I have this friend, Adrian. (Well, I say “friend”, but he’s someone I pushed out of my way.) I met him in front of the National Portrait Gallery one day. And when I say “met him”, I mean I “accidentally” pushed him aside so I could get into the David Hockney Exhibit. He got in as well and later approached me and asked if I would be interested in being a model for his Life Drawing Class. Such a polite guy, he didn’t mention the shoving accident.
I asked if there would be food and cash involved and he replied that there would be a model’s fee and that his wife, Anya, served soup, dips and deserts during the class break. This sounded ideal to me. Of course I had no idea what I would have to do. But I said “sure!”
(Above) Jack arrives on the Underground. The Moon casts strange shadows.
The next Tuesday night I found my way to Bethnal Green (previously the hunting ground of Jack the Ripper) and the odd little building where the class was held. Actually, there is a private club lounge on the ground floor and I almost lost my way to the first floor where the class is. I was seduced by the smell of beer, pretzels and piss. It felt like home!
The classroom is odd and reminded me of the high school gym in the school I had attended for two months before dropping out to become an entrepreneur selling magazines at Swiss Cottage. The wooden floor smelled vaguely of sweat, confirming the idea it was probably a gym in the daytime.
“Would the men think my dick was small? What would the women think? Then I discovered that they really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my dick. Comforting and insulting at the same time.”
Adrian was very kind and helpful. He showed me the “dressing room” and said I would be naked for the class, which threw me off a bit, but I needed the cash and the food, so I got naked. (Adrian said “not yet, wait til the students are here.) He told me how the poses would go and I pretended to know what he was talking about. I knew I could figure it out.
When I walked into the room, I was shocked to find it filled with men and women. Would the men think my dick was small? What would the women think? Then I discovered that they really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about my dick. Comforting and insulting at the same time. So I stood in the middle of a circle of these artists and took my first pose. Adrian had said to stand with a broom and cross my legs and look relaxed. I did as he had told me and DAMN, this was easy. But that was only a one-minute pose. I did another without the broom, this time sitting. Easy peasy.
But then Adrian’s wife, Anya, got into the mix. She came out and showed me how to twist my body around for the 20-minute pose and she even helped get my arms and legs into the right angles. About 2 minutes into the pose, I had an itch. Four minutes in I had a slight cramp. At 10 minutes in, some woman doing watercolour drawings seemed to be staring at my dick. And then she caught me looking at her and winked. It was really unsettling. By the end of the pose I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to unfold my limbs. Ever.
It quickly dawned on me that being naked was not going to help me hide food. Without pockets to fill with biscuits, what could I do?
Thank god it was break time. I continued to walk around naked and look at the drawings on the desks around the room. It was fun to see myself from every angle of the 360 degrees people were drawing from. But then I smelled the soup that Anya had made and headed into the break room.
At first I just took a bowl of soup from the gracious Adrian. But then I started to hatch a plan for taking some food home. It quickly dawned on me that being naked was not going to help me hide food. Without pockets to fill with biscuits, what could I do? And then a plan came to me! The hummus platter was near the edge of the table and just about at the same height as my torso. I carefully strolled over to the platter and my dick “accidentally” dipped into the hummus. Several people noticed and one of them removed the platter to the kitchen - where I would retrieve it later and take it home for Billy, Finn, Khrstyna and myself. SO very clever was I! Noone said a word about the incident. They were a very polite group.
Adrian never did ask me back to model again, but that’s OK. The woman who winked at me turned out to be a visiting French woman and she slipped me her phone number. Cool.
If only I had a fucking phone.
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