Olive Cox, A New Study for the Class

Olive took a deep breath and opened her robe, slipping it off over her shoulders. She scanned the room, briefly glancing at the artists, all sitting behind their easels as they watched her pass the robe to the tutor and step onto the podium.

There were 12 artists arranged in an arc around the room, seven men and five women. Olive felt their eyes studying every inch of her naked body as she assumed the pose which she and the tutor had discussed before the class: she reclined on a simple wooden chair, legs together, one bent at the knee, the other extended with her foot on the floor. She twisted her torso and turned her head to the side so that she was looking at the floor over her shoulder. Her arm hung down over the back of the chair, her relaxed fingers almost touching the podium, her other arm raised with her hand on the back of her head.

‘Very well, class,’ announced Miss Howells, the teacher, ‘I’d like to thank Olive for coming in at such short notice. This is her first nude figure modelling assignment, so I know we are all grateful that she was able to replace Gladys, and of course we hope Gladys is feeling better soon.’

Olive, herself a fine art student, had actually jumped at the chance to earn some decent money for nothing more taxing than sitting in a chair for a few hours. Of course she was nervous about stripping off in front of complete strangers, but this was for art, nothing tawdry. This pose was also relatively easy to hold, the teacher seemed friendly, and staring at the floor like this could allow her an opportunity to think, or to meditate, or just pass the time absently.

She thought about the artists as they began to draw. She was aware that Gladys was an older lady with a fascinatingly wrinkled, quite scrawny body. Olive, being in her twenties and more toned, would hopefully be an interesting change for the class. She hoped that this pose would display her toned legs, curved hips and D cup breasts in a manner which the artists would enjoy studying.

She had to admit to herself as she sat still, the idea of all these strangers inspecting and drawing every inch of her bare skin was quite a turn on. She wondered if any of them might be considering her body in a more lascivious way than they should; perhaps they might be trying to ignore the warm feelings that were building in their loins, trying to focus instead on drawing her breasts, or picking out every detail of the place where her thighs intersected with her pelvis. She wondered about that one guy, three from the left, and where his piercing blue eyes were looking right now. Whether he might be shuffling in his seat as he tried to ignore his growing erection.

Yes, Olive thought to herself, she might just get used to this modelling lark.