Mixed Double

Ian looked at Joanne. They were both slowly coming down from a riotous afternoon and despite the aching muscles and covering of dirt were desperate for it not to end.

"Well, I'm definitely up for it" He paused, suddenly realising how that might be interpreted and hoping that it didn't sound to them like it sounded to him.

"Oh yes! Me too!" Answered Joanne who had immediately latched onto Ian's inadvertent innuendo and was hoping to God he would be!

Ian smiled at her with obvious relief. He really didn't want to lose her now.

"Good, that's great, it's room ninety-five, downstairs, along a side corridor. We aim to start around seven, but there'll be people in there from just after six. It's open ended, so stay as long as you like. We have an arrangement with the college caretaker to let us out afterwards. The showers are open here until eight if you want to freshen up."

They retreated to the changing room where Joanne did a quick wipe down with a flannel, dragged a brush through her hair, stripped off her panties, and washed them in the sink, hanging them over the top of the mirror to dry; an act of domesticity that Ian found totally endearing. Naked under her skirts she threw on her t-shirt, threw on her battered leather jacket, and announced decisively.

"I'll grab a proper shower later, need to do some shopping. See you up here just after six?"

He nodded, reluctant to be left alone.

It was now 5.20pm

She gave him a peck on the cheek, a curious smile and with a determined look, left the room.

Ian showered using the mean soap bar supplied by the College, dried himself as best he could with the hand towel from the rail, took a long lustful look at the dripping panties, resisted the temptation to run his fingers over them and went downstairs.

Outside normal people, clothed people, went about their business and Ian started to imagine he'd dreamt the entire day. He quickly visited a nearby off-license, and with a sizeable proportion of the crumpled notes in his envelope bought a bottle of Champagne, returning to the college as the clock edged toward 6.20pm. He climbed the stairs with a growing dread he would find the panties gone, a note and just an empty changing room and a gloomy deserted studio.

She was emerging from the shower and was wrapping herself in a large white bath towel as he entered. Her hair had exploded into a wild bouquet of curls and magnified by the water droplets he noticed all the freckles on her face and the wide, oh so bright green eyes.

"New towel!" He exclaimed, savouring the smell of her damp freshly showered body.

"Lots of new things!" She laughed walking over to a carrier bag from which she produced: a tube of toothpaste, lipstick, two toothbrushes, a bottle of baby oil, and... a razor.

"You've thought of everything," he said, shrugging out of his clothes, grabbing a toothbrush, and squeezing out a thumbnail of toothpaste.

He looked in the mirror and said quizzically.

"Do I really need a shave?" He said confused, as he started brushing his teeth.

"No, but I did!" she said triumphantly, and she dropped the towel

He spluttered as toothpaste went up his nose.

What had been partially hidden now was revealed.

The slit between her legs was as clear as if it had been chiselled across a smooth hill of pure alabaster, rising vertically from between the tanned thighs and ending in a secret little keyhole with a delicious promise of hidden treasure inside.

"You like it?" she teased and shifted her weight on to one leg causing a small salmon pink sliver of labia to peek out shyly from between her legs.

.

His penis sprang rigidly upright, quivering towards her while the toothbrush wobbled ridiculously in his mouth.

"I'll take that as a YES! she laughed

"My turn!"

She reached forward and splashing baby oil on her hand, slowly slid it down his shaft before returning to the tip. She slid his foreskin exquisitely back to tease the taut maroon head to a point where sensitivity forces pleasure and discomfort to fuse.

"Did I mention you had a gorgeous bell end?" She smiled seductively.

Frustratingly she removed her hand from his erect penis, and he spluttered pathetically as she turned away and reached in her bag.

"Red, White or Black" she asked presenting him a sealed multi pack of shiny, Lycra rich polyester panties.

"Red please" He groaned.

"Good choice!" She approved.

"Wrong size but all they had," She continued with a smile.

She slipped into the panties which, being a size too small fitted like a second skin and still didn't come close to covering the tan line bikini. The white untanned border round the scarlet incongruously reminded Ian of fake snow.

She laughed when he told her she looked like a Christmas pin up girl.

"Miss December! I should have got some stockings!" She joked.

"Now come on, it's late!" She immediately took control again.

They dressed, gathered up their belongings, bundled the still damp silk panties into the carrier bag and hurried downstairs to room ninety-five.

The Evening

Eight students were waiting for them, three men, Amanda, and four other women. Ian realised suddenly that he and Joanne were the youngest in the room.

A small table had been laid out with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Ian realised that the small room was in fact a photographic studio. A white cloth backdrop hung from a roll high on the wall at the back of the room and curved across the floor. Ian noticed the unlit lights on heavy stands strategically placed around the room, like brooding alien machines out of The War of the Worlds. Ian ticked them off in his head; Backlight, key-light and spotlight; yes, it was a photographic studio!

No sign of any cameras, or tripods, but unmistakeably the set-up of a professional photo studio.

The earlier exuberance suddenly ebbed away. Their first day of modelling and they had signed up for what exactly? It was with a growing sense of trepidation that they approached Amanda, who was directing the positioning of lights and dispersal of props.

Joanne looked decidedly uneasy. Ian put an arm around her, but she immediately stiffened. She put voice to the anxiety they both shared.

"I'm not doing fucking porn!" she hissed in his ear

"No. me neither. This isn't right!" He whispered back, trying to comfort her but now feeling distinctly uncomfortable himself.

With a sudden jolt Ian remembered the bottle in his shoulder bag and groaned inwardly that it might look like he was part of whatever this was; the fucking label was even the same as the one on the table.

Their newfound confidence was evaporating by the second, replaced by a growing edginess that threatened to move in between them and shatter their fragile rapport.

Amanda met them and apologised.

"Sorry if it all looks a bit scary! I keep forgetting this is your first day"

"What the fuck is this?" Blurted Joanne, the tension making her voice brittle and antagonistic.

"We don't agree to be photographed, No way!" Ian stormed.

"It's not what it admittedly, appears to be" Amanda tried to explain.

"It's a bloody photographic studio!" Ian all but shouted, desperate to protect Joanne.

"Yes, we wanted a good set of lights, they do make it all a bit stagey, but no-one has cameras, and nothing is recorded. It's just drawing, hands making marks, like upstairs. I'm sorry. I just didn't explain it properly. Sue:"

She indicated a woman in her thirties, busy stacking a large pile of cushions in the corner of the room,

"Is going for her doctorate. Jeff:"

Who, upon hearing his name turned and waved,

"Is a lecturer at another college, Jenny and Paul are both post-grad students here. The others are all professional artists.

"And... I am:"

She sheepishly admitted.

"A professor at The Royal College"

Suddenly a brief, elusive flash of recognition sparked in Ian's head.

He gave a nod of tentative reassurance to Joanne, who queried the older woman.

"But why us? This is our first day. Surely you have hundreds of models to choose from?"

Amanda chose her words carefully.

"True, but models very quickly become, well, jaded, same old poses etc. After the first few bookings they stick to poses they know they can do without effort, they get a bit lazy, mentally planning shopping lists, trying to remember the name of that actor they recognised on TV last night and dozing off half the time. Honestly, I know I've been there"

They looked her up and down with a hint of mild distaste crossing their faces

Amanda read the look.

"I wasn't always a professor, and I was young, once. So, yes I've done my fair bit of modelling." She said not a little miffed.

Yeah, back during the war! Joanne thought and smiled to herself smugly.

Amanda turned to Ian.

"After a few weeks you won't notice that pretty girl in the front row staring at your cock or have to keep taking deep breaths all the time to hold down your imminent erection! In short you will just be bored..." she paused, "...Limp!"

Joanne smirked whilst Ian looked chastened.

"And Joanne!" Joanne flinched

"You'll soon know to avoid opening your legs too wide, your nipples will no longer explode when a good-looking boy draws your breasts! The thrill of being naked in a room full of strangers will evaporate: no more danger of that embarrassing damp patch on the cushion where you've been sitting!" She concluded with a flourish.

Joanne turned bright red and looked for support from Ian, who went an even brighter red and studied the floor intently. and then put a reassuring arm round her.

"So, it's because we're new, fresh meat?" Ian asked instead, looking at Joanne and grimacing.

"Partly" Amanda admitted and then elaborated with an explosion of enthusiasm.

"Yes, you're new, and it's obvious you've never done this before, it's all a bit naughty, arousing even, and you don't know the rules, nobody told you what you can't do. The sheer chemistry you unleashed in that room was inspiring. You're both young, attracted to each other and, Naked! You completely fazed that tutor; you had him squirming, miles outside his comfort zone! Christ! I've been drawing life models for thirty years and I'll admit it also made me a bit..." She drew a sharp breath, looked pointedly at Joanne, lowered her voice, and whispered.

"Wet!"

Ian looked at Joanne horrified, almost wanting to cover her ears like a protective brother. Joanne however was merely smirking to herself curiously.

They had both wriggled and avoided each other's eyes at the mention of a mutual attraction they had not officially acknowledged, flushed warmly with the realization she might be right and tingled pruriently with that addition of the word Naked!

"Look" Amanda pulled herself together.

"What you have in this room is the cream of London's next wave of artistic talent. They've drawn every model in town, screwed a few of them I wouldn't wonder, and your uninhibited naivete blew the cobwebs off their drawing boards"

Ian started to remember where he had come across Amanda Smits's name before. Suddenly it came back to him: A mixed student and tutor show at the Royal College a few years back, dramatic drawings and paintings similar in style to Egon Schiele's erotic nudes. He also remembered the prices! Come to think of it, some of the other faces looked vaguely familiar from exhibition catalogues.

"Relax, take your time, chat to the others, have a glass of fizz." She indicated the table with the bottle of champagne.

"No rush, start when you want, stop when you want and set your own poses. This is just a drawing class, with no tutor, just serious artists. Have fun! We want you to relax, ignore we are here at all. Just be yourselves or,"

She added with a smile.

"Anyone you want to be!"

"There's a small storeroom behind the backdrop where you can change, or just hide from us for a while! There's a bathroom down the corridor. We are the last people on this floor, probably even the whole building, so you won't bump into anyone else"

Ian looked at Joanne and she gave him a nod and they went up to the table and poured themselves two glasses of champagne.

Glasses in hand, Ian steered Joanne 'backstage' and explained what he remembered about Amanda and the others.

"She does erotic nude drawings and paintings, bloody good ones too from what I remember. I think the others work in a similar style. They seem pretty keen to draw us, are you Ok with that?" Ian tentatively asked her.

"Yeah, that's cool. why not? I just didn't want to be photographed. It's been such a fun day; I've felt so naughty!" She beamed at him.

"Me too!" He beamed back.

He promised her that at the first sign of anything she wasn't happy with they could dress and leave. He also realised the cushion comment had struck a nerve, Joanne was rising to some secret challenge, and he wondered what he'd missed.

They explored behind the backdrop to find it created a four-foot-wide corridor in front of the wall which had in it an open door into the store cupboard. The bespectacled Jeff gave them a friendly smile as he dragged a white leather chaise longue out of the door, pushing the backdrop to one side as he manoeuvred it out into the centre of the room. He was followed by a flustered looking Paul, weighed down with a teetering pile of cushions buried under a large gold velvet curtain.

The backdrop swung back into position, and they went into the store cupboard. It was lined down one side with shelving, on which were stacked a bizarre selection of props, fabrics, and bolsters.

Joanne swept a clear space on the shelving, and they dumped their belongings.

Joanne closed the door, stripped down to her panties and stood deep in thought taking mouthfuls of champagne. She threw on the gown, slipping the small bottle of baby oil into the pocket. Ian undressed, leaving on his shirt. He noticed a slight change in her mood and was concerned. "I think I'm going to keep the panties on for a little while." She told him displaying a fragility he hadn't seen before.

She indicated downwards, "It's all a bit new, a bit revealing. I feel so exposed"

Ian hugged her "I'm so sorry, when I said trim earlier, I didn't mean..."

"No! It's just I've never shaved it all off before, it was so exciting when I did it, I sort of got the feeling you'd like it but now I'm not quite sure I can face them out there knowing they can see everything so clearly!"

She was starting to sound less confident.

"I know it's not quite the same,'' said Ian but I feel a bit like that about my..."

"Bell end?" She perked up immediately and lifted his shirt to inspect him. His penis started to swell with the attention and again she gently slid the foreskin back and admired it.

"But It's lovely! Like some ripe juicy exotic fruit, it makes me just want to..."

"God, I love it that you've shaved!" Ian blurted, desperately pushing his shirt back down. He had to stop her before she said something that would reduce him to just a puddle on the floor.

"I've never seen any girl shaved before. It's, you... just so... perfect." His face reddened, "I couldn't stop thinking about what you'd look like without... I mean about how the feel of... I wanted to touch you, feel your smooth skin and.... it just scrambled my brain and when you touched me, those panties...and... Oh shit,... that comment just tripped off my tongue, I never dreamed you would. Its lovely"

He lamely ended his incoherent ramble and flamed bright red.

She smiled at him and with a deliberation he'd learned to love, kissed him.

"And why do you think Amanda made those comments about wet cushions you idiot, I was thinking about you and your... exotic fruit and the warm feel of your cock swelling up my back. I guess she must have spotted... a little leakage!" She confessed matching him for redness.

They looked at each other with a growing understanding and resolve and drained their Champagne glasses.

So, let's have some more of the dirty old cow's booze then!" She said with a more characteristic tone of rebellion.

"Hang on, I'll just pop to the bathroom." He announced suddenly. He fished in the bag and wrapped the white bath towel around his waist under the shirt.

"I'll be waiting and then, we'll plan our campaign with the aid of champagne!" Joanne was now back in control.

When he came back after a noticeably long time, Joanne was waiting for him.

She'd obviously been thinking hard about their next moves.

"We are going to tell a story!" She had decided, and he listened with admiration as she sketched out her ideas and then threw in a few of his own. He suspected they were both keeping a few surprises back and the idea excited him.

"Ditch the shirt and keep the towel" She ordered.

Ian did as she said and removed the shirt and stood with only the towel wrapped around him. She folded up the now filthy shirt and placed it on the shelf. She looked him up and down, nodded with satisfaction, reached in her bag, and pulled out a small mirror and applied a deep red layer of lipstick. He watched her, entranced as she pouted in the mirror seductively and fluffed up her hair.

"Fuck it, let's do this!" She gripped his arm and led him out of the storeroom.

As they closed the door, the backdrop suddenly blazed with light and grotesque figures moved in silhouette across it as people moved into position.

They emerged as if on to a stage, blinded to anything but each other, peering into the rest of the room where a small constellation of battery-operated lights twinkled above unseen drawing boards. In the centre of the room was the chaise longue surrounded by a sea of cushions and the huge gold velvet curtain.

Joanne marched past it all, hand in hand with Ian up to the drinks table, poured two fresh glasses of champagne with a flourish and strode to the chaise longue. They clinked their glasses with melodramatic bravado.

"Show time, darling!" she vamped tossing her head back theatrically.

Ian was totally enraptured by her heady mix of fragility, vulnerability, and resilient rebelliousness. The setup in the studio, not to mention the champagne had brought out a thrilling spirit of burlesque in her!

Joanne reclined on the chaise longue, resting one arm languidly across the back. With one leg on the floor, she straightened the other along the seat and pulled the tie of the gown to let it gape open. Ian sat down and eased off the towel, draping it modestly into his lap.

He lifted her leg out of the way and draped it across the back of the seat. Her legs were pulled apart, and the shiny red fabric of her panties stretched tightly across the gap. He then edged sideways towards Joanne and pushed his bottom into the back of the seat.

She gave him a playful little kick with her heel as way of protest at the manhandling of her leg and he smacked her inner thigh lightly which brought a little squeal and a pout. He leaned towards her, slowly running his hand up her thigh. Joanne stretched to the glass of fizz on the floor and playfully fed him a mouthful.

For several minutes they remained frozen in this tableau.

Amanda, watching from her easel further back in the room, smiled quietly. she hadn't been sure her ploy would work, but they were responding to her provocation, and she was eager to see how this progressed.

Joanne suddenly withdrew her leg from Ian's back, throwing it over his head, and sitting back upright. Firmly she pushed him back sideways along the chaise longue. She shrugged off the gown which tumbled to the floor at her feet and gave him a long thoughtful look. Suddenly she plunged her head into the towel in his lap and swung her legs back on to the seat, where lying on her front she appeared to doze, whilst Ian ran his fingers down her spine, frustratingly not being able to reach to slide them under the waistband of her panties. They froze again.