Sue Storm Finds She Enjoys It

"Oh, there you are," the teacher, a woman with skin like nearly-transparent parchment, thick glasses, and a wealth of frizzy grey hair, said. "There's a shower here, and a bidet, if you need it. Undress here and put on the robe and mask. You'll disrobe on cue on the dias, okay?"

"Yes," Sue Storm said, her heart pounding. She couldn't believe she was about to do this.

The art classroom was shaped like a low ampitheater, with rows of seating with easels around a central dias. Fancier than Sue would have expected, though the building itself was older, with little design flourishes that made Sue think of the 60s or 70s.

She picked up the mask. It was made of plastic, molded into a smooth visage without features, two holes for the eyes, an elastic strap to go around the head. In the robe, Sue took a few moments to get it in place, hiding most fo the elastic with her hair.

Then, a polite knock. Sue opened the door.

Most of the class was in their early twenties, with a sprinkling of older students. More women than men, more white than Black or Asian or any other race, but a mix. Sue felt their eyes on her as she stepped barefoot down to the dias, where a tall stool sat.

Feeling the expectation, Sue Storm undid the sash of the robe and draped it across the stool.

The teacher followed her down and gave a brief left. She indicated portion of Sue's anatomy, discussing in a clear, strong voice the play of shadow and light, the muscular anatomy beneath the skin. Then she set a timer.

"One hour," she said. "Starting now."

Perched on the stool, Sue Storm did her best not to move. Except parts of her did move. The temperature was slightly cool, and she felt her dark nipples harden and swell. Her thighs were demurely together, so as not to expose her monds, but they could see the triangle of carefully-manicured golden hair between her legs, and that made her stomach flutter and the goosebumps to stand up on her arm.

From behind the mask, she saw a pair of young women, blonde and redhead, whisper and draw, their eyes intent on her breasts, the set of her shoulders, the way her straight golden hair fell almost to her shoulders and caught the light like ripe grain in the summer fields.

I love this, Sue realized to her surprise.