Howard sketched me for hours in the silence of his studio. As I posed in a variety of positions, the weather and sky changed. Clouds came and went, and the atmosphere in the studio transformed from light to bright, to dreary darkness when the sun disappeared altogether. After a while, he finally stopped sketching and told me to rest. Despite the fact that I’d done very little, I felt exhausted and ended up taking a brief nap.
I woke with a sudden start, smelling the heavy scent of cigar smoke engulfing me. I shot up, still naked, still on the bed, seeing Howard towering over me, wearing his jeans and a baggy linen shirt. His leather belt dangled ominously from his hand, grazing the wooden floor. His expression was lust driven, almost wild-eyed.
“It’s been a long time for me,” he said.
