18. On his couch

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[RECAP: Sera is about to pose nude for her devastatingly sexy art teacher, Mr Marek]


Sera was increasingly amazed that she had managed to ever undress before a roomful of people.

As the hour drew near for her to pose for Mr Marek - just one artist, in the privacy of his own studio - she was getting increasingly nervous. She had barely eaten all week from the stress, so at least her stomach felt flatter.

She approached number twenty-seven, noticing that the neighbours' unused boat was named Catalina and the house on the other side was subdivided since there were letterboxes marked twenty-five A and twenty-five B. Absorbing these small details kept her grounded. She didn't have to think about what lay ahead.

One minute at a time. Just think about it one minute at a time. You'll get through this, she told herself. Courage. She had already downed a couple of glasses of Marisa's Chardonnay to try and steel her nerves.

Sera rang the doorbell, desperately hoping that the art teacher had forgotten or changed his mind or had an emergency and wouldn't answer.

But the door opened.

"Sera." Mr Marek appeared glad and just slightly surprised - relieved? - to see her. "Come in." He was wearing casual trousers and a linen shirt that had traces of paint on the hem.

She wasn't the kind of girl who chickened out. Somehow, this felt like a war. She wished he didn't always look so attractive. If only he were Mr Billings. But then she would have never agreed to pose for Mr Billings, not that he would ever have asked.

"I hope I'm not late." She was pretty certain she wasn't, but she had forgotten to put her watch on.

"You're perfectly on time. Early, in fact."

He took her through the house to his studio, which was out the back in a kind of conservatory or sunroom. It was happily warm in there, she could see a heater positioned near a chaise longue-style couch draped with some rich-coloured fabric. You and I, Sera thought to the couch, are going to survive this together. She remembered Mr Marek's word about "arranging her on his couch" and suppressed a shiver.

What might he try when they were all alone?

"I was lucky to find this house, having this room attached. The light is perfect," he told her.

It was true, the wintry sunlight lit up the room, but without shining directly onto the area he in which had positioned the couch and easel. A few plants in pots were situated around the edges of the room, some yucca and others that Sera didn't recognise.

"You haven't lived here long?" she asked.

"Just a couple of months." He saw her looking at the plants. "Those came with the house. I've done what I can to water them, but they've seen better days."

Sera noticed that Mr Marek didn't elaborate as to where he had lived before, but she assumed it was London.

It was now or never. "Shall I...?" Sera had no clue exactly how to put this. Disrobe? Undress? Get ready? Get into position? There didn't seem to be a single phrase that didn't carry some huge innuendo. If she didn't have such a stupid crush on him it would probably be much easier.

"If you're happy getting started straight away." He hesitated. "Normally I'd offer you a drink but given your age and the fact we're already on thin ice, I think it would be unwise. Would you like a tea or coffee?"

"Just water, thanks." Her throat felt so dry she could barely articulate the words.

"Great. You can use the study to change."

Mr Marek went out to the kitchen and Sera went through the other door, which opened off the conservatory on the opposite side. The room reminded her of a theatre set: French windows and doors off different walls. She was going to be the star performer.

There was a hatstand which she used to hang up her coat, folding the rest of her clothes on a chair. A clean dressing gown was draped over the back of the chair, the white kind that you got in hotel rooms. Sera glanced at it and wasn't surprised to see a prominent hospitality chain logo.

She had brought her own robe but put on the one that he had left out for her. Braced herself. This was it.

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