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 Art Classes, Chapter 2
   During desert that night, mom handed me the check for my 100 dollars. 
She also had me give it back to her, because she didn't want me to take it
to school, before she could pick me and Elizabeth up, then take me to the
bank to cash it.
   After it was cashed, I finally had my first real spending money of my
life!  180 dollars that no one could tell me what to do with!  And except
for a trip to the movies the following weekend, I couldn't find anything I
wanted to spend it on.  So the bulk of it stayed rolled up in a rubber
band, underneath a pile of briefs in my underwear drawer.
   Things were normal for a week or two, though.  At first it was kind of
awkward walking into the school cafeteria, or the library.  None of the
ladies, although they recognized me at the class, made no notion of what
had happened.  And though I had volunteered to do it again, I was still
embarrassed at the thought that word would get out that I had done it in
the first place.
   All seemed safe for about two weeks, then one day, I found myself
playing catch with Michael Anderson.  His mom was home.  Her greeting of
"High handsome!" elicited a raised eyebrow from her son.  But I knew why
she said it.
   By five o'clock we were told we had to finish up so we could get cleaned
up, and do some homework before dinner.  When she came out to put an end to
our fun, she was carrying a pitcher of lemonade, and Michael's ten year
old, he was eleven, sister carried a number of plastic tumblers.  Drinking
she brought up a subject of conversation which I, at the time, wish she'd
have avoided.  Now I'm not so sure.
   "Drink your lemonade.  Don't make a mess, and put your glasses in the
dishwasher please.  I have to get back to my drawings."
   "Yeah.  Mom is trying to finish a good one of some naked boy leaning
against a boat!" Elizabeth contributed.
   As she said this I did a spit-take with my lemonade.  "Really.  You've
seen it?"
   "Yeah.  And the boy looks awfully familiar.  I can seem to make out who
it is though.  When she's finished, maybe it'll come to me."
   Right then and there, I knew that she knew exactly who it was.  She had
seen the naked picture that her mother had drawn at me.  Had she seen the
other's?  Had she told anyone?  Was she going to?  I had to find out what
she was going to do about this.  As I was leaving, Michael was headed
upstairs.  His mom was in the kitchen.  The only one left on the back porch
was Margaret.
   "Um, Margaret?"
   "Yes Jamie?"
   "You know who is in that picture, don't you?"
   "Yes."
   "Are you going to tell anybody?"
   "Probably.  Not."
   I was relieved that she wasn't seriously considering outing me, but not
knowing for sure was still a little troubling.
   "I'll have to think about it."
   "What do you want to keep quiet?" I could feel all of the money I had
left from modeling slipping through my fingers, as hush money.
   "Nothing.  I just have to think about what I want to do about it." With
that, she headed back into the house with the almost empty pitcher, and the
dirty glasses.  I walked out the back gate, and headed home.
   Nothing more was said about this.  But three weeks later, nothing had
been heard about my modeling from any of the other kids at school.  Then,
the morning of my next modeling session was upon me.
   "Are you ready for this afternoon?"
   "Yes mom."
   "Excited?"
   "About getting naked in front of a bunch of old grandmothers?  Hardly!"
   "What if I told you there was a surprise this afternoon?"
   "Then I guess I'd better hope none of you students have a heart attack?"
I was getting bored with this line of questioning.  Although I had done
this before, and volunteered to do it again, now that it was time, I had to
get ready to do it.  I had to convince myself that I really wanted to.
   All too soon, mom shunted me "Time to go!"
   "Coming." I could have run downstairs, but I wanted to hit a compromise
between looking excited, being cautious, and not caring either way.
   We get to the studio, and I head straight to the changing room.  This
time, instead of a towel, I come out wearing my bathrobe.  The ladies
arrive.  Most are the same as last time, but there are a few new students.
I'm walking around, talking to the few that I knew.  The cafeteria lady was
kind of surprised, but delighted that I would be the model again.
   One o'clock rolls around and it's time to begin.  I'm at the back of the
room, leaning against the wall as mom begins.
   "Ladies.  Ladies!  We're almost all here so can we begin please?  We'll
be running the first session for half an hour so that latecomers can
finish. So just like last time, we will be running 6, 20 minute or so
posing sessions with a ten minute break, reset period between each session.
We also have the same model as we had back in September, so can we welcome,
my son, Jamie.
   I walk to the front of the room, and step onto the platform.  Mom looks
and me, and tells me it's time to take the robe off.  I undo the belt
around my waist, and slide it off of me, then hand it to her.
   She moves off to the side, and places my robe onto a side table.  She
comes back holding onto two small leather braclets.  Or at least what I
think are bracelets.
   "Ok.  To start off today, I would like to try something a little
different.  For his first pose, I'm going to ask Jamie to put these onto
his wrists."
   I hold out my hands.  She attaches first one and then the other of two,
1.5 inch wide strips of leather around my wrist.  Each band is long enough
to wrap around several times, and each time, she has to pass it through a
strap sewn into the leather.  The outside of the strap contains a small
metal ring, sewn into the layering of the straps.  She then has me stand up
on a box, and I know there that I will be hanging from something then.  A
metal bar is hanging from a support attached to the ceiling, suspended by
two short chains.
   "Ok.  Jamie dear.  If you would please grab onto the bar with both
hands."
   Stupidly, I comply with her request, saying only, "Ok."
   "Now, since the strain on him was a little much last time, I decided we
need to support him better.  So I'm just going to attach these to his
wrists straps," She attaches two clips, one to each of the rings at my
wrists.  "And attach the clasps to the bar here," Now, I am attached
physically to the bar that I'll be hanging from, "And remove his stepping
stool." I am now hanging by my arms, from a bar suspended from the ceiling.
And worse, even if my arms get too tired, and I'm in danger of dropping,
the wrist-bands will prevent me from dropping down.  The pain will only get
worse, and I can do nothing about it.  The pain could get so bad, I might
even pass out.  And mom said that this session could go on for over half an
hour, because not everyone had shown up yet.  This was way too much for 150
dollars, plus tips and some kind of surprise.
   "There.  Class, you may begin.  You only have half an hour."
   Only half an hour.  I'd like to see her try and do this for ten minutes,
let alone half an hour.  This was not fair!
   And then it happened.  What turned out to be the last students for this
class showed up.
   And it would have to be Mrs.  Anderson.  And behind her, OH MY GOD!  It
was Margaret.  It was bad enough that my best friends mother would be
seeing me naked, so would his little sister!
   And here I was hanging from the ceiling.  Incapable of doing anything
about it.
   Mrs.  Anderson, and Margaret, set up their drawing supplies, sitting
together at drawing tables in the front row, right in front of me.  That
they had two together, up front, let me know that mom knew what was going
to happen.  And being restrained, meant that she really wanted to screw me
over, by it.
   The two started drawing furiously, trying to catch up to the others. 
And I just kept hanging there, trying not to move, occasionally, stealing
stares at the wall clock to see how long I had to suffer.
   After half an hour, mom came up on the platform, she asked me how I was
doing.
   "I think I'm going to pass out!"
   "Ok ladies.  How are we coming along?"
   Several ladies, including Margaret needed more time, so mom allowed them
another 5 minuets.  When the time was up, that was it.  She brought a box
which she put under me, then moved my legs, so that I was now standing on
it.  I was so grateful that the pressure was off my arms, that I didn't
even care that at one point she was looking right at my little cock.
   "Mom, how come you didn't tell me she was coming?"
   "Who dear?"
   "Margaret Anderson."
   "Oh her.  Her mom said she wanted to learn how to sketch."
   "But how come you didn't tell me?"
   "Oh, is that important.  I'm sorry, I just forgot.  Is it a problem?"
   "She's seeing me naked!"
   "So has everyone else in the room, and you don't care."
   "But none of them are in any of my classes at school."
   "Oh, I didn't think of that.  Maybe I'll come up with some way to make
it up to you!" As all this is going on, she is releasing me from my perch.
   I'm now standing on the box, and as the pull of gravity is released from
my arms, she is able to release the clasps from the bar I had been hanging
from.  Now I sat down on the box, as mom released me from the wrist straps.
When they are off, I walk over to the water cooler in the corner of the
room, still naked.  I grab a paper cone of cold water, and down it, as I
walk around the room.
   I soon find myself, standing next to Margaret's table, looking at her
sketch of me.  I don't even care that I'm naked.
   "That looks good!"
   "It helps that my subject is really cute."
   "Oh, really?  And who may that be?"
   "You dummy!"
   All this time, mom was getting the next set ready.  A sizeable, and
heavy bench is rolled into the center of the room.  I lie upon it, on my
side.  My head is resting on my left arm, My right arm is draped over me,
running down the side of my body, until just above my crotch, it swoops
down, but not far enough to cover me up.  I decided that the previous pose
was really painful, so I decided to close my eyes this time.
   I wake up thirty minutes later, with mom shaking me.  Some of the ladies
are chuckling to themselves.
   "Jamie, are you ok honey?"
   "Mom?"
   "Are you OK?"
   "Yeah.  I guess that first session just whupped me.  I'm ok now."
   She helps me up, and I walk around the room.  I walk over grab my robe,
and put it on.  I leave the room, walk down the hall, and use the men's
room, which was empty at the time.
   I'm back, but I'm a couple minutes late.  Margaret giggles, as I
sheepishly, and for the first time that afternoon, in an embarrassed
manner, walk to the front of the room.  It's time for session number three.
   This time, I simply have to stand on a platform, similar to a pool's
diving board.  My back is to the end edge, and I am crouched, like I'm
about to jump up, fling myself backwards and perform some kind of roll, in
midair.  You know the stances the Olympic divers take, just before they
jump off.
   This one isn't so bad as the first, except for the last five minutes, my
legs really begin to cramp.  I am quite relieved when this session is over,
and after a couple of steps, aided by mom, I can walk around the room by
myself, trying to get the pain to go away.
   This time.  I move over to Margaret's table, but she has gone before I
get there.  I look around the room, and she is nowhere to be seen.  The
classroom door is closing, so I assume she has just left to use the
restroom.  I start to look at her last drawing of me.  It was really good.
Maybe I should ask her to let me have one of them, after she is finished.
   The next session is about to begin.  Margaret hasn't returned as mom
motions me back to the dais.  A twin bed, with a football themed cover is
sitting in the center.  She has me sit on the edge of it.  Then she has me
spread my legs, so that they are wide apart.  This allows the ladies a real
good look at my crotch, but I no longer care.  All this time, Margaret
still hasn't returned.  Is she coming back?  Did I enjoy her looking at me
naked?  Was she ok?` Where was she?  Mom looks at me.
   "Here's your surprise.  Ladies.  Ladies!  Before you begin, we have a
special treat today.  For the rest of the class, there will be two models!"
   With that the classroom door opens, and in walks Margaret, wearing only
a bathrobe and carrying a small satchel.
   Instantly thoughts start running through my head.  Mainly "What the
hell?" and "She couldn't be thinking to?"
   But it was true.  Little Margaret walks to the front of the class.  On
the way, she places the bag she's carrying on the chair next to her mother.
The next thing I know, she has slipped her robe off, and she plopped
herself down in front of me.  Evidently, she already knew what she was
supposed to do, for she actually had sat down between my legs, and rested
her head on the inside of my left thigh.  Apparently she hadn't done it
completely right, because mom had her shift so that she was resting on her
left hip, with her legs trailing behind her.
   She looked up at me and smiled, and the next thing I know, her head
moves back down, so that she is now looking directly, and up close might I
add, at my crotch.
   This pose, we hold for almost forty minutes, before the ladies are
satisfied with their drawings of us.  When they finish, I stand up, and
help Margaret to her feet.  I look her straight in the face.  I have a
million questions to ask.
   "So why are you?"
   "I wanted to take the class after I saw what mom had done her first
time, but she wouldn't pay.  So I talked to your mom, and worked out a
deal. Mom said ok so the rest is history."
   "What deal?"
   "I get to draw for the first half of the class, then I had to model for
the last three sessions.  And I still get paid 25 bucks!"
   "Really?  I'm making over 150!"
   "How?"
   "Your mom never told you, but the ladies may also give you tip money if
they liked you.  Last time, I made over 80 bucks.  More than any other
model, mom had ever worked with!"
   "They must have really liked you, huh?"
   "I suppose."
   We talked for the rest of the ten minute break, and then mom motioned us
forward again.
   This time, we simply faced forward.
   Margaret is standing to my right.  Her arms are simply folded across in
front of her, but her crotch and chest are still fully visible.  She is
looking slightly to her right, away from me, but still mostly forward.
   Me.  I'm facing forward.  My left arm is braced behind my back.  My
right is holding a small volleyball, clamping it between my arm and my
body. We're both smiling at the class.  And mom has finished the pose by
pulling Margaret's long hair back over her shoulders, but spreading it out
across he back.
   After another 40 minutes, with two of us, it takes the ladies longer,
were done, we head into the last break!
   We just stand there, this time, talking to any of the ladies who wish to
speak to us.  We get a lot of compliments of how cute we look posing, and
what a cute couple we make.  They seem surprised when they find out that we
hardly know each other, and are just here, together, by coincidence.
   The last session of the day begins.  This time, mom has me facing the
ladies again, I'm standing, my hands at my hips, my elbows straight out
from my body.  My feet are spread out about two feet apart.  And I'm
looking down to my right, with a slight frown, or scowl, to my face.
   Margaret is draped across the floor.  She is to my right, facing me. 
Her face is looking up at me, with a pleading look to it.  Her arms are
wrapped around my leg.  It's like she is begging me for something.  When we
finish, I look at some of the drawings as the ladies are packing up.  It
looks like she is pleading with me for something.  What exactly it is, is
left to the imagination of the viewer.
   With class over.  Margaret moves to grab her bag so she can get dressed.
I grab her arm and whisper "Wait a couple minutes!"
   "Why?"
   "Tips!"
   "Oh!"
   She puts the bag back onto the chair, and we just stand there.  As the
ladies finish packing their art supplies, they come to the two of us to say
goodbye, and to thank us for the wonderful afternoon's drawing.  Each one
manages to nonchalantly slip some money into out hands.  We thank them, and
merely try to keep from dropping it, as pretty soon, each of us is holding
quite a bit!
   Soon, with the exception of me, Margaret, and our two mothers the room
is empty.  The two moms, being moms, start to straighten things up before
we leave.  Being left alone, me an Margaret each pick a drawing table and
start sorting out our money.  Our mothers finish cleaning just as we are
about finished with out counting.
   "OK you two.  Time to leave.  Ah, why aren't you two dressed yet?" my
mom asks.
   "We have more important things to do!" I replied.
   When she sees what were doing, she's not surprised "Ok.  Just make it
quick.  I need to get home to start dinner.  So what's the take?"
   "I made over 90 dollars, I replied happily.
   "I got over 60!" Margaret replies happily.
   We were both happy.  I had just made over 240 dollars and she had made
over 85.  All in just an afternoon of a little more that 4 and a half
hours.
   "Ok you two.  Enough of that.  Time to get dressed."
   Margaret's mom is getting a little angry with us now.  I head off to the
changing room and Margaret heads for her bag.  I was surprised when she
followed me into the changing room.
   My mom, seeing this, simply shouts out "The car leaves in 10 minutes!  I
want the two of you out in five."
   We both shout out "OK!" simultaneously, then shut the door.
   Now that we're alone, I'm dying to touch her naked body.  But since we
only have five minutes to dress, there isn't time.  So we both start
putting our clothes on.  When we're both dressed, I move to open the door,
but she stops me.
   "Wait a minute."
":What for?"
   "What are you doing Monday after school?"
   "Why?"
   "James has a dentist appointment.  Can you come over to my house?"
   "OK."
   With that, I opened the door and out we walked.  We separate, each
heading towards our own family's car.  On the drive home, I am still mad at
my mother.
   "You know, if you told me she was gonna be there, I might have . . .  "
   "Might have what?"
   "I don't know"
   "Well, next time maybe you could get your hair cut.  Maybe even shower
first!"
   "Mom!  Don't be stupid."
   But she wasn't.  There would be a next time.  And who knows.  I might
just take that shower!  But there was still how many weeks to go before the
next class in late January.  Anything could happen before then.  Couldn't
it?  
  
The Art Classes part 2