Chapter 3

Evening classes were scheduled on Monday, Wednesday and Friday from six until eight. There were six students including me. It became obvious from the beginning that everybody was at a different skill level and that instruction would have to be individualized.

The eighteen-year-old girl was a college freshman who hoped to major in art. She seemed to have some good basic skills but I thought she was really pretty much a beginner. Her name was Andrea.

Harold and Francis Wilson were married and in their fifties. They were both accountants and hadn't been together all that long. I guess the art class was something they thought they could enjoy as a couple because they both had a little artistic talent.

Doreen Freemont looked like she was in her early thirties and pretty darned good looking if somewhat on the chubby side. She and the other guy, Aaron Greenberg, were both fairly accomplished painters. They did mostly landscapes and stuff so I guess they were there to broaden their scope.

The rules were that we would use first names since we were all students. I felt a little strange calling Harold and Francis by their given names but I got used to it and they didn't seem to mind.

So here's how the classes went. For the first few minutes, Mrs. James would talk about the subject we'd be focusing on for the evening and explain what she wanted us to work on in general. We always started with a rough sketch and then began adding color, sometimes watercolors, sometimes pastels. As often as not we just stayed with the charcoal and fleshed out the details in black and white. Once we got started, she'd move around the room and spend a few minutes with each student.

At first, I guess I felt kind of resentful because Mrs. James spent a lot more time with the other students than she did with me. She must have picked up on my petulance because she leaned down and whispered in my ear that the other students needed a lot more instruction than I did. She said it nicely but I knew I'd just been scolded for being such a baby. I deserved it.

Nobody had to serve as model for the first two weeks of classes because we didn't draw or paint any people. We stuck pretty much to flower arrangements, bowls of fruit, that kind of stuff. When we finally did use a live model, Andrea was the first and, maybe a little to my disappointment, she posed in the jeans and sweatshirt she came to class in. For the next class it was Aaron and he stripped down to his boxers. He was actually a well-built guy with well-defined muscles from working out at a spa three times a week.

Finally, the dreaded day came when it was my turn to be the model. Mrs. James didn't pose me naked but I wasn't far from it. When she sent me to the bathroom to get ready, she handed me this thong that barely covered my privates and left my bare butt hanging out in the wind. I was at least thankful that none of the other students whistled or made comments or teased me when I emerged from the john and stood on the podium.

I didn't have to do anything special in my pose; I just stood there with one hand on my hip looking down and to the left. Was I uncomfortable? Damn right I was! I was fifteen years old and that means my body wasn't quite a man's and it wasn't quite a kid's. My leg muscles were pretty well defined and my abs showed a visible six-pack but my chest and arms were still thin like a kid's. Of course what I was most self-conscious about was my equipment. I guess I was endowed more generously than most guys that age and the thong was tight enough that it clearly showed a visible outline of my dick, plus there were little wisps of pubic hair sticking out the sides and the top. I kept my eyes focused on the floor and didn't dare look up at any of the others to see if they were checking out my package.

After forty-five minutes, Mrs. James told me to get dressed. When I came out, she was still moving from one easel to the next critiquing each sketch. The easels were arranged so that one student couldn't see what another was doing and that meant they were all drawing different views. They could decline to have their drawings evaluated by the other students if they wanted but nobody ever did. I think we were inclined to be kind to each other because we all know what goes around comes around. So I followed along behind Mrs. James as she moved from easel to easel.