•Tonight • Frerard • Completed•

Chapter Two

This is kinda..  explicit... like, nsfw js.

I'd texted the model the night before to confirm our appointment, but now it was two hours past his arrival time, and he was nowhere to be seen. I paced around the apartment, compulsively checking for new texts. Nothing. No messages. No apartment buzzer ringing. Instead I heard the distinctive sound of Frank bounding up the stairs of our building.

The apartment door swung open, and Frank tossed the mail on to the table in the front hall. He look startled when he saw me.

"Sorry," He glanced around. "You still with your model? I thought you'd be done by now. I can come back."

"Don't bother," I tossed my sketch pad onto my desk. "I don't suppose you saw some well-built dude roaming around our building looking lost, did you?"

"Nope. Why? You expecting a date?"

"I'm expecting to fail this fucking class because I can't get any damned models to keep their promises."

Frank sat down backward on a kitchen chair. "Are you kidding me? You had another no-show?"

I nodded.

"Shit. What's wrong with people?"

"I have no idea. It's not like they don't get paid. If they bother to show up."

Frank shook his head. "Sorry. That sucks. What do you need the models to do, anyway? Is it complicated?"

"Not at all. Just life poses. They strike them, I sketch them."

"Does sex matter?"

That got me attention. "What?"

"You need guys, right? Or do you need more female models?"

"Guys are fine. It's all about form and movement. Here," I opened my portfolio and showed him the drawings from the two sessions I managed to have. One was a girl from the dance department who'd done a stretching routine for me, giving me twenty unique poses. Another was a guy from the gymnastics team who yielded a whopping twenty-five. The others had all blown me off.

And not in the fun way.

"What about me?" Frank asked.

I glanced at him, expecting to find him laughing, but he looked serious. "You want to pose for me?"

"It doesn't look too complicated. And your work's great. It'd be a shame for you not to finish because a few losers bailed on you."

This wasn't computing. He really wanted to do this? More importantly, could I do this? Could I stare at him and still remember how to use a pencil? Would the sketches come out so sexual it would be obvious to anyone with eyesight that I had the hots for my subject?

Who cares? my cock screamed on its direct line to my brain. We'll get to stare at him. Do it. Do it.

"I mean, if I'm not the right material..." Frank paused as he yanked off his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. He stood up straight, hands on his hips. I could see every ridge of every muscle in his abs. My tongue wanted to count them to make sure they were all present and accounted for.

"You're uhm..."

"Sketch worthy?" The hint of teasing in his voice nearly killed me.

"Sure."

"Where do you want me?"

Oh Jesus. On the floor... in the tub... on my bed.. on me?

"How about by the window? There's good light over there."

He turned and took a few steps closer to the big bay window. The muscles on his back were just as fun to look at. I swallowed hard, willing myself to chill the fuck out.