⭑ MAMAMOO one shots

Nude : wheesun

content warning: smut

Wheein POV

My fingers were flying across the keyboard while looking at my laptop curiously.
I pressed the first website I saw and scrolled down. Oh wow.

Nude model workshop in Seoul.

I quickly signed up and closed the site.

Okay, I swear, I'm not some kind of pervert that just wants to visit a nude painting workshop to 'enjoy' the model. I genuinely want to get better at figure drawing, so I thought that a real-life reference might help.

I've been thinking about doing this for a long time, but was never able to build up the courage to actually sign up. Wouldn't it be super awkward?
Your art career, Wheein. Think of your art career.
Yeah, that's right. My paintings haven't been selling well lately; it's really demotivating. If it'll continue going this way, I am considering quitting art for now. This workshop will increase my skill at drawing nude figures, and I mean, sex sells, right?

This might be the last chance.

My anxiety was mostly caused by the shame around naked bodies, which didn't make sense at all. You've already visited bathhouses plenty of times, Wheein. You've seen it all.
But well, the thing is, that in bathhouses you aren't supposed to observe. This workshop is all about observing. I don't like the thought of eyeing someone's body from their head to their toes.
But it's what artists do.

+++

The workshop was quite packed, painting easels were arranged in a circle facing the model. The model in question has not yet shown up, I noticed.

Calculating in my head what the best spot for this workshop would be, I decided on a canvas not too close yet not too far away from the model. Just the thought of accidentally making eye contact sent me shivers down my spine. God, Wheein. Get yourself together. This is normal, you know? The people who came to this event all did it for the same reason: to get better at art. Or at least, I hope so. No one will think you're a pervert, alright? It's just a nude body. We were born nude. Nothing's special about that.

The event organizer came forward and told us the planning and rules of this workshop, the usual. Cameras weren't allowed. You had to capture everything with the pencil that laid in your hand.

After everyone was seated, a woman with a towel around her waist made her way into the center of the ring.
She's beautiful. She was young, probably a couple years older than me. The model had long, slightly wavy brown hair that touched her back. She made a small nod to the attendees before letting her towel hit the ground.

Now it has truly begun.

First, the model changed her pose every 30-seconds, which meant that those behind the canvases had to sketch very quickly. This was a warm-up exercise, I knew. It didn't take long until the poses started getting longer.
Despite the vulnerable position the woman was currently in, she looked very confident. She has probably already done this plenty of times before.

Something about this confidence struck something inside of me. I've never been much of a confident person, the only thing I was able to get some sort of reliance of my self-worth on was my art. My mood depended on the kind of art I made. When I was dissatisfied with my work, my day was pretty much ruined. I know it sounds cliché, but art is my life.
I sometimes wondered if this insecurity of mine also manifested itself into my art. Too scared to take risks, the lines I paint are often wobbly and my sketchbooks are full of eraser marks.