Painting class
One shot
I don’t know why I’m here. Trina decided to drag me along to one of those stupid painting classes, she said it will ‘improve our relationship, or some shit. To be honest I don’t want to improve our relationship, it’s been fizzling out for a while, like a sparkler, horribly bright at the beginning, but spitting out painful sparks that burnt and sliced at us. We knew it wouldn’t last, but now she seems to have a new found motivation for it to keep going. Trying to coax out the final flames. That’s why I’m here.
I follow her into the college classroom, she grips my hand tight, maybe too tight compared to my limp, loose one. She practically pulls me through the door, me stumbling behind her and she stops, turning to face me with disappointment on her face. I sigh, knowing it’s directed at me. It’s always directed at me, then she tries to fix my hair that has gone slightly too poofy from the rain outside, she takes my hand again, leading me to the ‘teacher.’ I almost roll my eyes as I see her, stereotypical, why is everyone so fucking stereotypical?
I tune out from the conversation and just notice things about the room, the strong scent of turpentine, the large canvases on their easels, the collaged walls filled with posters of Van Gogh, Monet, Matisse and many other artists that I’d never seen before. There were large sinks in the corners, colours spilling down the drains, staining the perfectly boring white, and colour. So much colour everywhere.
“So are you looking forward to the session today Marvin?” The ‘teacher’ asked
It was hearing my name that pulled me out of the trance, call me egotistical if you want, but I have better places to be than back in college again.
“I guess.” I murmured, feeling Trina’s disapproving stare rather than seeing it. She is so fucking predictable, ” I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
She smiled, but her eyes were set in stone as she replied,” Cordelia, I hope you get something out of this.” It seemed like a dig at me, but before I could utter a snide retort, Trina dragged me away, finding us a seat next to each at the front. She kissed my cheek as she sat down, her perfume clinging to me as though it knew what I was thinking.
I stared out of the window into the dark navy sky, wishing I could be out there. Yes away from Trina and the stuffy classroom, but also in the rain that fell, heaven blessed. Liking the rain seems to be a gothic literature thing, and Trina reminds me of it constantly, saying I don’t need to smell of black coffee and look depressed all the time. I just like turtlenecks and the library is a quiet place for me to get away from her as I write my novel. Thank fuck for libraries.
Then I turned my attention to our ‘teacher’ Cordelia, she seemed just as happy as me to be here, which is to say, not a whole lot. I guessed that she was probably a student doing it for extra credit, or someone who can’t seem to say no, no matter how hard they try. My mother was like that, I remember her taking a job as treasurer for the Boy Scouts group I joined, and still volunteering for two years after I quit. Cordelia had a piece of gum in her mouth, she absentmindedly blew bubbles, popping them with her sharp claws, otherwise known as acrylic nails, and was leaning against a desk, texting frantically, the nails clicking loudly, every now and again, tucking unruly strands of her blonde curly bob behind her ear.
“Okay, sorry we’re running a little late, my girlfriend is our model, but she has to work, she’s a doctor!” She stated it proudly and I cocked my head slightly, realising that maybe this girl was actually a teacher. I looked to my own girlfriend and saw the sour look on her face and scoffed slightly. Trina would never say she was homophobic, but she was always uncomfortable around gay people, people who were themselves, I guess it was how she was raised, but it’s inexcusable.
Cordelia started to talk again about different techniques for painting and again I stared out of the window , hearing the low grumble of thunder in the distance. Cliche and stereotypical. Shit that only happens in stupid books or crappy romcoms. Sometimes that’s how life is. Shitty coincidences that can only be written in a book.
I tuned back in again as I watched Cordelia’s graceful movements against the canvas, thick purposeful strokes, dark and bold. My attention was quickly turned to the door as suddenly it was banged open, a tall man almost fell into the room like a baby gazelle, clumsy as he knocked over Cordelia’s canvas, spilling turpentine on the floor. He stood up straight and started apologising profoundly to Cordelia, helping her pick stuff up from the floor.
His voice was quiet but audible to me on the front row “Fuck Cordelia, I’m so sorry.”
“Okay take a chill pill Whiz, you’re doing me a favour, you don’t need to apologise.”
The boy began to inhale as the excitement of what had happened caught up with him “What do I do?”
“Strip.”
Cordelia turned to us, but my eyes were fixed on the boy who was struggling to get his tight jeans below his ass.
“Alright, so as I mentioned, our model is out today, so I’ve got my friend Whizzer to step in, this is his first time doing this shit so be kind-“ on hearing his name ‘whizzer’ stopped unbuttoning his pastel shirt, waving to us, his own eyes looking into mine. It was only a millisecond but I could swear I could see a smirk on his face as we made eye contact.
Whizzer continued to take of his clothes until he was left in his boxers, “these too?”
“Uh huh, I wanna know what you’re packing in there.”
Cordelia said as she eyed the bulge. Whizzer put up his middle finger as he pulled down the boxers with confidence. I felt my face heat up and my neck beginning to tingle as I looked down, which was a completely foreign feeling to me.
“Alright, Whizzer can you sit over there?” Cordelia pointed to a silk sheet set up over a chair and Whizzer sat down, he looked at me again and I felt my heart almost stop.
Cordelia told us to start painting what we saw and I looked over to Trina, who had already started, a stern look of concentration on her face and I looked back to Whizzer. He was fucking gorgeous. Hair sweeping over his forehead and gracing his chest, he was toned in a comfortable fashion, with fucking gorgeous thighs that I want to be suffocated in, and his dick, fuck I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Then he caught me staring. This is a painting class, but I felt wrong as he held my stare, and although he was the undressed one, I was the one drenched in nerves and sweat.
I didn’t paint much that session. Too busy watching, him, seeing his muscles ripple slightly as he readjusted his position every now and again. Then he would stare back at me as I watched, his eyes lusty and dark, as stormy as the night outside. And for a fraction of a second, he bit his lip and looked down at his cock, looking slowly back up at me, and suddenly I could picture him on his knees in front of me, making my knees shake and tremble as he basked in that post sex glow, tiny droplets of sweat glistening over his body. I cleared my throat as I cleared the picture from my vision and turned to whisper into Trina’s ear.
“Babe, I’m not gonna sleep at yours tonight, I’ve got to get some writing done.”
She put on a superficial pout of annoyance and trailed her fingers up my chest,” awww marv, do you have to? I was thinking, we could open a bottle of wine, put on some jazz, have a nice dinner and maybe you could have me for dessert?” Sickly and annoying.
It took all the effort in the world for me to not roll my eyes at how desperate she always was for us to have sex,” look, this painting class has inspired me, I know exactly what I’m going to write, thank you baby.” I kissed her cheek and around us everyone began to pack up, but we were stuck in our own, suffocating bubble.
“Okay then.”
I walked her to the foyer of the school and watched her get into her car, waving at her as she drove away. I stood there for a minute, debating whether to call a cab or not, and then I heard the two sets of shoes behind me.
“Thank you so much Whizzer, you really saved my ass.”
“No problem, say hi to Charlotte for me, I’ve got something I need to do.” The smooth voice of Whizzer replied. I heard several clicks of a lighter then the exhale of satisfaction, I turned around to face him. “Or rather someone I need to do.” He said to me as I blushed. “What’s your name, closet case?”
I began to stutter, my words jumping and dancing over each other,” um Marvin. Sorry how did you know I was…” I felt utterly mortified by the way I was acting, like a schoolgirl. I have always been the cocky asshole, but this man, this man broke me.
“You hate the girl you’re with, come home with me and I’ll show you fun.” He offered me the cigarette and I took it, not wanting to seem rude to this sex god.
“I’ve never… you know.”
He raised an eyebrow at me as he stole back the cigarette.
“You’ve never had sex?”
“With a man.” I hastened to correct him, cheeks
bright red again.
He looped his fingers into my empty belt loops and pulled me close, so close I could feel his dick rub ever so slightly against mine and I held my breath without realising, looking up at him.
“Awww baby, then you don’t know what you’re missing.”