3. Tess
Chapter 3
Tess
W ell, I’m naked now.
That’s something.
It’s hard to imagine that I was elbow deep in dirty dishwater a week ago. Now I’m sitting on a stool with my whole ass hanging out, and the only thing protecting my modesty is a long drape of salmon-colored chiffon over my crack and breasts.
I do feel like I’m straight out of a Rubens masterpiece.
Even a king-sized bedsheet couldn’t hide the size of my boobs, though. The nipples are incognito. Almost everything else is available for everyone to draw.
I feel so safe in this situation, though.
Lindsay helped me find my first couple of poses. “Let’s just move this arm here, this leg there…” she said, while gently nudging me this way and that. Her body shielded everyone from seeing parts that I guess fall under the ‘intimate’ umbrella, but it’s crazy how new ‘Tess’ doesn’t seem to care.
Now I’m encircled by artists and their easels, and everyone is just so focused on the art, I don’t feel judged at all. The bite of the hard wooden stool I’m perched upon is the only downside to this whole deal. I’ve found my fans, I guess. And, outside of opening an OnlyFans account where my shape would only be a thinly veiled side show, I never thought I’d have admirers, so to speak.
I am Rubenesque.
It might be the nicest word anyone has ever used to describe me, and I didn’t really know what it meant until I was thumbing through one of the art books in my cabin all about the artist Peter Paul Rubens.
When I catch little glimpses of the sketches in the class, I even start thinking I’m beautiful.
The word “thinking” might be a little generous. The truth is that I’m not thinking about art class much at all. After the initial thrilling minutes of semi-terror at being naked in a group of clothed artists, my mind drifted away from the situation to something a lot more immediate.
Like coming hard on Rutger’s thigh.
He had me by the ass and by the hair and used me like I was just his little fuck-doll. I was more than fine with it.
Like, I licked his cum off my hand. I’ve never done anything like that. It was a little sweet, a little salty, and more than a little addicting.
I wish I could try it again. This new Tess deal is fascinating. It’s like I opened up a new jar of ‘me’ out here in the wild, and I’m coming into my own for the first time.
A couple of days have passed since my Rutger interaction behind my cabin. I haven’t seen him since, although it feels like he’s always lurking nearby, like that first time I glimpsed him at the sign.
The amount I’ve been thinking about him is unreasonable, given the amount of time we’ve actually spent together. Never once have I met a man and been so confident that I need to have him inside me that I literally climbed him like a tree.
My own personal Oak Tree, I call Rutger.
He was clumsy rutting against me, like he didn’t know exactly where to touch. He still managed to build up enough friction to make me come. And as soon as I got home that night, I did it again with my fingers another three times until it started to hurt, furiously rubbing myself to the thought of his hand on my ass. That length of tree trunk behind his straining denim.
His mile high chest.
Jaw like granite.
Eyes like Jesus.
Jesus?
I shake my head. I think I’m losing it.
Even so, I’m still not sated.
It’s good that I can’t get an erection, because if I could everyone would know. At least the throbbing and waterworks going on in my lower level aren’t as obvious as a bat sized boner under the thin sheet. My nipples have been hard as little pebbles, but that can be written off on the chill in the big room.
I thought I knew what it was like to be attracted to someone.
Don wasn’t like legit attractive. He was meh , but his personality made him eww . I liked his sense of style at first. He wore cool clothes. His hair was closely trimmed. Don was more groomed than any woman I’ve ever met. He looked rich. That was the attraction, I’m ashamed to say.
Rutger is not groomed. In fact, I’d be surprised if he owns a suit or a tie. His muscles aren’t the kind you get from spending time in the gym, they’re the kind you get from spending time outdoors, chopping down trees and rolling boulders up steep hills.
Or, I don’t know, cracking open rocks with that hammer Thor carries around.
And I’m so much more than attracted to him.
I can’t believe I just rubbed against him like that. Just thinking about it makes my cheeks burn in a way I hope nobody notices.
There’s no way this horny girl is the same Tess who turned down every boy before she dropped out of school, afraid of their clumsy hands and needy eyes. I’m such a virgin that I jumped out of Don Patron’s window rather than let him take that from me. I was running from him to preserve that—giving away something that he cared about a lot more than I did.
Rutger is changing me, and I only touched him once. I’d serve up my cherry to him like a darn Pop Tart right now if he showed up.
When the class ends and Lindsay lets me up from the stool to stretch out my muscles, I discreetly check to make sure I haven’t made a mess with my arousal.
The stool is fine. The drape has a wet patch though.
The very thought of Rutger has had my body on the edge of coming again, leaving my pussy soaking like it’s making an earnest attempt to prepare for his huge cock.
As soon as I’m wearing a bathrobe, I bundle up the drape and tell Lindsay I’ll wash it myself. “I need to do laundry anyway,” I say with a big manic grin.
“You’re so thoughtful,” she says fondly. “How’s Frida doing?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
I don’t have any kitten-specific food for her. She’s the only cat-in-residence among all the artists, so they don’t have kibble. I give her as much as she wants of every meal I get here, but she’s not much into broccoli, and they are pretty light on the meat portions. Seems artists lean into plant-based eating more than I expected.
But she’s so little that even what I give her seems to fill her up. At least enough that she stops before her bowl is empty.
But she seems listless today, and I can’t help but think it’s because the food isn’t right for her.
Lindsay makes a concerned sound. “Is she acting funny?”
“More like she’s tired. Kittens should play all the time, shouldn’t they? She’s usually like a ping pong ball with claws. But, today she’s more like a cotton ball.”
Frida’s my first. It’s been a couple of weeks for firsts.
“Babies sleep a lot too. It’s normal to worry as a mom.” Lindsay offers me a little hug then hurries away when her phone starts to ring in her pocket.
A group of students from the class want to show their drawings to me. I’m impressed by how great they are at drawing the fabric and my form. Seeing myself through others’ eyes is so weird.
“This is really cool,” I say, the scent of patchouli oil coming in strong from one of the artists standing close. I smile shyly at them as they chatter and compare their versions of me to one another. The students are all a little older than me. Many of them are in the graduate program at the university and from the way they talk, I can tell they are smart. It feels like if I say too much, my tenth-grade education will show through, and they won’t look at me the same way.
But right now, they’re nice. This is nice. My life feels nice.
“I heard you’ve been looking for kitten food,” says one of the artists walking back from the hallway that leads to Lindsay’s office. His name is Phil. He’s a short guy, maybe like twenty-five, with expressive round features and a prematurely receding hairline.
My heart skips. “Do you have some?”
“No, but I’m going to drive into town this afternoon,” he says. “You could catch a ride with me to the store.”
I dare to feel relieved for a second. Then I remember that my entire life savings is one hundred five dollars, and I’m worried again. I chew on my bottom lip while I think about it.
“Yeah,” I say slowly.
How much does good cat food cost? Will I have enough cash to feed Frida for the rest of the summer on my ‘room and board’ salary?
Another student pipes up. “If you’re broke, we need an actual nude model. We had to cancel one of our private sessions because we couldn’t find anyone willing to bare it all.”
I meet his eyes. “And getting ‘actually nude’ pays?”
“You get, like, ten dollars an hour,” Phil says with an odd grin. “And, sometimes, tips. With about a hundred of us here, even if you got twenty people in a session, I’m sure you’d get twenty extra bucks.”
Ten dollars an hour. Plus…tips.
It wouldn’t take long to double my life savings.
If I get totally naked, I can feed my kitten. And maybe figure out what to do when this little summer camp adventure closes up for the winter.
“I’ll think about it,” I half-mumble, pressing my knuckles against my lips.
Phil agrees to wait for me while I go back to my cabin to get changed. I cross the distance between class and cabin at a slow jog with my eyes wide open, hoping to spot Rutger.
No such luck.
I stuff the soiled drape and my robe into the laundry bag. Then I put on the old Tess’s body hiding uniform: ratty jeans, huge t-shirt. Finally, I try to tame my hair with a purple scrunchie.
There are no mirrors here, which seems odd but a little comforting at the same time. I take a long breath, staring at Frida sleeping next to my pillow, then looking down at today’s t-shirt which has two dragons on the front with their necks intertwined to form a heart.
There’s a single sunbeam streaming through the window onto Frida. I rub my finger on top of her head. “How you feeling, sweetie?”
She yawns, stretches, and rolls over so I can rub her soft little belly. Then she goes back to sleep with a half-hearted purr.
“I’ll be back with food soon.” I click my teeth together determinedly and finish, “Real kitten food.”
I would do anything for her.
Unlike some people, I don’t abandon the little things that need help.
I start a load of laundry in the shared washing machine before meeting Phil at his Prius, parked at the top of the road. He has a Mystery Spot bumper sticker, beaded seat covers, and an air freshener shaped like a lightsaber. His car smells sort of sticky-sweet.
“How do you like it up here at the retreat?” he asks as we drive down the mountain, with him easing his car at about three miles an hour around every little bump and piece of gravel on the road.
“It’s nice.” I lean toward my open window, my eyes scanning the tree line, hopeful. “I’m not really outdoorsy. But it’s nice.”
“It’s like an awesome summer camp for grownups.” Phil sits up straighter, straining to see out the windshield like something is going to pop out of the dirt and dent his bumper. “I really hope we can do this again next summer. I’d spend the rest of my life on this mountain, but from what I’m hearing, this is probably the last summer we’ll be here.”
Now he’s got my attention. “Is the retreat going away?”
“Lindsay told me that she can’t get the landowner to sign the lease. Without a lease, the university is pulling the plug on the retreat until they can find something else. I guess it was a ten year lease, good terms too. Affordable. The university is cheap. Finding someplace else like this would normally cost a fortune.”
Rutger. Lease. Land.
My heart speeds up at even the suggestion of him. I immediately remember the hard press of his cock between my thighs and a little moan catches in my throat, drawing Phil’s glance.
“I wonder why Rutger won’t sign,” I blurt out, trying to cover my involuntary sex sounds.
Phil opens his mouth like he’s going to give me all the tea, but when he turns his eyes back forward, all that comes out is a strangled shout. “ Whoa! Holy shit!”
My gaze snaps forward.
A tree like a skyscraper is arcing downward in a streak of green and brown against the blue sky.
Phil shouts and stomps the brake. “Crap!”
The seatbelt snaps tight across my chest. My hands slap over my ears as stupid disobedient hair comes straight out of its bun to fly in my face.
The little silent-running car comes to an abrupt halt with a loud crash, and the earth shakes under the wheels.
The tree smashes right in front of us, crashing down on the hood of the Prius.
Something didn’t jump up from the road to dent the bumper after all. It fell from the sky. Phil was looking in the wrong direction.
A loud crunch and another jolt as the trunk rolls off the hood, onto the bumper, then crashes into the ground, emphasize the crazy reality of what just happened.
We’re both gape-mouthed inside the car for a long second in the shocking silence that follows, staring at the massive tree that nearly killed us.
Phil scrambles to unbuckle and stumble out of the car. “ Nooo ,” he wails in a high-pitched, childlike whine, clutching at his head. “My car! My baby! ”
I clamber out with my heart galloping like I’ve just won the Triple Crown. We weren’t going that fast when we stopped, but there’s an ache across my chest from the seatbelt, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Adrenaline surges, and I have to hold onto the door to stay standing.
The damage to his car is ugly. The tree took off his whole bumper.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
He flings himself over the dented hood of his car and keeps wailing. “My baaaby!”
The back of my neck prickles. I can feel that someone is watching me. As if I’m being pulled around by an invisible hand, I turn to look up the hill.
He’s there.
Rutger.
Somehow, in the days since we were last together, I’ve forgotten how enormous he is—and I remembered him being pretty big. He definitely could take on a Sasquatch.
And probably win.
His shaggy head gets lost in the branches. His wide shoulders can’t be hidden by a tree trunk. His fists—God, those hands—are clenched at his sides, flexing like they want to wrap around something.
Or someone.
Is he the tree feller? Because I was in the car with another man?
Don’t be ridiculous. Over you?
My brain refuses to accept it, but if it wasn’t him then why that tree, and why now?
The romance of it takes my breath for a second. God, am I that girl who gets all tingly and special feeling by making a man murderous with jealousy?
Until now, I wouldn’t know, but yeah, I nod to myself, I’m totally that girl.
The reasons for being in the car with Phil are totally innocent, but I get the feeling that doesn’t matter to my monster-mountain-man. Disapproval radiates from Rutger like a dangerous haze.
Possessiveness hardens his jaw.
I’m his. And he’s come to claim me.
“Are you okay?” Rutger barrels down the hill at an impossibly fast run for a man his size, ignoring Phil and keeping his eyes keened on me.
Phil jumps sideways as Rutger passes, but he quickly turns back to his baby. “M-my car,” he stutters. “It’s ruined! I was trying to be so careful. And now look at this.”
“Go back to camp. There’s a tow truck number in the office,” Rutger tells him. “Call them.” He looks me up and down, claiming me with a hard stare. “I’ll take Tess into town.”