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My subject for my art project has just arrived. I grip my sketch book tightly in my hands as I watch him sit down in front of me. Never has such beauty ever graced my eyes with its presence. He sits back on the chaise lounge and smolders before me. His cerulean eyes pierce me deeply inside my soul.

Such an erotic stare; eyes lined thickly in kohl, lips painted a soft nude shade, cheeks lightly blushed. The lack of pancake foundation allows his natural creamy color to show through, every line and freckle exposed. His softly highlighted reddish-brown locks tickle the sides of his face in short wisps, also falling jaggedly against his forehead. He's wearing a thin satin robe that flows down just to his ankles. As he languishes back against the soft fabric of the chair, the material clings to his lovely curves. I am spellbound.

He nods at me to give whatever direction is necessary for the correct pose. Unable to bring myself to move him from how he is already positioned, I just begin sketching immediately. The lines cannot do him justice. Furiously scribbling away, I try not to let his eyes catch mine. His smile grows a little wider as my evasion becomes more obvious.

He shifts slightly, allowing the robe to fall loosely from one shoulder. As I look up from my pad, he raises an eyebrow in my direction. I contain my girlish giggles and begin working again, not bothering to ask him to correct the problem. Nearing the finish of the first general outline, I notice him shift again. One side of the robe falls from his body, exposing that he is wearing absolutely nothing underneath. This I cannot just sit by and ignore...

...but, being as professional as possible, I do anyway. I correct the lines, drawing the smooth curves of his gorgeous physique. He's a beautiful man with a lovely figure, though of small stature... just the perfect size for me, really. I try not to drool all over my paper as the robe falls completely from his form. It drops to the floor, sounding a smooth, satin plop as the pile becomes visible under the chaise lounge.

I marvel at his beauty, my eyes watering at this moving vision. He lounges in a very feminine, catlike way and beckons to me with his eyes. The picture is not yet finished. I work feverishly, my heart racing in my chest.

At last, the drawing is done and I rise quickly from my seat. I strut proudly over to my subject and sit beside him on the chaise lounge. He nods in approval to my work and then violently strikes the pad from my hand. He pulls me to him roughly, and without much resistance, I fall against him. Our lips meet lustfully; kisses wandering all over. I can feel his fingers gently brush against my breasts as he carefully unbuttons my blouse. I smile at a sudden thought crossing my mind: And the assignment specifically said, "No nudes."
Oh, bummer...