The Artist and His Daughter (closed)

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

So I guess before I start this story, I should tell you something about myself. My name's Rachel, I'm an eighteen year high school senior, I'm hot and my mother's an idiot,

So I was cleaning the house one day and ---

What do you mean that's not enough information? I told you everything you needed to know about me.

Okay, I'll flesh out the details.

My name's Rachel Derry. And yes, I look as Irish as my name sounds. Pale skin (I guess I could call it fair) that, if I'm very careful and clinical in my approach to sunscreen, will turn a very, very, very light tan. I have green eyes and red hair, although I would call it a dark copper that reaches down to the middle of my back. I would have probably hacked it off by now, but Sam --- that's my Stepdad, and the greatest man alive --- Sam likes it long. I mean, not that he'd stop me from cutting it off, but it's just a little trouble, and it makes him happy, so who am I to complain?

So anyway, I've got an elfin face and a Mona Lisa smile, or that's how Sam describes me. Sam will even sing this old, old song around me called Mona Lisa. And although my Stepdad has a lot of talents, singing isn't one of them.

I'm 5'6" and stay in pretty good shape because of where we live. My Stepdad's a math teacher, which isn't exactly how you become part of the one percent, but he draws from this family trust fund or something, which let's us both do the outdoor stuff he likes, like kayaking and hiking and stuff. We also live in this 'horse' subdivision, where all the houses have ten acres and we have a swimming pool and a small barn for my horse Silver Maple and there are horse trails built into the division and a lot of other stuff. So you can imagine that I go riding all the time as well. It's a great place to live,

So now the last fact about me. My Mom's an idiot.

As long as I can remember, my Mom and me had been bouncing around, from one boyfriend to another, Whatever else you can say about my Mom, she's not ugly. Definitely not ugly, and she knows it. But she was also so insecure that she had to keep on hearing it. And she had to hear it from someone new.

And then when I was eleven, a miracle happened, My Mom met Sam.

Mom had just dumped another boyfriend and was complaining about me, Having a kid cramped her style, Having a kid as old as me dated her,

Mom had gotten into this culture thing, trying to get a higher class of boyfriend, and was going to all these classes like music appreciation and life drawing. Although I wouldn't put it past my Mom to pose nude in front of a room of strangers just to get the to ogle her, I know at the time she was complaining about the tolls I took on her body, so I'm buying the party line that she was just a student. And that's where she met Sam.

I'm not going to try to understand why Sam decided to finally marry my Mom. I mean, Sam is a pretty smart, even headed guy, but I think marrying my Mom was the most boneheaded move in the world. But, since it put him and me together, I'm willing to overlook his lapse of judgment.

And then, a couple of months after I turned fourteen, my Mom, hereafter referred to as The Bitch, decided to leave Sam for greener pastures and younger studs.

She left me behind, which is okay, because she thought to take some of Sam's money with her, and the Bitch got legally Bitchslapped by the legal system,

So I never saw the Bitch again. Now, I'll admit her just dumping me played games with my head, Outside of you and Sam (and you're just a figment of my imagination, dear reader), I have a hard time connecting with nearly everyone, But it's all good. I do well in school, I explore more of the world with Sam than most people dream of and my life is just pretty freaking awesome.

So the story starts a couple of days after Halloween, which is my birthday ---

You want me to show you my pumpkins? Yeah, that's original. Haven't heard that before. And my pumpkins are D cups, before you ask. So can I get back to my story?

Okay, so Sam's due home from teaching at college, and I'm just cleaning up in his office and I notice the bottom drawer on his file cabinet is open. Now, normally these cabinet drawers are locked, because that's where Sam keeps important documents, checkbooks and the like. A couple years back, a two year old nephew of Sam's got into the paperwork and decided that insurance papers would make great snowstorm material. So after that, the drawers stayed locked.

I was about to close the drawer when I noticed a drawing tablet wedged in front of the files, So, being naturally curious, or nosy, I pulled out the tablet and started flipping through the pages, to see what was there.

There were some still lifes, like household plants and stuff, a couple of rough landscapers, and some funny caricatures of people I figure Sam knew, And then I found some life drawings, You know, nudes. Not like pornographic nudes. But artistic nudes.

Except the woman he was drawing was HOT! Okay, I know I said I was hot, but I'm actually just attractive enough that the BITCH felt threatened as I grew older, and it was one of the reasons she left me behind.

But the woman in the drawings was just worlds hotter than I could ever dream of, She was like if one of those superheroines came to life out of a comic book, and you did a life drawing of her, that's what she would look like,

I flipped through the pages, seeing this woman in different poses, and wondering where Sam had gone to draw her, And then something struck me as I went back through the different drawings,

This hot woman was me!

Okay, not me, but like, an idealized version of me, I mean, there were a couple of things that were obvious to me that it couldn't be me, For one thing, this woman's breasts were about a cup bigger than mine. And I trim between my legs, whereas this idealized version of me grew a little wild there,

But this woman wasn't me. She was way too sexy and hot to be me. Plus, there was the little detail that I had never posed nude for Sam. I mean, it's not like I ran around in skimpy outfit all the time, So this woman definitely couldn't be me.

I was so busy flipping through the drawings of this nude me not me that I never heard Sam come home, In fact, the first I heard him was when he walked through his office door, I didn't even have the presence of mind to try to hide the tablet, Instead, I held it open to a picture of 'super-me' stretching, her back arched, her arms crossed behind her head. And my mouth automatically said, without my prompting, "Hi Sam! How was your day?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

My name is Sam, and I've epically screwed up twice in my life.

The first truly epic screw up was when I married Irene. I thought we were in love. I cast aside concerns about her distressing string of boyfriends and ex-husbands, believing her stories of their deficiencies and depravities, thinking that I was truly the difference this time around. Nope. As a math teacher, I really should have been able to recognize the common denominator for what it was - Irene. We lasted a few years, which was a few years longer than it should have gone.

Now, that epic mistake had a silver lining, and her name is Rachel - Irene's daughter. The girl was just reaching puberty when I married her mother. It was awkward becoming something of a father figure for the first time with a kid at that age. Fortunately, she was bright and opened up to me pretty quickly. I got the sense that I was the most stable adult she'd had in her life in quite some time (okay, maybe Irene's stories about her exes had some truth to them). When Irene bailed, she bailed on the both of us, and I became a single parent to my step-daughter. I couldn't be luckier. I think we both needed each other in more ways than we realized at the time.

Which brings me to epic screw up number two, not long after I flipped to the wrong side of forty. It took months to set up the pieces, but only a fraction of a second for it to all come crashing down. That last bit began with a water bill. Let me explain.

I'd just come home from work, looking forward to the weekend having finally arrived. It was early November, but the weather was holding and I was hoping to take Rachel out hiking tomorrow morning. I dropped my keys and phone on the table by the front door and wondered where Rachel was. Her car was parked in the driveway, but it was quiet in the house.

I peered in the kitchen and the family room, her most frequent haunts outside her own room. Nothing. I almost called out to her, but I heard the sound of shuffling papers coming from down the hall. In my office, apparently. She didn't go in there too often, but sometimes she picked up and she'd taken to storing some of her college recruiting mail on one of the shelves in there. I walked down and poked my head in the door.

Ah, dear Rachel. She's a looker, even if she doesn't entirely believe it yet. That long red hair, thin figure blessed with lovely curves, piercing emerald eyes. One day she'd make a young man very happy. Yes, even though I was her step-father and saw her as a daughter, I was also a human male with a pulse.

Rachel looked up at me, startled, and then showed me a drawing from my sketch tablet and said, "Hi Sam! How was your day?"

A million things went through my mind in a fraction of a second. First, abject horror that she'd found the nude drawings I'd done of her. I'd never actually seen her nude before. Frankly, aside from some swimsuits, she rarely even dressed provocatively. No, I'd taken to drawing her from memory augmented by imagination. It had been a couple years since I'd participated in a life drawing class, yet the human form was far and away my favorite subject. Lacking a live model, I had tried drawing her from memory since I knew her better than most anyone else in my life right now. Over dinner I'd study the play of shadow on her high cheeks or the way she tilted her head just so, and then I'd try to replicate that on paper later at night. Unfortunately, some of those images, like the one she'd held up, were on the provocative side. Not from impure thoughts about her in particular, but probably from lack of sexual release in general.

Next was anger at what she'd been doing snooping in my files, which were usually kept locked. That anger was slapped aside when I realized I had left the drawer open that morning after fetching out the aforementioned water bill. I'd needed to get some info off it to contest something I was pretty sure wasn't right, and then promptly walked out of the room while on the phone with the utility. I'd never gone back in there to tidy up. If she'd come in for something else and seen the file open...well, that'd bring us to this mess. My fault.

Let's see - horror then anger. What next? Shame, humiliation, embarrassment. I was certain that our wonderful relationship would forever be marred by this, if it even continued at all. She might very well decide to leave for good rather than live here and go to college locally as she'd planned. I wouldn't blame her one bit.

I flushed. I swallowed hard. I wondered what she wanted to hear.

She'd asked me how my day was, and not in a mean sort of way. Yet she held out the evidence, as if it were a severed head recovered from my freezer. No, she wanted to see what I'd say first before throwing down.

I had to be honest. She was smart. She knew I liked drawing figures. Maybe she'd understand...someday.

"Okay," I said. My voice cracked. "I'd like to say I can explain. I can, but it'll probably sound lame."

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

How was your day.

Yep, that sounded like the perfect way to start a conversation about a bunch of nude drawings of yourself that you've found, drawn by the man whose been raising you for the last seven years.

Maybe I should have been a lot more freaked out than I was. I mean, yeah, I wasn't blasé about the whole thing. After all, I did just find a whole bunch of drawings of me nude that Sam had made from his imagination. Because, you know, the logical conclusion of finding these drawings was that Sam had been imagining me nude. Granted, it was a me who who stepped through some kind of super hottifier machine, but it was still me.

Maybe if Sam had came home thirty minutes later, and I had had a chance to hide the fact that I discovered the drawings, maybe I would have had time to think about it and started freaking out. But my mind was, I don't know, still sort of trying to accept the reality of the situation. It was sort of like, oh look, nude pictures of a fantasy me, Hi Sam, how's it going? Oh, you're going to explain? cool, thanks!

So you know when they talk about someone's face going through a gambit of emotions? I finally got a good example of that on Sam's face, as we just stared at each other and the nude drawings in my hand. At first I thought he was going to yell at me for snooping, which I hadn't done, not intentionally. But that's not Sam's style, Even with The Bitch, he never lost his temper, and she gave him plenty of reasons to be mad.

But Sam's anger disappeared almost as soon as it appeared, which is how he usually he is. But then other emotions appeared on his face, that freaked me out as much as finding the pictures themselves, Sam had this hangdog look on his face, like he was expecting me to jump into him with both feet. Worse, he looked like he felt he deserved it.

Okay, I know it sounds like my brain is in disconnect mode right now, and maybe it is. I mean, I have these nude drawings of me, and I know Sam must have drawn them, but it's Sam, and Sam is like...well, Sam. He's like the solid place in my life that let's me interact with the rest of the world.

It was like, I knew there was this Sam out there who had drawn these pictures of me from his imagination, and I was confused by that, and hadn't had a chance to process that information, but then the Sam I depended on was right in front of me, and I needed him to explain what this other Sam had done.

Does this all sound confusing? Then you got a glimpse of what I was feeling.

So when Sam offered to explain, I just nodded, and in a tone that made it sound like this sort of thing happened every day, asked, "Maybe we should sit down for this conversation?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

Sit down and talk. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. How on Earth could she possibly be so calm about this? She had a maturity and demeanor well beyond her age. Certainly didn't get that from her mother.

"Yeah, let's," I said. "Dining room?"

I turned and led the way, not waiting to see if she brought the drawings along or not. I wasn't sure which case would be better. Passing through the kitchen, I paused at the fridge to grab a drink. I reached for a beer, but thought better of it. I didn't want to convey the impression that using alcohol was a good way of dealing with problems. Instead, I grabbed a iced tea and offered Rachel one as well.

I settled into a seat at the dining room table and waited for her to join. After taking a long pull from my drink and a few deep breaths in a futile effort to calm my nerves, I dove in.

"You know I like drawing, right?" I sounded like an idiot. Of course she knew that. Why did I sound like I was talking to a child? "Well, life drawing, people, that's what I really do best. The human body is just...amazing. The structure, the form, the way emotion can come through that you just don't get with still life or scenery."

I was rambling, but she was listening.

"Anyway, people. I haven't had a chance to draw with a live model in a couple years. Just seem to be too busy to find a class or group, and I don't see myself as the type to hire a private model. That'd just be too weird.

"So I guess I started drawing you because I could picture you from memory better than anyone else. And when I needed to refine something in your features, all I had to do was look at you. It worked well enough, I suppose."

But why nude? It was the answer she really needed. I wiped my palms on my pants before pressing on.

"I'm no good at drawing people in clothes. I've tried and it ain't pretty. The texture, the folds, the colors and patterns. Ugh. It's too much. And, frankly, it distracts from the masterpiece that is the human form. When drawing you from memory, of course, I just had to kinda...imagine. And, yeah, I felt awkward doing it. Dirty, maybe. I wasn't perving or anything like that. Believe me, it put me in a weird place between wanting to capture your beauty without feeling all awkward about how I was doing it. And it was probably a mistake."

It was hard to read her. I needed to know what she was thinking, though. Was I digging myself a deeper hole?

"So, yeah, that's pretty much it. You have every right to hate me or call me a disgusting pig, or whatever. I deserve it."

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

So I followed Sam out into the dining room, his drawing tablet tucked under my arm. Sam stopped at the refrigerator, acted undecided for a moment, then grabbed one of those bottles of green tea and ginseng that we get from the Natural Foods store. You know, for energy and balance and stuff.

Sam handed me a bottle of tea as well, and then we sat at the dinner table. It was like we were having a normal discussion about my college choices, or maybe me getting his opinion on a paper for English Literature, or something normal like that.

And then Sam started spilling out about drawing, and what he liked about it, and especially drawing the human body. It wasn't anatomic or anything. It was about lines and grace and curves, and how drawing clothes just sort of frustrated him. So he stuck to what he knew.

When he talked about not having time to get out and go to a class, I actually felt a little guilty. I mean, yeah, I know, he had been drawing me nude, which I should have felt like my privacy had been violated, but it didn't feel that way, not with how he was explaining it. Maybe as I said earlier, if I had had time to think and brood about it, I would have gotten all pissed off, but I don't know, yeah, it was weird and unsettling, but it was also kind of harmless and flattering and stuff. I mean, it was just for him, and he did keep them locked away.

So I was thinking about how Sam spent all his time doing stuff with me, or with his job, and how he hadn't really had time just for himself in a long time, when he told me I had every right in the world to hate him and think of him as a disgusting pig.

And that snapped me into action. Okay, maybe I didn't know what I felt about Sam's drawings, but I did know I loved Sam, because he loved me unconditionally. I knew if I had screwed up, Sam might be angry at me, but he wouldn't stop loving me, so I couldn't do that to him.

I got out of my chair and gave Sam a short, tight hug. I sat back down, brushed some hair out of my eyes, and tried to give him a smile that said we were still Sam and Rachel, and we'd figure this out, just like we'd been figuring everything out since the Bitch dumped us both.

Except I don't call her the Bitch out loud. Because Sam has too soft a heart in my opinion, but I still love him for it anyway.

"Never a disgusting pig, That would be my mother," I said with a laugh, "And pig isn't the word I'd use."

"Anyway," I said, taking out the tablet and opening it up to a picture of the new and improved me that was drawn from the shoulders up, "I just don't know why you chose to draw me. I mean, you've got some really beautiful women on the faculty at the college, and you must have some great looking coeds in your classes. I mean, I know you see me all the time, but you had to sort of do a lot of upgrading to make me look as beautiful as this drawing looks," I said, gesturing at the drawing.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

I almost flinched when Rachel stood, fully expecting to be slapped or have a tea poured over my head. Instead, she hugged me and then sat back down. A hug? What did I do to deserve that? I was confused and yet eternally grateful that she'd not blown up on me.

Then she showed me another of the drawings and asked why I'd "upgraded" her. Didn't she realize that, if anything, I'd failed to completely capture her beauty?

"Oh Rachel," I said, "I didn't upgrade you. You're a natural beauty. I'm not perfectly accurate, granted. Drawing from memory is a lot tougher than having a live model to look at for reference."

I gambled and reached across the table, placing my hand over hers.

"And while there may be a few fairly attractive ladies around the school, none compare to you. I sure wouldn't ask any to model for me, either. Fast track to unemployment there."

I glanced back at the drawing and, in spite of the circumstances, I couldn't help but notice subtle features I'd missed. A freckle here, the crease at the corner of her eyes there. The perfectionist in me wanted to get it right. The chagrined patent, however, said I'd better take my one chance at getting out of this alive and never consider drawing her again.

"Look, I'm sorry. It was a bad idea. I should've just found pictures on the Internet or something else to work from. It'll never happen again, I promise."

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

So my heart melted when Sam put his hand over mine. And I damn near started crying when he said I was the most beautiful woman he knew. I mean, on one hand, yeah, he's Sam my Stepdad, and being his stepdaughter, he kind of has to say something like that. But on the other hand, I also knew he meant it, about me being the most beautiful girl he knew, which made my heartbeat pick up a little.

I was fairly sure I was glowing red from all the flattery and truth was, if Sam saw me that way, I didn't want him to stop.

"It's okay," I said. "I mean, you know, you don't have to stop. It's not like you're posting your drawings on line or such."

And then I surprised myself by flipping a page on the table to display one of the 'nudes' of me. "But there are a couple of things you're doing that are unrealistic. Like I'm not out to here," I continued, holding my hands about a cup size bigger over my breasts. "I'm just to here," I added, placing my hands on my pumpkins. "And, uh, I kinda trim and tidy things down there," I said, making a vague gesture toward my drawn crotch on the tablet. "You know, for swimsuits," I explained, blushing even brighter.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

Wait, what? Rachel was okay if I continued to draw her? I never thought I'd truly understand women, and this only served to prove that point. Before I could affirm that she was right, I would never share the drawings of her with anyone, she pressed on...

...and critiqued my work! When she called me out for exaggerating her already generous breasts by cupping them, I'm sure I turned fire truck red. She was right, of course, and I had no good defense for my tweaks. In fact, I felt awful for the implication that I thought she wasn't perfect as she was. No wonder women had self image problems when there were guys like me around.

Again, though, before I could apologize, she mentioned that she trims downstairs. What's more red than a fire truck? Whatever it is, that's the color I turned next. I put my fingers in my ears and started saying: "La, la, la. I'm not listening, I'm not listening!" It was something we did to each other, always in jest. Fortunately, she looked nearly as embarrassed as I felt.

Of course, the father figure in me suddenly jumped to other worries. She trimmed her pubes? Did that mean she was sexually active and I was completely oblivious? She'd hardly dated and I was pretty sure she'd never done much more than kiss a boy before. Was I wrong? She was eighteen and soon to be in college. I'd counted myself lucky not to have had to face these issues so far, but was it because I'd simply been too dense?

"Okay," I said, pulling my fingers from my ears. "First, I can't believe you're okay with me drawing more pictures of you. Either we slipped into the Twilight Zone or I'm on some hidden camera reality show. I'm not saying I will, but, well, I'm glad you're not completely freaked out.

"Second, you're right. I used some creative license that was really unnecessary. You're perfect and need no embellishment. And, as for the other..." I glanced downward, even with the table in between us, and blushed so much furiously I could have fried an egg on my forehead. "I'm happy to say I had no idea. But noted."

I settled back in my chair, consciously willing the tension in my body to relax. Maybe, just maybe, we'd be okay. Things would inevitably change, but maybe not disastrously.

"You know, I think talking about the birds and the bees would be a downright picnic compared with this."

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

Okay, so maybe I pushed the pubic hair thing because I wanted to give Sam a little bit back for creating this whole uncomfortable situation in the first place. And he was right. This whole thing was surreal, and how I was dealing with it was surreal. But the more I think about it, I more I think the tack I was taking was the only way to deal with it without screwing up mine and Sam's really great friendship/familial relationship.

And if the whole drawing me nude from imagination because I enjoy drawing apology from him and the it's okay I understand and you can keep drawing me acceptance from me was weird, I suddenly had an epiphany when Sam talked about the Birds and the Bees talk. Sam was worried about me having a sex life!

Okay, like the song goes, I'm not always the sharpest tool in the shed. But there was a look on Sam's face when I was talking about trimming, and his reference to the sex talk, that made me realize Sam was worried about a lot more stuff than just the drawings.

"If it'll make you feel better, Sam," I said, pretty sure that my face was as red as his now, "Silver Maple took my hymen a couple of years when we jumped a ditch, but nobody else has even got a tongue in my mouth. That stuff about keeping stuff trim down there, it's just for swimsuits."

Okay, I can't believe I just told Sam that, but that should relieve some of his worries. And I had another idea that would make sure he wasn't going to worry himself sick about those drawings.

"You know, if you like, I could pose in my underwear or a swimsuit or something, if that'll help you get your future drawings proportionate." As I said that, I found I could look anywhere but at Sam.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

If it would make me feel any better? The comment about breaking her hymen? No, not really, but I wasn't going to say anything to that.

And then she offers to pose in her underwear or a swimsuit so I can draw her. I was stunned. Literally, I had nothing with which to respond to that. And by the way she couldn't meet my eyes, she may have said something she hadn't meant. Was she looking for some sort of validation from me? Proof that I saw her as an adult rather than a child? I couldn't begin to guess, but I had the feeling that the wrong response could do immense damage between us.

What concerned me was that I actually considered her offer. It would be nice to have a real model again, rather than trying to draw from memory. She had a figure artists longed for.

"Rachel, that's very sweet of you to offer," I said, trying to find a way to politely decline in an esteem saving fashion. "Maybe I'll take you up on it sometime, but at the moment let's just say I'm a little frazzled with the whole drawing thing.

"Look, I realize I'm pretty much your only family at this point. Nothing means more to me than to be there for you, for anything. I think we've had a good relationship to this point, where you've been welcome to talk through anything. I guess there were a few things that we never really touched on, and, without having your mother in your life, maybe you haven't had that one confidant for the, uh, more sensitive subjects."

I needed to take a quick swallow of tea, so dried had my mouth gotten.

"What I'm trying to say is, you can talk to me about anything. I'm actually very proud of you for confronting me about this, calmly and maturely, rather than bury it and hide it. So, yeah, anything. Nothing off limits. We have something precious here and I want to hang on to it."

A fleeting image of Rachel, in sheer lingerie, draped across the couch, lifting her breasts invitingly while I captured the moment in charcoal on paper crossed my mind. Bad Sam, bad Sam.

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

Well, Sam seemed to take the confirmation of my virginity in stride, although I still remember the day I had come down hard on the saddle after that jump. That had hurt!

And then Sam gave me what I call the TV Dad reassuring lines. You know, proud of you in this life moment, we're family and always here for each other, yada yada yada. Ok, I'm really not making light of it. I know a lot of people that their parents, stepparents, foster parents, whoever, they would give them those lines, but really didn't mean them. But Sam meant them, and it made me feel warm and fuzzy all over. I couldn't help but give him another hug.

"Yeah, i guess maybe we should just chill for the evening," i said. "I was going to cook something, but if you'd be --- Oh, shit!" I interrupted myself, suddenly remembering something. Something that would have been a nice surprise but, given what had just happened, might cause more stress.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

Dinner sounded nice. Step back, process, relax, and maybe let normalcy return.

Rachel didn't swear in front of me too often.

"What? What's wrong?"

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

"It's something I just got you for the holidays next month," i sighed. "It's...well, I better go show it to you, because you know, with this..." I gestured at the drawing of a nude me on the table. "Well, I better show you now. I don't want you thinking that I'm like trying to send you a message or something in a few weeks."

I disappeared into my bedroom and pulled the box out from its hiding place.

It was a set of pastel watercolor pencils. I mean, this was a really, really nice set. Like from Europe. Professional quality even.

And next month, when we were unwrapping presents, I could see Sam's expression when he opened them. He'd be thinking I hadn't actually forgiven him, and was sending him a message or something.

So I went back into the dining room and placed them on the dining table in front of Sam. "This was supposed to be for next month, but you know, with everything..." I looked down at the drawings I had just discovered only an hour ago. "Well, I really don't want you to stop drawing now."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

I looked down at the watercolor pencils. They were nice. I'd eyed them up more than once. And, yeah, I could see why she'd want to give them to me now, to avoid confusing signals.

"Oh sweetie," I stood up and wrapped her in a big hug. "They're wonderful. Thank you so much."

Reluctantly, I broke off the hug. So much of the anxiety from the last little while seemed to melt away in that simple gesture, but I was still sensitive about overstepping boundaries.

"Yeah, no, it would be downright rude of me to stop drawing now. Maybe I will need a special subject to break them in."

Did that just slip out of my mouth? Did I need to add a third item to my list of epic screw-ups? She had offered, but...

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

Holy Shit! Did Sam just ask me what I though he ask me?

Okay, I guess Sam didn't ask me. I don't know if you could even technically call it a suggestion. Just wistful nonspecific speaking out loud.

But I'm pretty sure he was asking me to pose in my underwear for him.

Yeah, I know, I had said I would, but that was, like ten or fifteen or however many minutes ago. That was then, and this is now. You know, after we had just had that big talk about how it was a good gesture on my part, but we were family, and he loved me, and I should feel free to always talk about anything, and we had kind of moved past things.

So my brain had already adjusted to a position where it wasn't too worried about having to do anything my mouth had promised just half an hour ago.

Except here we were, and I had promised...

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said with more nonchalant-ness than I was feeling as I pulled of my sweatshirt, trying to act as casual as I could, even though it would be the first time anyone besides my doctor and the school nurse (both of who were women) would see me in just my bra.

And so there I was, holding my sweatshirt in my hands, as I stood in front of Sam wearing jeans and my lime green comfy bra, and trying not to think that Sam was the first man to see me this way.

My comfy bra? Well, it's this scoop neck thing with straps, that looks sort of like a halter top/bra combination, if that makes sense. No seams, and it feels great. And I went with lime green because I usually wear white, but they didn't have matching panties in that color, and I can be kind of OCD about color coordination, even though I hadn't planned on anyone besides me seeing them, and the only other matching colors were light nude, which no one with my skin tone should even think about wearing and...

I'm rambling, aren't I?

So I'm standing in front of Sam, my heart hammering a thousand beats a minute, which I'm sure he must be hearing, wearing jeans and nothing but a bra from the waist up. Okay, it's a scoop top, but it's not revealing that much cleavage, and it's not a pushup, but my pumpkins are definitely not small, and with my narrow waist and flat stomach, they might get a little bit more emphasis, which they don't need. And I'm pretty tone, if I do say so, which I guess sort of frames things better.

Yeah, I know, rambling again. I guess you can tell I'm kind of nervous.

And it's at this moment I realize that Sam probably has to do some prep work on those pencils and can't start drawing me just that second, but I'd feel like an idiot if I just put my shirt back on, and anyway, I feel like I'd lose my nerve if I did, and wouldn't be able to do this again. So I decide the only logical thing to do is offer to make Sam a sandwich.

"Hey, while you're getting everything ready, can I make you a sandwich?" I ask, again trying to go for the nonchalant tone, as I walk in the kitchen, my sweatshirt still in my hands.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

Yes, I had meant Rachel when suggesting I needed a special subject. Yes, I'm glad she took it that way. No, I hadn't expected that to meant right now. But here she was in a bra, ready for me to start drawing her. Our level of communication clarity was on shaky ground right now. Guess with all that had just happened, though, that wasn't surprising. The worst thing I could probably do would be to decline her offer.

I'm going to step back from dad mode for just a moment and admit I'm a guy. Somewhere deep in our genetics, the ones that probably drive survival instincts, we're wired to appreciate women's breasts. And bodies. But at this very moment, mostly those lime green clad wonders. Yes, I've seen Rachel in swimsuits before, so there wasn't any great surprise here, but the fact we were talking nudity and modeling and that she'd just exposed herself for the express intent of letting me better see her body... I'll be honest, I ogled. She looked amazing.

All those hours riding had been kind to her figure. Tight, lean, incredible. I suspected her legs were just as toned now as well, and I was looking forward to seeing the jeans disappear as well.

I did see one sticking point to the drawing. Did she expect a nude drawing or one of her in under garments? If the former, I still didn't have a good sense for how her breasts would hang or lay, depending on the pose we picked. It would still require imagination, though considerably less than I'd used before. Bridges to burn later.

"Uh, sure, sandwich sounds great," I managed to get out as she walked by. I tried not to stare. I failed.

Once she disappeared into the kitchen, I pulled myself together and gathered up the pencils. I left the drawings behind for now, though. It took all my focus to get my mind shifted to artist mode - pencils, sharpener, paper, easel.

It wasn't until I got back to my office that I realized I was partially aroused. That had never happened to me when drawing with a model, and we hadn't even started. This felt so dangerous, yet I couldn't help but be excited.

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

So as soon as I got out of Sam's sight, I leaned against the refrigerator and tried my best not to hyperventilate.

Okay, I know what you're saying, that girls roam around all the time in bikini tops and cutoff jeans and it's not big deal, except, well, it was a big deal. At least to me, it was.

So once I got myself to the point that I could stand up without worrying about my legs giving out from underneath me, I got to thinking, what was I going to do?

Well, make sandwiches, for starters.

Because that's what you do, when your stepdad has drawn you nude from his imagination, and you're wandering in your bra. You make sandwiches.

So I'm thinking about how I feel about all of this while I'm making Sam his favorite kind of sandwich: thin sliced chicken breast (there's a joke there, somewhere) and havarti cheese and spicy brown mustard and a single tomato slice. Concentrating on all the details helped me not think about the situation I was in, but the bad thing about making sandwiches is that at some point you finish making them and have to think about what you're trying to not think about.

Like how I told Sam I'd pose in my underwear for him. And he'd draw me as if I wasn't wearing underwear.

I wondered what it would be like not to wear anything while he drew me.

Ok, as soon as that thought popped in my head, I tried to pop it right back out. But once it got through the door, it wasn't going to be evicted.

And you know, it was like Sam kind of knew what I looked like anyway. Okay, maybe he drew my breasts a little too large. My nipples too. But the nipples he drew were only a smidge larger than what I had. And, okay, not to brag, but Sam drew a little sag and my pumpkins, for their size, don't have any. Genetics, exercise and religious wearing of undergarments, I suppose. But otherwise, he was pretty close. And you know, down under, well, I was a little sparser than he drew, and I do trim, just to make sure nothing sticks out when I put on a swimsuit. But otherwise he was pretty spot on.

So it wasn't like he'd be seeing anything new if I didn't wear anything.

But that was so not going to happen, I decided.

And then another thought popped in my head. What if I started off topless? Just tell Sam that maybe he could just draw my torso, until I got comfortable.

Not going to happen, I told myself. I promised to pose in my underwear, and that's all I promised.

But then that thought came back, and told me that, in a way, I'd actually be exposing a lot less if I went in there topless, still wearing my jeans, then if I went in there with bra and panties on.

I tried to argue back, but that thought had not only won, but it was reaching up and pulling my comfy bra up and off.

So I stood there, in the kitchen, topless for the first time in my life, outside my bedroom, bathroom or a doctor's office.

I carefully folded my bra and sweatshirt and placed them on the kitchen counter. And I'll admit, part of my mind was screaming for me to put them back on. Part of mind was numb, having decided that I was nuts and shutting down was the best choice.

And part of me was. Was. Well, I was a little excited. Because it was Sam, who loved me and I loved him. And maybe it's a little perverse. Okay, maybe more than a little. But part of me was glad Sam would be the first man to see me topless.

I stood there in the kitchen, absentmindedly rubbing the clothes markings out of my skin. Then I took a deep breath, picked up the plate sandwich and headed back into the dining room. When I saw Sam wasn't there, I knew he was waiting for me in his office.

So I marched right in there, my nipples hard from more than exposure to the air and pointing straight forward. I put the plate with his sandwich on his desk and did my level best to keep my arms by my side. And using every bit of willpower I had to keep my voice from quaking, I said, "I was thinking maybe we could start off with just a drawing of my torso, until we get more used to this. So how am I going to pose for this?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

I'd somehow managed to gather my wits while going through the motions of rounding up my art gear. This would be okay. Rachel was an adult. I was an adult. This was just art. I knew what it had been like to be younger, that drive to try new things, to push limits, to seek validation, to do adult things. Maybe she'd just hit a phase. She had always been very conservative for a teenager; maybe she'd just been repressing things and the dam had finally burst. I wasn't sure I was prepared for that, if it was the case.

I was crouching behind my desk, pulling out the collapsible easel from its storage spot under a cabinet, when I heard Rachel come in and suggest maybe starting with just a torso sketch. Great, an entire session staring at her chest, jealous of a bra.

I stood and turned, and promptly dropped the easel. If there was one thing sexier than a beautiful, naked woman, it was a beautiful topless woman in jeans. I'd always had a thing for that.

Her breasts were, in a word, magnificent. Full, yet seemingly defiant of gravity. Her large aureoles (at least I'd gotten that much pretty accurate) drawing attention in toward fully engorged nipples that begged to be pinched, kissed, licked, and sucked.

Stop it, Sam!

Why had Rachel taken her bra off? Was she trying to punish me for the drawings? This seemed like something more than rebellion, yet her posture was dancing that fine line between confidence and uncertainty. I think she really wanted to do this and it had taken an incredible leap of courage and faith in me to do it.

Those green eyes looked at me, searching, hints of the young woman I'd helped raise overlaid with the mature woman she'd grown into. I had to answer in kind.

"Wow," I said. "Guess we're going for the full life model experience then, huh?"

I figured it was best to treat her professionally, just as I or any other artist would in class with a model. Keep it light, on topic, and not make a big deal of it.

"I'm lucky to have such a beautiful subject to work with." I couldn't help but glance back down at her chest. She'd have been a hit in any of my classes, such lines and curves and natural grace.

"Right. So, torso. Pose. Uh, how about you come around over here?"

I fumbled myself and my gear out of the way as she walked around the desk and stood beside my chair. I pushed it a few feet back from the desk and then angled it slightly toward the large window that overlooked the pool, the expansive yard and horse shed, and the woods that blocked our property from the prying eyes of the neighbors. There was still some daylight left and I wanted to use it to good advantage.

"Now, you sit here," I gestured, letting her settle in. She was so close I could smell a hint of something fruity or floral, probably from her conditioner. It was distracting.

"Good. Now, I want you to lean back, kinda slouching. Perfect. And your back arm, angle behind your head. Yes, like that. And your other hand, maybe shift it just a little so it's on your tummy. Yup."

I stepped back around to the other side of the desk to check the lighting and pose from where I'd set up the easel. God, how amazing she looked. I had her turn the chair just slightly, and then nearly everything was perfect. Except for one little thing.

I stepped back around the desk and leaned toward her. "If I was doing a full body sketch, I'd leave this alone," I said, reaching toward a few stray coppery locks that had fallen over her shoulders and over her breast. "But since we're doing just a torso study, they're in the way."

I gently grasped the lock of hair from the end and lifted it up. As I moved it, the back of my fingers brushed inadvertently across the tip of her nipple. I felt her involuntarily flinch. Shit! Did I apologize or just ignore it, like a professional would? In paralysis, I ended up going with the latter, though my blush probably said plenty.

"There, perfect."

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

Oh fuck!

Actually, that's not what I thought, but I don't know if what went through my mind can be translated into English.

I thought my nipples were hard when I went into Sam's Office. I think they could have cut glass when I felt Sam's eyes zero in on them.

I think Sam was trying to keep things light and stuff, and kept on talking about what a great model I was. All I know was I felt like I couldn't get enough air and my legs would collapse on me at any moment. I was really surprised that Sam didn't have to wipe drool from my mouth every ten seconds as he led me around and got me posed just right.

And then the back of his fingers brushed against my left nipple.

Oh fuck! Except in capital letters. With lightning bolts on either side. Because it felt like a bolt of pure pleasure ran through me just with that one little touch. And if that part of me between my legs was awake before, she was paying real close attention now!

I'm pretty sure I was pretty flushed before, I'm pretty sure my whole body was glowing now. Sam didn't seem to notice, but then again, Sam could have been tap dancing and singing in the rain, and I would have been oblivious.

Instead, all I could get out was, "So this is good?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

"Good, yeah," I said, fumbling with getting my paper on the easel and my pencils laid out on the desk. "You comfortable enough to hold for a little? If not, just let me know and we can take a stretch break or try something different."

I had to take several deep breaths to compose myself. It was impossible to fight back the feelings she triggered in me. All I could do was keep them in check. This was Rachel, and Rachel was Rachel. That was the end of the story.

When I had everything in place, I looked back up at her with my artist's eyes. Okay, that's kind of a bullshit thing I learned in one of my classes, but it seemed to usually work. It's more of a state of mind, where everything but the subject is blocked out and you take in the form, the light, the color, the texture, and, in the case of a model, the mood.

With Rachel, that meant exquisite curves, shadow under her chin and breasts, the stippling spray of freckles across the red hue of her chest. Red? I realized her pale skin had gone flush, and once I noticed that I could see she was breathing heavily. Okay, this was getting to her as much as me. Was she afraid or aroused? Or both? Fuck, what was I doing?

I spite of my best efforts to stay in control, I felt my cock begin to swell. Thankfully, I was wearing jeans, so it might not be too apparent. But if she looked...

I selected a couple pencils with which to start capturing the broad outline of her figure and set to work. It was, honestly, a thousand times better capturing her in person than from memory. What arrogance I'd had to think I could ever have done her justice on my own.

Normally I worked in silence with a model, but that was in a class setting. I knew it was different in one on one situations sometimes, where that silence could be uncomfortable. There was plenty of that going around at the moment. So I decided to do something about it.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I modeled for a life drawing class?"

What the fuck? Did I really just lead with that???

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

"Yeah?" I replied wittily, although in my defense, if Sam had said something about the price of rice in China leading to the downfall of the Roman Empire, that's all I would have been able to say in response. The idea of a dozen eyes on me, rather than just Sam's, made my stomach do a flipflop.

"Was the biological there?" I asked, momentarily thankful that it was just Sam's eyes on me, instead of a dozen strangers, before my body reminded me Sam's eyes, and momentarily his fingers, were on parts of me I hadn't let any man see or touch before.

Oh, and 'biological' is how I refer to the Bitch in conversation with Sam. He deserves the politeness, otherwise it would be the Bitch.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

"No," I said with a chuckle. "It was shortly before we met. I'm not sure I could have posed in front of her."

Actually, I had, and her for me, but only in private, and we'd seldom managed to finish any drawings.

"It was near the end of my first life drawing class. The teacher came up to me after class one day and asked if I could fill in for another class she had after a model canceled. It wasn't something that I'd have considered in a million years before taking that class. Hell, I was a nervous wreck as a student at my first session, afraid I'd offend the model by staring too much or not drawing them well. After a couple sessions, though, I realized neither the models nor the artists cared a bit about the nudity. I admired that.

"So, before I could chicken out, I said I would."

I changed pencils and studied the shadows around Rachel's collarbone. I realized I was glad I started telling this story. It calmed me down, reminding me of what I'd gone through, and perhaps was giving her some measure of comfort.

"I'll admit, I was terrified, in spite of my experiences as a student. And as a guy, well, you know, there's always that fear something will, uh, say hi at a bad time."

Ok, cue furious blushing again. And I became painfully aware that my erection hadn't yet subsided.

"But it was fine. After a few minutes, I barely thought about it. By the end, I almost didn't want to get dressed. Kinda comfy, you know. The students were all grateful as was the teacher. Did it a couple more times after that. Course, I was a bit more trim back in those days."

I started coloring in the drawing, now eager to see the finished product. Water color pencils weren't my usual medium, so it was something of an experiment and I really didn't want to disappoint Rachel.

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

So I was actually sort of relaxing with Sam's monologue until he started talking about part of him saying "hi" when out in the open, and I couldn't help but think about my pumpkins saying "hi" when I took of my bra. And then I was back to sweaty palms again.

"Well, I think you still look pretty good, Sam," i told him when he started going into the whole 'back in the day' routine.

I stayed quiet for a few more minutes, before asking, "So how's it going with the color pencils?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

Sam:

I hesitated when Rachel said I still looked pretty good. Yeah, I appreciated the compliment and recognition for time spent hiking, biking, kayaking, and maintaining the ten acres. But it was also the first acknowledgement from her that she saw me as a man and not just a father figure. And, so, we're right back to that dangerous ground.

After that, we stayed silent for a couple minutes. I was almost afraid to broach any other subject since there was no telling what might come out of my mouth. Finally, Rachel broke the silence by asking how it was coming.

"Pretty good, I think," I said. I was just adding a hint of pink to her nipples in the drawing. Her asking at that very moment made me feel like she was watching over my back. "Almost done, in fact. Well, aside from using the water and brush to blend it all together. Since it's water color, it'll look much softer than some of my charcoal or ink drawings like you saw in my collection."

And with a few more strokes and comparison against my lovely model, I decreed phase one complete.

"Think that's it for here," I said. "Want to take a look at the work in progress?"

 

[RedDeeDee]

Rachel:

Witness if you will, an eighteen year old girl, sitting topless in her stepfather's office, while he draws her. And she's letting him do this because he drew her as he imagined her nude.

Yep, that's me in the Twilight Zone.

So, I'm sitting there, trying not to think about the fact that my pumpkins are out there for the world to see. Well, for Sam to see. Anyway, I'm trying to remain calm while Sam concentrates on his drawing, and then he offers me the opportunity to see what he's done so far.

"Sure," I answer, trying to sound...

You know, I haven't got a clue what I'm trying to sound like.