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.
