It Figures: A Subject of Scrutiny

This is a closed thread for Rhinoguy and McKenna.

Diana studied the “Help Wanted” ads in the university newspaper. “Crap, crap, oh, and here’s a surprise…. more crap.” She bit her lip in consternation as she glanced over the ads for pizza delivery personnel and telemarketers. She’d been that route before and if at all possible, wanted to avoid doing it again.

Besides, she’s thirty years old; she has a Bachelors degree and considers herself a little above the minimum wage being offered for these kinds of positions. Beyond that, she didn’t want some twenty-year old, pimply-faced, smart-ass punk being her manager –which was invariably the case in fast food and telemarketing. Still, her grad-school internship wasn’t paying anything, and she still had her rent to think about not to mention the puppy she’d adopted a few weeks ago. Two mouths to feed on no income just wasn’t going to work. Already she could feel the ulcer-like anxiety churning in her stomach.

She was about to crumple up the paper in disgust when her eye caught a small ad at the very end of the column she was reading. It read:

Wanted:
Figure Drawing Models
male and female
no experience required
contact Professor Cartwright at the School of Art,
Room 478, Ph. 555-4888
$17/hour

Seventeen dollars an hour?! Now THAT’S what I’m talking about, Diana thought, and circled the ad with her pen. But modeling? I’m hardly "model material". Diana looked down over her body with a critical eye. Breasts –ok, probably one of her better features, but the hips? Too large. Thighs? Too large… forget about shapely legs, hers had always been too flabby, even if there was a tight bunch of muscle underneath; and then, over the years, the extra twenty or so pounds she’d put on hadn’t helped her overall appearance. Oh sure, she was attractive enough. She still turned heads and received her fair share of flirting, but she was no cover model. But just maybe you’re a “figure drawing” model, a voice in her head whispered softly.

Maybe. Just maybe. Sure she had her hang-ups about her body, but she also had a certain sense of confidence, and lacking that, a sense of curiosity that often propelled her into situations that forced her to gain the courage she lacked and challenge even her own beliefs and opinions. Somehow this modeling seemed like one such challenge. So she wasn’t the perfect size 8 with a ballet-dancer’s physique; she had curves and a full body with obvious breasts and a firm, rounded ass. She had strong arms and a gentle curve to her abdomen. She also had luxuriantly long hair, hair for which she was complemented quite often. That and her eyes. One man had even gone so far as to tell her that her eyes and smile reminded him of the Mona Lisa: mysterious, a hint of mischief, and the utter ability to stare into a man’s soul. She’d laughed him off, uncomfortable with the complement, but she’d never forgotten it either.

So why not? she thought to herself. Why not challenge the belief of what is considered a beautiful body? Why not challenge myself, too? And so Diana grabbed her cell phone and punched in the number given. Within a few short minutes she had an appointment and a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her question her own sanity. A thirty-year-old ‘figure drawing model.’ That ought to look good on my resume. She smiled sardonically and made her way across campus. Professor Cartwright had time to meet with her immediately, and she didn’t want to keep him waiting. At $17 an hour, she couldn’t afford not to get this job!

Diana

On the walk across campus Diana kept repeating to herself why this was such a good idea: It will allow you to lose some of your inhibitions. It's good to step out of the "norm." It might help you accept your body just the way it is. Challenging old beliefs is good; staying in the same, comfortable rut is bad. Food is good. Job is good. Two hungry mouths to feed...

On and on the list went until she reached the Art building. It took her a while to find the right office; stopping to peruse the art showcased in hallway galleries didn't help, but she did have a few minutes to kill before her 2:00 appointment. This building seemed like a world far removed from her own. She caught glimpses of the art-classrooms as she passed by, curiosity propelling her onwards as she wondered which room she'd be posing in. If I get the job, that is.

At room number 478 Diana stopped and knocked on the door. She was both nervous and excited, and between the two emotions she couldn't decide which she felt more acutely. Excited?! Where did that come from? Before she could mentally hammer it out, the door opened revealing the man who must be Professor Cartwright.

"Professor Cartwright...Hello. I'm Diana Nelson." She extended her hand and waited, curious to know how one was interviewed for a modeling position, and wondering why she hadn't thought of this earlier. Would he need to see her... naked?!

Oh God, Diana thought, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and this is only the beginning.

Diana

Diana stared at the figure before her. He seemed to be composed completely of muscle and sinew. The sheen of sweat on his body did nothing to detract from his fine, physcial form; In fact, it only added to his utter beauty. The sweat highlighted the curves and hollows of his body, emphasizing his physical perfection. Diana swallowed, the sound audible in the quiet room.

Curiously, none of the students seemed to notice; they continued with their work, some sketching frantically, the others with slow, deliberate strokes. The only one who did seem to notice was Professor Cartwright. Bruce, she reminded herself. She looked at him and smiled wanly, trying to remember where she'd put her confidence from earlier. I think it's back in the Student Union Building, along with my sanity.

"Notice how he holds the pose," Bruce spoke low, his voice washing over her with a curious sort of warmth. Diana wondered why the sound of it caused the fine hairs on her neck to prickle with awareness. "It's quite difficult to hold a pose for an extended length of time, as well as maintain a certain expression."

"Hmmm, yes, I imagine that would be diffiuclt," Diana murmurmed, wondering yet again if this was the right sort of job for her. Seventeen dollars and hour... two hungry mouths to feed... The litany kept repeating itself in her mind. Diana glanced yet again to the figure on the low platform. How could she not look?! He commanded attention from all in the room with his exquisite body and facial features. Even if he weren't naked, Diana would still have stared. She swallowed nervously, yet again, the sound once more audible. Bruce turned to look at her curiously.

"Are you all right? Dry throat maybe? Some of the chemical smell from the paint and so on does take some getting used to. Now let's see, where were we..."

Before he could continued Diana interrupted him. "Prof- um, Bruce... Listen, I have a question or two."

"Sure, shoot!" he said, and smiled warmly.

Diana glanced around the room, searching for a more private nook. She found a corner more secluded than the rest and nodded towards it. "Would you mind if we continued over there?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow in question but led the way to the corner. As they walked by the Adonis on the platform, once again Diana was plagued by very real insecurities about her ... qualifications... for such a position.

"Well, the thing is," she began, once they had more privacy. "In no way do I look like that." She nodded towards the Greek God flexing his muscles.

"Well of course not," Bruce said, chuckling. Diana was caught unaware at how his laugh seemed to accentuate his already intriguing voice. For a moment she forgot her train of thought as she studied his smile and dancing eyes. "For one, you have breasts, and for another -at least, I'm hoping this is true- you have no penis."

Red color raced along her skin from her collar bone to her cheek bones. It had been a while since Diana had felt embarrasssed in just such a way, but damn if she wasn't feeling it now. Her cheeks burned and she lowered her eyes. "No, I most certainly do not have a penis," she said, and realized her voice sounded rather stiff.

Bruce laughed again, and reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. "Not that it wouldn't make an interesting form for figure drawing..." He chuckled again, and left the sentence unfinished.

Diana didn't want to feel miffed. She didn't want to feel uncomfortable or insecure either, but she was. And she was seriously doubting her sanity in calling the professor in the first place, even if it was seventeen dollars and hour! "Listen, I am not some Greek goddess. I'm no fashion model or ballet dancer either; I'm not even much of an athlete. I'm overweight, curvy, I actually have natural, imperfect breasts as opposed to the sillicone variety and the last time I flexed a muscle I think I pulled it. I'm not sure I'm the right sort of model for you at all," although she head been looking Bruce directly in the eye during this little soliloquy, she looked down as she finished, tucking a stray strand of her long hair behind one delicate ear. "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time, I apologize, but I just don't feel like I'm "figure drawing model" material."

Diana wasn't entirely sure why she agreed to this. She thought it had something to do with the clinical feel to Dr. Carthwright's studies; she'd just be another piece of data in an overwhelming database. Put on that scale, it didn't seem so bad.

Now, did she or did she not want to get naked? That, my dear Diana, is the question.

Bruce's words from seconds ago echoed in her mind, "...but if you are willing then you will be paid $50..." Diana ran a mental list of items in her refrigerator: half a gallon of milk, an almost empty bottle of salsa, one egg...oh, and I'm pretty sure the dog has enough chow for at least one more day, but after that...

"I'll do it," she said, squaring her shoulders decisively. Having someone else to think about -even if that someone was a stray pup- was incentive enough for her to step out of her comfortable shell and try something uncomfortable, especially when the matter of fifty dollars was involved.

"Good, good!" Bruce sounded genuinely pleased. Diana looked at him curiously, trying to decide exactly why he sounded so happy with her decision. My imagination is running overtime, she thought, and let the subject drop.

"So, how do I begin? Do we start now? I, uh, think I'd be most comfortable in my clothes for now. Like I said earlier, I have no real modeling experience." She looked at him with a sense of curiosity and nervousness. She felt awkward, but not so awkward she felt compelled to leave; she just felt gauche and inexperienced. She looked to Bruce for reassurance, awaiting further instruction.

the lab

Details

I did it. I REALLY did it! For some reason it felt like a grand achievement for Diana. She was secretly proud of herself as she thought of her afternoon's experiences.

I posed naked! Or is that nekkid?! She smiled as she walked down the sidewalk towards her apartment- a tiny, one bedroom place above a garage owned by a retired couple from whom she rented. She nearly made it all the way home before the shock settled in as the realization of what just occurred washed over her.

I just posed naked. Oy.

She felt the crisp, folded paper of the check written out to her and remembered exactly why she'd done what she'd done. Besides, am I not a modern woman? Am I not supposed to be ok with female nudity and sexuality? She sighed, undecided, and opened the door.

The pup bounded up to meet her and she quickly let him out to do his business, watching him from the top of the stairs. He can pee in public without a problem, no hang-ups there! Oh to have the life of a dog! She grinned at her train of thought and whistled for the dog to come back upstairs.

Bring some thongs... Bruce's voice suddenly echoed in her mind. She felt once again the embarrassment at having misunderstood what he meant. What made it worse is that he knew what she had been thinking, too. Oy.

Still, she thought, even though the experience was a new one, slightly embarrassing, it was also slightly... liberating. Liberating?! Where did that come from?!

Still, it was true. There was something liberating about exposing herself that way. It could have been the clinical atmosphere that helped her feel so relaxed, because when all was said and done, she did get out of her clothes pretty fast! But Bruce seemed very professional... at least...

"Very nice... I like that." His comment made while she stood spread-eagled on the platform came rushing back through her memory. She blushed anew. Even if it wasn’t professional of him to let that comment slip, she was glad he did. It gave her a surge of confidence; confidence she’d been sorely lacking in the past few months. And belly buttons?! Who the heck has a ‘thing’ for belly buttons?! …Apparently Professor Bruce Cartwright. Diana smiled and walked towards the floor-length mirror in the bedroom.

She adjusted it so it caught her length from head to toe. She wasn’t tall. She wasn’t short, either; at 5’5” she considered herself average. She lifted up her blouse and tugged down the waistband of her jeans until her bellybutton came into view. It is kind of cute, she thought, twisting this way and that to see which angle looked best. She found herself studying her body with renewed curiosity, trying to see it in the way Bruce saw it today, as an artist and a professional.

Her skin was pale and very smooth. An occasional mole peppered its surface, but only rarely; they added a sort of charm that matched her personality. Her abdomen was gently curved, flattening out in the space between her belly button and the curve of her breasts. She knew if she lifted her blouse even further, she would see their full, pear-like shape encased in the sheer-white bra she had chosen to wear that day. She didn’t however, lift her blouse. Not yet.

Later that night she sank deep into the lightly-scented water of her bath. She had her hair piled loosely on top of her head; her head which was leaning back against the rim of the claw-footed tub as she contemplated her day. She let the stress and worry soak away as her thoughts once again turned to her experiences that afternoon.

I wonder if he always manages to keep it professional. I wonder if things like that slip out of him on a regular basis? Or was it just me? She remembered his words of praise, the glint of interest she caught in his dark, mysterious eyes. At least, I think it was interest… his eyes… they are so intense. I’d have to study them for days before I understood every emotion that tickled through them.

She continued to let her thoughts drift as the water cooled. Her mind played over the sensations of disrobing behind the screen, of standing before him completely naked when she knew darn good and well he was completely clothed. There was something… erotic about that, about the whole incident, really. She naked and vulnerable, he clothed and directing her movements. At the thought she felt a surge of sexual awareness pierce upwards from her pubic area. I can’t be getting turned on by this, can I?!

"Very nice... I like that..." Bruce’s words once again came to mind, the words he uttered when viewing her shaved labia. Of their own accord her fingers descended to the area in question. She felt with the pads of her fingers the buttery-smooth texture of her skin. She liked to shave there for that very reason; it was so smooth and utterly soft when all the hair was removed. She continued to rub her fingers there, the heel of her palm brushing over her pubic mound and her as-yet hidden clitoris.

She played like that for some time, her head thrown back, eyes closed, pale skin glistening in the water from the faint light of the candles she had lit prior to her bath. One hand skimmed across the smooth skin of her abdomen, stopping only to cup one breast, the fingers playing delicately at the puckered, dusky nipple. Diana bit her lip at the combined pleasure of nipple-play and clitoral stimulation. She felt a surge of warmth between the lips of her nether regions and dipped her fingers inside to feel how slippery and aroused she had become. In her mind she re-played the events of the day… of disrobing, of standing naked in front of Bruce, the feelings of subservience and exhibitionism growing heady in her mind. She wondered briefly if Bruce looked at the pictures again after she left. Did he enjoy them? Was he aroused by them?

The image of the professor standing behind the computer in the camera room with a bulge in the front of his pants did positively delicious things to Diana’s body. Her fingers began to slip and slide faster and faster between her legs, her hips rising up to meet them as her other hand continued to massage her breasts and tweak her nipples.

Wait! What am I doing?! This is crazy! Abruptly Diana removed her fingers, her cheeks flushing a becoming shade of pink as she struggled to regain her breath. It’s a job. Nothing more, nothing less… it just wouldn’t do to read more into it than... than… She sighed and stood up in the tub, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself before heading to the bedroom. She forced the erotic thoughts from her mind as she toweled dry and unpinned her hair.

It was then that she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror again. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders and back, stopping only to brush against the mounds of her buttocks. Her legs were muscular and thick, her hips generously rounded, accentuating a waist that was surprisingly small; all of it acted together to form a perfect foil for her breasts, breasts that were plump and firm, not a hint of sagging or misshapenness about them. Her neck gracefully supported her head, her green eyes staring back at her from well-formed facial features.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe. For the first time Diana took a look at herself, a real look, a look without her usual critical and self-delusory eye. Was she… beautiful? She didn’t have an answer for herself. Instead, she continued to study her naked body, trying to see it the way Bruce saw it today. She remembered the postcards she had bought in Barcelona after visiting an art museum. She bought them not because they were replicas of famous pieces of art, but rather because they were images of women, beautiful women, women with hips and curves and asses that were a far cry from what was considered “beautiful” in the world in which she lived. She wanted to be reminded that there was a time and place when her body style was not only appreciated, it was revered.

Just then the dog walked in front of the mirror, breaking the spell Diana had been under and she laughed, bringing up the towel as if to hide her nakedness from herself. But when she fell asleep that night she dreamt of Rubenesque-women with her green eyes and long, shiny hair, surrounded by hordes and hordes of admirers.

_______________________________________________________________________________


Tuesday morning Diana arose early. She showered, careful to shave her legs, underarms, and labia. She washed and dried her hair, setting it in large rollers to give it a bit of wave. She wanted to look her best. An excited kind of nervousness had her eating only half her bowl of oatmeal and drinking twice her normal amount of coffee.

She dressed carefully in loose-fitting clothes so as not to leave and red marks from too-tight waistbands and the like. She packed her bag with thongs and flipflops- smiling at the memory of her previous misunderstanding. She also packed a mauve-colored silk robe, a robe given to her from her parents last Christmas. It was a perfect complement to her complexion and skin tone, hitting her mid-calf. She tried to mentally prepare herself for the moment when she would take that very robe off and stand naked in a room full of strangers.

Courage woman! You can do it!

It was with a tentative step and nervous fluttering of heart that Diana knocked on Professor Cartwright’s door Tuesday morning.

“Hi,” she said, as soon as he opened the door. “I’m all set!” She hoped the brave smile she had plastered on her face would be convincing enough ...for both of them!

What in the world was THAT all about? He's so cute, he actually seemed a bit nervous, I should be the nervous one. Well actually, I am nervous! Her thoughts tumbled around in time to her nervous heart.

I like poetic names.. the color of a young woman's nipples on a warm summer's day. His words came drifting back to her as she took her place on the podium. To her dismay she felt her nipples tightening at the remembrance of his words. In her mind's eye she could see a scene not-unlike the one Bruce described:

A green, grassy hillside... an old-fashioned picnic basket and blanket laid out beneath a beautiful oak tree. The remains of their lunch spread out between them; an empty wine bottle, a crust of bread. He sat with a sketchpad cradled in his lap, sketching madly as she sat with her back against the tree looking shy and exquisitely expressive as she watched him working. And then, he stops and leans over to her, brushing his lips across hers as his fingers move deftly down the row of buttons on her shirt. With a few dexterous flicks of his fingers he manages to expose her breasts to his seeking eyes. He stops to trail a finger down over the pale curve of her breast, only to flick her nipple into hardness with the tip. Grinning wickedly he sits back again, and continues sketching, his eyes returning again and again to the object of his study, her pale breasts topped by dusky nipples, bathed in the light of a summer sun.

Diana glanced at the clock... it was already 10 minutes past the hour! She looked for Bruce, wanting some kind of encouragement, some kind of acknowledgement as she held the folds of her robe, prepared to slip it off at his direction.

Here goes! Her heart lurched up into her throat and her nipples remained painfully tight as her eyes met Bruce's across the room.

First Class Session

Professor Cartwright moved about the room, leaving Diana to her own devices. She was soaring. Actually, more than that -she was so full of emotion and sensory perception, she felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience.

That sensation was only compounded as she walked about the room after having donned her mauve-colored robe. She looked at what the students had drawn, marveling at their creations, marveling at the fact that what they had so beautifully drawn was ... her. Her! It was her body, her hips, her thighs that were drawn. And they were beautiful.

She continued to make a slow circuit of the room, peeking over shoulders and analyzing what had been drawn. There was variation among the artists, but each and every one caught something of her body she had never before seen or analyzed. It was an eye-opening experience.

Bruce was busy talking with the students, moving about the room. His was the only sketch she had not seen -and the only one she wanted to see more than the others. She wasn't sure why it should matter so much, but it did. There was some kind of chemistry between them, some kind of kismet, magic, or attraction. Of that she was sure; but .... how to act on it, and why?

She didn't even know if he was married. He had no wedding band, but that didn't mean much in today's modern world. He could very well be married with wife and kids at home, and here she was day-dreaming about acting on the growing attraction she felt for him.

She went back to the stand and took a seat, resting her legs. She watched Bruce from across the room. He spoke with passion, his entire body animated. But it was his eyes that arrested her, that made her curious to know more. He conveyed so much with a glance, she knew it would take a lifetime to learn every nuance of emotion he could convey.