The Look in Her Eyes

The Look in Her Eyes

Don Julian Winslow

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"In the end, we are all voyeurs."

-- Hollis Compton in "Does it Really Matter?"

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Ten curious faces turned as one to watch the new girl enter room 303. They were all at their places, their easels forming a loose circle around an empty chair atop a small platform. They had been talking casually; just waiting for class to begin. Their conversations stopped when the door opened to admit the newcomer; an intruder into their little group; for Madeline it was an awkward moment. She was instantly relieved to find none of the students were in any of her classes. She had worried about that on the nervous ride over. Now, from somewhere in the back of the room, Professor Kenner bounded up to take her hand and welcome her to Drawing 201. He introduced her to the class as "Maddie Kosco" who had kindly consented to be one of our new models for this term.

The thin girl with the straight dark hair, gave a tentative smile and friendly nod. Several of the students, both girls and boys, smiled back. Professor Kenner, white haired and gracious, was in a hurry. He asked if she were ready to begin, and ushered her to the alcove in the far corner of the room. Like a changing booth in a dress store, it was tiny with just a low stool; on the wall a mirror, and a single hook holding a long white robe. Behind the curtain, Madeline quickly stripped, undoing her khaki shorts and shoving them down her long straight legs. Her t-shirt followed, ignoring the mirror which followed the progress of the slender small-breasted girl in her underwear.

She reached up in back to undo the bra and brushed it from her shoulders with a brisk business-like gesture. Then hooking her thumbs in her panties, she bent forward to ride them down to her ankles before stepping free of the fallen underpants.

On the stool, she quickly tugged off sneakers and socks, all the while aware of that tinging rise of the nervousness that she felt as she sat on the bus heading for her new job in the Fine Arts College. And it was a job, she reminded herself, good pay or only a few hours a week, and all she had to do was take her clothes off and sit there while these budding young artists practiced drawing. It was just plain silly to be nervous, she told herself.

She stood up and paused to take one final look in the mirror, critically examining the nude woman staring back at her. A pretty girl (she had been told that many times in growing up), with straight hair that she wore shoulder-length. Lanky shoulders and straight narrow limbs. "All arms and legs" her mother used to say with a smile, as the coltish girl was sent off to school. Later, she decided her legs were her best feature, tall and smooth and tapering with slight feminine contours.

The breasts she saw were small but firm: nicely shaped teardrops that sat high on her chest. "Two neat handfuls" Eric would sigh when reaching for her. She cupped them a bit to raise them as in offering to the mirror. Her thumbs brushed the nipples which seemed to set them tingling today for some reason. Looking into her eyes, breasts hefted in her hands, she might have been in danger in slipping into a sort of dreamy reverie, had not a sudden thought reminded her that a roomful of people were waiting for her! A quick check of her butt as she turned in place, caused her to smile: a nice, small tautly curved bottom.

Moving quickly now, she slipped on the big fluffy robe and taking a breath drew back the curtain to walk barefoot across the tile to the Professor Kenner and the waiting stage.

***

The warmly smiling professor was solicitous, chatting to relax his new model, while his hand rested reassuringly on her robed shoulder; asking if she was ok. After a few minutes of that, he offered to take her robe. Suddenly embarrassed, she kept her eyes on the floor, she slipped out of it and he took it away. Then he took her hand and helped the tentative nude girl up the step to the wooden chair, while Maddie worked to avoid all those eyes that she knew were on her as she mounted the stage. Someone had thoughtfully placed a cushion on the hard wooden seat, for which she was grateful.

Once seated in place, she raised her head and brushed back a strand of hair, to let her eyes sweep the room and with a determined effort to be bold, set out to directly confront the faces of her audience. A new wave of nervousness swept over her, all the old doubts about what she doing came back to her. What would her father say? He knew only that she had found a part-time job on campus. She just wasn't sure this was right. These thoughts went through her head as she sat in the pose he had put her in, relaxed, with legs slightly parted, one hand on her thigh, the other loose at her side. She could feel their eyes on her - appraising her looks, her naked body on open display.

The professor had receded, leaving the nude girl alone on the stage. He would make the rounds of the room examining the work of each student, offering advice here and there. While, to her surprise, Maddie found her initial embarrassment along with her nervousness were melting away. And a weird feeling of freedom rose up in her. It was feeling of being perfectly natural in her nudity, unlike all the others in the room who were bound by their clothes. She relaxed, at ease with herself, with her body. It was just a job. As time went on, she began to study those who were studying her.

Most of the young women went to work immediately, studiously sketching away with only an occasional glance in her direction. Only one girl seemed fixated on her body; a small blonde in a ratty t-shirt who nervously tried to avert her gaze. The men seemed more casual about their art class: drawing little, and spending more time studying the new model. Maddie felt a flush of warmth at all this male attention. But she held her head high and kept the blank expression on her face as the professor has instructed her.

She couldn't help noticing a guy on her left who was smiling at her, his eyes slyly seductive as he played with his thick drawing pencil. He was in a sweat shirt and shorts, sort of rough looking, unshaven; his tousled hair was a mess. But he had the most amazing eyes, blue eyes that boldly traveled down her body, and she saw desire there, a kind of hunger that sent a twinge of sexiness through her. She shifted just bit, uneasy under his frankly appreciative gaze. Suddenly flustered, she surveyed the room, but when she came back he was still there, with that steady gaze, just staring at her, taking in her pale, dark-haired beauty.

From her vantage point she could see under the easel. There his legs, strong and hairy moved in those loose running shorts. She quickly licked her lips, hoping no one would notice. She felt the rising heat when she saw his legs open to let her see a thickening mound at his crotch. She was turning the guy on! Just sitting here, nude, she had reached out and touched him!

It was then, at her first nude modeling job, that Madeline Kosco became aware of the power she held.

That sense of erotic power thrilled her, caused a tingling in her pussy. Maddie realized at age 19 that simply by looking at her nude body, men would become aroused. They would want her...need her.

***

His name was Keith; a part-time student and part-tine bartender. Because her work schedule called for two back-to-back sessions, she found Keith waiting for her in the hallway after the second sitting. If it was one of those days when neither of them had an afternoon class, they would spend a few hours in bed at his apartment near the campus.

She soon learned that although Keith had a casual interest in drawing, his real passion was photography. And he was very good; had a photographer's eye. She was entranced by his work: picture after picture, all of women, mostly nudes, all in glossy back and white, all taped up in room he set aside as his "gallery." Wives and mothers, girlfriends and lovers, all stood exposed for his camera. They decorated every inch of wall space in his apartment, an array of women, some older some younger, all posing naked as they passed through obsessive photographer's hands. She found herself gazing into their eyes...knowing what they felt, what she felt when she offered herself ...to be seen!

In bed, she found he was a masterful lover, instantly erect, and throbbing with need. As they kissed, his hungry hands moved eagerly over every inch of her sensually twisting body. He told her fervently that he was struck by her...by her cool aloof beauty, and had to have on her on his walls!

Behind the camera he took charge: instructing her to adopt a certain pose, then another, all the while clicking madly away with his Nikon. Urging her to turn this way or that, to move an arm or a leg just so, to adopt poses that were graceful, almost classical, and then those that were wonderfully, powerfully erotic.

He had her lie back and touch herself, slipping a hand up her breasts to pass over a dormant nipple coaxing it into prominence for the all-seeing camera. And she felt the rising heat of being watched while she pleasured herself. Now with no urging from him, her hands were moving with a life of their own, caressing her slack body, splayed fingers dipping lower down her belly to encounter the dark wisps of pubic hair. Through half- lidded eyes she looked down her body to the eye of the camera between her legs. Then her fingers were cresting the small mounded pubis and teasing along her slick lips. As Keith watched through the camera, she palmed herself; a moan escaped her lips. Two fingers found their way in between the fleshy gates and moved within. She moaned, lifting her hips.

That photo session brought on a storm of passion as aroused photographer and lust-driven model, grappled on the floor, surrendering to the power of Eros.

One day, he had been called to fill in at the bar, and she went to his apartment and let herself in with his key. The place seemed eerily quiet as she entered his "gallery". She stopped short. There was new picture of her, oversized, and taped to the center of the array. Full frontal nudity. She was squarely facing the camera, her eyes far way on some distant horizon.

She stood back studying the picture. The camera had lovingly captured her nude beauty in exquisite detail, the squared shoulders, hands loosely at her sides, her small-mounded breasts and her darkly-shaded sex, all on open display. Below it was a post-it note, placed where he knew she would find it. She read the URL: the place where she could find the picture on the internet!

Suddenly it came to her: thousands, perhaps millions of men all over the world would see the girl in the picture who looked at the world with natural conference simply offering her beauty to admired.

Those men would look, and know the onset of lust in their rising cocks. The image of her would send the throb of raw sex coursing through their male bodies. They would want her, with a growing hunger, a desperate need. They'd want to have her, to possess her!

Madeline Kosco felt the raw power, a tremendous rush of feminine pride roll up in her as she gazed into the eyes of the woman in the picture.

The End