base..." one of the other men was saying.

"Hi guys!" I interrupted, feeling rather small as all three of them were much taller than my five-foot-nothing.

"Hi there," one of them replied quickly, the one who'd watched me walking across the room.

"Hi ... Hello..." Kurt and the last guy spoke a second later, and I had their attention now.

I'm not sure that I'm beautiful, that would depend on who you asked, but I'm attractive enough for most men to find interesting. Too short, in my opinion, but being small has its own appeal, and it made my breasts seem even larger than they were. I was showing them off too, wearing a tight sweater above a rather short pleated skirt, red and black respectively. The dangerous colors. My long blonde hair was loose and my face scrubbed pink with a little make-up, not much. I looked good and I knew it, and confidence was never my problem once my mind was made up.

"I'm Kris," I said, smiling at all of them and trying not to give too much away.

"Hi Kris." The first guy extended his hand and he was very interested. "I'm Dave..." he paused while I let his fingers touch mine. "This is Kurt and that's Steve."

"Hi Steve." I looked at him and he was the shy one, I thought, keeping his hands to himself, but smiling back at me.

"Did you pass the class?" Kurt asked, and he didn't offer me his hand either.

"I think so, yeah. I aced my practical anyway," I told him, feeling my heart leap and playing cool. He remembered me! "Thanks to you."

Kurt's two friends were curious now, looking to him for some explanation.

"Good. Warners told me you're her prize." He smiled and I thought him so wonderfully tall, over six feet easily, and broad shouldered and narrow waisted, and ... yeah ... His soft brown eyes, gentle and warm just like I remembered.

"She did?" I narrowed my eyes a little, not quite understanding why my teacher would say something like that to him.

"Can I get you something to drink, Kris?" Dave asked, and I nodded, smiling politely at him for a second, but all of my energy was focused on Kurt and they knew it.

"You know how they like to brag," Kurt explained. "She let me see your drawing."

"Oh." I reddened a little, but only because I had no idea he might have been this familiar with me. "What did you think of it?"

"Do my eyes really look like that?" he asked softly, and I felt the fluttering of wings in my stomach.

It was then, right then, that we made the connection. I don't know how it is for other people, if they can pick one second out of the millions shared and say, 'This is when we fell in love.' But we could, both of us, and I saw that recognition reflected in his eyes.

It was magic.

"So, you're an artist?" Steve said, and that seemed pretty funny, but don't ask me why.

"Yeah." I smiled, turning my head reluctantly and clearing my throat. "What do you guys do?"

"Here you go, Kris." Dave had come back, handing me a plastic cup with some margarita in it, cold and salty and extra strong, just the way Linda liked them.

"We're engineering students," Steve said. "Structural engineers, you know."

"Okay ... Thanks." I smiled at Dave and took a small sip, feeling my mouth riot at the tequila. That one drink was going to last me the rest of the night probably. Two would put me on my butt.

"He wants to be an engineer," Kurt clarified. "I'm more interested in architecture."

"Hmmm ... Bridges, or skyscrapers? Better condominiums?" I lifted my eyebrows playfully. "What turns you on?"

"Heh! Shopping malls." He grinned at me, taking a swallow of his beer.

"Sure, shopping malls," I said, teasing him with a doubtful smile.

"I want to design one where you can actually find a bathroom," he shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

"Me?" I brushed my hair back, buying a little time to decide. "I want to paint you."

"You can paint me!" Dave laughed and touched my hip, which was mildly annoying.

"Really?" Kurt ignored his friend.

"Yeah," I said, biting my bottom lip. "You want to see my studio?"

"Shoot..." Dave sighed and dropped his hand, taking a large swallow of beer to wash down that bitter pill.

"You have a studio?" Steve asked, not getting it, but Kurt did.

"Don't you think we should, uh..." Kurt was smiling, " ... go on a date first? A studio seems awfully personal."

"Would you like to go out with me?" I asked, feeling like a little girl at a carnival.

"Yeah, I would," he replied. "Do you want my phone number?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded, looking up into his eyes. "But I don't have a pen."

"I've got one," Steve offered, and Dave laughed at him.

"There's one in my car," Kurt said.

"Can I borrow it?" I asked.

"I don't know," he sucked at his cheek. "I got it from my insurance company. It's kinda special."

"I'll be careful with it..." I licked my lips, " ... I promise."

"As long as you're careful." Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I guess."

He held my hand and somewhere on our way towards the front door I lost my drink. Kurt lost his too and I felt radiant. There's no other word for it. Kurt held my fingers in his gentle hand, walking close behind me as we made our way out. I could feel his presence enveloping me, wrapping me up in a warmth I'd never known before.

"Are we on our first date yet?" I asked him as we stepped into the night, turning so I could face him.

"I think so," Kurt said, and he hadn't let me go at all. He put his other hand on my waist and I stepped closer, looking up at him, putting my hands on his shoulders.

"I don't do this," I told him, needing to explain suddenly, wanting his good opinion. "I don't pick up guys and bring them home."

"I know," he said gently.

We might have kissed then, and we wanted to, but we didn't. I let him go and Kurt released me, and we walked. I'd felt that initial rush, the urgency to do everything and all at once, and I'd resisted it. We had time enough to take it slow, to make it good. The anticipation felt wonderful and I wanted to draw it out, we both did, and that's how alike we truly were. Kurt could have had me anytime he wanted, and if I'd wanted to kiss him and touch him, the man wouldn't have stopped me. We'd come to an agreement though, a silent promise to wait until our desire became unbearable, and that feeling was like nothing else in the world.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" We were half a mile and twenty minutes past the party.

"Only between mothers and sons," Kurt replied.

"Oh." I had to think about that and then I laughed. "What?"

"Well, daughters too," he chuckled, "but, I'm a boy ... so ... Oh! No." He gave me a real laugh. "I don't have an Oedipus thing going. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." I stayed close to him, feeling Kurt's hand on my hip as we walked. The night had turned cool and I wore his jacket over my shoulders.

"I definitely believe in love at second sight though," he told me.

"Your mom's pretty important to you, huh?" I said, deciding to change the subject. Love frightened me and I'd brought it up to test myself as much as him. I'd known the man for half an hour.

"Aren't they always?" he asked. "I'm an only child. My dad was always working; always gone it seemed like."

"Me too," I said. "I mean, I don't have any brothers or sisters. My dad came home every night though, so..."

"Mine's a regional manager for Prudential. You know, the Rock?" He smiled. "So he travels a lot."

"I want a lot of kids," I told him. "I hated being by myself."

"Oh yeah?" Kurt gave me just the barest squeeze. "Me too. Like six or something."

"Six?" I giggled. "I was thinking like, four is a lot."

"Yeah, maybe, four's a good number too."

"Two boys and two girls," I sighed. "That would be good."

"What about five?" He teased me with a grin and I laughed.

We found a café still open, one of the all night places serving caffeine and sugar to college kids, and we sat down, having a little pie.

"Fruit pies are way better than cream pies, I think." I'd asked for a slice of cherry pie and it was sweet.

"Why's that?" Kurt asked around a bite of banana cream pie.

"Cause a pie oughta be baked," I decided. "It can't be a real pie if it doesn't go in the oven."

"Hmmm..." he thought for a second. "How about pumpkin pie, what's that?"

"That's a real pie," I said. "It's baked."

"Are you going home for Thanksgiving?" he asked. "Christmas, all that good stuff?"

"Probably," I shrugged. "Not Thanksgiving, but Christmas and New Years, yeah."

"Me too," he nodded. "My birthday's the day after Christmas."

"Really?" I smiled at that. "Mine's the day before Christmas."

"Oh yeah?" He gave me a little look. "Nineteen eighty ... What?"

"You first," I said, licking my fork slowly.

"Eighty-five," he told me, watching my tongue.

"Me too!" I giggled. "Seriously."

"That's cool."

"I'm older than you," I realized.

"Heh ... By two days? Does that count?"

"Of course it does," I said. "You're just a kid."

"Yeah, okay ... And you're an older woman," Kurt chuckled. "You ever get weird presents?"

"Weird ones?" I narrowed my eyes.

"I used to get like one roller blade on Christmas day," Kurt explained. "And then I'd get the other one..."

"On your birthday?" I giggled. "Yeah! God, I thought that was just me!"

"Your parents did that too?" Kurt shook his head. "They still do it. One of my presents is always something that comes in two's ... Cufflinks, or something like that."

"Yeah," I agreed, "My dad likes that. He gets me earrings usually and I have no idea how he gets two boxes for them, but he does."

"Dads have special powers."

"Yeah. They do." I smiled, sitting back a little. "You'd be a pretty good dad, I think."

"Think so?" Kurt kept his face straight. "Thanks."

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked, and I felt so comfortable right then.

"Playing baseball."

"Baseball?" I stared at him. "It's winter outside."

"No, not yet," he shrugged. "I love baseball. There's a bunch of us playing, just having fun."

"Okay."

"You want to come out?" Kurt asked. "We can have a little lunch, play some baseball, and then ... I dunno, whatever you want to do."

"You want me to watch you play baseball in November?" I rolled my eyes.

"No! I want you to play," he said with a grin. "We need a second basemen."

"I don't even know where second base is!" I giggled. "No thanks."

"Awww ... Tomorrow night then, will you have dinner with me?" Kurt leaned forward, fixing me with his smile.

"Yeah," I smiled back. "Dinner I can do."

He walked me to my dorm and it was surprisingly late. Time had just disappeared and it was hard saying goodnight to the man.

"Tomorrow you have to bring your own coat," Kurt teased me, and I felt a little bad because he must have been freezing.

"I will," I promised, shrugging his jacket off my shoulders and rubbing my arms.

"Okay." He looked down at me and we were quiet for a few seconds. "Goodnight, Kris."

"Goodnight." I licked my lips. "I had fun."

"Me too." He nodded and that was it. Our first date was ending and he didn't even try to kiss me, but it was in his eyes and that was better somehow.

"I'm gonna marry you," I said under my breath, walking away and letting him watch my pleated skirt until I went through the doors. I looked back at the last moment and only then because I had to, and Kurt hadn't moved an inch.

I was hopelessly in love.

"Hello?" I answered the phone after about a dozen rings; rather hoping whoever it was would give up before I made my way into the kitchen.

"Kris? Hi, this is Nancy Chambers," a woman said, and when I didn't reply immediately, "Amy's mother?"

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." I nodded into the phone. "Hi. What can I do for you?"

My first thought, naturally, was that Amy had told her mother how I'd had her model for me. That wouldn't have been terribly awful though. Artists had a lot of license with models, even teenage girls, and I doubted the girl's mother would have been too upset by that. From what I'd gathered, Amy had been modeling a long time and so Mom would be plenty experienced with the sometimes intimate necessities of artistic expression. I was even quite sure the contract specified Amy was available for nudes, with parental permission, which I'd had, so underwear wasn't a big deal.

The next thought, following a millisecond later, was much less encouraging. Amy might have told her mom about my personal portfolio, the one dedicated to my husband and his beautiful body. She'd seen every part of the man, front and back, in every possible situation. From sleeping on his stomach, to masturbating in the shower, Amy had gotten a real eyeful. This, I thought, was Mom calling to read me the riot act before she called Margie, or worse. I wasn't sure I could be in a lot of legal trouble; art was art. But still, after my experience with Kurt that morning, I wouldn't have been surprised at more bad news.

I braced myself, expecting the worst.

"We're just up the street, in the Village, and it looks like Amy's going to be finished here a lot earlier than we thought," Nancy explained quickly. "You mentioned that you wanted her to model for you again next Saturday, but since we're already here..."

"Oh!" I was actually surprised that I wasn't in trouble.

" ... I thought I'd give you a call and see if you could use her today," the woman continued, but I'd already made up my mind.

"Yeah, absolutely," I agreed quickly. "I'd love to use her today."

"Great." Nancy was smiling, I could tell. "We'll have an early lunch and I'll bring her by about noon. Is that okay?"

"Perfect, yeah," I said, feeling my heart picking up speed.

"Alright, Kris, we'll see you then. Bye."

"Goodbye." I turned off the phone.

"What's perfect?" Kurt surprised me and I jumped slightly, then turned. I couldn't hide either my excitement or my guilt.

"Uh, I'm getting a model." I tried to smile. "Amy, the girl in the picture? That was her mom."

"I see." He pursed his lips, staring at me for a few seconds before opening the refrigerator for some bottled water.

He was a little red and damp with sweat, his t-shirt stained and clinging to his body. Kurt's shorts, which weren't really tight, were clinging to him as well. I felt a rush of heat as I watched him move, staring at his ass when he turned and bent over at the waist. I wanted Kurt again, which seemed ridiculous somehow, like I was becoming a nymphomaniac or something. I'd practically raped him coming through the front door the previous evening, and last night we'd made love after hitting a few clubs uptown. Now, here I was standing in the kitchen, seeing him fresh from a long run through the park, and all I could think about was being taken by the man on our kitchen table.

Kurt wasn't going to be in much of a mood for that though, I didn't think, not after telling him that the girl I wanted him to molest was coming over. That was his opinion and I knew it. I should have been happy to find out that my husband wasn't interested in fourteen-year-old girls, or any other girls for that matter. He loved and wanted me. I should have felt relieved and confident and encouraged by that knowledge, but I wasn't. The fantasy that I'd kept buried for a year, or perhaps longer than that since I'd become aware of it, was spoiling it for us. I wanted more than a husband to love me, or I needed Kurt to express his love in some other way, in a way that seemed completely at odds with the very definition of love. It was a paradox and it was eating away at me inside.

"She called me," I said defensively. "I wasn't looking for her."

"But it's perfect, right?" Kurt drank some water.

"You'll get to meet Amy," I said, nodding in agreement because I could never lie to him.

"I think I'll go to the office," he said, and he was trying to spite me, which made me angry as he knew it would.

"Kurt, please..." I pushed my anger aside, moving close to him and putting my arms around the man I loved. "Just do this one thing, for me? I just want you to meet her, that's all. Try it and if I'm wrong..."

"If you're wrong?" Kurt looked down at me and reluctantly put his hand on the back of my head, hugging me to his chest. He did love me, more than anything else in the world, and he wanted to understand.

" ... I'll see it. I'll know it." I could smell his sweat, the humid musk of his body, and my nipples hardened against him. "It's just a fantasy, that's all. We don't actually have to do anything."

"Then why do this?" he asked reasonably. "If you don't have to, then why..."

"I don't know." I kissed him through his t-shirt, sliding my hands down to his hard chiseled ass, feeling his muscles even there. "I just need it, please? Meet her for me. Let me see you together. That's all."

"Kris, Kris, Kris..." he sighed softly. "I love you so much."

"Do this for me, Kurt." I kissed him again, sliding down his body slowly. I kissed his stomach, running my hands down the back of his thighs, sinking to my knees in front of him. "Make me happy ... Try it for me..."

He was semi-hard already and I mouthed Kurt's cock through the cotton of his shorts, pressing my face against him and filling my senses with my husband's growing arousal. Giving him sex wasn't going to bribe Kurt into anything, I had no illusions about that. I'd always appreciated the fact that he wasn't some mindless guy who'd do anything for an orgasm. I loved his self-control and discipline. Kurt thought with his mind and felt with his heart, unlike a few guys I'd known who were so centered around their dicks it was amazing they could get out of bed in the morning.

I was doing this as much for me as for him, and there wasn't any trade to be made. Kurt would do as I asked only if he wanted to, only if he thought it was the best thing for both of us, or failing that, if he felt the desire to see me happy. That's what love is, by Kurt's definition; love is when another person's happiness is more important than your own. He'd told me that and I'd responded that love is when someone's happiness is essential to your own. We'd explored the differences together over a long weekend at a bed and breakfast in Martha's Vineyard and all we'd settled upon was that we were hopelessly in love with each other.

I was afraid to examine myself to see if I was betraying that.

"Mmmm..." Kurt smiled down at me, leaning against the refrigerator as I tugged at his shorts, and then his jock, which he always wore when exercising. I guess his big cock and healthy balls, and they were generous like the rest of him, needed the support. I didn't mind at all. He looked amazingly sexy in a tight, white jock strap, the ribbed pouch filled with the bulge of my husband's cock. Seeing him like that was always intensely erotic for me.

His penis sprang free, not completely hard yet, but almost, standing out from his body and curving downward. It was sticky with sweat, like the rest of his body, and the smell of his recent exercise was like an aphrodisiac. The rich, heady musk of his body after a workout was a scent I wanted to bathe in. I could taste him on my tongue and I loved Kurt's cock in a purely selfish, animal way. He was large and hot and heavy, surprisingly so, and Kurt's penis looked like it belonged in one of the few porn movies I'd seen. I could barely get my fingers around it, and even with both hands holding him, there was more to hold in my mouth.

I opened wide, catching the smooth head of my husband's cock between my lips and lifting to straighten that thick shaft. I gave him head often as foreplay and he enjoyed it a lot, but only rarely had he ever finished in my mouth. It wasn't because I didn't want him to, but only because we so often ended up making love. That was what we enjoyed most, both of us, and oral sex was just to get us ready. I was in a mood for him now though, and I think Kurt sensed this and reciprocated my desires. I wanted to please him, to taste his orgasm while I knelt fully clothed on the kitchen floor. It was submissive, there's no other word, and I wanted that feeling. I wanted my husband towering above me, strong and unwashed and watching as I worshipped his manhood.

I took the head and more, sucking gently as I worked my tongue around the glans, ticking beneath it and then laving the whole as best I could. I was filled with him, my small mouth overwhelmed as he continued to grow larger. I was squeezing and stroking him with both hands, sliding his velvet soft skin over the hardening muscle beneath. I worked to control my breathing and resisted the occasional urge to cough or gag as his cock would touch the back of my mouth. I kept my lips tightly stretched around him, bobbing my head back and forth slowly. I gave him the best blowjob I knew how, bringing a hand to cup his heavy sperm-filled balls. I massaged them carefully, rolling his precious orbs in my delicate fingers.

When I pulled my mouth away, swallowing spit and precum and drinking cool air, my husband sighed and smoothed the hair from my face. I kissed his cock, the length of him, letting his long shaft slide over my face wetly, trailing his juice across my flushed skin. I licked and kissed and nibbled at Kurt's flesh, working my way to the base and then pressing my lips and tongue against his balls. I continued to hold him with my left hand, gathering my soft hair in my fingers and wrapping it around my husband's penis. I sucked one of his balls into my mouth, washing it gently while I jerked him off in a golden pillow across my cheek and temple.