Not a drama queen, Doreen, a queen of drama. She listened. What goes on inside that beautiful head? I wondered when she held me in her searching gaze. She looked Native American. Long dark brown hair, big beautiful brown eyes, high cheekbones, tapered jaw, flared nostrils. Yet her finely sculpted features came from French and Norwegian ancestors. I learned that when she finally spoke to me. I did the modeling job on campus just to be around her.
I almost backed out the first time I took my clothes off. The painting class instructor, the woman from the coffee shop, stopped me at the door. She asked me not to leave, asked why I was so afraid. I told her I didn't know. So I stayed. Her eyes went immediately to my crotch when I stepped from the dressing room. Everyone who came into the classroom was going to do that, I realized, and the only solution would be to ignore it, don't even make eye contact with the student painters. I had practiced meditation and contemplation exercises regularly since my last year in high school and that helped. I even found myself praying to keep my thoughts from straying and my member from swelling in response to the arousing scent of so many female sex organs in close proximity.
Artists have been paying people to take their cloths off for at least two thousand years so I wasn't doing anything unusual. Once the initial blush faded, I almost forgot I was sitting there naked. The women painters who were staring at every inch of my body, including my penis, had receded from my consciousness while I contemplated my masculine archetype. Male genitals were usually portrayed diminutively in classical art. After forty minutes in a drafty room without cloths on, I was beginning to understand why.
The older man from the campus coffee shop entered the room shortly before the class period ended, apparently to hook up with the woman instructor. That same expression of indignation appeared on his face when he saw me there, like I was an intruder in his world of romance. But my interests in the woman instructor were not romantic. As a friend of Doreen's, she could invite me to socialize within their circle. The older man's presence added a challenging complexity to the social politics of the campus coffee shop circle. He had been wanting to start an argument since he first laid eyes on me.
I began arriving at the coffee shop about an hour before the painting class began. I rushed home from work, showered and dressed, and then headed right over to the university without eating dinner. I might get a fruit salad, a yogurt, and maybe a blueberry muffin from the cafeteria and eat it in the coffee shop, as close to Doreen as possible. I wasn't the only one doing that but the older man criticized me for it. Right off the bat, as he put it, he wanted me to understand just who the hell he was: he ran the dramatic arts department, wrote the book on dramatic theory.
I let him do all the talking. I didn't even understand why he said most of it. He was talking to his own creation. Someone he assumed. Someone with ulterior motives, perhaps. I don't know. He was so far off the mark, I didn't take any of it personally. He seemed to like the way I submitted to his verbal tirade. Judging from the satisfied expression on his face and his relaxed body language, my chances of being accepted into their group had greatly improved.
Costume and set design were Doreen's immediate passions, I discovered. She made her own clothing, sewn together from recycled, multicolored fabrics. Collars and cuff, belts and sashes, capes and hats, full length dresses and short skirts. I preferred the short skirts. She had beautiful legs and a sweet ass. But she usually kept it well hidden under layers of clothing to eliminated distractions: more important things occupied her attention.
An opportunity for a breakthrough in our relation came when she asked me to help her move some heavy equipment. She had recently made the purchase at a foreclosure auction. Included were three industrial sewing machines, one of which was a serger that could do a three stitch security wrap to keep fabric from unraveling at the edge due to repeated washing. Doreen's studio was located on the top floor of an old four-story warehouse close to campus. I borrowed a truck from work on Saturday morning and we had everything moved by lunch time.
The freight elevator in her building was a slow but effective working antique. It opened on the forth floor to the dim light of a broad, unfinished warehouse space with a high ceiling. The floor was strewn with mostly stage and lighting equipment. After unloading the industrial sewing machines from the elevator, she invited me into her work and living area on the other side of a temporarily constructed partition wall. My mood instantly elevated as I stepped from the dimly lighted grayness of the storage area into the brightly colored studio space and I was already floating on air just being with Doreen.
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Love the opening line,J. Good piece if not a little formal but I guess that is the character? I hate "member" being used instead of cock - "penis" is once again a little formal he wouldn't be thinking "penis" when thinking about himself, or would he? And "female sex organs"? Okay, he is a well mannered and I guess religious guy, but I can't help but think you have censored this a bit. I loved it, though. Well written and a really good storyline. Fav
Classical Shrinkage--so the Costanza Effect dates from antiquity!
I'd like to hear the older man's dialogue, his exchanges with the narrator.
Spell check: "clothes"
Myra, thank you for reading, commenting, and the fav. You're right, I did tone it down before posting and it does come across a bit too formal as a result. I appreciate your saying that. I'm not sure how graphic I should make the next scene where they are alone together in her studio. I'm trying to keep it real while avoiding offensive language, if that's possible.
Con, thanks for reading and commenting. Costanza Effect? George Costanza from Seinfeld? Yeah, the older man's dialogue, I intend to rewrite that scene. I'm trying to develope a more compact writing style. I tend to ramble on. My previous writing has too much dialogue. Now it's too little. I have so much yet to learn about writing. Clothes, yes. How did I miss that? Even my spell checker let it pass.
"I'd like to hear the older man's dialogue, his exchanges with the narrator"
I, too, would like to hear the man speak, but I sense the story's not about him, per se, so I understand the lack of presentation. It does set a good background, though. The man's reaction to narrator helps define narrator.
I imagine the dialog is just about to start, yes?
Perspective, camera-wise, how close to get, how much to include, what to exclude... It's tricky.
Thanks for reading, Matt. Your comments about narrative, dialogue, and perspective camera-wise are right on the mark. It's tricky, more to it than meets the eye.
I also would have liked to hear more of the older mans feeling toward the younger man.
Sexually, things change with age, and of course that would make the older guy unhappy. NO?
Estelle, thanks for reading, I appreciate your comments and interest. I could revisit that scene from another perspective, having other characters commenting on what they saw, so that I can bring it into the story with forward momentum. I think I'll try that and if it doesn't work I'll just go back and rewrite the whole scene. That relationship is important to the ongoing story.
Ah, yes, J, the fine line of decency. But, look, you know your character better than I do. Though they say never to write with a censor on your shoulder. But in the end it is your story and you have to be happy with it (looking forward to the studio scene!)
I agree about the older man's dialogue. Still a good story, though.
Matthew, thanks for reading. Yes, the older man's character and his dialogue will require further development. I'm working on it.
Myra, the fine line of decency is an issue I'm not sure of, yes. But I'm dealing with a romantic love story from a young man's point of view and I want to keep it real in sexually explicit terms without being indecently offensive, if that's possible. Never write with a censor on your shoulder? I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for your interest and useful suggestions. I do appreciate it.
"I did the modeling job on campus just to be around her." There is something so delightful about this scenario. Talk about laying it all out on the table!
I think the narrator's choice of words fits the character and the situation, as I understand it so far. Seems like he's encountered his ideal woman and he's trying to elevate himself somehow.
Really enjoying this saga and I'm completely on the narrator's side!
Carol, thanks for reading it. Yes, the narrator's choice of words must fit the character. Third person, some have advised, could free the narrative voice from the character for a broader perspective on the overall story but I've got inspirational momentum going with the character in first person. Yes "he's encountered his ideal woman and he's trying to elevate himself somehow," you understand it correctly. I'm very happy you're reading it and I hope it stays interesting for you. I'm working on that right now.
JMC,
I have work of yours to catch up on! As these pieces continue (Doreen and DSW), I find it really interesting how, as Matt Dennison, pointed out, the character of the narrator is somewhat defined by the reactions of those around him (i.e., the older man, head of the dramatic department feeling an undefined pressure from a younger man, the narrator), but also how you show us Doreen solely through the narrator's exposition about his interactions with her. How did Doreen come to ask the narrator to help her move the heavy sewing machines... is SHE aware of his great romantic interest in her? The details you give of Doreen, the opening line (which I love), her looks, etc., it all speaks to great romantic desires that the narrator has, and yet we are kept tantalizingly away from Doreen's own thoughts, views, etc. It provides an interesting shimmer to the narrator.
Cherise, thanks for taking time to read. I have work of yours to catch up on, also. I'm glad you caught up. I look forward to your comments. The narrator character is slowly awakening to a realization of his potential through his interaction with Doreen and the professor. The picture, including Doreen, will come into sharper focus as the story evolves.
You captured my attention throughout, and I love the chemistry played between the two characters. Doreen really is a tease isn't she? Love it.
Thanks for reading it, Veronica. In Teacher, I went back over the scene with the professor. I gave him the name William Purcell while listening to the music of Henry Purcell in my mind. Handyman comes after that and I'm working on the next stage of the relationship which involves sex. I've been advised to write fearlessly, without a censor on my shoulder. But I will also turn my attention to some Sci Fi & Fantasy Fiction.