But is it Art?

Her one art class at college had been three years before and she had never painted a nude of either gender, but Sally reasoned that she had already told Mrs. Pelletier of her limitations and had been encouraged to try anyway. In any event, Sally was far less concerned with her own artistic ability than with the wonderfully naughty sight of her true love, naked and on very public display before her. The male body was ever so underappreciated! Poor Nate was clearly a bit chilly, and Sally was almost embarrassed on his behalf at how his penis was shriveled inconspicuously into the lovely dark curls that surrounded it; but she was also very proud of his being secure enough not to mind.

As Sally mapped out the contours of his body in her paint strokes, the sense of having won the battle overcame her to the point where she didn't notice at first that the middle aged woman she had taken note of earlier was now standing just behind her. The reverie was broken when the woman spoke up: "You can't do that!"

Sally's heart leapt, but she had expected such a confrontation. "Mrs. Pelletier didn't say we couldn't," she said.

"Yes, but...it's just the sort of thing she's always lecturing us against!"

"Which is all the more reason to do it if that's where your heart leads you," Sally replied. "Besides, isn't Christmas a time for --"

"Don't say that word!" came another female voice, and Sally looked behind her to see another young woman, her age or a bit older, now shamelessly gazing on at Nate. She was trying to look stern, but Sally had no doubt at all that she was enjoying the view. "We're here to work, and you can't let the holidays distract you!"

"If we're here to work, perhaps the both of you ought to get back to your own paintings," Sally said. "Although, if you'd like to paint Nate here as well, I'm sure he won't mind. Will you, Nate?"

"Not at all," Nate reassured them. "It'll even be interesting to see the different ways I look to different painters."

"Now you're seeing it through an artist's eyes," Sally said, her eyes glowing with equal parts approval and arousal.

The older woman looked around the room, and Sally followed her lead to see they were causing a bit of a scandal, but that most of the other painters were still focusing on their own work. "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked Sally.

"I've said you were welcome, didn't I?" Sally said.

"And you don't mind?" she asked Nate.

"I wouldn't have posed if I did," he told her.

Without another word, the woman fetched a blank canvas and positioned herself a few feet to Sally's right, and set to work. The third woman, who introduced herself to Sally as Martha, also accepted the invitation and began incorporating Nate into her existing painting. All were aware of the buzz throughout the room and the sense of fear that they were courting trouble when Mrs. Pelletier returned, but no one else complained. Two more women had joined them in painting Nate when, inevitably, Mrs. Pelletier arrived.

"I trust we are all..." she began, striding authoritatively into the studio. Her words gave way to an inarticulate shriek when she saw Nate. "Good god, ladies, what on earth is this?!"

"Exactly what it looks like," said one of the other women, freeing Sally to continue focusing on her painting. "A nude painting. Happens all the time, you know that."

"Not here!" Mrs. Pelletier said, staking a place in front of Nate and blocking the painters' view of him. "You come here to create something unique and saleable, not run of the mill schlock! Besides, there's no market for male nudes!"

"Thank you!" added a male painter who had been especially fervent in his whispered protests all along. "We've all been looking forward to you shutting this filth down, Mrs. Pelletier."

"Filth?" Martha spoke up in protest. "He has a beautiful body, and we're all enjoying painting him. What is your problem?"

"The same as mine, I suspect," Mrs. Pelletier spat out. "It's distasteful at best, and it certainly isn't art."

"Exactly," said the man. "Just look at him. That's not art."

"That's not for you to decide, is it, Lou?" asked another male painter. "Obviously they see artistic value."

"And I see a guy who's probably sexually confused and so insecure he has to parade himself around like a freak show," Lou shot back. "Certainly no artistic value."

"I think you're jealous!" said the older woman who had first approached Sally.

"I'll show him how jealous I am later in the shower," Lou snapped. "Mrs. Pelletier, I think I'm done for the day." He threw his brush and palate down and stormed off to the changing room.

"That goes for all of you," Mrs. Pelletier announced. "Everyone off to the showers, and we shall have a serious talk about this over dinner!" She strode off without another look or word.

The middle aged woman who had challenged Lou approached Sally as she helped Nate back on with his robe. "I'm sorry I provoked Lou there," she said. "It sounds like I've put you in a difficult position...Nate, is it?"

"Yes," Nate said.

"Hi, Nate. I'm Laura, and I'm also delighted someone is finally shaking that old hag up a bit. She's insufferable at the best of times, and of course Christmas is worst of all..." Looking aside at Martha, she repeated the word, "Christmas! It won't bite, dear."

"I'm sorry," Martha said. "And honestly, I'm glad for this change, too. You make a lovely model, Nate."

"Thanks." Nate blushed, even though he was now clothed again, albeit only in the flimsy robe.

"In any event," Laura continued. "I'm afraid you're probably not safe in the men's shower with Lou in the state he's in. I'm sure we could arrange for you to use our shower instead."

"I wouldn't want to hold you all up, though," Nate said. "I guess I could shower after you all do."

"You could," Martha said. "But if I know Laura, I think she was hoping you'd like to shower with us."

"It's not as though we haven't all seen what there is to see," another of the women pointed out, drawing a titter of agreement through the clutch of admirers Nate had by then.

"Maybe it's only fair that we return the favor," suggested another.

"Well..." Nate looked at Sally.

"Do you really think I'd object, silly?" Sally quipped.

Minutes later, Sally -- having also undressed by then -- ushered Nate into the women's showers, where they were greeted with a round of applause by the other women. "You two were just what this place needed," said Laura, who hugged them one by one.

"You make a great model," added Martha. With a saucy grin, she added, "I hope you like the view as well, Nate."

"I do, thanks," said Nate with a shy laugh. "You're all a sight for sore eyes as well."

With a delightful array of beautiful bodies in their midst, Sally didn't begrudge Nate the chance to look to his heart's content, especially since he didn't touch anyone except her. Amidst the playful ogling and flirting, Nate and Sally compared notes with the others and learned that what Nate had heard was true: Mr. Pelletier was the worst sort of absentee husband and the constant bombardment of holiday cheer was murder on his wife, which was why she did her utmost to keep it at bay in their home. "It's an open secret among the students," explained one woman who had never formally introduced herself. "We put up with it because it's such a unique chance to learn the craft here, but everyone knows better than to push back on it."

"Until today, anyway," added Martha. "But I'm glad someone finally did, really. We've all got our crosses to bear. No need for her to make life miserable for us all!"

At this there was widespread agreement. Shortly afterward the hot water began to wane, and the group shower came to an agreeable end. After drying one another off, Sally and Nate walked arm in arm to the door, where they had every intention of retiring to her room together and the consequence be damned.

They were greeted at the bathroom door by two guards, with Mrs. Pelletier standing just behind them with a grim but satisfied look on her face. "Take him back to his quarters, gentlemen," she said.

Sally jumped in front of Nate. "Take me, too, then!" she demanded.

One of the guards shoved her effortlessly aside, knocking her towel loose and sending her sprawling naked to the hallway floor. Neither of the men paid her any further mind as they dragged Nate down the hall, Mrs. Pelletier following close behind.

"That will be all, boys," she told them once they had deposited Nate on his bed, and they took their leave, shutting the door behind them. As soon as she was alone with Nate, she yanked his towel mercilessly away and tossed it against the wall. "If you are so fond of putting yourself on display, you might as well give me a nice look," she chirped.

"Go ahead and look," Nate replied. "I'm not ashamed."

She gazed shamelessly down at his body, and allowed a tiny smile that betrayed her enjoyment. "I must say I admire your confidence, and your girlfriend's trust in you as well, allowing you in the shower with all those other hussies."

"They're not hussies!" Nate snapped.

"There is no need for you to defend their honor, dear! Besides, you only just met them this afternoon. How do you know what they are?"

"I certainly know better than you do," Nate said. She was still gazing at his naked body and now he rather did want to cover up, but he defiantly refused to do so. "We talked in there. I learned a lot. About them, and about you."

"And no doubt you learned I'm some sort of Cruella de Ville just because my husband is away on Christmas, or some tripe like that," she said.

"Well, you are, aren't you?" Nate demanded.

"I prohibit fraternization because people are here to learn," Mrs. Pelletier said, ignoring the question for the moment. "And I prohibit nude paintings because they lead so easily to just the sort of orgy I just rescued you from."

"Which was absolutely harmless," Nate said.

"Except inasmuch as it deterred all the ladies' attention from their paintings. But if you must know, Nate, there is a reason why I prefer to keep Christmas at bay. It's got nothing to do with my husband; he's got a girl in every port and he's too stupid to know I even know about it, and I'm just as happy to have him off halfway around the world. It gets lonely, mind you, but I'm used to that! I was a poor little rich girl from the very beginning, learned my trade from the best instructors money could buy, always under the watchful eye of my nanny until the day my father paired me off to old Mr. Pelletier, and every December along the way, Christmas was for Daddy's little girl to be seen and not heard. I got clothes and jewelry by the bucketload for gifts, of course, but anything I really wanted? Forget it!"

"So you've got to ruin Christmas for everyone else who comes here?" Nate protested. "What's that going to solve?"

"Who says it's got anything to do with solving anything?" Mrs. Pelletier said. "People come here to learn how to paint, not to be touchy-feely and leave me feeling like an outsider on my own property! Besides, it's only one Christmas they're missing out on, not a lifetime of them! Do you know, Nate, I remember the first and last time I dared ask for anything for Christmas. I was six years old, and a little boy my nanny's sister took care of had the loveliest collection of Matchbox cars you've ever seen. Well, Mother and Daddy brought me to see a department store Santa while they were out shopping, and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. And like a fool, I said I wanted Matchboxes. Before Santa could say a word, Daddy grabbed me off his lap and carried me away under his arm, grumbling all the way home about girl toys and boy toys and why did I need toys at all anyway?! That, Nate, is why I don't care to have anyone whine about Christmas on my watch!"

"You...I can't..." Nate gave up on trying to respond to her at all.

"Now. Since you've chosen to make such a mockery of my disciplined approach to learning, I've decided you will be joining us for dinner tonight dressed exactly as you are now. I trust you shan't be embarrassed, given that all the students have seen you in the nude already. You are to remain here until the dinner bell, and I have instructed the guards not to let you out of your room with any clothing."

"Yes ma'am." Nate felt more pity than anger as he watched Mrs. Pelletier take her leave.

Nate curled up on his bed and was lost in humiliation for a few minutes...until he remembered that his phone was in his suitcase. Quietly he fished it out and sent Sally a text message explaining the sentence and what he had learned. He received a reply almost immediately: "We've got you covered. Figuratively. See you at dinner -- all of you!" Though he didn't know just what it meant, Nate smiled. There was little doubt he could count on Sally.

When the dinner bell clanged, the guards entered the room and took him by the arms to drag him downstairs. To their surprise, Nate offered no resistance. "Like she said, it's not like anyone will be seeing anything new," he said. The dining room was as opulent -- and as devoid of Christmas decorations -- as the rest of the mansion, and the other men were already seated.

There were a few stray snickers when Nate was led to his place at the table, but none dared comment, for Mrs. Pelletier was seated at the head of the table. "Welcome, Nate," she said crisply.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pelletier," he said.

"You are only lengthening your sentence with that attitude," she warned. To the guards, she asked, "Where are the women?"

"Haven't seen them," he said.

"Go find what the holdup is," she said. "I'm sure these gentlemen -- and Nate -- are quite hungry."

"Of course, madam," the guard said. But no sooner had he turned toward the stairwell then he let out a yelp of surprise. "Uhh...madam, the...the women are here," he stammered.

Into the dining room they marched, Sally and Laura arm in arm in the lead, each and every one of them as naked as Nate, who looked up joyfully at the procession as the other men hooted and whistled their approval.

"What is the meaning of this?!" demanded Mrs. Pelletier, jumping up in a rage as the women all took their seats.

"I think you know exactly what it is," Sally said.

"I'll not have this at my dinner table!" Mrs. Pelletier screamed. "All of you go back and get dressed! Except you, dear," she added to Sally. "You've just joined your friend in his punishment."

"We're not going anywhere, Mrs. Pelletier," Martha proclaimed. "If you're going to humiliate poor Nate when he was only offering himself up to our art, we're going to stand with him."

"Or sit with him," laughed one of the other women.

"You're more than welcome to sit as far as I'm concerned," announced a young man seated near Nate.

"Perhaps you ought to join us, then," replied Martha.

"Fair's far," the man admitted, and he pushed back his chair and pulled his shirt off.

"Enough!" Mrs. Pelletier was pounding the table now, but she'd lost her last bit of control as most of the men joined in. Soon the entire room was a joyous display of unapologetic nudism. Mrs. Pelletier screamed at the guards to do something, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. A ragged chorus of "Joy to the World" bubbled up from the cacophony of laughter and screeches, and Mrs. Pelletier withdrew in disgust.

"Yessss. Do it! Do it! Merry Christmasssss!" Sally gripped at the mattress for dear life as Nate pushed her to a third orgasm an hour or so later. She knew the moment when he came as well, as he pushed in as far as he could and stayed there, wiggling only the tiniest bit. "Thank you," she whispered breathlessly as he collapsed happily on top of her.

"Merry Christmas, Sally," he said.

"It'll never feel very merry here, will it?" Sally asked, with a regretful look around the room.

"Shame to let such a beautiful room go to waste without making love in it once," Nate said.

"I agree," Sally said. "Isn't it great to think how many of the others have probably paired up by now, too! But I'd just as soon go home. What do you think?"

"Absolutely," Nate agreed. "Our job is done here, isn't it?"

"My mother's going to love hearing this," Sally said, getting up to collect her clothes.

"You think this is what she wanted us to do?" Nate asked. He followed her lead and began getting his suitcase, which he'd collected from down the hall just after dinner, in order.

"Of course," Sally said. "Mrs. Pelletier told me so. By accident, but she told me."

"Just where did she disappear to, anyway?" Nate asked.

"I have no idea," Sally said. "Let's get out of here before she turns up. I don't think I want to know what else she'd have to say to us."

Downstairs, the dining room was a wreck but the staff was well on the way to getting things in order. Sally and Nate offered to help, but the offer was refused. "The way you guys broke her crazy spell was worth the mess," reassured one of the kitchen maids. "I think either this place will be much friendlier from now on, or she'll go out of business. I'll tell you, I've been at the point where I don't even care which of those happens!"

"Well, thanks...I think," Sally said. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"

"Merry Christmas," came a chorus of replies.

Sally couldn't overcome her morbid curiosity entirely. "Just where did she disappear to, anyway?"

"I think she's locked herself in her suite, across the way," the kitchen maid replied, pointing at a closed door at the far end of the darkened parlor. "No one wants to confirm that, though!"

Through the long drive back to the city, Sally and Nate were in great spirits, and bursting with ideas of just how they would relate the story to her mother, who would no doubt be delighted. They had the story set by the time they arrived back home -- with the exception of just what became of Mrs. Pelletier, since they didn't know. "No point in inventing anything," Sally concluded. "We might as well admit we don't know. It's as poetic as anything that really could have happened."

"I guess so," Nate said. "But I'd like to know all the same."

"I have a feeling Mom will hear all about it sooner or later," Sally said.

She was wrong about that, for although Mrs. Pelletier turned over a new leaf and became much friendlier and more permissive after that night, she was never to tell a soul just why she remained locked in her room well past the time Nate and Sally made their escape. No one -- not even Sally's mother -- was ever to hear of how Mrs. Pelletier had retreated to her bedroom in disgust to find a box of pristine, vintage Matchboxes on her pillow.