Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

by Matt Triewly

A couple of decades ago I was in the office when my colleague pointed out an advert in the local paper and said to me, “You’re always telling us how short of money you are, Matt, so here’s an opportunity to earn a few bob.”

He’d passed the paper over, and I’d read the ad which stated: We are looking for models for our life drawing classes. Must be over 18. No experience necessary but you must be willing to be unclothed. Typically, you would be expected to hold a variety of poses for up to 30 minutes. Full supervision will be given. £11 per hour.

I’d handed the newspaper back and had replied: “Can’t see me doing that, besides they’d probably want someone young and attractive, not a flabby forty-year-old guy with thinning hair and a small cock.”

My colleague had merely said, “Okay”, and had left the paper on his desk before leaving the office.

When he’d gone, I then thought, I’ll take the number anyway, give them a ring, and if I do decide to do it, nobody will be any the wiser, and I’ll pick up a few quid too.

The next evening, about half-five I phoned the number which was answered by a very pleasant fellow. He told me that I was exactly what they were looking for as they got very few guys of my age coming forward. He then added that I would be expected to pose totally naked. I kind of hesitated for a second or two and then just said, “Fuck it, I’ll do it.”

The guy was really pleased and gave me a time, about a week later in the early evening, and a place which was a small studio above a pub.

I duly turned up and was met by the art teacher who did a lot of smiling.

He showed me the changing room where I took off all my clothes before slipping on a dressing gown. I then walked across, feeling rather conspicuous, the floor to a raised platform, all the while avoiding the eyes of the class.

Once there the art instructor, who oversaw the class, could see I was quite nervous and said to me jokily, “Just slip off your dressing gown and imagine that you’re Rose after asking Jack to ‘paint me like one of your French girls’.”

So that kind of broke the ice and I lay back, totally naked, on the chaise-longue…

Next thing there’s easels being thrown over, flash bulbs going off, poppers and a rousing verse of ‘Happy Birthday’ from all my friends and colleagues from work…

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