Date: Sun, 27 May 2018 06:30:49 +0200
From: Corey Grant <corey_grant@gmx.com>
Subject: AJ Goes to Art School

AJ Goes to Art School

Chapter 1

AJ Kingsley couldn't quite remember why he'd agreed to do this.

He meandered down an unfamiliar hallway in search of the office he knew he
needed to reach, all the while trying to remember exactly why he needed to
reach it. What he could remember is that he'd agreed to do something
here... Yesterday, he thought. Or was it the day before that? It was all a
bit foggy, more like a half-remembered dream than a proper memory.

Either way, he could at least remember the situation: he'd just finished up
showering at the campus gym when a stranger had waltzed right up to him and
struck up a conversation, standing directly in AJ's way so as to block any
easy path back to his locker.

AJ recalled that the guy was well-dressed: suit jacket, tie, and a
flamboyant floral pattern on his shirt that certainly made his outfit hard
to forget. He could remember the guy was short and middle-aged and had
well-coiffed silver hair.

Right away, the guy's look had given AJ the impression that he had to be
either a fag or foreigner -- maybe both. But it also gave AJ a creeping
feeling that this guy didn't quite belong here. Setting aside the
strangeness of a silver-haired middle aged man in a gym normally frequented
by no one over the age of 25, why was he walking towards the showers
dressed like that? The guy didn't seem to have a bag with him -- no change
of clothes in sight. Why had he even been in the locker room in the first
place?

And his eyes, they had been... what colour? There had been
something... distinct about them. But what? AJ remembered the man had
definitely made eye contact for their whole conversation. There was
something piercing about his gaze. But he couldn't quite remember what this
man's eyes had actually looked like.

And something about his voice... It had been somehow calming and
authoritative at the same time. It was smooth and... hypnotic? Yes, that
was the word for it: his voice had been hypnotic.

AJ remembered talking to the older man for quite a while. Well, he
remembered time flying by, but he knew it must have been for quite a while
because, when he left, he found he was somehow over an hour late for his
afternoon class.

He remembered feeling uncomfortable all the while during their
conversation, given that he was only covered up with a very small towel
(had he grabbed a face cloth by mistake?) while talking to an expertly
dressed stranger. Sure, AJ knew he was fit (the amount of time he'd spent
in the gym over the last couple years had certainly not been spent in
vain), but he most certainly was not a guy who did the "naked" thing,
always sporting baggy board shorts on the beach (if not a sleeveless top,
too), carefully wrapping towels around his waist in the locker room, and
wearing pyjama pants around the house even on the warmest of summer days.

He knew Jessica used to find it funny how insistent AJ had been about
keeping covered. Even after they'd fuck, AJ would have to put his boxers on
(more often, full pyjama pants and a t-shirt, too) before he could fall
asleep.

Jessica, being rather free with her body, never quite understood AJ's
extreme modesty, musing (as psychology majors are apt to do) that it must
have stemmed from AJ being a late-bloomer. What she'd gleaned from what
little he said about his adolescence told her that AJ had started high
school as a short, skinny, and scrawny boy of 14 and very, very slowly had
metamorphosed into the tall, powerful, mountain of a man he was today at
22.

So, it came as no surprise that AJ remembered feeling very uncomfortable
standing with no more cover than a face cloth could provide while having
what must have been a lengthy and involved conversation with this strange
man. Yet, though AJ could remember the man and remember having a
conversation, he could not quite remember exactly what their conversation
had been about.

Only one detail stood out in his mind: he needed -- and this was an
absolute imperative -- to be at the stranger's office for 5:00PM
today. Hence, he found himself now wandering the tight, narrow, and
byzantine corridors of the Visual Arts Building in a persistent search for
room 127.

That was not something he had written down or programmed into his
phone. Somehow, AJ had just woken up today knowing that he needed to be in
exactly that room at exactly that time today. The precision of this
recollection was out of character for AJ since, at least while he and
Jessica had still been together, it seemed that the only way he could ever
keep an appointment was if she reminded him. The fact that he had woken up
with tonight's appointment in his mind -- finding that it did not leave his
thoughts for one moment all day -- struck AJ as unusual, to say the least.

Even more unusual, AJ had even worked a buffer into his schedule. Being
wholly unfamiliar with not only the Visual Arts Building, but the whole
section of campus on which it sat, AJ gave himself an extra 15 minutes to
find both the building and room 127 so as to still arrive at exactly 5:00.

Since he was a sports science major, AJ had never had any reason to explore
the old -- or so-called "historic" -- part of campus. Although he
definitely remembered seeing some signs of construction down in the old
quarter last year, it seemed that the Department of Visual Arts had not
benefitted from anything new.

Being there now, AJ did not find himself wondering why he had never been
there before. Not only was the building itself a musty relic from another
time, but AJ had always appreciated how the school quarantined its eggheads
and its queers far from where he spent his time. Safely tucked away on
another part of campus, the "historic" section appealed to those who sought
it out, but certainly not to a meathead like AJ.

In light of this fact, AJ found himself wondering yet again what the
stranger could possibly have said to persuade to come here. Still, his vain
attempts at recalling the particulars of his conversation with the stranger
in question came to a halt when he reached the office he knew he needed to
be at. The plaque on the door read: Room 127 Sebastian Schwartz Chair -
Department of Visual Arts

"Schwartz"... That sounded familiar... Yes, he was here to see
Prof. Schwartz.

AJ rapped his knuckles against the door.

It swung open almost immediately, the man from the locker room (whom AJ now
remembered had definitely introduced himself as "Prof. Schwartz") standing
on the other side with a broad and welcoming smile on his face: "Well,
hello, young man! You're right on time."

While Schwartz's pale blue shirt was far from the loud floral garment he'd
had on last week, his blazer now made the flamboyant fashion statement
instead -- a dark blue that was not, in itself, particularly striking save
for the addition of another shade drawing a busy paisley pattern all over
the jacket.

But, he was the chair of the Art Department, after all... Perhaps that was
why AJ hadn't been more put off by their conversation last week?

Yes, that must have been it... Always having felt instinctively uneasy at
the idea of other men checking him out, he couldn't think of any reason why
he would have just stood there -- dripping wet with nothing more than tiny
towel barely hiding his crotch from full view -- if he had thought he was
on display for some faggot to be perving on him so freely. Yes, somehow he
must have known that Prof. Schwartz's flamboyant appearance could be
attributed to his simply being the "artistic type"... right?

Either way, regardless as to what the older man was wearing for their
encounter today, AJ was relieved that he himself was fully dressed for this
particular encounter -- albeit, certainly not as elegantly as Schwartz. AJ
had just thrown on his usual "campus wear" before making his way over: a
baggy grey hoodie bearing his school's name and an old pair of well-worn
jeans. A chilly fall afternoon called for nothing more.

Schwartz turned to go back to his desk and AJ made his way into the
professor's office, the door creaking shut behind him as he stepped
in. With the blinds drawn and only a desk lamp for illumination, the room
felt cave-like when the door closed. Dark wood composed the floor, the
desk, and the bookshelves. All the furniture AJ could spot seemed only to
be shades of grey. Now enclosed in a space both strange and lugubrious, a
memory nagged at AJ's mind of being a terrified boy with a childish fear of
the dark -- but he quickly pushed this from his consciousness and returned
to the moment.

As the older man lowered himself into his desk chair, he beckoned AJ to sit
on a small settee against the nearest wall. From his position behind the
desk, Schwartz looked over at AJ once more (with AJ noticing the other
man's expression had somehow changed from jolly warmth to a curious --
perhaps "hungry" even -- gaze instead). Now, with a smile that seemed more
sly than welcoming, Schwartz spoke again: "I wasn't sure if you'd follow
through today. I'm so very pleased you were so punctual. Tells me you're
definitely eager to be here!"

AJ took his own seat. "Uhh... Sure. No problem, Prof. Schwartz." He shifted
in his seat, both from a desire to get comfortable on the surprisingly
rigid piece of furniture and from a creeping suspicion that there was
something threatening about being here (yet which he could not quite put
his finger on). "But, uh, can you remind me... What am I here for?"

The older man shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Well, you're the
model for my class today, of course," he replied matter-of-factly, not
looking up from the pile he was sorting through.

AJ furrowed his brow and scratched his head, flashing the innocent smile he
used whenever he knew he'd need to rely his above-average looks to make up
for his occasionally below-average wits. "Uh... model?"

"Yes, of course." Schwartz glanced up from his papers and directly into
AJ's eyes. "We talked all about this yesterday, don't you remember?"

Swartz held AJ's gaze for a minute or two -- AJ couldn't tell quite how
long their eyes stayed locked like that -- and then, AJ thought he could
remember... Yes, yes they had talked about this yesterday. Of course. How
had he forgotten that?

The younger man ran his hand through his thick, raven hair and chuckled
nervously, attempting to laugh it off. "Oh, yeah... Sorry, slipped my mind,
I guess."

The warm smile from before quickly returned to Schwartz's face. "Not a
problem, AJ. The important part is that you're here." He glanced down at
his wristwatch. "Well, the class starts in just under an hour, so we should
probably get ready now."

Having apparently located the form he had been searching for, Schwartz
beckoned AJ over to his desk. "If you could just sign this waiver for me,
AJ."

AJ rose and made his way over to Schwartz's desk. "Waiver, huh?" He flashed
a compensatory smile again. "Is this, uh, something I should be concerned
about?" AJ asked, picking up the form and reading the first few lines: "I,
the undersigned, hereby relinquish..."

"AJ," said Schwartz he rose from his desk chair, prompting the younger man
to tear his eyes away from the page and meet Schwartz's gaze one more. "You
don't need to read that. Just sign it."

"Uh... yeah. Yeah. You're right. I, uh, don't need to read this. Just sign
it."

AJ promptly grabbed the pen on Schwartz's desk and inked his John Hancock
at the bottom of the page, somewhat confused as to why he hadn't bothered
to read what appeared to be a serious legal contract. Had they discussed
its contents yesterday? Yes, that must be it... Why else would he so
readily sign something he knew so little about?

When he looked up from the form, he saw that that warm smile was back on
Schwartz's face. "Perfect, AJ. Thanks so much." The art professor slid the
signed document into a satchel sitting by the side of the desk, casually
adding: "You can just leave your clothes here."

AJ's brow furrowed once more and he let out a nervous chuckle (too uneasy
to fake a charming smile this time), assuming he simply did not understand
the professor's joke. "My clothes? Heh... what, uh, what do you mean?"

A knot formed in AJ's stomach. Something was very wrong here.

"Well, yes. We can't exactly have our nude model wearing clothes, now can
we?!" the older man replied with a jolly chuckle, as though it were the
most obvious thing in the world.

A jock through-and-through, AJ was not especially familiar with how art
classes worked. In fact, until this moment, he had not even been entirely
sure if nude illustrations were really something that happened on college
campuses or if they were just a comedy-of-errors scenario for sitcoms to
use.

AJ ran his hand through his hair once more, much more nervously now,
glancing at the door and wondering if he could justify just walking out
right here and now. "Oh... uh, it's nude modelling?" AJ asked sheepishly,
his mind racing, wondering how best to articulate his profound desire not
to do this. "I, uh, I don't think I knew that... I don't think I'm
comfortable doing this, Prof. Schwartz."

"Don't be ridiculous, AJ. You were so enthusiastic about it
yesterday. Don't you remember?"

Again, the art professor looked AJ dead in the eye as he asked his
question. And yet again, AJ did remember that. It was out of character for
him... VERY out of character, in fact. But... but he must have been feeling
extra bold that day because he definitely now remembered, with 100%
certainly, that he had eagerly and enthusiastically agreed to pose
completely nude for this class when Schwartz and he had spoken yesterday.

"Oh, right... I guess that slipped my mind too," he replied without
conviction. The room was spinning around him now and everything had an
unreal quality to it. This simply did not add up.

His nudity -- not even just of the public variety, but sometimes private,
too -- was among his worst fears. Why on earth would he have agreed to
something like that? It was the farthest from something he could ever
possibly want.

Schwartz flashed a tight smile. "Don't worry about it, AJ. You seemed a bit
distracted that day, anyhow. You must have had a lot on your mind."

The knots tightened in AJ's stomach as he racked his brain for either an
explanation or a plausible excuse to leave. He considered again just
dashing out the door without giving it any qualification, ready to give
Schwartz a quick "goodbye, no thank you, and fuck off" and forget the whole
thing.

But when he turned back to meet Schwartz's gaze, he found that thought
drifting from his head and another taking centre stage.

"Now, as I was saying," Schwartz began, this time reiterating his statement
as a command: "Just leave your clothes here."

AJ swallowed hard and glanced around at Schwartz's
minimalistically-decorated office, hardly convinced that this was really
about to happen, yet knowing with complete certainty that he absolutely
must -- without no exception -- leave his clothes here. "Ah, okay, sure. I
think I passed the men's room down the hall, so I guess I'll go there to
change into a robe?"

Schwartz chuckled heartily at this, although the quizzical look AJ shot
back suggested the younger man had apparently missed his own joke. "AJ, my
boy, don't be silly!" Schwartz said, putting his hand on AJ's shoulder in
what he must have meant to be a reassuring paternal gesture.

"The whole class will be seeing every last inch of your body in a few
minutes. Getting naked in front of little old me shouldn't be much by
comparison!" Schwartz added with a dismissive wave.

AJ chuckled nervously, finding that -- contrary to how Schwartz had seemed
to intend it -- the prospect of being naked in front of a whole class of
strangers shortly did not make the idea of stripping in front of Schwartz
now seem any more appealing. AJ once again scanned the room, vainly
searching for something like a privacy screen he had previously missed.

"Now, AJ." Schwartz stated authoritatively, AJ's turning to meet his
piercing gaze once more. "Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

The fact was crystal clear again in his mind: this was something he had to
do. AJ realized then how much he had been stalling. Had he not agreed to
this? He didn't want to do it now, that was for sure... But he had agreed
to it yesterday -- he remember that with crystal clarity. And he signed
Schwartz's form. This... this had to happen.

Reluctantly, the college gym-rat pulled his hoodie off, revealing a black
tank that showed off the bulging biceps and plump pectorals. The bulky
garment had hidden the shape beneath, AJ's broad shoulders and broad chest
narrowing in a V to his mid-section.

Without even realizing it, AJ found himself pulling his tank off and
releasing a surprisingly thick forest of chest hair from under it. Tossing
his hoodie and tank next to the desk, a sobering thought occurred to AJ,
scanning the room and inquiring aloud: "Uh, where's the robe, though?"

When he looked back to Schwartz, it seemed for a moment like the art
professor had been in a trance, a full beat passing before he tore his eyes
away from AJ's recently revealed flesh.

"Sorry. What was that?" he asked, apparently trying to focus his attention.

AJ wondered if his first instinct had been right all along: judging by the
way Schwartz seemed to be hungrily sizing him up, the guy had to be a total
fruitcake. Although it was possible this was just a moment of aesthetic
assessment -- the man was an art professor, after all -- AJ's skin still
crawled at the feeling of having another man's predatory gaze fall upon it.

"The robe," AJ bellowed, feeling more emboldened.

Another beat, a confused look forming on Schwartz's face.

"For me to wear," AJ grumbled, wondering why he was even putting up with
this.

Why he had been so compliant up until this point? Schwartz may have been an
older man with professional clout, but AJ towered over this limp-wristed
homo. Didn't that count for something? Why was Schwartz not intimidated,
even now that AJ adopted an authoritative tone?

Something about his shirtlessness made AJ feel like he was waking up from a
dream -- the cold air on his bare flesh acting like the cold water you
might splash on your face to ward off sleep. This was not normal, this was
not something he wanted. In fact, it was the opposite of those things.

AJ was not someone who took commands and he was certainly not someone who
stripped.

Schwartz's hearty chuckle only made AJ more uneasy. "Oh, AJ, my boy!
There's no need for modesty now! Why ever would you need a robe? The room
is just a few short steps away from here and we are a little short on
time," Schwartz said, glancing down at his watch. "Class is in half an
hour. No sense in you putting one on and then taking it off again when the
whole point is for all of us get a good look at your bare body and not at
some threadbare peignoir."

AJ felt his cheeks burning, blushing profusely at the thought of the
situation he would find himself in shortly. "Uh, I don't really feel
comfortable walking through the halls, you know, uh, naked like that..." he
said as he reached for his discarded clothes and started to shuffle towards
the door.

"Oh... are you sure, AJ? I didn't get a robe for you because I'm certain
you told me yesterday that not having one wouldn't be a big issue," the
older man said, locking eyes with AJ in the moment he glanced up.

Had AJ really said that? It sounded absolutely nothing like him.

But... then again, he did remember saying it. He remembered -- yet barely
believed -- that he had in fact told this man that he would have no problem
walking around the halls of the Visual Art Building completely in the buff.

Despite the burning cheeks, the cold sweat trickling down his back, and the
queasy feeling in stomach, AJ's mouth formed the words: "I, uh, I guess
you're right, Prof. Schwartz. I guess, uh, I'll... I'll be fine without the
robe."

"Excellent!" Schwartz exclaimed, the widest smile yet taking over his face
as he made his way around the desk and came up to AJ's side. "Now, like I
said, we really do need to be heading over to the room soon. And time is
a-tickin'!" The older man laughed good-naturedly. "So, let's get you
naked."

At that, Schwartz reached for the younger man's belt buckle and eagerly
began to undo it -- a move that quickly caused AJ to swat his hands away
and recoil.

"Woah! Hands off!"

Schwartz frowned angrily at this, suggesting a more capricious temperament
than AJ had first picked up on. However, the art professor quickly saved
face, forcing a smile and adding: "Sorry, my boy. We're just in a rush is
all. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

In a rush? Where had the time gone to? AJ was starting to feel yet again
that something was very, very wrong here. He shook his head, trying to
focus on what exactly was out of sorts. His memories, his behaviour, the
situation... Something... Something was definitely --

"My, my," Schwartz said, bringing his hand to his chin in a contemplative
gesture. "I don't know that I've ever seen this kind of resistance..." he
added, trailing off while he looked AJ up and down. "But, really, AJ. I
must insist: YOU. NEED. TO. BE. NAKED. NOW."

AJ knew the tone Schwartz was taking with him was hugely inappropriate. It
resonated like a parent speaking to a petulant child or an owner speaking
to a disobedient mutt.

But... something in it, something about it prevented his initial urge from
rising up all the way. Speaking to him like this, anyone else would have
received a prompt knuckle sandwich. But that desire sank as quickly as it
arose, and instead a stronger-than-ever desire to make Schwartz's command
happen struck him.

AJ immediately kicked off his shoes and proceeded to yank off his socks,
carelessly throwing them away from him.

For all his protestations, the move from being merely bare-chested to being
totally bare-ass was shockingly swift. As soon as the second sock left his
hand, AJ's hands wildly fumbled with his belt buckle, reminding him of very
different times when passion instead of compulsion had him performing the
same actions with the women he'd be bedding.

The second his belt buckle came loose, his other hand flew to his fly and
unzipped. The speed with which he pulled down the waistband was then so
great that AJ himself was unsure which hand had started it.

Helpless to slow the process now, AJ did not simply pull down his jeans,
but also his boxer shorts in one fell swoop. He flopped into a sitting
position on the settee now behind him as he shook off his pant legs,
eagerly throwing his last thread of clothing to the side as he stood once
more.

In the instant he had completed his task, his boxers leaving his hand as he
returned to a fully upright position, profound embarrassment struck AJ, now
being completely naked in front of a stranger who -- AJ realized upon
looking at the older man -- was once again sizing him up with what was
definitely more than an "artistic appreciation" for the male form displayed
in front of him.

Blushing profusely and wondering why his nakedness didn't strike him until
just that moment, AJ sent his hands directly to his crotch to give him some
sense of dignity (knowing, somehow, that he absolutely had to be naked now
-- that retrieving his clothing was not and could not be an option).

Schwartz's apparent focus on "aesthetically assessing" AJ was interrupted
the second the younger man's hand blocked his crotch from view. The art
professor shook his head slightly, as if just then remembering AJ was a
person with whom he had to interact instead of just a statue he could
passively enjoy looking at.

His eyes having definitely been locked on AJ's groin the moment prior,
Schwartz met gazes with him and let the slyest smile yet form on his
face. "There, now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Picking up on the coolness of the drafty old office everywhere on his
exposed skin, AJ felt like a trap had been spun -- and he had been
caught. It was too late. There was no escaping now.

"I, uh..." AJ searched his mind for some way to respond -- some way to make
sense of or gain control of the situation. "I... I don't usually..."

The room seeming to spin around him, AJ hardly noticed that Schwartz had
moved until the art professor stood less than a foot in front of him. Where
before Schwartz had kept a polite distance from AJ, making him
uncomfortable with his looks and nothing more, only now that AJ was on
total display did the older man choose to invade his personal space.

Confusion and embarrassment momentarily took a back seat as anger swelled
up in AJ's mind. Another man this close, what else but aggression could it
possibly mean? AJ was no boy -- strong and virile in body, he could fight
off this--

"AJ." Schwartz's tone was the opposite of the commanding voice he had used
moments before, instead now taking on a fatherly, comforting valence.

Conflicting feelings still swarmed in AJ's mind. Equally strong desires
competed, AJ's embarrassment and discomfort with his nudity only marginally
outweighing his desire to pull his hands from his crotch and use them to
push this freak the fuck away from him.

Continuing in his paternal tone, Schwartz touched AJ's hands and applied
pressure gently, adding: "Put these at your side."

A third desire now competed with AJ's other two: a desire to let his hands
hang loosely, neither covering him nor thrusting away this obvious
threat. Confusion once again joined the mix as that desire overwhelmed the
others and rose to the top.

AJ's hands then gave way to Schwartz's gentle push and fell to his side,
leaving him now totally exposed. His cheeks burned hotter than ever as
Schwartz's eyes slowly made their way back down.

"Hmm," Schwartz vocalized, his lips pursing as though he were judging a
piece of merchandise. To AJ's surprise, he then squatted down to inspect
his now-visible package.  At that, the desire to cover himself immediately
swelled up again, but sank back down again almost as quickly when his arms
failed to respond. Still, deeply uncomfortable with the situation, AJ's
whole body instinctively recoiled, backing away from Schwartz's crouching
form.

"I... I don't want you looking at me," AJ choked out as he backed up
against the wall, trying to get as much distance between himself and the
strange man who had trapped him here. "Down there."

Schwartz chuckled as he pulled himself back up, "My boy, why ever would you
agree to be a nude model if you can't take one little old man having a look
at you?"

AJ searched his mind for an answer, coming up blank. The confusion,
Schwartz's mocking tone, the older man's invasion of his personal
space... his private space -- anger was welling up in him again. "I... I
don't fucking know!" his hands shot up as he yelled out in exasperation.

Schwartz took a couple steps back, putting the desk between him and AJ, all
the while a stone-cold expression covering his face.

"I don't fucking know what I'm doing here, okay?! I don't know why I agreed
to be a fucking model for some fucking faggot art teacher --" he slammed
his hands on the desk in a display of force to show Schwartz he meant
business "-- but I know I'm getting the fuck out of here!"

Emboldened by his outburst, AJ's posture had changed completely, going from
a shy, humiliated hunch to a broad-chested battle stance.

A moment passed, Schwartz's expression not changing. AJ felt the cool
office air brush against his naked body, starting to undermine his
confidence as embarrassment crept back in again.

"Well..." Schwartz smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "I can see you're
getting cold--" he glanced momentarily at AJ's crotch once more "-- cold,
uh, feet... as the saying the goes."

AJ felt himself blushing, but he did not back down. He felt himself winning
this battle -- freeing himself from this pervert's sick scheme.

Schwartz casually sat down at his desk and began rifling through some
papers. "I suppose I'll just cancel tonight's class, seeing as we won't
have a model..." he began, pulling over another stack of documents. "I
believe your pants are by the bookshelf in the corner," he added, gesturing
in the general direction, but not bothering to look up.

AJ felt triumphant. Whatever was happening here -- whatever this freak had
tried to pull him into -- he had gained control of the situation. He was
going to make it out.

He turned to the bookshelf that Schwartz had indicated, momentarily ashamed
when he realized he had pulled off both his jeans and boxer shorts with
such gusto only a few minutes prior that he had not even realized where he
had tossed them to afterwards.

AJ took a couple steps toward the pile of clothes... and just stood
there. Shame and confusion trickled back into his mind like the cold sweat
that had been trickling down his back. His anger and the confidence it
brought started to fade away and he wished once more that he could cover
his himself up -- but could not override the much stronger desire to leave
himself exposed.

"Something wrong?" Schwartz asked in a disinterested tone, the sound of
pages flipping still continuing.

AJ thought he caught a note of playfulness in Schwartz's words. His heart
sunk as he realized the older man had never really backed down, had always
known he was winning.

"I..." AJ turned back to Schwartz, his brow furrowed. What was he supposed
to say? That every time he tries to think about picking his underwear up,
his mind is simply filled with Schwartz's instruction to be naked now.

He searched for words that didn't sound completely stupid: "I'm not going
to put my clothes on."

The words did not quite avoid sounding foolish, but they captured AJ's
thoughts.

Schwartz just then looked up from his pile of papers with a smirk. "You
must really enjoy being naked then, huh? Well, I figured you must be quite
the exhibitionist to agree to something like this, anyway..."

"No..." AJ began. "No, I just, I decided I should follow through with this
because, uh... I signed the contract and all."

The smirk remained on Schwartz's face, the playful note returning to his
voice. "Oh, right. The `contract.' Of course."

The art professor rose from his seat. "Although, it's just a waiver for
things that might happen after we start, you know?" he began, moving from
his chair to the window a few steps behind it. "It doesn't say you have to
do it."

AJ knew now that the bastard was toying with him. He could have just
accepted AJ's "contract" excuse and gotten exactly what he wanted. Why
wouldn't he give him at least that shred of dignity?

"Fuck, man," AJ sighed. "All right. I can't put my clothes on, okay? Is
that what you wanted to hear?"

Schwartz arched his eyebrows and frowned. "Can't put your clothes on?
Hmm... well, you may not be the sharpest young man I've ever met, but I
can't imagine someone else dresses you every morning..." A small smirk
returned to Schwartz's face.

Before AJ could reply, his mind was turned to other things as the older man
grabbed a cord and swiftly pulled up the blind that had obscured a large
window along the office's back wall.

Once again, AJ's body attempted a stunted movement before resorting to
another: a twitch in his upper arms was the closest he came to realizing
his initial impulse of covering himself, his legs moving him back as a
fallback plan.

Of course, this accomplished next to nothing. AJ would still be in full
view of anyone looking in window, a couple steps' distance hardly making a
difference.

Mercifully, the window looked out only on a small patch of trees. AJ still
felt exposed -- felt like anyone's prying eyes could be hidden in that
copse, and this was all the more concerning because he would have no idea
who or how many people were there -- but at least he was not on full
display.

Glancing out the window, Schwartz commented: "Hmm... seems like we're
losing the natural light."

He turned back to the younger man. "AJ, flick on the lights," and, meeting
his gaze, added, "Now."

As the fluorescents came to bright and brilliant life, AJ wondered how he
even gotten over to the light switch, finding again that the time he spent
around Schwartz never quite added up to a full sequence of events and that
his thoughts never quite formed a full picture.

Turning away from the light switch, AJ realized another thing had happened
in the lost time: Schwartz had sauntered right up behind him.

He started at the surprise of seeing Schwartz there, putting his hands up
in a defensive position.

Schwartz gave a good-natured chuckle, but did not give AJ any more
space. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to startle you. I thought you heard
me come up behind you."

AJ noticed then that he had quite literally backed himself into a corner,
the movement of the two men (AJ, jumping slightly back and Schwartz moving
ever more forward) meaning that Schwartz would block any path he might
take.

Trapped, AJ could hear his heart throbbing in his ears. This was not the
kind of fear one feels for a rival you could beat in a brawl, but fear of
the dark -- fear of something completely unknown. This was a game of cat
and mouse, and AJ worried what would happen now if that cat decided he was
done having his fun.

"Now, let's get a look at you with proper lighting," Schwartz said
cheerfully, squatting down once more.

This time, neither impulse found an expression: AJ's biceps twitched
impotently as the rest of his arms failed to move to cover him, and his
legs found no where to go with a wall on either side behind him.

Reaching crotch-level, Schwartz managed to catch AJ off-guard again by
doing more than just looking. He reached out and grasped his flaccid
member.

"Woah!" AJ exclaimed, smacking Schwartz's touch away. "Keep your hands the
fuck off of me!"

The naked man was surprised when Schwartz actually withdrew his hand and
gestured apologetically, "Sorry, sorry..." as he tilted his head and
continued to inspect AJ's genitalia.

Although Schwartz's mumbled apology seemed minor in comparison to AJ's
outburst at being touched, the younger man took what he could get, pleased
that, at least for the moment, the strange man looked only with his eyes.

"Hmm, you know, young man," Schwartz began as he pulled himself back to a
standing position. "Your foreskin retracts when get angry," he concluded
matter-of-factly.

"My... what did you just say?" AJ asked, both confused and embarrassed at
hearing a stranger's assessment of such a private function -- one so
private even he questioned if it was true.

"When you yelled out there, your glans came right out of hiding," Schwartz
said, gesturing to AJ's crotch as though he were explaining how some device
worked instead of describing the intimate functions of a part of him. "It's
impossible to miss. The shade of fuschia is really quite striking."

AJ's eyes bulged, incredulous at both the claim Schwartz made and the fact
that the man would make such an inappropriate comment at all. He looked
down at his package before catching himself, not wanting to give in to the
stupid curiosity Schwartz had planted in his mind.

This kind of commentary was alien to AJ, never having heard anything like
this from his intimate partners.

One night stands and casual fucks rarely said more about his private parts
than "Nice cock" or commented on its length or thickness in some vague
way. Even Jessica, who knew his body more than anyone else had, had never
said anything about how his dick reacts to his emotions.

Her commentary had been sexual and personal: "Your balls get so tight right
before you cum" or "I know you like it because I feel you throbbing inside
me" and the like.

This was not even like the kind of things doctors had told him.

Being told there's "no swelling in the mons pubis" is nothing like being
told "your dick shows off your feelings" with its "striking shade of
fuschia."

Schwartz's comments on his cock were not about something sexual -- they did
not have the safety and security of the whole sex act to go with them. They
were about something deeply private and personal.

AJ felt more naked and more vulnerable than he ever thought he could, with
Schwartz taking him into a world where others would know more about his
body and know more from his own body than even he did, driven not by a
hook-up's lust or a girlfriend's love or a doctor's medical compassion, but
pure curiosity about how he works.

These realizations and many others all dawned on AJ in an instant, his
anxiety about his situation growing more by the second. This feeling was
not helped by the thing that then took his attention: a knock at the door.

Schwartz looked over his shoulder toward the door and then stepped to side
to let AJ through. He turned back to the young man, meeting his gaze with
his piercing eyes once more and adding: "AJ, go answer the door."

And the next thing he knew, there he was, naked as the day he was born in
an open door way, there for the hungry gazes of whoever might be standing
on the other side.

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