“Sit down,” he said.
The twin bed was covered with a fitted sheet; its surface soft, and despite the possible implications of it being a bed and the traditional place for s*x, I followed the instruction with the same natural ease as I followed Dale Joyce’s orders years before.
Howard then settled into sketching me as a way to pass the time.
I’d never modeled before, not during all my art training. I knew I could never bring myself to remove my clothes in front of an audience, which was what was so commonly required. It wasn’t because I was a prude that I’d made that decision early on; I instinctively knew how erotic the experience would be for me, how demanding, how innately dangerous.
I could have felt vulnerable being alone with Howard, and yet, this very ordinary scene from the life
