––––––––

Griffin

––––––––

The last thing you want to see when you walk into a room is the woman you’re interested in talking to a naked guy.

That’s the sight that greeted me when I took my seat in the small studio at Grant Gallery. I was let into the gallery by a security guard who brought me up here. I admit I was late. On a good day I leave my office by nine p.m., so making it here by seven was a stretch. I slid onto the stool behind the empty easel at half-past seven and by then Piper was engaged in a conversation with a guy with a semi-hard dick.

That seems to be finishing up now since she’s pointing at a small stage at the front of the studio that she apparently wants him to get up on.

He does. He strikes a pose with his arms over his head, his abs flexed and a side view of his cock.

I’m not coming into this blindly. I read the course outline this afternoon before I hit the registration button. In my imagination, I thought a beautiful woman would be resting on her back on a velvet sofa eating grapes.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Piper since she showed up at my office on Friday. I don’t go out of my way to get any woman into bed, but after researching Piper online, I signed up for her class. I doubt like hell I’ll make it past tonight, but that’s all the time I need to convince her to have a drink with me. Besides, I wanted to see for myself what she’s like when she’s leading a group of aspiring artists.

I peek around the easel when Piper starts talking. “Since you all have varying degrees of experience, I thought tonight we’d focus on your vision of what you see before you. I want you to draw Rufus just as you see him. Don’t concern yourself with details. This is simply an exercise meant to help me determine how you view the model.”

I stare at the blank paper in front of me.

If I had a clue where to start, I might, but instead, I lean over to look at the paper of the woman sitting next to me.

“This isn’t Algebra. You can’t cheat.” She shoots me a look. “I’m Brenda. You’re late.”

“I’m lost,” I admit. “Have you taken one of these classes before?”

She sets her charcoal pencil down. “I’m a first-timer too. Let’s say we pair up as study buddies. You can come over to my place after class so we can practice drawing. I’ll be your model if you’ll be mine.”

I’m getting hit on while a naked man is less than twenty feet away. I’ll take the ego boost.

“I’ll have to pass.” I look over to where Piper is standing next to another student. It’s a man around my age. I’m tempted to call her over, but I didn’t come here to disrupt her work. I came here to learn more about her.

“Suit yourself.” She points at my three-piece navy blue suit. “By the way, you have excellent taste in clothing.”

I nod in appreciation as I turn back to the easel.

“Pick up the pencil and let the subject speak to you.” Piper’s voice carries from behind me. “Don’t restrict yourself by your own expectations. Let your creativity lead you where it wants to.”

It takes a beat before I realize she’s talking to me so I respond. “What if my creativity fucked off a long time ago?”

I hear her breath catch. A moment later she steps into the spot next to my stool. “Mr. Kent? Is that you?”

I turn to her and smile. “Hello again, Piper.”

Her gaze falls to the blank paper in front of me before she eyes me. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to learn. You’re here to teach. Let’s get started, shall we?”

***

“What’s the verdict?” I stand in front of my easel. “Do you think I have a future in charcoal art?”

Piper picks up my sketchpad and holds it in her hands as her gaze takes in every line. “I see promise.”

She’s polite. My drawing is elementary, at best. I know it. I’ve never professed to have a talent in the arts. I may hang around for another class or two if it means I can convince her to go out with me.

She places the drawing back before she pivots to face me. “I printed out the list of students who enrolled this morning, your name wasn’t on there.”

“I’m not crashing.” I clear my throat. “I signed up late this afternoon.”

“Why?” She flinches as she looks back at my easel before her gaze settles on my face. “Joyce told me that you aren’t a fan of art.”

“How exactly did that come up in conversation with my assistant? “I ask in a low tone. “Were you asking her about me?”

Her cheeks blush with the question. “No. I mean...yes...we were talking about a lot of things. Art happened to be one of them.”

“Have a drink with me tonight and fill me in on what else you and Joyce talked about.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” I step a little closer.

She half-shrugs but doesn’t offer anything beyond that.

“Another night then?” I rub my jaw; irritated that this isn’t going the way I want it to. “Consider it a thank you for teaching me how to draw.”

Her perfectly arched brows rise. “I haven’t taught you anything yet.”

I’d love to push her to break her plans so we can have a drink followed by a night in my bed, but she just went through hell two weeks ago. I need to slow the pace and give her time. “You’re going to teach me to draw like you, aren’t you?”

“Like me?” Her hand flies to the middle of her chest and my gaze follows. There’s enough cleavage to suggest a perfect pair of round tits. The dress she was wearing in my office the day we met showed off a curvy ass. My teacher is hot-as-hell.

“Perhaps not exactly like you.” I take a step back. “I hope to see some improvement in my skills by the end of the course.”

She looks toward the studio entrance when Rufus, the now-clothed male model, walks in. “I’ll see to it that you improve. That’s my job.”

“Are you ready, Piper?” he calls from where he’s standing.

“Class is dismissed.” She smiles. “I need to lock up, so I’ll follow you out.”

An unwelcome knot of jealousy forms in the pit of my stomach as I brush past Rufus and try to block out the sound of Piper laughing at something he’s saying.

I signed up for eight weeks of this shit. I’m beginning to wonder why the fuck I did that.