Michaelishious - Vol. 2019

Dec. 4th: The artist

"You're late!"

I cowered under the thundering voice of Mr. Jackson. I knew he was a famous artist and a teacher, but he behaved like an asshole. Well, not always. He used to be nice in the beginning when I started working as a model for his art class. But now it seemed like I didn't do anything good enough. And I knew it wasn't only because I was too late.

"I'm sorry sir, but there was a car accident and the traffic..."

"Again!"

I gulped. I had been late last time, too. But that was because my boss at the grocery store needed me to refill all the diary products before I left. And Mr. Jackson obviously wasn't satisfied that I was almost on time. He wasn't really satisfied with anything.

"But sir..."

"Undress and I'll tell you how to sit."

I rolled my eyes at him, but gulped when he took a step towards me with the grumpiest look on his face. Then I hurried behind the little screen he'd put up for his models, and pulled off my clothes, not even bothering to fold them like I usually did. And when I came back out in my silk bathrobe, I blushed when I felt everyone's eyes at me. I had no reason to blush, because I was supposed to have everyone's attention, since they were going to paint me. But I always felt better when I already sat there when they arrived, and not the opposite. Luckily, none of them seemed to be bothered that I was late. Only the quite intimidating Mr. Jackson.

I let my bathrobe fall to the floor and sat down on the little podium, that was just big enough for one model, and waited for instructions.

"Sit like a mermaid," he commanded coldly. So I did. Or... Thought I did. But of course everything I did was wrong.

"Don't cross your ankles."

I uncrossed them.

"Straighten your back."

I did.

"Look to the left, so they see the profile on your face."

I tried to do exactly what he said, but he just wasn't satisfied.

"No! The other way! Don't you know the difference between left and right?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, sir," I said coyly, and blushed again. God, this was embarrassing.

"Focus, Rita!"

"But I'm trying!"

I sighed.

"Can't you just show me instead of ordering me?" I asked frustratedly, and fought against the urge to sit up.

"Support yourself with your right arm, while you let the other one rest on your thigh."

Then he cursed and turned his head away from me with his eyes closed. He was an incredibly handsome man, with the most expressive, gorgeous eyes, and I often thought that it should be him they painted, and not me. But of course, he was the teacher and had to be accessible for help. Still, I was beginning to get really fed up with him being nice to everyone but me. What had I done to piss him off like that?

"No. Let it rest on your stomach. Fuck. No. Thigh!"

I sat up and glared at him, and his students started to interfere.

"Make up your mind!" I exclaimed angrily. And it seemed like he went back and forth with something in his head. Then he scoffed and made me lean back again, and placed my arms and legs the way he wanted it. But he looked just as frustrated as I was, when he constantly changed the position of my hand.

"Fuck," he mumbled, and I thought I saw him blush before he ended up placing my arm behind my back, and walked away. Then he took a deep breath and started teaching his class.