It didn't look straight but every time I moved it, it got worse. I took a step back and crossed my arms.

"So, what do you think?"

Alex looked up from his bed. There wasn't a lot of room in our tiny, one-bedroom apartment. He studied the black and white portrait and said, "It's not bad or anything, but Mom is going to kill you."

"Who?"

My brother sighed. "Well, when she comes to visit."

I scoffed.

"Whatever..." he said. "And who did this anyway? Did you draw this?"

I ran my hands down my jeans. There was still charcoal on my fingers. "Do you know Riley? She's a Junior."

Alex shook his head.

I shrugged and then pointed to the door. "I need to shower. Why don't you get dinner going? Thanks."

He didn't have a chance to protest. I gently ushered him to the exit by the scruff of his neck and slammed the door in his face before he could speak. I'd been looking forward to my shower all day.

It was only our third class of the year and already our teacher had thrown in the towel. A search was underway for a replacement according to the note scribbled on the board. The closest thing we'd get until then was the janitor who would be locking up at 5:30. Until then though, we had some busy work assigned to us by someone whose expertise lay somewhere else—in some field other than art. "Draw a person," the board read.

Most of our classmates interpreted the instructions as an invitation to leave early or skip class entirely. I had nowhere else to be and had to wait for Alex's practice to finish anyway, so I was one of the handful of students who stuck around and actually drew a person. It was barely a person though. I used black charcoal to sketch more of a pig—a very nice pig I thought. It was floating around in the air too, hovering just above an industrial factory building that was blowing smoke into the air.

"Hello? Excuse me," a timid voice said.

I didn't look up from my easel. "Fuck off."

I had endured relentless giggling, laughter, and otherwise immature conversation for the first half of the period. They were Juniors. I shouldn't fault them for that. I just wished Mommy and Daddy would have come and picked them up instead of letting them treat my quiet time like it was daycare.

"Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering if—" she tried again.

"What part of that didn't you understand?" I etched the contour of the pig's face far too wide, then smudged at it with my finger.

There was no reply, just nervous silence. I could hear the person's bones rattling through my canvas. I craned my neck around the side.

"What!"

The girl jumped.

I glared into her eyes. She was cute even though she looked terrified. She had an exotic look with narrow dark eyes and a long, tawny brown face. Her skin radiated a light bronze glow. And it wasn't the product of being under the sun either. It was natural like she was Italian or perhaps Spanish. Her hair was as indecisive as she was. It couldn't make up its mind if it was supposed to be wavy or straight. She summoned her courage and spoke up.

"Stephanie, right?"

I ignored her. My attention was on repairing the pig.

She cleared her throat. "I'm... I'm Riley."

"What do you need, Riley?"

"Well, I—I was wondering if you could, um, help me. I drew something—someone, and now I'm stuck. I don't know how to finish it."

"Why don't you ask your friends? They seem to have a lot of opinions, maybe they could help."

"My friends?"

"The freshman."

"Oh, I'm not a freshman. I'm a Junior."

I looked up and noticed the class was empty. It was suddenly very peaceful and quiet in the large art studio.

"Oh, did you put the fucking kids to bed?"

"No... I think they finally got bored. They left a few minutes ago, and I was hoping to get you before you left too."

"God dammit!" It was too skinny now. I erased again.

"Oh, sorry. I'll come back another time." She turned.

"No. Wait. Don't run away now without at least telling me what you want."

Her flat nose scrunched up to make room for a timid smile. "Thank you! I just noticed that you, well, you were good. And I drew, uh, maybe you could take a look?"

I put the charcoal pencil down and hopped off the stool. I pulled at my jeans, raising them back up to the rim of my hips where they belonged. She swallowed and shied away from the exposed skin between my pants and my tiny halter.

"Well?" I asked. "Where is this masterpiece of yours?"

Riley turned and pointed. "I'm just over there, follow me."

There was a reason I changed clothes before this class. I didn't want to end up like her. Riley must have been making good use of her time at least because her hands were black and her polo was covered in stains. She held on to her loose sweatpants, trying to keep them from slipping as she walked. She might have been able to squeeze all of herself into a single leg. She stumbled and almost tripped.

I said, "I think your pants are too small."

She sighed. "What? No, they're not—oh, I see. These are my brother's but my mom says I'll grow into them."

"Are you planning on getting fat?"

"What?"

"In the next couple of months are you going to put on a hundred pounds?"

She stopped and made a face. "No, of course not."

"Then—ah, never mind."

Her easel was situated in the back row behind mine. I hadn't even known she was there. Riley was so reserved and quiet that even her ponytail bounced meekly behind her, barely moving and afraid to make a sound. But this small, mysterious girl had surprised me. My jaw hit the floor.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It's... It's..." I started to say, then moved in closer. "Is that me?"

She looked down at her shoes. "Yes. Do you like it?"

I narrowed my eyes, analyzing the black and white drawing of a girl who was sitting on a wooden stool drawing a picture. Riley had gotten the details perfectly, those which she had attempted anyway. She captured some annoyance on my face as I worked, presumably caused by the smaller, talking figures on the side. My braid was vivid and lifelike, running down the line in the middle of my back. Some areas though were still left blank. I scooted in closer, lightly brushing up against her, then turned.

"Why did you draw me?" I asked.

"Oh. Because I knew you'd stay, and you don't move a lot. I draw kinda slow."

"Ah. Right. I thought you were going to say because I was beautiful."

"Oh. Oh! No that's not what I meant—"

I held up my hand. "And what about these empty spots here and here?"

But as soon as the words left my mouth I realized these were the problem areas. My chest and butt were both blank. I looked back toward her eager face. She was cute actually, even cuter close up now that I had breached her personal space. The natural light brown skin of her face had turned red.

Riley said, "Yeah, so that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to finish it but, I uh, wanted to make sure it was OK, you know?" She exhaled slowly and met my gaze. "And I'm not even sure I could do it right, without like, being creepy. I'm not making any sense, am I? Sorry."

I let out a forced laugh. "That's what this is, Riley? You want permission to draw my tits and ass?"

She shrank back. And for a girl like Riley, the tone of my voice might have her talking this through with a therapist one day. She was not the enemy. Far from it. I relaxed my hands by my sides and took a deep breath.

"Hey," I said, "sure, why not? What you've got so far is, well, good. It's better than my poor, neglected animal anyway. I'll be happy to help I guess model for you?"

Excitement accompanied her shaky nerves now. She seemed to be grateful for the opportunity. I couldn't figure out why. I'm kind of plain, the definition of plain really. And she could draw anyone she wanted. She pulled at the cloth bunched up around her waist.

"Oh for fuck's sake," I barked, then caught myself and lowered my voice. "Look, this is going to sound weird, but just let those fucking things go. You're going to trip and hurt yourself. Your shirt is baggy enough to be a dress anyway, was that your brother's too?"

She nodded, then comprehending the entirety of my words, quickly stopped. She looked at me like I had just been beamed down from Mars. The poor girl took a step back, gripping the light blue material tightly in her hand.

"Alright, alright. Just a suggestion," I said, holding my arms up. "Anyways, what do you want me to do?"

"Just keep doing what you were doing, over there back at your seat. I'll be right over, I'd like to get closer, if that's OK with you?"

"Like how close?"

"Um, not too close—I mean, kind of close."

I nodded. "And should I be naked?"

"What? No—no! Why would you—"

"Take a breath, Riley, I'm just fucking with you. Here, give me that."

I helped her set up a new station right beside mine. I frowned when she picked up the large canvas and nearly dropped it. Riley hung her head low as she handed it over and followed me across the hall. By that point, I was convinced that she wasn't making a fashion statement with her oversized and ridiculous outfit like the other students. There was something off about Riley. She motioned for me to take my seat and went to work.

I was nervous at first and started straining my abs, trying to maintain perfect posture. Not breathing was the hardest part. I turned my shoulders to the side to give her what I thought was the most flattering angle. But it was uncomfortable to have someone scrutinize every detail of your body and then record it on paper, especially when it was your private areas the artist was drawing. I tried to look perfect but must have been awkward and rigid. The scratching sound of pencil on wood stopped abruptly.

"Just take a second," Riley said in her quiet voice, "and relax. You look—"

"Unnatural and tense? Because that's how I feel. It's hard to breathe when you're over there staring at me." I took a breath. Then another. "OK, I'm sorry. How can I be a better model? I've never done this before."

"Neither have I. But Stephanie, I don't think you have to do anything. You just have to be you and pretend that I'm not even here. Kinda like earlier, you didn't even know I was here today."

I slumped my shoulders.

"Oh no!" she continued. "It's OK, and I didn't mean it like that. I just think that you're perfect the way you are is all. You're even beautiful like this. I wish I had a body like yours. And your skin is so pretty!" Riley cut herself off before she said any more.

Now she had my attention. That skin she liked so much became red in my cheeks. I crossed my legs like how I was earlier and my tight jeans slid lower down my hips. Her scribbling stopped momentarily, then picked up again. She whispered something low and quiet to herself.

"What's that?" I asked, looking back at her. "Did you say something?"

"What? Huh? No, I don't think so. It's just... I like the way you're sitting. You uh—you look good like that is all."

I looked over my shoulder. "You like my ass, huh?"

Her eyes shot open wide, but she didn't say anything.

"It's OK. Honestly, I like it too, I think it's way nicer than my small tits anyway. Hey, I bet yours is even better than mine. Somewhere underneath all that shit you're wearing is probably a nice, tight, little body."

She shook her head. Her eyes, though, stayed fixed to my backside.

"You're actually kind of cute, Riley. I bet you clean up real nice."

"You... You think so?"

My grin startled her. Up until that point, I had been myself. Taciturn, distant, close-mouthed, and all those other words whose sum equals "leave me the fuck alone". The corners of my thin lips stretched up into a clumsy smile. Riley stared back at me, trying to read my face. I must have looked like a predator in her eyes, a predator about to take a bite out of a small, defenseless animal. She looked me over and decided it was safer to go back to drawing.

"It's just that," she said. "I can't get it right. No matter how hard I try."

She turned the canvas my way. It looked like she had drawn my top about fifty times. And by the amount of smudges and smears on the paper, it appeared nearly worn through. She really was struggling. I opened my mouth and then thought for a moment. No, definitely not.

But she spoke first anyway. "It's just the color I think. It's confusing me, I can't get the outline."

I looked down at my top. It was bright white and seemed to just fade into my skin. You couldn't tell them apart.

"If it was black, that would be easier, right?" I asked.

Riley nodded.

"Let me see your hands."

"What? Why?"

I rolled my eyes and Riley quickly flashed her palms.

"OK, yours are way cleaner than mine. Come over here and help me."

"With what?" she asked.

"My shirt. I've got a black bra on underneath."

Riley swallowed loudly. She nearly choked on her saliva.

"Oh come on, this was your idea, remember? I'm just trying to help."

She considered for a moment, then nodded. It was only when I held my arms up that her timid, little feet padded over to me. But once she got there, Riley hesitated. I could feel her breathing down my neck.

"Um, any day now," I said.

"It's just, um, you know, this is weird."

"And now that you mention it, maybe my pants too?"

Silence.

I turned and saw the concern in her large, saucer eyes. "Riley? Hello? Are you there?"

She gulped. "I... I mean... OK. Just turn around."

I did as she asked and her little fingers pinched into the back of my shirt. Riley pulled at the fabric and it slipped up my body. My back was nearly bare when she stopped. It got hung up on the small cups of my bra.

Riley swallowed again. She stepped closer. Her shirt grazed against my skin. But she didn't reach in front of me to untangle my top.

"Riley, my arms are getting tired," I said.

Her hands still didn't move.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me, just help me with my shirt."

"Stephanie!" she croaked.

"We just don't have much time, that's all. And I kind of want to hang that in my room."

"You do?"

I stretched my arms as high as I could and Riley's worried, little fingers begrudgingly reached forward to the front of my body. They traced over my breasts. It was a light touch, very subtle, but it still felt like she was taking her time. Finally, her thumbs butted into the bottom of my bra. She began to tug.

My shirt rose. Riley pulled it slowly and cautiously until it was bunched up above my breasts. Then, she stopped. Her nose pressed into the back of my head and she inhaled.

"Riley?" I asked.

She let it out. The soft air from her nostrils tickled my scalp.

"Are you OK?"

"No—yeah, I'm fine."

"Then, what is it?"

"I, uh, was just wondering if you were joking earlier."

"About what?"

She hesitated and then lowered her tone. "About your pants..."

I lowered my arms and set my hands down on top of hers. I pressed her hands into my chest.

"S-s-stephanie? What are you doing?"

When I didn't respond, the pretty seventeen-year-old wiggled her fingers. Her timid hands came to life and cupped me through my bra. She bore down on me and squeezed as awkwardly as a nervous boy feeling up a girl for the first time. She stopped abruptly.

"Riley, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I... It's just..."

I waited for a moment, then said, "Can you help me take off my bra?"

There was an uneven sigh behind me. It sounded like the air was fluttering out of her lungs.

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

"N-n-no."

I let go of her hands but she kept them on my chest in her tenuous, nervous grip. "OK, how about this then—how about we finish your drawing?"

She considered, and then her soft voice spoke up. "Yeah, OK. That sounds good."

"But Riley?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it OK if we do it in my underwear? I'd really like that. I just think it would be nice to hang on my wall, that's all."

The pause was longer this time. But after a few tense moments, my shirt started climbing upward, and finally cleared my head. She folded it and neatly hung it on her easel. After she wiped her hands on her pants, she turned back toward me. I rose from my seat.

I didn't turn toward her though. I stared forward just like I had been as I waited for her to approach again. Quiet footsteps followed. They danced quietly toward me. Her soft, warm fingers came next. They brushed along my hips and came together just above the button on my jeans. She sighed into my neck, curled a finger inside, and the button popped open.

She closed what little distance there was between us and mashed her chest into my back. Her cheek grazed against mine. She set her chin down on my shoulder and peered down. I turned my head toward her.

Riley blinked. Her wide, curious eyes were tracking the slow, back-and-forth movement of her fingers as they traced the outline of my thong. It was a tiny black one that matched my bra, the thin band rose out from my jeans. Her eyes suddenly shifted toward mine. She blushed.

"Sorry, I just... I..."

"Shh, it's OK. Do you like my panties?"

"I... I think so?"

"Do you think I look hot?"

"Well, yeah."

My lips reached out and connected with the corner of her mouth. Riley froze.

"Do you want to hear a secret, Riley?" I whispered.

"S-s-sure."

"You're making me wet."

Silence. A loud nervous gulp. Riley's cheeks turned even redder.

"You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

There was a forced laugh. Then, her shy fingers dipped lower. They tiptoed down the opening of my fly, right over the thin fabric of my underwear.

Lower.

I kissed the corner of her mouth.

Lower.

Riley took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and turned toward me. Her hand plunged downward.

It nearly knocked me off my feet. I felt dizzy. My knees wobbled. I took hold of the stool, leaned forward, and spread my thighs apart. Her hand was right there, right on top of me, gently rubbing at the damp spot between my legs.

Her lips met mine. She kissed me in that awkward position over my shoulder while her innocent fingers ground into the thin fabric of my panties. It started to crumple up, to pull inwards on top of itself. I could feel her directly on my pussy, her shaky fingers carefully washing side to side. Then, there was another hand on me.

It came from behind and tugged at the waist of my jeans. They slipped lower. She shimmied them back and forth until they fell past my hips and her hand was directly on my cheeks. Riley grunted.

Her voice was so low I could barely make out her words. She whispered, "You are so pretty... Your body is... It's..."

I shoved my tongue in her mouth.

But Riley continued, "And Stephanie?"

I blinked at her.

"I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you. You were there during registration day wearing your skirt and I... I couldn't stop thinking about—I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day."

"You... You what? What are you talking about?"

"I even signed up for this class because I saw you signing up. I saw you talking to that man and signed up right after you."

I slipped forward. My elbows scraped across the small stool.

"You were just like this too—you were leaning over the table and I was... I was watching you the whole time. I haven't been able to think straight because I've wanted to..."

"To what?"

She brought her lips in close to my ear and whispered, "To touch you."

I arched my back. My feet rocked forward onto my toes.

"I wanted to be alone with you so I could see your body, so I could touch you—so I could do this."

The hand behind me dipped lower. It ran down between my cheeks until she was rubbing me from both sides. I lurched forward and slipped onto the stool, crushing her hand beneath me. It didn't stop though. It just kept rubbing. And the timid girl behind me kept whispering.

"I just can't believe it's finally happening—you're so pretty, Stephanie. And you know what else? I... I want to do it—I want you to..." She cut herself off before finishing.

I rolled my head to the side, my jaw hanging open, and my eyes blinking curiously over at her.

Riley swallowed. She took a big breath and whispered, "I want to see what you look like when you cum."

I couldn't find my voice so I just gaped stupidly at her. Nothing else seemed important—not the cars outside, the students walking in the hall, or the sounds of her wet fingers sloshing over my pussy. I just pressed my butt into her, mashed my thighs together, and squirted into my panties.

Riley continued to assault me all the way through it, her fingers relentlessly working over my clit until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to wrench her arm out of my pants so I could catch my breath. The nervous girl took a step back, her arms dangling by her sides.

I rose slowly, turned around, and faced her. My chest was still heaving. I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs and found the shy girl staring curiously at the front of my jeans. They were wide open and hanging low. My thighs were slick and sticky.

"Did I... Did I do something wrong?" she peeped.

I took a step forward, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her.