Fourteen Days in February

Master Painter, Aspiring Model (Part Three)

Dan sighed deeply and slid down into his seat. Somehow he had gotten through posing nude for Phil, the beautiful artist who occupied his mind.

He tried to remind himself that no matter how well they seemed to get on, and no matter how generous Phil was with dinner and the offer of quiet study time, this was not a budding relationship; this was a job.

Phil didn't date his models.

He need not be reminded of Phil's standing as a well-known, commission artist. Why would anyone like Phil be interested in a uni student who didn't even have a plan for next semester let alone next year. Surely Phil had his choice of men - the more refined, sophisticated, artsy types.

Still, Dan had seen the way that Phil looked at him. It wasn't all business. For all Dan knew, Phil had an erection behind that canvas.

It was too easy to get carried away. Dan had a bad habit of overthinking his interactions with other people. Was Phil this generous with all of his models or just Dan? Did he offer his home as a quiet study place as a friendly gesture, or was there more to it? Dan didn't know.

It was beginning to give him a headache, all of this back and forth over Phil. A week never felt so long, and three hours never seemed so short. Dan noticed that the boys his age started to annoy him. They seemed so immature and shallow by comparison. Phil was beginning to seep into every corner of his mind.

Dan even thought about Phil late at night in his bed. He would turn his pillow lengthwise and snuggle up against it as if he were laying with Phil himself. The sweet smell of turpentine and linseed oil clung to his clothing, and Dan vowed not to forget it. He would drift off to sleep with the memory of the scent in his nose.

On the night before he was due
at Phil's for his second modeling session, Dan lay with his hand over the thin, cotton material
of his pants. He started to rub himself at the thought of Phil modeling nude for him.

He had to be beautiful. Dan decided that he was big, that he had to be, especially at his height. He thought about his large hands and long fingers and-

He came so quickly, he didn't even get a warning. Dan lay surprised and satisfied with wet pants. He almost laughed at himself for being so overly sensitive. Never had he come in his own pants before, not even as an eager boy of fifteen.

Dan squirmed a bit and closed his eyes. It was such a strange feeling to be attracted to someone without having the guts to make a move.

Tomorrow. He would see him tomorrow. It occurred to Dan that the faster he fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come.

* * *

Phil tossed and turned with anticipation. He finally gave up on sleep altogether, and got up to pour himself a bowl of cereal.

Dan had been consuming his every thought. He couldn't even look around his own flat without thinking about where Dan had been.

Phil couldn't remember ever feeling so crazy about a boy, or a girl for that matter. He was twenty-three years old and felt eighteen. He giggled out loud at himself; it was kind of funny.

It felt really good to feel alive.

                      * * *

Dan arrived just before 4:00 pm. As usual, he looked beautiful. The weather was a bit cooler so he opted for a jumper instead of a button down. Phil loved the way that the cream color complimented his lightly-tanned skin and warm brown eyes.

"Hi Dan." Phil smiled fondly. "I'm glad you're here, please come in." He could see that Dan's shoulders were saddled with a rather large, bulky-looking backpack. "Wow. Can I help you with that?"