Almost as if it had never existed at all, Sam’s surprised look ran away from his face and it shifted into a look of contempt.

Hah, that’ll show him, the pompous prick, I thought menacingly.

Sam fixed me with a curious stare and growled, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

He was a big guy, standing at about 6’4” and built like an NFL player.

I looked up into his eyes, which were an unusual color somewhere between green and brown. Steeling myself, I crossed my arms and sized him up.

“I’m Evan.” I said, knowing for damn sure I had the upper hand – and fully enjoying it.

“Sam.” He grunted, also crossing his arms and peering down at me from whatever high horse he was on.

I took a closer look at his face and noticed that he was flushed. Then it dawned on me as I put two and two together.

What a freak! I thought, This guy goes into the bathroom in the middle of a class to jerk off?

Then an even greater realization struck me – this guy went to the bathroom in the middle of class to jerk off… to me.

That was… that was kind of hot, honestly.

“Do you mind?” I asked him, raising my eyebrow and asking him to move with a quick motion of my head.

“It’s all yours.” He replied with a guarded expression, moving aside swiftly.

I moved past him, not breaking eye contact until I could get into the bathroom and shut the door.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I leaned over the sink and let out a breath. Standing in front of a bunch of people naked was one thing, but having to do that and pretend to be confident about it was downright draining.

It would be doable, aside for the fact that he was in the class.

Despite my highest hopes for this class to go smoothly, there he was, tangling it up. And as much as I’d like to think my strange, squirmy feeling I felt when I’d first seen him yesterday in the restaurant was just my imagination, it was back in full force today.

I wanted him to be impressed by me; I wanted to undo the image of me as a waiter from his mind.

Even though he had a holier-than-thou attitude that I couldn’t stand, there was a part of me that wanted to be accepted by him. Maybe it was because this man represented everything I wanted to be: rich, fashionable, handsome, successful. It was everything that I wasn’t; everything that I was working towards.

Letting the warm water in the sink run over my hands for a moment, I tried to piece together this reaction I was having to Sam.

I wanted to be him.

Yes, that was it.

During the second half of the class, I forced myself to get lost in thought, fully enjoying all the girls looking at me. I tried to force my eyes to focus on anything but Sam, who I knew was eyeing at me with lust.

I felt a twitch in my cock. And since I was naked, I was sure that everyone in the room had seen.

Casting my eyes upward, I breathed out slowly and forced myself into a kind of awkward meditation. Closing my eyes, I’m sure to the artists I looked serene; at peace in a graceful pose. Thankfully, it made my cock subside and calm down.

I spent the rest of the class deliberately not looking at Sam, let alone thinking about him.

I wasn’t sure if it was narcissistic to be turned on by someone getting turned on by you, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t get me going.

When the final pose was finished and Professor Washburn called time, I stepped down from the podium and returned to the changing room in the corner of the studio. When I was fully clothed, I stepped out and the professor was there waiting for me as the students were chattering and packing up their supplies.

“You did great, Evan! Thank you for working this on such short notice.” She praised warmly, thanking me and handing me three $20 bills.

“My pleasure,” I replied, returning her smile.

Rent was all set. A massive wave of relief washed over me as that huge worry was put to rest.

“We’ll see you Wednesday, same time.”

“Wait, what?” I blurted out, taken aback. I was pretty certain that I hadn’t signed up for anything except one class.

Her eyebrows came together in confusion. “Yeah it says here that you signed up for this whole week. For this class that means today and Wednesday.” She replied.

No way, I thought. it was hard enough to put myself out there and be naked in front of strangers this one time.

But before I answered, I bit my tongue and gave it a second thought. Another class meant another sixty bucks. And this class filled in the awkward gap I had after swim practice and before any of my classes. Sure, I was exhausted of this now, but by Wednesday I would surely have enough energy to do it again.

“Yes, I’ll be there.” I confirmed.

…as long as I didn’t have to look at Sam. Or think about him; thinking about the way he was surely thinking about me.

“Alright, glad we cleared that up.” She relaxed.

That Wednesday, after I felt particularly drained from swim practice that morning, I dutifully showed up at the art school at the same time. I walked into the familiar open, white classroom again, and marched into the center of the array of adjustable art desks around me.

Professor Washburn walked by in the hallway, peeked in, saw me, and did a double-take.

“Oh, Evan you’re here! Just in time, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She bustled into the room, frazzled but excited.

“The art school has decided on final projects for next semester for the senior students, and they’re a bit… uh… unorthodox.”

I raised my eyebrow inquisitively.

As she explained, her excitement transferred over to me like osmosis.