Lover's Muse (The Art Models Club) Page 2

  “This must look kind of messed up, huh?” she finally asked, observing him in her spartan apartment.

  Hunter chuckled. “Why would I think that? Because you sleep on an inflatable camping mattress, you have exactly one bowl, one cup, one spoon, one knife, and one pot? Or because you have no radio, no television, and no furniture? Or because you look like you're half starved?”

  Amber sighed. “My student loans should be here any day now.”

  Hunter regarded her thoughtfully and then looked down as his phone beeped. “I've got to get going. I have class in half an hour. What about you?”

  Shuffling in a pile of papers beside the mattress, Amber found her schedule. “I don't have another class until 1:00.”

  Hunter stood and Amber realized that she was sad to see him leave. After today, Kayla would make sure that she never saw him again outside of art class.

  “Thanks for today,” she said. “I had no idea that my blood sugar was so low this morning. I would probably still be comatose in front of the art building if you hadn't come by when you did.”

  Hunter cupped her chin in his hand. “Well, I'm going to officially be keeping an eye on you from here on out,” he said. He grinned. “And that's a promise.” With one more quick look at his phone he gave her a small salute and left.

  Grinning herself, Amber grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the shower. Kayla or no Kayla, the next time Hunter saw her she was going to at least look clean.

  Chapter 3

  Amber's History professor droned on in a monotone voice, leaving half the class yawning into their fists. Amber's cheap cell phone didn't have a record function so she was stuck taking notes. The jock sitting next to her didn't even pretend to pay attention. He was sound asleep and leaving a disgusting pile of drool over the top of his desk. Most of the other students appeared to be surfing the web or texting. Only a few students at the front laughed at the instructor's lame jokes. Amber figured they must be history majors.

  When the professor gave the class a ten minute break, she used the time to check her banking balance. Seventeen dollars and fifty six cents. Crap! Another rent payment was due the following week. And she still hadn't paid for this month yet. Her wallet held twenty-two dollars. If she thought about it anymore she was gong to be sick. She had to get a job. Any job.

  When the professor got back, Amber focused all her attention on history. Even a boring lecture was more pleasant than worrying about her money problems.

  After class Amber stood in line yet again so that she could ask about her student loan. Every time she checked online, she got a message saying her loan was “still processing.” Once again, she wasted twenty minutes of her time as the student worker told her that the checks still had not been released.

  “We can give you an emergency loan against your loan,” the girl said sympathetically.

  “Does it cost anything?” Amber asked wearily.

  “Just fifteen percent interest,” the girl answered cheerfully.

  Amber gasped. “You mean the school charges fifteen percent interest on money that I am already paying an origination fee and interest on?”

  The girl shrugged. “Sorry, but that's what it is. Are you interested or not?” She looked pointedly at the students lined up behind Amber.

  “Not today,” Amber said, forcing herself to remain calm. Getting mad at a student worker wasn't going to change anything.

  Walking home, she felt desperate. She didn't have transportation to get to the mall for a job. She had transferred too late to get a work study job. She slammed the door to her apartment and slumped on the blowup mattress. The uneaten fortune cookies flew up in the air. At least she had gotten in one good meal today. That was something to be grateful for.

  Her cell phone rang suddenly and she read the number. Smiling she held up the phone. If anybody could make her feel better, it was her best friend.

  “Hannah! How are you?”

  She listened with a big grin as Hannah filled her in on her first day of class at an out of state college. She couldn't even be envious because she knew how hard Hannah had worked for the scholarship. When it was her turn to talk, she kept her problems to a minimum. She knew Hannah already felt guilty about them separating this year. Instead, she gave Hannah news she wanted to hear.

  “So I met this guy named Hunter,” she said, coyly. Hannah didn't need to know that the guy had a girlfriend. For now she just wanted to feed her best friend some good news.

  “What?!” Hannah squealed from her end of the phone. “Tell me all about him.”

  Amber carefully related information, careful to avoid any talk of her money issues. Finally, she realized she was running low on her minutes. She couldn't afford a monthly plan and had to rely on phone cards. “Hey, I have class in a bit so I need to get going,” she said.

  “Just be safe with that new guy,” Hannah warned seriously. “Remember everything that my Dad taught us. You don't have me to kick butt for you anymore.”

  Amber agreed with a laugh and quickly said her goodbyes. Growing up with Hannah as a friend had helped her survive advances from her mother's sleazy boyfriends on more than one occasion. Hannah's Dad was a martial arts trainer and had taught the girls how to fight and defend themselves at a young age. Amber had been able to knock more than one arrogant drunk on his ass at home. Of course that hadn't made her mother look upon her any more favorably as she was convinced that Amber was trying to steal her boyfriends.

  As she munched slowly on the small sweet fortune cookies, Amber shook away images of her former life. She idly flipped through her art class syllabus. Suddenly she remembered the professor's comment about looking for models. In any other situation she would never in a million years have considered taking her clothes off in front of strangers. But humiliation was nothing compared to constant gnawing hunger. With a determined sigh, she was about to pick up her cell phone to dial when she heard a commotion outside her door. Seconds later there was a knock followed by the sound of feet pounding down the stairs.

  Puzzled, Amber went to the door, cracked it open and peeked out. A small grocery bag perched in front of the door. She picked it up, peering inside to find a quart of orange juice, a pint of milk, a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, a fork, and a small jar of jam. A note read: “I'll be at your place promptly at 8 am for breakfast. Mix an egg or two into your noodles tonight for a more filling dinner. – Hunter.”

  Hmm. . . either Hunter was afraid that Kayla would catch him dropping off stuff at her apartment or he was afraid that she would refuse to take the groceries. But her stomach was not going to allow that to happen. She carried the groceries inside and started her noodles. Although her conscious berated her for allowing somebody's boyfriend to buy her food, her stomach argued that he was probably just making sure that she didn't pass out again. Maybe Hunter now thought that he was responsible for carting her around if she fainted again. Then her conscious reminded her of the kiss. She blushed just thinking of the way that kiss made her feel.

  The next morning Amber woke with lingering dreams of Hunter's lips on her own. She quickly showered, trying to wash away the feeling. She certainly wasn't going to try to take somebody's boyfriend. She would make things clear with Hunter as soon as he showed up. Say thank you very much for the food and assistance but she was fine now. She stopped midway shaving her leg. Oh, yeah, and also admit that she was indeed dead broke and needed a job. She laughed at the absurdity.

  She finished showering and drying her hair with no clear idea of how to handle Hunter Webb while also still getting him to hire her as a model. She spent so long in the bathroom that she was only half dressed when she heard Hunter knocking on the door.

  She started for the door and then realized she was only in her bra and panties. “Just a second!” she yelled out, yanking a clean tee shirt over her head. Grabbing her jeans, she stuck one foot in and hopped to the door. She was so flustered that she tripped over her shoes and stubbed her toe on a crate of books.
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br />   “Bloody Hell!” she howled, rolling on the floor in pain.

  “Amber? Are you okay? Open the door!”

  Reaching up with teary eyes, Amber unlatched the door and then rolled away again.

  Hunter burst through the door. “What is it? Where are you hurt?”

  Still moaning, Amber pointed at her throbbing toe. “No, don't touch it!” she shrieked when he attempted to pick up her foot.

  Hunter backed away, quietly watching her until the pain subsided and she could sit up. Then he reached for her foot again.

  She pulled away, scowling. And that was when it dawned on her that she was sitting in lacy pink panties with only one leg in her jeans. She started to say something and then remembered that she was going to ask him to let her be a nude model. She had to sit there and act as though she was not fazed at all.

  “I won't touch your toe. I promise.”

  Hunter touch was gentle as he carefully lifted her foot and placed it in his lap. As her bare foot made contact with the warmth of his jeans, just inches from his crotch, she felt her face get warm. She suddenly wanted to stay right where she was.

  He peered intently at her reddened toe for a few moments and then turned to her with a serious look. “I'm sorry, Miss Holloway, but this toe is going to be hideously bruised. I'm going to have to recommend an amputation.”

  “Oh, stop it!” Amber giggled and slapped his shoulder.

  “Let's see if you can walk.” Hunter gently placed her foot on the floor and then knelt to help her up.

  As she stood, Hunter remained kneeling, which placed his head directly in front of panties. He swiveled his head and brushed against her. The soft stroke against her made her gasp.

  “I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?” Hunter stood abruptly and lifted her so that all the weight was off her foot.

  “No . . .um . . .maybe a little,” Amber stammered. “I just need another couple of minutes before I try again.”

  She wasn't sure what to do about the jeans that were now flopping off her remaining leg. Before she could make a decision, Hunter casually pulled them all the way off and tossed them on the mattress. Then he gently lowered her as well.

  “If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were angling to get breakfast made in bed, young lady,” he said teasingly.

  Amber arched one eye. “Is it working?” She looked around in exaggeration. “I certainly don't see any food in the vicinity.”

  Hunter laughed. Then he walked to the kitchen. “Just as well,” he called back. “I'm picky about how my eggs are cooked.”

  Amber started to get to her feet. “Seriously, Hunter, you don't have to cook for me.”

  Hunter walked back from the kitchen. Taking her by the shoulders he firmly pushed her back onto the mattress. “Seriously, I do. Now don't move again or I'll have to spank that cute bottom of yours.”

  Amber sighed and watched him take the ingredients out of her refrigerator. Then she carefully slid her injured foot through the leg of her jeans. She was certainly not going to offer Hunter a free show during breakfast.

  With pants on again, she felt much less self-conscious. Which made her worry again. How in the world was she going to be able to take her clothes off in a room full of people? Was it simply the fact that she was physically attracted to Hunter that made her self-conscious in front of him in her underwear? Or was she one of those people who simply were not comfortable in just their skin? And did she have a choice if she couldn't find some other way to make ends meet? The student loan would pay her basic costs but food, books, and art supplies were already more than she had anticipated when she transferred from the community college. And this was simply one more student loan piled onto the others. She didn't even want to contemplate how she would ever begin to pay them off once she had her degree. She knew most artists made little money.

  The smell of cooking eggs brought her back to the present and made her mouth water. She crawled over to the crate of books that had led to her stumped toe. Usually she ate standing or sitting on the mattress. But the crate, flipped on its side, would make a decent table. She put a large flat art history book on top to for a makeshift tabletop and then ripped out a clean sheet of drawing paper for a temporary tablecloth.

  “My, my! She brings out the luxury furniture for breakfast!” Hunter teased, armed with a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and several slices of bread heaped with jam. “I would have toasted the bread but couldn't find the potholders for the oven.”

  Amber grabbed a fork and was already filling her mouth before Hunter sat down.

  “I'm sorry,” she said, blushing, after seeing how he was staring at her. She shoved the plate closer to him on the makeshift table. “I know this is for both of us.”

  Hunter looked as though he was about to say something but then his phone beeped. “We need to talk later, but let's just eat and get to class right now.” He lowered his fork and quickly ate several bites.

  Amber noticed he was purposely eating less than she was but she couldn't stop herself. She had skipped so many meals the last few weeks to stretch her money that she couldn't seem to control herself anymore. She ate three out of the four slices of bread and jam, shoving the last few bites in even as they left the building and started the walk toward campus.

  Chapter 4

  Only as they hurried to class did Amber realize that she still hadn't asked Hunter about the modeling job. She would have to wait until after class and hope that Kayla didn't show up again.

  They got to class early. Hunter explained on the way that a new model would be arriving and he wanted to be there to show her where to get changed into a robe. This would have been a great time to bring up her own interest but Hunter was clearly rushing. So Amber said nothing.

  In the classroom, she noticed a platform had been placed at the front of the room with a lone chair. She supposed that was where the model would sit or stand. Amber found her own seat and pulled out her new sketch pad and charcoal pencils. Her fingers itched to start drawing. Ever since she was a small child, she had loved to disappear into herself as she drew. It was one of the few things that brought her complete peace from her chaotic childhood.

  An older woman with some gray in her hair walked hesitantly into the room. Hunter greeted her with a warm smile and led her down the hall to the restrooms. As he returned, other students began spilling in to the large open room. Hunter greeted them and then conferred with Professor Collins, who walked in at the last minute. Motioning for a few students to assist them, they pulled a large screen in front of the huge open windows.

  The room instantly grew noticeably darker and a few of the students complained. Professor Collins held up a hand. “I know that this interferes with some of the natural light but today we have a new model and we want her to be as comfortable as possible. Having outsiders gawking into our classroom is not appropriate for anybody.”

  At the mention of the model, several of the students began whispering softly.

  Professor Collins began speaking again and the room instantly quietened. “Remember the words of John Sloan as you work. He wrote: 'The important thing to bear in mind while drawing the figure is that the model is a human being, that is alive, that exists there on the stand. Look on the model with respect. Appreciate his or her humanity. Be very humble before that human being. Be filled with wonder at its reality and life. There is a human creature that lives and breathes and feels, a being with a mind and character of its own – not a patchwork of light and shadow, color and shape.'”

  Amanda swallowed, feeling the tension in the room. She was sure that most of the other students were seeing a nude model for the first time as well.

  Professor Collins signaled to Hunter who nodded and approached the door. “As always, no speaking to or touching the model.”

  Hunter disappeared and then re-entered with the model. He shut the door softly behind him, stopping to tape up a sheet of paper over the door window so no one in the hallway could gaze in.

&n
bsp; The woman, wearing a flowered silk robe and slippers, walked calmly to the raised platform and up the few steps. Looking at no one in particular, she disrobed and placed the silk fabric neatly on the back of the chair. She glanced at the large clock on the wall and then struck her first pose. She shifted one leg out and slightly bent it, testing her balance. Then she twisted her torso slightly and raised both arms above her head, clasping her hands together. She moved her head to one side to create a clean profile.

  For the first few seconds, Amber sat transfixed. As soon as she heard the scratching of pencil on paper, however, she found herself simply focused on capturing the model's form. She quickly sketched in the woman's silhouette and then began to capture some of the details. The woman's breasts were large and drooped. Her belly had stretch marks and bulged. But her limbs were shapely and strong. Amber was engrossed in her drawing when all too soon the woman shifted her pose. This time, she spread the robe across the seat and sat down, one leg elegantly draped over the other. She reached up and loosened her salt and pepper hair so that it splayed down her back. One had reached up as though to touch her neck while the other rested on one thigh.

  As Amber and her classmates worked, she noticed Professor Collins and Hunter silently circling the room, peering at sketches but not speaking. Amber sketched furiously the rest of class and was only vaguely aware of either the Professor or Hunter viewing her work. She was surprised when the model stopped, put her robe and slippers on, and quietly left the room. Glancing at the clock, she was amazed that the entire hour had gone by.

  Professor Collins asked Hunter to pull forward a model skeleton. “Some of you are having difficulties with proportions. I want each of you to study Mr. Bones here and make note of how each limb relates to the other in size and position. In particular, where does the hand fall in relation to the hip? Study the hands themselves. Observe the fingertip lengths. Also, make sure you check your syllabus for homework assignments this week.”