Fetish

iii. models and muses

Since Professor Russell's invitation, Catherine couldn't stop thinking about being painted. Being meticulously watched by artists trying to capture her likeness and immortalize her in a work of art was something that both frightened and fascinated her. At Bastille, dancers were never allowed to take off their bra and panties on the main stage, only in private dances - and Cathy rarely did. The idea of posing completely nude in a serious, formal situation like an art class was very interesting (especially for the amount Russell would pay) and she even thought that maybe this was the stimulus she needed to finish writing her thesis. The hardest part, after all, would be getting naked in a non-erotic context.

Cathy arrived at Rascal Gallery around 3PM. Professor Russell received her and gave her a short tour around the place, showing her some of his pieces and explaining some of his work. As the students enrolled in his class arrived, he introduced her: "This is Catherine, she will be our muse today." Cathy was doing her best not to show any nervousness and act like she had been the muse of countless artists, when the closest she came to that was her ex-girlfriend using her face to produce NSFW anime digital art. When all the students arrived, Catherine went to the bathroom to change her clothes into a cotton robe that Professor Russell's assistant had given her. Meanwhile, Russell started his class, starting from theoretical and, mainly, philosophical precepts. Igniting a spark of creativity in those artists' minds, he called Cathy to a small podium in the middle of the studio. With huge glass windows behind her, Catherine spent two hours wearing nothing but golden sunlight.

Getting completely still wasn't difficult. When she was little, kids hated playing freeze tag with her because she was a dancer and the control she had not to move was insane. It was very, very different showing her body there and showing her body at the club; it wasn't better or worse, just different. As she stood motionless, Russell paced the room watching the students' work while seeming to ignore her. He spoke as if he were writing an essay with his spoken words, instigating and questioning those students to chaos and madness. The sun was setting when he ended class and called Catherine for a drink.

— So, what did you think of the experience? — Asked Russell while they were drinking in a very chic bar in SoHo.

— It was interesting. — Catherine replied, smiling. — I thought I would be very uncomfortable, luckily that was not the case.

— Does that mean I can count on you for the next three weeks? — Russell said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

— Perhaps…

— Is the money not good enough? — He asked, laughing.

— Money is never good enough. But I have another objection.

— Say it.

— My friend, Ella Anderson, is a lawyer. Newly graduated. But she works at a firm whose specialty is copyright law and even art businesses. She told me not to work for you unless you and all your students sign a document guaranteeing my rights, my image rights, to all the works that are produced during the course. — Catherine said, very serious.

— Well, I wasn't expecting that. — Russell said, rolling his eyes. — As annoying as it is, your request sounds reasonable. I'll call my lawyer, ask him to schedule an appointment with your… friend. Then we can work this out.

— So we have a deal, Professor Russell. — She smiled. — I will be your muse.

The following week, Catherine and Ella met with Russell and his lawyer at a very expensive Japanese restaurant and discussed all the details of the image rights contract they required. Cathy thought Ella was overreacting, but she trusted her friend - especially when it came to legal matters. During dinner, Cathy also couldn't help but wonder why Professor Russell was willing to go so far as to have her pose for his class. Models, college students and many other girls like her would be more than willing to pose for him (even for free). At the end of dinner, Cathy decided she wouldn't go home with this doubt in her mind.

— I'm very curious, Professor Russell. Why me? — Catherine asked Russell on the terrace, where he had gone to smoke before returning to the table.

— What do you mean?

- Why do you want me to pose for you so much?

— I like your face. — He laughed.

— No, it's more than that. You're spending too much money to be just that.

— Well, the truth… — He sighed, opening his jacket and reaching for his wallet. From inside his wallet he took out a golden wedding ring. — That's the truth.

— You're married… — Catherine said, a little surprised.

— I'm not sure I still am now. — he laughed — But, yes.

— Please don't tell me I look like a younger version of your wife. — Catherine said, rolling her eyes. — Or ex-wife, whatever.

— Would that be bad?

— That would be horrible! And a little creepy... — Catherine said. Russell laughed and picked up his phone.

— This is her. — Said the professor, showing a photo of a woman on his phone. In fact, she looked nothing like Cathy; long wavy dark hair, tanned skin and green eyes, which was a relief for her. — Adelaide is her name. We've been married for nearly nine years. She's in France now, but we weren't on good terms when she left. We haven't spoken in months.

— I’m really sorry about that. — Catherine said, with sincere eyes. — But that still doesn't answer my question.

— I met her early in my career as an artist. She had this wild temper, this extravagant mind, but a very gentle soul. Qualities I recognized, or sensed, in you immediately. For years she inspired my work, she made me the artist I am.

— She was your muse.

— Yes. — He said. — And then I made a terrible mistake.

— Cheated?

— No. My most famous painting, the painting that consecrated me in the artistic world is an unfinished painting… A painting that I never finished because I desecrated my muse. I slept with her.

— That was before you married her… — Cathy noted, surprised.

- After years of pleading looks. - He smiled - You asked me why I chose you, Catherine, and that's the answer. I'm teaching art, and every art I've produced my whole life, even after we got married… She was the muse. And my muse is gone.

— I guess I'm not your muse then… Just a memory of the original one maybe.

— I didn't mean to offend you.

— No offense. — She smiled — It's an honor, actually. I'm not a big fan or connoisseur of art, but your class is really inspiring. I'm happy to be a part of it.

— It would be a mistake to think that anyone can evoke such inspiration... When I saw your little act in Bastille and you told me what you did in my lecture I realized how good you are at manipulating seduction. I, more than anything, want to seduce my students in order to provoke them. I hope I can count on your help for this.

Even after arriving home, Catherine kept Russell's words in her mind. Posing for his students in the coming weeks would be an intriguing experience, she knew. But the image of his wife really got stuck in her brain; he seemed desperately in love with her, so in love that he didn't even try to ease his pain with Catherine, because the memory of her would never be enough. Cathy was glad for that, for his honesty, which made her cherish him even more as a friend. But she couldn't help but think… How sweet would it be to be adored as a muse like Adelaide Russell was?