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I hope you all enjoy! Thanks Sanityfair!
Buffy cinched the fabric of her coat closer to her throat, while she ascended the stairs into the night. Leaving the belly of the underground subway, always gave her goose bumps, regardless of the season. She inhaled deeply, before heading towards her destination, Massachusetts College of Arts and Design..

Each time she arrived on campus, she felt like another individual. Completely separate from the person she was, on her own campus, of Suffolk University. At Suffolk, she was a marketing major, no nonsense, practical and assiduous. At MassArt, she felt free of all these constraints. Thoughts were traded for feelings.

For an eternity, her passion was Art. As far back as she could recall - sitting upon crates of artwork, feet suspended off the floor, as her mother cataloged shipments. Despite years of owning a gallery, her mother’s eyes danced with delight at each delivery. Astonishment and awe were bestowed upon every piece revealed.

Unfortunately, passion and reality don’t always mix. Money makes the world go round, feelings and devotion need not apply. When Buffy was in High School, her mother lost her gallery, due to ‘lack of funds’. Her mother now worked in a national chain store that sold high-priced, low quality, art supplies. She still tutors children in art, but her dream was crushed. Buffy planned to change all this, once she received her degree.

An overwhelming feeling of bliss pervaded her thoughts, once she arrived on campus. Surrounding her, were dozens of students, each consumed in their own artistic world. Anatomy of Life Drawing was her destination. She walked toward the center of this bohemian world.

Two weeks. Two weeks since she had seen her greatest inspiration. The sharp angles and flawless lines of his magnificent form, not only beseeched the artist that lay deep within, but another, more foreign part of her being as well.

Thousands of times her mind created his likeness; her inner artist chose charcoal, acrylics, and pencils. Not one vision ever came to fruition, since no materials, except the flesh of her hands, and her mind, seemed to capture his true essence. Buffy experienced that familiar clenching of her womb, as her mind opened to thoughts of him. Instantly her panties dampened, his form pervaded her mind.

Alabaster flesh bathed in moonlight, he stood before her. Only panes of glass and the winter night separated them. Tender, yet fierce grip upon his manhood, he sought bliss he had, unbeknownst to him, shared with her.

All the moments before this, Buffy was merely a spectator on the perimeters his ecstasy. Within that instant, his acknowledgment engulfed her completely. The waves of passion lapped at her form, she felt herself being consumed. Fear overrode all other emotions and desires. She fled, escaping into the night and had yet to face, him nor herself again.

Upon reaching the barrier that separated her from mindless creation, Buffy inhaled deeply to clear her mind. She crossed the threshold of the studio, walking instinctively toward her seat. Placed in the center of the room was plush, velvet chaise, which was of the deepest purple, almost ebony in hue. Eight chairs, with easels placed before them, surrounded the currently empty divan.

Buffy took her place next to another student name Tara, whom she had met several semesters ago. As the women chatted, the room filled with the other students, two males and four other females. Each spoke excitedly about what was planned for the evening.

They had spent several weeks discussing the human form. How muscles and tendons play under the flesh, how each feature is unique in shape, size and structure. In addition to the exterior of the human form, they discussed in depth how emotions play across one’s body. This holds true for facial features, especially the eyes. The professor declared, and the class unanimously agreed, that the eyes are the windows into one’s soul.

Tonight, after all discussions and studies, the class would have their first live model. Each gender secretly wished that it were the opposite sex that would be nude, draped across the velveteen. Well, except Tara, who wished a shapely woman would adorn the plush fabric.

Promptly, at six, the professor entered the classroom. Anticipation blazed within the depths of her chocolate brown eyes. With a clap of her hands, all eyes focused upon her.

“Class, tonight we have the greatest pleasure of a live model. He’s a senior at Boston University, School of Theatre. Tonight, I would like all of you to capture, not only his form, but attempt to capture his essence as well. Remember, look past the exterior of flesh and bone, and look into his soul. With that said, William, if you please?”

Once the teacher’s voice subsided, silently, a man entered into the room, dressed only in an onyx, terry cloth robe. His back was toward Buffy, but instantly, she felt an overwhelming buzz fill her mind. These currents radiated throughout her entire form, and settled within her core.

Her gaze traveled across the length of his clad form and came to rest upon the halo of bleached locks that adorned his head. Buffy’s eyes widened. Her fierce heartbeat pounded within the confines of her chest, was the only sound she could hear.

Widen gaze, remained latched upon his form, he entered within the circle of chairs and students. Without hesitation, he removed the final barrier encasing his physique from the room filled with prying eyes.

He remained faced away from her, but Buffy knew. Her mind had studied and memorized each curve of his form. Her eyes had caressed his alabaster flesh thousands of times. Both in her dreams, and while she sought bliss, fingers deep within her core as a silent plea hovered upon her lips. Adonis, made flesh and bone…him.

Mind spinning, eyes wide and fixed, Buffy’s breath puffed past her full lips in heavy pants. A gentle caress upon her shoulder halted all the befuddled feelings encompassing her.

“Buffy, are you alright?” Tara’s soft, soothing voice slightly quelled the disarray inside.

Lids fluttered, she attempted to focus on the woman beside her. With a slight nod, Buffy whispered a small ‘yes’, and then her gaze returned to the man before her.

He had moved from his prior upright position. Now resembling, Bryson Burroughs’ painting of the Etruscan Box(1), which held Adonis’ fallen form, the man of many dreams and fantasies was fully displayed, within arm’s reach.

He was splayed upon the plush divan, back against the velvet, drawing contrast to his alabaster flesh with adorning kisses of darkness. One arm draped off one side of the cushion, knuckles brushing upon the floor, his other muscular limb, raised above his head, framing his bleached locks. One muscular leg was straight, the other bent, foot resting by his outstretched knee. Across his slender hips, ebony fabric clung, concealing his manhood to all.

Head lifted slightly heavenward, upon the cushion. While the flawless column of his neck, was exposed to the bright lights that permeated the room. Full lips relaxed, but still held a slight ampleness of a knowing smile. Lids drawn, concealing his soul, inky lashes befell upon his marmoreal, sculpted cheeks. His features held an ethereal beauty that captured her gaze, her mind, and her soul.

Buffy’s hands moved of their own volition. Her deft fingers grasped charcoal located in the tray below the parchment secured to her easel. Her intense gaze remained steady. Flowing strokes transpired upon the page.

Moments bled together, her mind remained transfixed. Her hands their own entity. Almost as in a trance, she continued to feed her visions upon the parchment. After, what seemed as an eternity, but a moment at the same time, her professor instructed ‘William’ to extract his form from the position he maintained.

His lashes fluttered against his sculpted cheeks, as her voice coaxed him from his position. The movements of the other students filled the room with noises, not pervading the silence of her inner sanctum.

Once he rose from his position upon the chaise lounge, the onyx robe once again, encased his body, as he gradually concealed his nude form. His head slowly rolled upon his taunt shoulders, he stretched the muscles that had remained dormant under his skin for so long. Buffy was in sheer awe, she studied the ripples that were showcased beneath his flesh.

‘William’ leisurely raised his head as his exquisite features were exposed to the room. It was at that moment, unadulterated passion, consumed her completely. Concealed under his lids, was the epitome of a soul. Fathomless, Caribbean, indigo gaze beheld all those before him. Buffy’s breath caught within her throat, his gaze finally met hers.

Recognition bloomed within his eyes. The once tranquil sea blue became stormy and turbulent. Buffy became transfixed as she was drawn within the confines of his unyielding stare.

The professor’s voice rang through the room. She announced that their break was over. Her speech immediately severed their tangible connection. Buffy’s eyes widened, as reality crashed upon her. He was no longer a dream or a fantasy. He was flesh and bone and fully aware of her presence. No longer, panes of glass or darkness separated them. She was entirely bare to his gaze, as he had been to the artists that surrounded them.

Hyper-arousal consumed her. She continued to behold this man before her. Her entire being was coiled; muscles tense, mind focused on only one thing…escape. As if the hounds of hell were pursuing her soul, in a flurry of motion, Buffy extracted her body from her seat, from the room, from the campus, before her mind had comprehended what had transpired.

Left in her wake, ten pairs of eyes filled with bewilderment and queries. Only one maintained a stormy hue of marine cerulean, harbored swirls of lust and desire within its depths.



(1) https://pantherfile.uwm.edu/prec/www/course/mythology/0700/dionysus.htm


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