Jean watched as the model stripped down. An older woman with presence. She didn’t care that the whole class watched as she dropped the robe to the chair. Her breasts had nipples that perked up as the air caressed them. Unlike most models, this woman wasn’t thin. Nor did she conform to the modern ideas of beauty. She unpinned her hair and let it cascade down her back in soft ringlets. She posed in the chair like a cat draped on someone’s lap. One arm supported her head while her legs crossed at the ankles. She exuded sex as easily as others breathed.
The rest of the class began to sketch quickly. They knew they had only an hour to capture this wild woman. This hippy of a bygone era. Jean could smell the dust from a dozen pencils and charcoal sticks smudging against the paper. She knew she should be drawing, but where to start? Jean took a deep breath and picked up her pencil.
The pencil skipped across the paper. Thigh, cheekbone, hip, curve of the breast. Slowly bit by bit the model appeared on her paper. Nose, curls, tufts of pubic hair. Smudge, shade, delineate. Jean worked to bring out the woman in front of her. Skin, eyes, toes, armpit hair, smile. The model was smiling at her.
“Oh god! Eye contact!” Jean thought in a panic. She blinked and tried to go back to her sketch. Shade, smudge, outline. Jean looked up at the clock. Ten minutes. She looked back at the model. The model winked. Jean felt herself blush.
Pin dot detailing. Another smudge. The instructor called time. Jean sprayed fixative across the sketch and put her name at the bottom with the class number and instructor. She walked away to wash her hands. She let the cool water run over her to wash away the charcoal as much as the heat creeping up her body. She tried to think of her next class, dinner, the library. Anything.
“I like the way you draw,” said a soft voice behind her. The scent of spearmint tickled her senses. Jean turned. Before her stood the model, bathrobe draped over her arm.
“I… um… thanks. You’re a good model,” Jean finally stuttered out.
“Would you like to draw me again?” the woman asked.
“Why yes,” said Jean. She realized that she meant it, although the idea terrified her. This woman was so beautiful. So unlike anyone she’d ever met.
“Come with me. I have no class until 6pm,” she said and walked back out into the studio.
Jean followed. The model had moved to a wider posing couch. She lay back against the pillows and had spread her hair over the back. Her legs were akimbo and her sex visible beneath the curls.
“Do you like what you see?” the woman asked.
“Yyes,” said Jean. She felt her own nipples tighten against her teeshirt and the cotton panties beneath her jeans dampen.
“Come closer,” said the woman, her hand out invitingly.
Jean moved closer, and took the woman’s hand. The model pulled Jean close until Jean sat on the edge of the couch.
“Touch me,” the woman said as she placed Jean’s hand on her breast.
Jean felt the warm soft flesh of the woman and how the nipple responded to the touch. It crinkled tight. Jean wondered how to draw crinkled nipples. The model guided Jean’s hand down her stomach to the top of her pubic hair.
“Go ahead, it don’t bite,” teased the woman.
Jean caressed the sliky curls. Hot, moist and soft. Her drawing hadn’t done them justice. She slipped her fingers down into the wet folds between the woman’s legs. Slick, wet, inviting. The model raised up and took Jean’s head in her hands and kissed her. Spearmint scent rose from the woman’s body. Jean inhaled the kiss as her hand found the woman’s clit. She touched it as the woman’s arms wrapped around her. Her fingers slipped into he woman as her own breast was being stroked. Jean moaned and a tongue filled her mouth. Spearmint.
The woman kissed and touched Jean through her clothes. Jean moaned into the woman’s mouth and stroked her clit. The woman began to gasp and moan. She rubbed and pinched Jean’s nipples. It was Jean’s turn to gasp. She felt her body react to the woman’s touch. It felt like she came with the woman under her fingertips. A shudder rippled through both of them.
Jean blinked and slowly took her fingers from between the woman’s thighs. The woman kissed her once more and pinched her nipples as she did so. Jean gasped. The scent of sex mingled with spearmint in the air.
“Now, go to your paper and draw me,” said the model.
Slowly as if in a dream, Jean returned to her easel and drew. She smudged the charcoal with her damp fingers. She caressed with graphite the lips she’d kissed. Jean lost herself in the drawing. It was gorgeous. The succulent folds of the woman’s sex shown with moisture. Her lips pouted with lust. Her thighs glistened with the dew of her orgasm. When Jean stepped back, ready to show the woman her work, the room was empty except for the scent of spearmint.