Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

80 - Paint

Alison
***

I put down my paintbrush and wiped my forehead. I took a step back and admired my piece from afar, taking a good look at the final product.

I was immensely proud if myself. I was still in awe at what I was able to produce. At first glance, the background of the canvas seemed completely dark, but on further inspection you'd realize you were in fact looking through a glass window and seeing the interior or a dark room. In that room there were three hanging lightbulbs at different distances and of different heights, the orange and yellow light being the focal point of the piece. By using the chiaroscuro technique, the light made minuscule raindrops on the window stand out, creating a very eerie, almost haunting image of a mysterious room.

At last, my first piece for the final assessment was complete.

At Evergreen's art studio, my friends praised my work, impressed by my realistic approach to such a surreal image. Even though their analysis and interpretation of my dark painting made me smile, what really boosted my ego was their compliments on my technique. If I at least nailed that aspect, I knew I would get a good grade.

At this point in the semester, Professor Agnes was barely around to guide us. She kept herself tucked away in the back of the room, watching us, observing us work. Among students, rumors started flying around that what she was actually doing was grade our demeanor and behavior throughout the creation of our collection and that would secretly be part of the final grade. That was nonsense of course, she just couldn't interfere with our artistic decisions anymore, but deep down I wish she had observed me, taken note of my professionalism and focus. I wanted her to have a good impression of me so when the time came to ask for a letter of recommendation she'd readily write on for me.

Despite her hands-off approach this semester, we were still encouraged to show her our work once it was complete. However, since it was a quarter to seven, she had already left Evergreen. I desperately wanted to get instant feedback on my work, so the only person I could think of other than her was Chris.

Since the painting was still drying, I took a picture of it sent it to Chris. I took a few close ups of the raindrops, of the lightbulbs, of the shadowy objects in the black background. As I took my painting to a special room designated for drying, my phone buzzed.

CHRIS: Ali, that's superb.
CHRIS: It's mesmerizing.
CHRIS: Professor Agnes is going to absolutely love it.

My heart leaped. I smiled like an idiot as I stared at my phone.

ALI: You think I'm going to get a good grade? I worked so hard on it.

CHRIS: If you make the collection cohesive I have no doubt in my mind you're gonna have one of the highest grades of your year.
CHRIS: I'm so proud of you.

As I read those four words, I suddenly felt a tug in my heart. I placed my phone on my chest and bit my lip. This was all I wanted to hear, this was all I needed.

Was he saying this because he knew James always looked down at my art and never believed in me? Was he saying this because he knew I desperately needed reassurance or because he truly felt it?

ALI: Are you really?

His reply didn't come right away. I gazed at the other drying paintings, admired my peers' talent and skill, compared myself to them. These thoughts stopped when his message pinged.