I never thought I’d be standing completely nude, in the middle of a brightly lit studio, surrounded by fifteen or more artists staring at me with intense concentration. But here I am—almost twenty, making money in the most effortless way possible, and loving every minute of it.
It wasn’t always this easy. When I first considered nude modelling, I hesitated. The idea of stripping down in front of strangers made my stomach twist. I wasn’t a prude, but I also wasn’t an exhibitionist. What if they judged me? What if I couldn’t hold a pose? What if I sneezed mid-session? But money talks, and the pay was good. So, I said yes.
My first session was nerve-wracking. I was hyperaware of my body, the way my limbs looked, the feeling of cool air on my skin. But something unexpected happened. The moment I settled into my pose, the nervousness disappeared. No one was gawking. No one was making crude comments. They weren’t even looking at me the way I thought they would. They were studying light, shadow, and proportion. I wasn’t just a body—I was a form, a shape, a subject.
Now, it’s second nature. I walk into a studio, drop my robe, and become art. There’s a meditative quality to it, an odd kind of power. I hold a pose for twenty minutes, listening to the scratch of charcoal on paper, the quiet hum of creativity. Some days, I work for independent artists. Other times, I’m in a full class with students circling me, their easels set up like a battleground of unfinished sketches.
And then there’s Mitchell.
Mitchell is a photographer I work with on the side. Unlike the artists who capture me in rough strokes and smudged pastels, he sees me through a lens—framing, focusing, clicking. He’s professional, always making sure I’m comfortable. But here’s the problem: I have a massive, ridiculous, absolutely distracting crush on him.
He’s never hit on me, never even hinted at anything inappropriate. That’s a good thing, right? It means he respects me. But what if he just doesn’t see me that way? What if he’s not even into women? Or worse—what if he sees me as nothing more than a model, just another subject in his portfolio?
Usually, I’d dress up, swipe on some lipstick, and make a move. But how do you seduce a man who’s already seen you completely naked? There’s no mystery left, no grand reveal. And should I even try? We work together. Mixing feelings with work can get messy.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe I should just ask him out for coffee and see what happens. Or maybe I should let it go and keep things professional.
But then again, where’s the fun in that?
You can read more of my writing in SEETHINGS, a novel about love, marriage, photography, art and lust. It’s downloadable and free for a limited time.
Discover more from Michael Forman – Author of Dark Fiction & Drama
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