I owed him part of the rent. The agreement had been clear when I'd taken the room that I would pay 30% of the rent and bills for one room and use of house amenities.
But this month I'd been hit by a cut in overtime and some car repairs. I won't talk about money here. It's always a source of depression.
My flatmate's name was Carl. We sat at the kitchen table discussing what I owed. He said he knew an artist who was looking for a part-time model. It would fill my Saturdays, but would provide what I owed to him. I had little choice but to agree, unless I wanted to be given notice to leave.
On the Friday he gave the address. I asked what I should expect. He told me it was a small group of artists who met in a flat nearby. I was to get my hair trimmed, shave, dress nicely, and do whatever I was told to do.
I was on time as I knocked on the door. A mature woman led me into a large lounge. It was light, white and the only furniture was stools. One stool was in the middle and the others were arranged in a semi-circle around it.
'I'm Sarah. Carl told me you'd be happy to model for us.'
'Yes, but I admit to not know what I've let myself in for!' I laughed.
'You'll be fine. This morning's class is a figure study in charcoal. You are the figure.'
She took me by the hand and led me through a door into a bedroom and through another into a large bathroom. There she told me to stand still. Her hands touched and pulled my tie, and started to undress me.
'I can change myself Sarah.' I said calmly.
'This is my class and you're my model. I'm in charge of what you do and of what you wear. That's the deal. Are you getting scared Jon?'
She was like the sexy aunt that I never had, but fantasised out. I had to force myself to think about anything else, to keep my cock down. I was quickly naked.
'Do you swim or train Jon?'
'I keep in shape by cycling.'
'You could have a fine six-pack with a little focussed exercise. Shoulders are good.' Her hand swept across my chest, pausing on my right nipple. She kept it there just long enough to make my nipple firm. The e-mail listed my needs. One of them was a shaved firm body.'
'Sorry Sarah. What e-mail is that?'
'Sent to Carl on Thursday. Well Jon - I was that hair off. The shower is there and don't block my drain! Do you want me to help you?'
'May I have some razors please?'
'In the cabinet. You have ten minutes.'
I used six disposable razors, the last bring me completely smooth from my belly to the base of my balls. The cream that I found eased the irritation. I spent the last few minutes clearing-up my mess. As I stood up she was there in the room again.
'You've made a good start. Hand me the apron in the drawer. The apron was long, black and waterproof. She put it on, looking as if she was taking her time with this game. I passed her another razor and the shaving cream. Starting with my cock and balls, she worked into the crevice of my buttocks, my thighs, back and neck. Every hair not on my head was washed away. Liberal amounts of the cream were used until the tub was empty. I took some time to get my skin to absorb it.
She brushed my hair at her dressing table. I faced the mirror with her behind me. 'This is long for a man.'
'I'm sorry Sarah. I'll get it cut.'
'No Jon. It's fine. I like it. But your eyebrows need some attention. They're far too big.' She turned me round in the chair and worked on my brows. I was beginning to feel like an aunt's plaything.
Finally it was over and I met the class. I was still naked as she hadn't offered me a robe, but I didn't see a problem as it was warm and the artists friendly. There were three men and seven women, or varying ages. I felt at ease as the introductions came to an end and I was sent to my central position.
For two hours I stood or sat in different poses, until Sarah called a halt for lunch. Most of the artists left except for a guy who had introduced himself as Mark. He offered to help Sarah set up for the afternoon.
Sarah told me how well I had done. She was full of praise.
Mark asked me to help with the props. I accepted. I was desperate for something to do that wasn't posing. The props were a cabinet on wheels and a leather-topped bench.
Sarah called me into the adjoining bedroom. I have some thing I want you to wear. Would you like to see them?'
I nodded. That was the moment of my acceptance.
She rolled dark stockings up my legs. They felt good against my shaven skin. A suspender belt with four dangling suspender straps was fastened around my waist. She seemed to take her time with each clip.
'I have just the thing to show off your wonderful figure Jon. I know you want to try it.'
The black satin corset she showed me had me excited. It looked feminine and weak until it was tightened around you. It was then that you felt the bracing and power of it. As she laced and squeezed me I felt more and more feminine. I knew I would soon be uncomfortable, but at that moment it felt good. The corset was designed for a man, with false bust shape built into it.
I felt drunk with excitement and had completely forgotten the modelling session to come in the afternoon.
'Have you ever worn boots Darling?' she asked me.
'Well you'll have to learn quickly.' The sexy long black stiletto boots that I wore lifted me by at least four inches and made me feel like I was walking on a knife-edge. As I struggled out to see the class for the afternoon session in stockings, corset, boots and my hair in a ponytail, I felt an excitement that was stronger than my embarrassment.