Model Behaviour Ch. 01

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A shy art student ends up posing nude for her colleagues.
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Erotonaut
Erotonaut
38 Followers

"And our female model tonight will be... Megan."

At the sound of her own name, Megan Millar felt as though a gigantic chasm had opened beneath her feet and swallowed her whole. All the students who'd turned for that particular Thursday evening's art class had been persuaded -- eventually -- to put themselves forward as replacements for their scheduled life model, whose car battery had apparently died twenty miles down the motorway, but Megan never really believed Lady Luck would desert her so spectacularly.

Nor was she the only one. Moments earlier, their tutor -- an attractive brunette in her late thirties who dismissed any address more formal than "Janice" -- had reached into the cardboard box hastily pressed into service as a tombola and extracted a tiny shred of paper bearing the words "Simon Layne". Despite her own bombshell, Megan still felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the poor guy: he'd missed the first two classes and had been press-ganged into this lottery within minutes of walking through the double-doors.

Her initial shock gradually receding, the twenty year-old redhead's mind began to race through her options. She could simply refuse and walk out, obviously, but that would merely pass the grenade on to one of her fellow students and scupper any chance Megan had of completing the course. Plus, as Janice pointed out when she proposed everyone throw their name into the box, it would be pretty hypocritical for any artist to balk at posing nude when they all expected the models she booked each week to shed their clothes without a second thought. To make it ever fairer, her own name would go in with the rest and there'd be one "volunteer" selected from each gender.

It was only as Megan walked over to join Simon by the entrance to the annexe which doubled as stock cupboard and models' changing room that it dawned upon her this final twist had doubled the odds she'd spend the evening displaying virtually every intimate inch of her body to the other students. The fact she'd kept it reasonably well toned that summer as a member of her local swimming club came as scant consolation: Megan was certain she'd put on a few pounds since the holidays and had never felt all that confident about her appearance even before then.

"Simon, Megan, please follow me." Their tutor's tone was warm, but with a steel undercurrent which left no room for argument. Once all three were in the storeroom and out of their classmates' earshot, Janice smiled and gestured for her new models to make use of the two wooden stools stacked in the nearest corner. Megan welcomed the opportunity to sit down: her legs were feeling more and more like jelly as the weight of her predicament sank in. Heaven knows what her brother Jack -- let alone their parents - would say if he knew his kid sister was moments away from parading stark naked in front of a bunch of relative strangers.

Janice continued: "Look, I know this has all come as a bolt from the blue, but you're really helping me out and I'll make sure everyone knows not to mention anything that happens tonight outside these four walls. Not that you'll have any reason to be embarrassed..." For a moment, the older woman's smile grew more wistful, as though her thoughts were far distant. "When I was about your age, I did a bit of modelling myself -- a few sessions for a photographer I knew, and some for an art class just like this -- and I have to say the money I made proved bloody helpful when the rent was due."

"So, are we getting paid?" Hearing Simon's East Coast accent for the first time momentarily startled Megan -- she hadn't realised he was American -- but she was relieved to detect from its slight tremor that he was as nervous as she. His question also provided an excuse to take a longer account of the newcomer: a couple of inches taller than either woman, with shoulder-length auburn hair, general good looks and a light tan. Not exactly a Baywatch physique, Megan decided, but he definitely wouldn't be out of place fronting one of those boy bands whose posters were regularly plastered all over her cousin Kylie's bedroom.

Simon's interjection obviously caught Janice by surprise, too, and she responded with a gentle laugh. "I don't see why not. I'll simply split the fee I was going to pay our original model. Twenty quid each okay with you two?"

Megan and Simon both nodded, neither having any true idea if this was a fair rate, but each reckoning the extra cash might go some way to making themselves feel better about the position they'd been landed in. If nothing else, Simon thought, he could head down the pub afterwards and drown those brain cells containing any memory of the evening's events.

Janice moved back towards the doorway, but turned one last time before disappearing from view. "Our models usually bring their own dressing-gown, but that won't be a problem, will it? Oh, and look in the drawer behind the spare easels. See you in ten minutes." With that, they were alone.

Intrigued by Janice's departing remarks, Simon shifted the easels to one side, opened the drawer and lifted a half-full bottle of scotch into view. "I guess even professionals need a little Dutch courage once in a while. Care to join me in a shot before the show begins?" he chuckled, waving the bottle at Megan. "Lucky I'm not still back home. I'd be underage."

For the first time since their names had been pulled out of the box, his classmate smiled. "Good job we're in England, then. Are there any glasses?"

"None I can see, but I'm sure I read somewhere that alcohol kills all known germs." Simon unscrewed the cap, took a hefty swallow and fought to avoid choking as he passed the bottle to Megan, who managed half a mouthful before she felt her throat burn and hurriedly handed the whisky back.

There was an eternity in which the atmosphere hung heavy with silence, then their eyes met and Megan finally broke it: "Guess we can't put this off any longer."

Turning her back to him, she kicked off her trainers and reached for the zip of her jeans. Momentarily losing her balance as she tried to step out of them, Megan caught Simon out the corner of her eye, carefully folding his sweatshirt and chinos on the counter, and was amused to notice a tiny rip on the left cheek of his boxer shorts. Idly draping the denims across her stool, she took a deep breath before grabbing the hem of her t-shift and raising it over her head.

"Bugger." In a perfect demonstration of Murphy's Law, the collar of Megan's t-shift had caught on the clasp of the necklace she'd received from her mother last Christmas. Tugging lightly on the chain, terrified it would break, she suddenly felt Simon's fingers gingerly touching her neck. "Let me help."

Megan held her arms aloft whilst Simon freed the snagged clasp and eased the collar up over the back of her head. The proximity of his bare chest and the tantalising contact of his fingertips along the smooth line between her nape and hairline sent a shiver straight up Megan's spine which she knew he could not have failed to notice. How might she explain herself shivering when it was getting so damned hot in that storeroom?

Revolving to face Simon as she dropped the t-shirt onto her jeans, Megan caught a split-second glimpse of his thumbs tucking themselves into the waistband of his boxers and the enormity of what she was being expected to do hit her like a punch in the chest. It wasn't like she was a prude -- she'd even joined her team-mates in a late-night skinny dip only three weeks ago -- but there was a universe of difference between a bunch of naked girls larking about in a private pool and Megan parading her tastefully coiffured fanny in front of twenty students, nearly half of them with a fully-working cock.

Their eyes met again and Simon seemed to deflate with resignation. "So, who goes first?"

"Together," Megan replied, unclipping her bra at the front and chiding herself for not wearing one which would have afforded her a few more seconds of privacy. The twin cups sprang apart and her breasts bounded into view, but she steeled herself not to attempt covering them with her free arm. What would be the point?

Simon swallowed hard as he tried to avoid staring at Megan's firm breasts and delicate, pink nipples: she'd upped the ante and now it was his turn to lay his cards on the table. If only they'd been playing for something as simple as cash.

"My girlfriend's going to kill me if she hears about this," Simon confided as he eased the shorts down to his knees and then stood upright, allowing them to slide to the floor.

Well, he might have a girlfriend, Megan thought with an odd sense of satisfaction, but he still had to pull the front of his underwear forward to avoid catching that semi-on as he dropped them. And hey, it must be true about all American guys being circumcised.

Her mouth felt dry, and it wasn't the central heating or the whisky. Slowly, oh so slowly, Megan's hands moved into position either side of her remaining item of clothing, then the seconds seemed to crawl agonisingly as she slid her panties down in one flowing movement: past her hips, past her thighs, past any chance of retaining a semblance of dignity.

Despite a desperate desire not to give his dick any further excuse to betray him, Simon couldn't resist sweeping his gaze down from Megan's full lips, through the valley between her tits and onto the strawberry-blonde tuft at the apex of the young woman's legs. Neatly trimmed into an inch-wide strip, he noted before deliberately looking over towards the doorway, but still significantly more hirsute than most of the girls he'd known back in Philly.

Outside, the background clamour had faded, but for the occasional squeak of an easel or chair being shifted. The growing silence meant just one thing: their ten minutes were up.

Simon cleared his throat. "You know, we can't keep them waiting all night."

Megan nodded and was reaching for the door handle when a wave of adrenalin coursed through her and she impulsively swivelled to kiss Simon on the right cheek. "For luck," she whispered, fighting off a curious urge to giggle.

For a moment, he was frozen, stunned by Megan's physical intimacy on a level unaffected by even the sight of her naked ass, tits and bush. Then Simon forced his feet to follow hers as they edged towards the doorway.

"Here goes nothing," Megan sighed. Then, recalling Simon's first words to her, "Showtime..."

Erotonaut
Erotonaut
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AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
Needs chapter 2

It sort of dies at the end! And I was expecting a second page number to be there! Great start!

grumpyggrumpygabout 11 years ago
What happened to Ch 2?

I thought this was going to be a good story with a believable scenario but I was disappointed it ended so soon. The writing style is good, and talented. Perhaps when you have time you could do chapter 2?

exhibitionistguyexhibitionistguyabout 11 years ago
I like this story.

I especially like the part at the end where the girl kisses the boy on the cheek. She is being so naughty kissing him like that. I can picture the boy instantly having a huge hard-on just when he is about to enter the classroom. I mean, he is really big! His cock would be standing up at almost a ninety degree angle. The girl starts to giggle. She says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to cause you to get you so excited!" Whether or not he walks out into the classroom with his cock erect like that is questionable. I know that, if it were me, I would need to settle down first.

ausnacktausnacktover 11 years ago
It's all about creating novel, but plausible situations isn't it. Well done.. While you are enjoying the Strawberry-blond twenty-something, I'll be chatting up the late 30's brunette instructor :)

oops.....I don't read instructions so good.

OleguyOleguyover 11 years ago
More please.

Do like your style of titillation with out the standard pverdone descriptions of so many other submitters.

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