34
Courtland
My gaze locks onto Buzz at the far end of the room. I should win an Oscar for the way I'm managing to keep the elation off my face, because leaning over right next to him, looking completely blindsided, is my prime target for the evening. Things couldn't have gotten off to a more sterling start.
Maybe if Zane had been nicer to me a few days ago when we ran into each other in the street, I wouldn't have had to resort to tracking down the model for the evening, paying him triple what he would have earned for the class, and then contacting the organizer to offer her my…services.
Now the fucker has to stare at my naked body for two hours.
I hit my mark at the front of the room and slide my flip-flops off. I only made two requests of the organizer. One, the room temperature had to be set to seventy-five. If I'm going to be naked and still for two hours, I want to be comfortable.
And two, my fee for the evening would be donated to the Clovelly Animal Shelter. I'm well aware that what I'm doing isn't the most mature thing in the world, so I wanted to even out the karmic scales a little. Buzz and I did a junior volunteer program there the summer we turned fourteen, so it's a place that's close to my heart.
I take off my robe, and even though there are at least twenty sets of eyeballs on me, there's only one set I care about. He may have watched me jerk off through my briefs a couple of nights ago, but Buzz has never seen me fully naked. Shirtless or in swim shorts is the most flesh we've ever revealed in front of one another.
Until tonight.
I've manscaped. I've moisturized. I am prepared for this moment.
I slowly turn my head until my eyes find his.
Everything that isn't him fades into a blur as I smile. He returns my smile with a soft, albeit slightly confused, one of his own. He's not angry. That's a good sign. I didn't want any collateral damage in this operation, and initial signs point to that being the case.
The facilitator informs the class we'll begin with a series of quick gesture poses, lasting anywhere from one to three minutes, to warm the class up. She directs me to stand, then sit on a stool, then recline against the wall, bend my leg, face right, then left, now both hands on my hips.
After that, we move into the main pose for the evening. This time, she lets me choose something that feels comfortable and natural, providing only minimal guidance. I settle into a natural standing pose, one hand on my hip, my head gently turned to the right where I can keep an eye on the easel in the farthest corner of the room.
Everyone gets to work.
I can already pick out who the experienced artists are and who the first-timers are. The experienced ones don't look bothered. They stare intently at me then focus on their canvas. The first-timers' eyes dart around between me and their canvases, never settling on one thing for too long.
There's only one exception in the entire classroom.
He's staring at me intently, but he doesn't want to study me. He probably wants to murder me. It's hard to resist the temptation to smirk at him, but I'm committed to being the best life model in history and not moving an inch.
While Buzz's head snaps back and forth between me and his canvas, Zane is staring at me dead-eyed.
In disbelief at my audacity?
In anger that I've managed to get one up on him?
In jealousy that even soft, my cock hangs impressively long?
Impossible to know for certain, but I'd happily take any one of those possibilities.
The class ends with a polite round of applause.
I slip on my robe and flip-flops and head back to the men's room where I stashed my clothes. When I come out into the hallway, the facilitator thanks me for my time and extends an open offer should I ever want to model again.
"I'll think about it,"
I tell her. I actually enjoyed myself, but I don't think it's an experience I need to repeat again.
"Has everyone left?"
"Almost. A few people are still packing up."
I peek in through the open door and spot Buzz.
"I've got a friend in there."
"Well, thanks again," she says.
"You were great. Bye, Courtland."
"See ya."
I step past her and into the room, heading straight toward Buzz, eager to see his drawing.
"Fancy running into you here,"
I say with a smile when I reach him and what's-his-face.
"Courtland Dean Matthews,"
Buzz replies, twirling around to face me, and man, he looks good tonight in a light-blue knit jumper, which hugs his muscles in all the right places. It was distracting from the opposite side of the room, but up close, it's downright delectable.
"What on earth has gotten into you?"
"What?"
I say innocently.
"Annebelle told me the model pulled out at the last minute?—"
"Didn't realize you two knew each other,"
Zane snaps.
I glance his way and smile sweetly.
"I grew up here. I know most everyone in town."
He rolls his eyes. Buzz can't see it, but I can. And I'm not even done pissing him off yet.
"Show me your drawings,"
I say, stepping next to Buzz, placing my hand on his shoulder. I let out a low whistle.
"Whoa, I'm impressed. You've captured me perfectly. My face. My chest. My legs… All three of them,"
I say with a chuckle, tapping the canvas near my dick.
"Spot on, buddy."
He smiles bashfully.
"What can I say? I had good material to work with."
If we were alone, I'd pull him into me and kiss him. Maybe I shouldn't let Zane and a few other people still milling around stop me?
But no. That would cheapen the moment. I want this kiss to be special and have absolutely nothing to do with Zane.
I tear myself away from Buzz and step over to the dark side.
"And what about you, Zane? What have you drawn?"
He attempts to pull the canvas away from me, but I snatch it out of his hands and hold it out in front of me.
Buzz walks up behind me.
"Holy shit,"
he says, his warm breath fanning across the back of my neck and ear.
Holy shit is right.
In all honesty, I was being overly generous complimenting Buzz. He did an okay job, but it's clear the guy isn't an artist.
But Zane?
His drawing is razor-sharp in its detail. He's captured everything perfectly from the slope of my shoulders to the creases in my knuckles.
Well, almost everything.
I ghost my finger over my cock. My way-too-small cock.
"You were meant to draw me, not replicate one of your own dick pics."
"I wanted to capture the truth."
"That's not an accurate representation."
"Bullshit."
"I don't understand."
He glares at me.
"You were semi-hard. You must've taken a pill or something before class."
"No such pill exists."
I dismiss his ludicrous notion.
"And even if it did, I'd have no need to take it. What you saw was all natural. I guess I'm just a show-er…"
He opens his mouth, and he's so freaking predictable I can tell what he's going to say, so I beat him to it.
"And I'm also a grower."
He sneers, shaking his head in defeat.
"Whatever."
I'm done dealing with him and about ready to wrap up my victory lap.
"You ready to go?"
I ask Buzz.
"I thought you were coming back to mine for a drink,"
Zane says.
Buzz is caught in the middle. Literally. His head turns from side to side as he weighs up his options.
"It's okay."
I slide my hand over his upper back and be the better man.
"I didn't mean to intrude. If you guys had plans…"
"No. We didn't," he says.
Zane glares at Buzz, and what an ass. It's only making Buzz squirm even more. Buzz had told me the plan was they would grab burgers at the diner then head to the class. He never mentioned anything about wanting to hang out afterward, even though it's clear that's what Zane had in mind.
"Would you mind if I went back with Court?"
Buzz asks Zane.
"I'm a little tired and not really up for a drink."
"Yeah. That's fine."
Zane wrenches his canvas out of my grip, not meeting my gaze.
"It's fine,"
he repeats, collecting his stuff.
"I might make a move. See ya, Buzz."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Courtland."
I tip my head. "Zane."
And with that, the asshole storms off.