“Another round?” he asked and turned to the bartender to order more drinks.
“Actually, I’m a little tired,” I said with a shake of my head. “I think I’m going to head home. But you two should stay.”
Max looked from me to Stephanie, and then back to me.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I could walk you—”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Have fun.” I spun on my heel and walked out of the bar.
Once outside I paused for a moment. I pretended it was to rummage through my purse for my keys. But I knew that wasn’t why. I was waiting for Max. I was waiting for him to come after me.
After a few minutes I knew he wasn’t coming. I began walking back toward my apartment. I told myself I was doing the right thing. When I got there I felt an ache in the pit of my stomach. I knew that I’d had too many drinks—I knew I shouldn’t, but I opened my computer. I began typing away without thinking about what I was writing.
What is beautiful about being alone?
I clicked submit and was about to close the computer when it chimed, letting me know that I had a comment in response to my new blog post. Blue had already posted.
The beauty of being alone is the mystery of the people you have yet to meet.
I smiled at the words I read. I closed my computer and snuggled into bed with a warm glow within me. Maybe Blue was right. I needed to be less focused on what I lacked and more focused on the potential of what was to come.
The next night when I arrived at class, I was excited. I didn’t even grill Stephanie to see how far the evening with Max had gone. I honestly didn’t care. Blue’s words had sparked a sense of anticipation of what each moment would bring. I knew now that each person I met had the potential to be someone very influential in my life.
“Alright, class, settle down,” the teacher said from the front of the room.
I noticed that she was dressed in her usual flowing gown, but her smile was a little nervous-looking tonight.
“Now I have someone to introduce to you. We’re all adults here; I expect each of you to behave like it. Let’s be mature and respectful and let’s create some amazing art.” She smiled proudly.
I raised an eyebrow. I was guessing that this was not about fruit.
“Sean!” she called out.
The door to the classroom opened and a man stepped into the room. He was drop-dead gorgeous with chiseled cheekbones and brooding brown eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul. Okay, in truth he was a little handsome and well-built, but in my mind, he was a god.
“Oh boy,” Stephanie said under her breath.
I glanced over at her. She wiggled her eyebrows at me. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to communicate.
I watched as the man walked to the center of the room. I couldn’t help but wonder why he would be wearing a bathrobe in the middle of a classroom, but then the teacher didn’t exactly dress normally either, so I simply assumed that he was eccentric. I heard some whispering around me. I glanced over at Stephanie but she was focused on the man at the front of the room.
I looked back in his direction and as I watched, he pushed the robe slowly back from his shoulders. It was halfway down his arms, exposing his solid chest. My mouth dropped open slightly, as I was stunned. I took a breath and reminded myself to be mature about this. It was just his chest. It was nothing to be fussy about. But then the robe dropped down to the floor around his feet, exposing his entire body.
I was fairly certain that the strangled squeaking sound I heard was coming from me. Stephanie nudged my foot lightly with her own and I realized that I needed to close my mouth. I looked away, and blushed, embarrassed by what I’d just seen.
Chapter 7
Let’s be honest, I’d seen naked men before, but it was just so unexpected. I peeked back in his direction. He had placed his hands on his hips and settled into a comfortable stance. He was making no effort to cover himself up.
“I can see that a few of you are uncomfortable,” the teacher said as she stood beside the naked man. “But I feel it’s important that we paint the human body as it is designed. It is not designed to be covered in clothes. Would we dress up a banana?” she asked.
I had to tighten my lips to keep from giggling because she said banana and, well—she was standing next to his banana—it was all very hilarious in my opinion, but no one else was laughing so I did my best not to giggle.
“There should be no shame in nudity,” the teacher continued. “Just as with the fruit we studied at our last class, in order to truly know another person, we must know their body, their skin, their texture.” She nodded to the students. “So let’s see if we can create an image of this beautiful man with our paint and paintbrushes. Let’s see if we can overcome our own shyness and celebrate what is only natural.”
I was still thinking about bananas. Everyone else had begun painting. No one seemed to be as rattled as I was. I wanted to shout at all of them, “But he’s naked!” but I didn’t think that would go over well.
I stole a glance up at him again. He was staring casually into space. I was sure he had to be a professional model, because he seemed so comfortable just standing there. Even when I was alone in my apartment I was rarely intentionally naked. Other than being in the shower and getting dressed I always had something covering my body.
As I began to paint the features of the man before me, I recognized how strange that actually was. I was not comfortable walking around in just my skin, I had to have something hiding my body in order to feel normal.
I accentuated how relaxed his face was, how unconcerned he appeared to be. I doubted that I ever felt that comfortable, even when I was dressed. Although I noticed that Stephanie had no problem detailing things below the model’s waist, I couldn’t bring myself to even paint a belly button. Instead I focused on his head, his face, his shoulders, the slope of his neck.
“Hm,” the teacher said. I jumped, as I hadn’t even realized that she was beside me. “I like the detail,” she said softly. “But I think you might want to explore other regions of his body.”
I looked up at her shyly. “I guess I just find certain areas more interesting,” I said.
“Or perhaps you feel a certain fear of a man’s nakedness, or anyone’s nakedness,” the teacher suggested as she met my eyes. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Many people are terrified of their own anatomy as well as the anatomy of others. But I can tell you this, once you learn to own your nudity, your completely nude body, it empowers you, and it also makes you more comfortable with the nudity of others.”
I really hoped she would stop saying “nudity” soon. I was trying my hardest not to burst out into inappropriate laughter. Luckily she gave my shoulder a light pat and walked away. Of course I knew that what she was saying was absurd. I wasn’t afraid of my naked body, or the naked body of anyone else.
“Alright, class, that’s enough for tonight,” she said. “Let’s wrap it up.”
I cupped my hand over my mouth and ducked my head. You’re thirty-two, I kept reminding myself—do not laugh, do not laugh. I glanced over at Stephanie to find that she was hiding a smile too. But that only made things worse, because I really needed to burst out laughing.
Luckily the model covered up and the bustle of the other students packing up their things distracted me from my laughter. By the time Stephanie and I stepped out of the classroom, though, we were both laughing.
“Do you think she even realized how funny that last remark was?” Stephanie asked with a giggle.
“I doubt it,” I said in return and laughed loudly.
“I did think the model was amazing, though,” Stephanie admitted. “Hopefully Max isn’t the jealous type.”
Those words made all of my amusement fade away. “What do you mean?”
“I’m meeting him for coffee and a late-night snack,” Stephanie said.
“Oh.” I tried to sound normal.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, looking conce
rned. “We really hit it off after you left the bar the other night. I can see why you’ve been friends for so long.” She hesitated a moment and looked into my eyes. “Is there a reason why you two haven’t been more than friends? Is that prying too much?”
I frowned and shook my head slowly. “It isn’t prying,” I said quietly. “I guess we just make better friends than anything else. Max has never been interested.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Well, if it bothers you, just let me know. I like Max, but I’ve really enjoyed the two of us getting to be friends too.”
“It won’t bother me,” I said.
But it did bother me. It bothered me more than I would ever admit to. As she walked away I was glad that I wouldn’t be seeing her again until the following Tuesday. I was suddenly feeling determined not to see Max either.
Chapter 8
I spent the weekend working on the painting I had started. From my memory I tried to create the rest of the man’s body. Every time I tried to paint anything below his hips I found my hand trembling. My eyes would water. I just couldn’t imagine painting something so risqué.
Then I thought about what the teacher had said. Was I truly afraid of a man’s body? Was I afraid of the bits and pieces that boxers traditionally covered? Weren’t they as commonplace as a nose or an ear? What should be so different about them?
I recalled what the teacher had said about my own body. Was I scared of it? Late Sunday night I stood in front of the mirror. I shed my clothes piece by piece until I was naked in front of the mirror. I had looked at myself without a shirt. I had looked at myself without pants, but I had very rarely taken a full gander at my entire nude body. I found it very difficult to look directly at my body. I could look at a part here and there, but to look at the entire image was a little daunting.
After a few moments I forced myself to stare straight forward at the mirror. I was very used to looking in the mirror and finding something to criticize. Sometimes it was my weight, sometimes it was my skin, sometimes it was my posture, but it was always something I put myself down about. This time I stopped those thoughts and focused on the things I liked about my body.
It was even harder to think nice things about my body. That was a little surprising to me because I was confident. I liked to dress nicely, but I had never really said nice things about just my body.
I did the same thing on Monday night in preparation for returning to class the next night. I wanted to get familiar with my body, to be as comfortable in it as the man I had painted was. I also managed to add a few details to my painting. I was looking forward to sharing it with Stephanie and the teacher. I was proud of the progress that I’d made.
When I returned to class on Tuesday night, I was surprised to discover the teacher without her normally whimsical smile. She looked downright stressed out. She kept checking her watch and pacing back and forth.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Stephanie as I positioned my painting on my easel.
“Very nice,” she said with a nod to my painting.
“Thank you,” I smiled proudly.
“Apparently the model that she had lined up for class tonight hasn’t shown up,” Stephanie said. “I heard her leaving a message for her a few minutes ago.”
“Oh,” I nodded.
I was a little disappointed. I was hoping it would be the same model we had painted the Thursday before. I had done the best I could from memory, but I was hoping to get another look to add a few finishing touches.
“I guess we’ll have to cancel class tonight,” the teacher said with a deep sigh. “Our model is not showing up, and I hadn’t planned anything else for the evening.”
I frowned and began packing up my paintbrushes. It was very disappointing. I had been looking forward to expanding my acceptance of the human body even more than I already had.
“Unless, of course, we have any volunteers?” the teacher called out.
I looked up with surprise.
“Did she say volunteers?” I asked Stephanie.
“I think so—” she began to say.
“Samantha, so kind of you to offer!” the teacher announced from the front of the room.
“Huh?” I looked up quickly to find that everyone in the room was staring at me. “I didn’t volunteer.” I shook my head quickly.
“You should do it,” Stephanie encouraged me. “There’s nothing more freeing than being naked in front of a crowd.”
“Then maybe you should,” I said with an edge to my voice.
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Stephanie replied in a whisper. “I haven’t groomed lately, if you know what I mean.”
“Samantha, you really would make the perfect model,” the teacher gushed as she walked toward me. “You have such a unique and voluptuous frame, I can only imagine how beautiful it would be on canvas.”
All of the other students around me began clapping and nodding at the idea of me standing naked in front of them. I felt terrified and thrilled at the same time. I spent many years believing that no one would ever want to see me naked. Now I had an entire classroom full of people that wanted to see me nude.
Maybe that was the entire point of this experience. Not just to appreciate and express the beauty of others, but also to appreciate and express the beauty of my own body. The more I thought about it, the more I began to think it was what I had to do. I had begun walking toward the front of the class before I even realized what was happening.
“What a wonderful gift you’re offering us,” the teacher said with a big smile. “Just get undressed.”
Her words struck me hard. Was I really going to do this? I felt like maybe I should dance. Or that there should be music. But the teacher just waved her hand, encouraging me to continue. I nervously began unbuttoning my shirt. The room was so quiet. I didn’t think that anyone was even breathing.
A few of the students in the front of the class were politely averting their eyes, but the rest seemed to be fascinated by my fumbling fingertips. With each button I released I expected to turn and run out of the room. I didn’t think I was actually going to be brave enough to follow through with what I was doing. Of all the things that I had done in my life, even those things that I had recently checked off my bucket list, this moment had to be the most horrifying. I knew that when my shirt fell back from my shoulders I was going to be exposed to a room full of near-strangers.
“You’re doing great, Samantha,” my teacher said in a voice that reminded me of my seventh-grade music teacher.
Chapter 9
I drew a deep breath and took my shirt off. I stood awkwardly with it in my hand for a moment. It seemed rude to just drop it on the floor. I started folding it up as neatly as I could.
“Here, I’ll take that,” the teacher said with a smile.
Then my shirt was gone. It wasn’t on the floor beside me where I could grab it if I needed it. She whisked it away and I had no idea where she put it. Another deep breath and my jeans were unbuttoned. I closed my eyes and pushed them down over my hips. Then over my knees. Then over my ankles.
“I’ll take those too,” the teacher said.
My shirt was gone. My jeans were gone. I was standing in front of the class in nothing but a bra and panties. I refused to open my eyes.
“Now everyone notice the way her skin tone is nearly flawless,” the teacher instructed.
I felt a hint of pride at her words, but also a new wave of terror.
“Please continue, Samantha,” she said in a softer voice.
“I think this is enough,” I blurted out. “I mean, there’s plenty of curves to paint.”
“Samantha, it’s a nude study,” the teacher said. “If you’re not comfortable we can see if someone else might like to volunteer.”
I could feel myself blushing. I was already mostly nude. If I quit now all of my embarrassment would have been for nothing. It was just one night. Just one class. But it was a huge step for me, I knew that. If I really wanted to know who I was, and what
I was made of, it was time to take the biggest risk I could muster.
I closed my eyes and shed the remainder of my clothing. Slowly I opened my eyes again. I could see all of the students in the class in front of me. No one seemed to be complaining.
After a few minutes of no one throwing tomatoes or demanding that I cover up, I began to relax a little. It was so normal to wear clothing. It was what was expected of me, of anyone walking down the street—to cover their body. Yet being without clothes was exactly the way that Stephanie had described it—extremely liberating.
I couldn’t be sure if I was happy or if I had just gone numb, but I began to settle into my own skin. I felt as if the world was so different when I didn’t have to think about the clothes that I was wearing or hiding certain parts of myself. I was out in the open for all to see, and despite the horror I had experienced a few minutes before, now I felt absolutely no shame.
The pencils and paintbrushes were skimming across the papers. The teacher was gently gasping as she walked between the easels, and murmuring words of support. All of this was happening because I had been brave enough to walk up to the front of the room and shed all of my clothes—every last stitch.
My stomach fluctuated from that feeling of excited butterflies to sinking with fear at being so exposed. It was a thrilling experience and one I realized I would never have again. A person only had their first naked parade in front of strangers once in their lifetime, and this was my special day.
When the teacher lightly clapped her hands to get the attention of the students, she drew me out of my wandering thoughts. “Alright, everyone, we need to finish up for tonight. You’ve all done a wonderful job. Let’s show Samantha just how much we appreciate her willingness to volunteer,” she added.
The entire class began applauding me. There was something distinctly delectable about being applauded while naked. I felt as if I should bow, but to my credit, I resisted.
“Samantha?” the teacher said again to get my attention.
I looked over at her to find that she was handing me my clothes.
“Oh, thank you,” I said quickly. I took my clothes and turned back to the class.
Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) Page 12