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on_ur_leftIt was Thursday, and Steve was getting desperate. Class started in exactly a week, and he still didn't have a model. He figured, in New York of all places, finding someone willing to take their clothes off for money wouldn't be difficult. Sadly, he was aiming for someone professional (and not professional at taking their clothes off), and there weren't any actual artist's models who were willing to work for the income he had budgeted from the university.
He'd been planning on asking Peggy to do it again, but then she'd gotten a job offer back in England, and... well. She had family there, and he was glad she was able to do something she enjoyed, close to home.
It still left him in the lurch for a model. He'd been searching for almost a month now, finally this week he'd just printed up flyers and begun walking along the streets passing them out, explaining about his class, how he was looking for someone willing to do a Life Model job... He'd even had some people who had seemed interested - until he explained that yes, you would have to take your clothes off, during multiple sessions.
Inhaling deeply, Steve released the breath slowly, closing his eyes. "Please, dear God," he murmured, "I just need to find someone who can help me out. Anything. I know I'm bein' kinda picky, but if you could just, please help me out, here..."
And then he opened his eyes, and there she was. Striking, with white streaks at the front of her chestnut brown hair, a heart-shaped face, good, proportionate body-type from what he could tell under her clothes (Steve never noticed when he crossed the line when critiquing someone for art; someone else always had to point it out to him), she moved fluidly, and-- just-- she was perfect.
Before he knew it, Steve was standing in front of the woman, blocking her path, thrusting a flyer practically up her nose. "You're perfect! You're gorgeous, please, please, will you model for me?!"
It was maybe a whole five seconds later that he realized just how much of a creep he sounded like, and flushed bright red. "That's not a come-on!" he practically shouted.
He'd been planning on asking Peggy to do it again, but then she'd gotten a job offer back in England, and... well. She had family there, and he was glad she was able to do something she enjoyed, close to home.
It still left him in the lurch for a model. He'd been searching for almost a month now, finally this week he'd just printed up flyers and begun walking along the streets passing them out, explaining about his class, how he was looking for someone willing to do a Life Model job... He'd even had some people who had seemed interested - until he explained that yes, you would have to take your clothes off, during multiple sessions.
Inhaling deeply, Steve released the breath slowly, closing his eyes. "Please, dear God," he murmured, "I just need to find someone who can help me out. Anything. I know I'm bein' kinda picky, but if you could just, please help me out, here..."
And then he opened his eyes, and there she was. Striking, with white streaks at the front of her chestnut brown hair, a heart-shaped face, good, proportionate body-type from what he could tell under her clothes (Steve never noticed when he crossed the line when critiquing someone for art; someone else always had to point it out to him), she moved fluidly, and-- just-- she was perfect.
Before he knew it, Steve was standing in front of the woman, blocking her path, thrusting a flyer practically up her nose. "You're perfect! You're gorgeous, please, please, will you model for me?!"
It was maybe a whole five seconds later that he realized just how much of a creep he sounded like, and flushed bright red. "That's not a come-on!" he practically shouted.