A Model Garden

"'More of me', Gale? I'm posing stark-naked. How much 'more' can there be?"

Her voice was very low, hesitant.

"Would you be willing to shave for the next session?"

"'Shave'?   Like all over?"

She blushed openly now, nodded.

"Um, yes. Please?"

Now that set me back. I mean, I'd seen guys in the gym change room who'd gone the manzilian route, but I'd never come close to considering it myself.

"They're willing to pay for it," she said.

I just stared. This was 'way outside the lines and we both knew it.

"Three hundred bucks?" she whispered.

Now that got my attention. Three hundred dollars was a sizeable sum. It would make the next semester a lot easier.

Gale broke into my thoughts. She looked flustered, worried.

"No? How about four hundred?"

"Four hundred bucks just for shaving?"

"Yes." Her eyes were looking at something well over my shoulder.

"Just shave and then model? Four hundred dollars?" I was starting to get an idea of how women must feel about unwelcome sexual propositions.

Her mouth snapped closed; she was silent for a few seconds.

"Yes. It... it makes a difference to how the model looks."

From anybody but her it would have been crazy. From Gale, maybe.

"I'll think on it, Gale." I stood up. "Thanks for the coffee."

+

It was, I suppose, the combination of the unpredictability of tutoring and the grinding boredom of the McJob that made that up my mind for me.

I doddled in the change room the next time I went to the gym and, yeah, there were a few guys bald from the chin down, so to speak. It wouldn't have been a good idea to spend much time scoping them out, but they seemed pretty normal dudes. It set me to wondering who else I knew who had a secret razor...

I thought about it some more, then called Gale.

The full-body manscaping took longer than I thought it would and was no less uncomfortable than anticipated; I won't go into it except to say that I gained a lot of respect for women and the things they put themselves through.

The salon warned me against strenuous exercise for a day, which I found irritating as it was my Legs Day at the gym and I hated to screw up my program.

+

I was the last one to get to Gale's place that night. I could hear feminine laughter as I came up the walk and the women beamed happily when I came through the door.

Somebody had made sangrias and I accepted a proffered glass happily. We spent some time socializing before Gale herded the women into the studio. I rejoined them a minute later in my housecoat. This time, their eyes lingered on my bare shins, on the bare chest showing above my robe.

Gale motioned me towards the platform. She wanted me standing, hands on my head and bending my body to the left. It wasn't a particularly comfortable position, but I knew she would call frequent breaks.

It felt odd, too, odd in a new sense. Body hair doesn't completely block air moving over the skin, but it does to some extent and I was feeling breezes I'd never felt before.

The four women tried to behave, but I could see their eyes appraising me, Gale included. To my surprise, it was Tammy, the shy one, who was last to pick up her pad and chalk. I looked at her from the corner of one eye, saw a pointed tongue tip sweep slowly between her lips. It wasn't pervy or anything, but it was clear that the situation had changed somewhat.

Mental composition was difficult that night. I'd spent a lot of time nude in my life, both at home and while posing, but I'd never felt as naked  as I felt then. It was completely irrational in one sense. Body hair provides no protection, scarcely even from view. Yet there was a decided difference in how it made me feel about myself. I wondered if women felt the same way after a Brazilian?

I'd read that some women removed their pubic hair because it made them feel more feminine. I could accept that, but, looking at myself in a mirror on the studio wall, I certainly didn't feel 'feminine'. Come to think of it, maybe, just maybe, I felt a bit more masculine. There was nothing to distract one's view from me,  from the body I'd worked so hard to sculpt. Muscle masses seemed to be more clearly defined. Come to think of it, no longer emerging now from a small grove of hair, my sex looked  larger, my manhood longer, my sac lower.

My head was turned down and away from the women, but I could catch the odd lingering glance, ones which seemed to have little to do with gauging proportions or whatever. Tammy was the closest to me; her eyes lingered for a slow count of thirty seconds before she made the first mark on her paper.

My neck was a little stiff when Gale called a break. I walked around the garden, swinging my arms in big circles. As usual, four sets of eyes watched me surreptitiously from inside.

When I was back in position, I noticed that there was an intentness to their efforts which hadn't been there during earlier sessions. There'd been hard work and focus, to be sure, but not nearly to this degree.

Gale pulled up a chair and sketch pad and positioned herself where she could see between Heather and Tammy. In a minute, she too was working away.

During my next break outside, I looked at the four of them in the studio. For once, they weren't watching me. Instead, heads pressed close together, they were examining Gale's sketch, giggling away to themselves. It stopped when Gale called 'time', but all eyes swung up towards me. All four of them blushed a little this time, their heads turning away quickly.

Gale wouldn't show me her sketch.

We did a bit of socializing after the sketching session.

"I've seen online photos of body-builders," Heather said. "I'm sorry, but so much of it... I mean, they just look grotesque. Why do people that to themselves? You're not trying for that, are you?"

The others stopped talking. I could see them listen in, nod slightly. It's a common challenge and I thought I had a ready answer.

"I guess it's like plastic surgery," I replied. "Hardly anybody considers it weird for a really flat-chested woman to have breast augmentation surgery and Botox wrinkle removal is common enough. But there are people who go overboard, like strippers getting hugely outsized breasts or that poor woman who turned herself into Barbie."

The nods were a little more vigorous now. Barbie was pretty much a meme in her own right.

"To me," I continued, "lots of things can be good in reasonable doses, but it's easy to go too far. I can't see my ever going hard-core like some guys do."

I shook my head. "It's not for me."

I paused, waved a hand over my body, and could almost feel  four pairs of eyes as they followed my gesture. "But I like looking like this. It suits my mental image of what I should look like. And it's nice to see hard work and discipline paying off."

"Um, forgive me for asking," Gale asked, "but I've read about supplements and steroids..."

"Supplements, sure. I use lots of protein, for instance. There's little harm in that and a fair bit of payoff. Steroids are another thing entirely, at least for me. They can be physically risky and they do sometimes affect behaviour. I haven't used them and have no intention of trying."

"Oh. That's good, I guess."

"I think so."

+

U up for Thurs 14 Jul, 2PM?

Gale's text wasn't an entire surprise. The last session has gone well and she'd mentioned wanting to combine a class with a garden party for the girls. I knew I was free that afternoon.

Sure

Gale's garb was a little more dressy than usual when I got there -- a nice skirt and frilly blouse. She was also wearing makeup, which was unusual for her. Seeing my look, she giggled a little, raised her hands as if in surrender.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's a class, Ty, but it's also a party, so..."

I raised my hands to match hers.

"I get it, Gale. No need to explain. You look good."

She smiled, gave me a friendly hug.

The others arrived minutes later, almost together.

Tammy was wearing shorts with a white t-shirt. I'll confess to being a little disappointed when I saw the outline of a bra under it, but I was impressed by the endless, shapely legs so well displayed. Heather was dressed in a short brown skirt and a pale blouse with a scoop neck. The woman could wear a gunny sack and still look good. Quinn caught my eye instantly -- skinny jeans, high black boots and a ribbed white knit blouse with spaghetti straps. She was clearly braless and it was an effort to keep my eyes above her shoulders. Each of them hugged me as they entered.

We made small talk for a little while before Gale made an announcement.

"We're going to try something a little different today."

The four of us looked at her.

"Up until now, it's been careful poses lasting for an hour. This afternoon, I'd like to give you a bit of a challenge. Instead of working in the studio, we're going to move to the garden. And, instead of posing, Ty is going to simply walk around, stretch from time to time -- all the things we've watched him doing on his breaks. ('We', I thought. Now there's a bit of honesty! )  I want at least three quick sketches of Ty from each of you. Don't worry about total accuracy; what I want is for you to try to capture the impression of movement, the interplay between his muscles."

She turned to me. "Is that OK by you, Ty?"

I thought about it. It wasn't the norm, but it wasn't weird, either.

"Why not?"

The three students set out lawn chairs in the back yard, adjusting them so as not to be facing into the sun. They retrieved their sketchpads and other supplies.

When I returned to the studio from the bedroom in my robe, Gale caught my eye.

"Would you mind helping me set out the refreshments, please?"

"Certainly, Gale."

She looked at me.

"You're on the clock as of now, Ty. The way you move during setup is exactly the sort of thing I want them to capture. So, if you don't mind, lose the robe, please."

Again, why not? I took off the housecoat, folded it and laid it aside.

"Thanks," she said. I noticed she was very careful not to stare at me. "The first thing is to help me move that table outside and into the shade. After that, we'll take the goodies out."

The table wasn't all that heavy, but it was a bit unwieldly. Gale helped, though, and we got it out the door by turning it on its side. I found myself in one of those awkward positions where the table legs prevented me from actually stepping forward or walking normally. I had to shuffle and found the movement set my balls swaying just a little. I don't think Quinn or Gale noticed, but as we passed Tammy and Heather, I saw their eyes following.

"There!" Gale announced as we put the table down. "Would you bring the drinks and the glasses, please, Ty?"

She was spreading a linen tablecloth over the table by the time I returned. A minute later, we had the drinks, snacks and dishes in place.

"Thanks for that."

"No worries. What do you want me to do now?"

She looked around. The three other women, arrayed with sketchpads and drawing supplies, were seated in a shallow semicircle near the hedge. None of them had actually started drawing and I could see they were examining me, trying to figure out what to do next. Gale pulled up a chair for herself, went into her studio and emerged with a stick of charcoal and her own sketchpad.

"Just move," she said. "Walk back and forth. Stretch like you've been doing. Turn around. Whatever."

Her eyebrows rose. Her head tilted a little to one side as she looked up at me.

"Actually, Ty, I have a better idea. If you wouldn't mind, perhaps you could act as a waiter for a minute or two -- fetch drinks and such. That kind of natural movement would be perfect."

The other three women all smiled brightly.

Again, it wasn't really following the usual rules, but it made sense and I was being paid by the hour anyway.

The grass was comfortable under my feet and the sun was happily warm on my shoulders. It felt good.

Heather was closest, so I went to her first. I saw that she had made a few rough starts on her paper -- outlines of my torso and legs, mainly. The breeze shifted and I could smell some sort of flowery scent on her. Her red hair shifted as she looked up at me.

"What might I get you, Heather?"

"A sangria, please, Ty."

"Nibblies?"

"Some cheese cubes and a couple of those cherry tomatoes, please."

I went to the table, bent over, put some ice in a glass, poured, arranged some cheese and tomatoes on a plate. Straightening, I returned to Heather. I held them out towards her in her chair.

Her voice was soft. "Could you hold them, just like that, just for a moment, Ty? Please?"

I smiled, held the pose. When she put down the sketchpad to take the refreshments, I saw she'd done a quick image of my abdomen. She'd focused on my six-pack, but the very base of my sex had been included.

"Thanks."

I smiled in reply.

Quinn was next and asked for much the same. When I brought her order, I could see she'd sketched my back and butt as I'd been at the table. Her usual sparky manner was subdued now for some reason and she wore a just-slightly-shy smile when she took the glass.

"Thank you," she said, her voice quite gentle.

I was surprised when I brought the shy Tammy her order. She too asked me to stand in front of her for a minute and her hands began moving rapidly over her pad. My eyebrows went up when I saw her initial drawing.

She'd had done a good job, I thought, on my thighs and lower belly. She had however paid more attention to my wedding tackle. And the day was warm, so things were riding pretty low.

Her sketch looked pretty much like what I saw in the mirror every day, but she wouldn't meet my eyes when I handed her the glass and plate.

Gale chuckled at Tammy's confusion. I could hear her say something to the others as I returned to the table, but her voice was low enough that I couldn't make out what she had said. It got a burst of subdued laughter from the others, though.

When I brought Gale her sangria, I saw that her sketch was, unsurprisingly, very good. No more than a dozen strokes of charcoal had caught me in mid-step, glass and plate in hand.

"Pour yourself one, Ty," she said. "Come stand in front of us with your glass."

"OK, ladies," she announced. "New challenge! You've got three minutes for Tyson like this."

Eyes darted up and down, hands dragged pencils and charcoal across paper.

"Time! Let's see your work. Hold 'em up!"

All were decent images; all had focused on different things. Heather had spent more time on my hands and lower arms, which rather surprised me. Quinn's sketch was full-body, in mid-stride, done with broad strokes. Tammy seemed to have caught my head turning.

Gale made the usual constructive comments, gave the usual positive feedback.

An hour passed, quickly in some ways, slowly in others.

"Time's up, girls!" Gale announced. "That's it for this session."

I started to head inside.

"You're welcome to stay, Ty," she continued. "I told you I was going to have a party if the weather was nice. It is and you're invited."

I saw four sets of big eyes turned towards me. Please let the big man stay!

I took another sip of sangria. It was a warm day and it wasn't my first; I could feel the alcohol in my brain -- not even partly drunk, but definitely, definitely relaxed. Looking at the women, all half my weight, all with glass in hand, I could clearly see they were feeling pretty serene, too.

"Yes!" Heather exclaimed. "Stick around, Ty! Please?"

"I'd like that, too." Quinn said softly. She leaned forward, shook out her blonde mane and ran her fingers through it. She straightened suddenly and her hair flew back over her back and shoulders. She brushed it away from her face with her hands. I watched her nipples shift under her thin blouse.

She looked it me. "I would."

Tammy said nothing, but I saw her nod, her hopeful smile.

"All right," I said. "Thank you. That'd be nice. I'll just get dressed."

Four faces fell. I could see instant disappointment in all of them. Even Tammy, the shyest of the lot, seemed slightly deflated. It was she who broke the silence.

"Ty," she said, rising and approaching me. Her voice dropped to the merest whisper. "Um, we've seen you..." Her hand waved at me, head to toe. " I mean, I think... I think it's nice the way you are."

The last words came out in a rush.

Her eyes were locked on mine. Like I said, she was a tall girl. When she stood in front of me, she was only a handbreadth shorter. One slim hand rose, came up as if to touch my jaw, but stopped just short.

"Please?"

Asking a model to stick around for a party after? OK, it happens. But naked? On campus, there'd be red flags flying in every direction.

On the other hand, I thought, this wasn't on campus, I'd finished my gig, this was a private party and what's the worst that could happen? They'd seen me bare already.

Tammy's limpid blue eyes just inches from mine seemed to be growing bigger with each breath I took.

I tried to swallow, smiled instead.

"I'd be pleased, then. Thank you."

I seemed to have made a popular decision. All four of them were literally jumping up and down, clapping their hands. I couldn't not  notice, if you know what I mean, four happy, attractive women with four pairs of very nice boobs bobbing up and down... I felt myself stiffen a little and turned away quickly, moved to the table to hide that potential embarrassment.

I don't suppose I moved quickly enough. Thinking on it now, I suppose all four of them noticed. I tried not to listen to the sudden tangle of soft female giggles and whispered remarks.

I definitely wasn't supposed to hear Quinn feigning a deep-South accent, whispering that famous line from M*A*S*H: "Ah'd purely love to see that angry!"   The other three women went into quiet hysterics, desperately trying to keep me from noticing. Gale was bent over, choking on her drink.

I slowly loaded a plate at the table, my back to them, until I managed to get myself under control -- or, at least, until the giggling had stopped.

Somebody had put out a chair for me. In the centre, of course, facing the four of them.

"How long have you been a bodybuilder, Ty?" Quinn asked a minute later.

"High school," I said. "I'm not sure. Call it five or six years."

"It looks stunning," she said. "Some bodybuilders look, I don't know, almost... alien maybe? But you're just gorgeous!"

"Adonis in person, right?" Gale quipped.

I tried to ignore that, took another sip of wine. Both of them were a bit red in the face.

"Do you ever do those weird poses? The ones they use on stage?" Quinn flexed an arm, giggled.

"I've done them," I grinned, "but mainly in the mirror. I'm not bulked up enough for competition, even if I was interested."

"Show me!" Her eyes were wide. "Please?"

I chuckled, rose and stood in front of her. I started out with a double biceps, feet just spread apart, my arms raised to the side and curled towards my head, straining to show off biceps. It's a pretty good position to present arms, belly and legs. It certainly impressed Quinn; her jaw dropped almost to her chest.

The other three women were silent now, staring at me.

I grinned, shifted into a side chest pose, shifted to another, then a fourth.

I dropped the last pose, smiled and walked back to the table, found some veggies to nibble on. I got a round of applause, which was nice.

I was surprised to realize how comfortable I was being like this. I was feeling happy, relaxed. This could become my normal, I thought. I pondered that, the why of it. I was pretty sure it was more than just the sangria.