Single Wide Female: The Bucket List Mega Bundle - 24 Books (Books #1-24) (16 page)

A few of the students in the front of the class were politely averting their eyes, but the rest seemed to be fascinated by my fumbling fingertips. With each button I released I expected to turn and run out of the room. I didn’t think I was actually going to be brave enough to follow through with what I was doing. Of all the things that I had done in my life, even those things that I had recently checked off my bucket list, this moment had to be the most horrifying. I knew that when my shirt fell back from my shoulders I was going to be exposed to a room full of near-strangers.

“You’re doing great, Samantha,” my teacher said in a voice that reminded me of my seventh-grade music teacher.

Chapter 9

I drew a deep breath and took my shirt off. I stood awkwardly with it in my hand for a moment. It seemed rude to just drop it on the floor. I started folding it up as neatly as I could.

“Here, I’ll take that,” the teacher said with a smile.

Then my shirt was gone. It wasn’t on the floor beside me where I could grab it if I needed it. She whisked it away and I had no idea where she put it. Another deep breath and my jeans were unbuttoned. I closed my eyes and pushed them down over my hips. Then over my knees. Then over my ankles.

“I’ll take those too,” the teacher said.

My shirt was gone. My jeans were gone. I was standing in front of the class in nothing but a bra and panties. I refused to open my eyes.

“Now everyone notice the way her skin tone is nearly flawless,” the teacher instructed.

I felt a hint of pride at her words, but also a new wave of terror.

“Please continue, Samantha,” she said in a softer voice.

“I think this is enough,” I blurted out. “I mean, there’s plenty of curves to paint.”

“Samantha, it’s a nude study,” the teacher said. “If you’re not comfortable we can see if someone else might like to volunteer.”

I could feel myself blushing. I was already mostly nude. If I quit now all of my embarrassment would have been for nothing. It was just one night. Just one class. But it was a huge step for me, I knew that. If I really wanted to know who I was, and what I was made of, it was time to take the biggest risk I could muster.

I closed my eyes and shed the remainder of my clothing. Slowly I opened my eyes again. I could see all of the students in the class in front of me. No one seemed to be complaining.

After a few minutes of no one throwing tomatoes or demanding that I cover up, I began to relax a little. It was so normal to wear clothing. It was what was expected of me, of anyone walking down the street—to cover their body. Yet being without clothes was exactly the way that Stephanie had described it—extremely liberating.

I couldn’t be sure if I was happy or if I had just gone numb, but I began to settle into my own skin. I felt as if the world was so different when I didn’t have to think about the clothes that I was wearing or hiding certain parts of myself. I was out in the open for all to see, and despite the horror I had experienced a few minutes before, now I felt absolutely no shame.

The pencils and paintbrushes were skimming across the papers. The teacher was gently gasping as she walked between the easels, and murmuring words of support. All of this was happening because I had been brave enough to walk up to the front of the room and shed all of my clothes—every last stitch.

My stomach fluctuated from that feeling of excited butterflies to sinking with fear at being so exposed. It was a thrilling experience and one I realized I would never have again. A person only had their first naked parade in front of strangers once in their lifetime, and this was my special day.

When the teacher lightly clapped her hands to get the attention of the students, she drew me out of my wandering thoughts. “Alright, everyone, we need to finish up for tonight. You’ve all done a wonderful job. Let’s show Samantha just how much we appreciate her willingness to volunteer,” she added.

The entire class began applauding me. There was something distinctly delectable about being applauded while naked. I felt as if I should bow, but to my credit, I resisted.

“Samantha?” the teacher said again to get my attention.

I looked over at her to find that she was handing me my clothes.

“Oh, thank you,” I said quickly. I took my clothes and turned back to the class.

Everyone was packing up their supplies. I was no longer the focus of attention. I dressed awkwardly, as if each piece of clothing I put on reminded me of my own nakedness. Maybe if I had stayed nude, I never would have remembered at all.

“Thanks again, Samantha,” the teacher said once I was dressed. She gave me a light pat on the shoulder.

“Of course.” I smiled. “It’s all just between us, anyway. It was actually a very enlightening experience. And it’s not like any of these paintings are going to see the light of day.”

“Not so much the light of day, just the lights at the art show,” the teacher said with a laugh as she began straightening the items on her desk.

“What?” I said as the words “art” and “show” spun through my mind so fast that I thought I might pass out.

“Yes, didn’t I mention it?” the teacher asked.

I was beginning to think this flighty behavior was all an act. No one could truly be so ditzy.

“No, you didn’t mention it,” I said through gritted teeth.

“All of the live studies will be entered into the local art show—it’s part of the class project,” the teacher explained. “It gives all of these budding artists the chance to have a real gallery experience.”

“A real gallery experience with my naked body?” I said, recognizing that my voice was getting louder by the second. “Don’t I have to sign some kind of release for that?”

“Well, actually, you did sign it when you signed up for the class,” the teacher said. “And since you volunteered to model, consent is implied.”

“No, no—it is
not
implied.” I was feeling more than a little freaked out.

All of the other students had already emptied out of the classroom. The teacher actually looked a little frightened of me.

“I’m sorry for the confusion, but if we don’t have something to enter, all of the students will be left out of the show,” she said with a frown. “You wouldn’t want to ruin that for them, would you? Besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The paintings came out beautifully.”

The paintings. My heart flipped. I wondered how people had depicted me. I knew that I never photographed well, so the paintings had to be pretty terrible. I was starting to panic.

“This was a huge mistake,” I said, frowning.

“Aw.” The teacher gently squeezed my shoulder. “Samantha, it was no mistake. One day you’ll see that,” she assured me. “I have to get going now,” she added and held up her key to the classroom. “We’re the last ones to leave.”

Still in shock, I followed her out of the room. I watched her lock the door. Then we continued out of the school. By the time I reached the parking lot I realized the teacher was gone. I turned back to look at the school and was still stunned to think that there was a room full of naked paintings of me inside.

Chapter 10

That night I could not get to sleep. I kept thinking about the paintings. I didn’t want anyone to see them. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I had let myself get caught up in the ideals of an art teacher. She wasn’t the one that had gotten naked, now was she?

Finally I climbed out of bed. I knew what had to be done. I dressed quickly and stepped out of my apartment. I found Max walking up to my door.

“Can we talk?” he asked as I started to brush past him.

“I have somewhere to be,” I said.

“This late?” he asked, looking surprised.

“Please, Max, not now,” I said quickly. I didn’t have time to discuss why I had been avoiding him.

“Alright,” Max said with confusion in his voice.

For once I didn’t obsess about what he was thinking. I needed to get to the paintings, and fast.

When I arrived at the school I had no real plan, except that I had to get inside. The school was still dark. I could see that there were a few exit signs glowing in the front hallway. For a split second I wondered if there was an alarm system. The truth was, it didn’t matter. I was going in after those paintings no matter what I had to do.

I tried the front door, hoping that by some stroke of luck I would be able to simply walk in. It was locked. I sighed and walked the length of the building. I noticed that there was a window open near a back door. It wasn’t open much. Maybe one of the high school teachers had cracked it during the day for a quick smoke and forgotten to close it. But it was open enough. I pushed it up the rest of the way and climbed inside.

I hurried out of the classroom and down the hall to the art room that was reserved for our classes. I flipped on the light and was greeted by me, naked, and all over the room. I stared at the paintings spread out before me. I had broken into the classroom so that I could destroy all of the paintings, but now that I was looking at them, I felt a sense of amazement.

They weren’t the ugly paintings I had expected them to be. Each person had painted my unadorned body with their own special perspective. Each one had accentuated a different aspect of my body, so that even I couldn’t find a way to deny the beauty on the canvas. I was so enthralled by the sight that I didn’t hear the quiet sound of the door behind me sliding open.

“Wow,” Max said from behind me.

I jumped and bumped into the easel in front of me.

“Max!” I gasped and tried to shield the painting from view.

There was no point, as there were more than a dozen nearly identical paintings spread out across the room for him to see. “Close your eyes!” I said. “Close your eyes this instant!”

“Are these you, Sammy?” he asked with shock and delight in his voice. “Is this how you’ve been spending your evenings?”

“Max!” I nearly shouted. “Please, don’t look.” My voice trembled. He looked over at me and met my eyes.

“Don’t be upset,” he said softly. “They’re beautiful.”

“Maybe they are beautiful, but they’re not for you to see.”

“Is that why you broke in here?” he asked. “I followed you because I knew that you were up to something.”

“I was going to destroy all of the paintings,” I said with a frown. “I didn’t want anyone else seeing them.”

“Well, that would be a shame,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “One day you’ll have to accept your beauty, Sammy, whether you like it or not.”

I stared back at him with disbelief. In the distance I could hear sirens. Had someone reported the break-in or was I just being paranoid?

“Let me take you home,” Max said. “Leave the paintings.”

“I can get there myself,” I said quietly.

“Sam, are we okay?” he asked with concern in his eyes.

“We will be. But I can get home by myself. And I can decide to get into trouble on my own, without you needing to get me out of it. I don’t need you to take care of me, Max.”

“I know you don’t,” he said softly.

“Good,” I said and pushed past him. If he followed me I didn’t know it; I didn’t look back.

When I arrived back at my apartment, I sat down with my computer. I tapped out another blog post, detailing how startling it was to see my body through the eyes of others and how refreshing it could be to finally be able to see yourself from another perspective.

I waited a few minutes to see if Blue would post. Then I shut off my computer and went to bed. Soon more people than had ever seen me naked would be seeing my body, as it was interpreted by a variety of budding artists.

Surprisingly, I was okay with that.

Single Wide Female: The Bucket List

#5 Run a Marathon

By

Lillianna Blake

Copyright © 2015 Lillianna Blake

Cover design by
Beetiful Book Covers

All rights reserved.

LilliannaBlake.com

Chapter 1

When my alarm went off I was jerked out of an amazing dream. I was on a sailboat, journeying across a vast ocean. I was alone, but I wasn’t afraid. I was perfectly confident that I was capable of making it to my destination. I felt vital and enlivened by the freedom that rushed through me with every rolling wave.

When I opened my eyes to the reality of my life, I found myself instantly crushed by the routine of it. In an hour I would need to be at Fluff and Stuff to open it up for the day. Then I would have some coffee, read the paper, and obsess about the state of the world, country, or city depending on what article I read.

Once a customer arrived to distract me I would lose myself in the routine of my work. I might be interrupted by Max showing up for a chat. I might flip on the old television and watch a soap opera just to spice up my day. But in the end, I would close up the shop and head back to my small apartment, alone, and with nothing more important to do than flip on the television so that I wouldn’t miss one of my several favorite shows. Lately, my life had been a bit more adventurous, but yet again I had settled into a rut.

I wanted to be interesting
—
to be valid and worthy. I wanted to matter in some way. I wanted a reason to wake up before my alarm went off, with an eagerness to participate in my life rather than a sense of obligation.

I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. As I walked across the room I grumbled at the tension in my back, the soreness of my knees, and the general unpleasantness of waking up to a stiff body. I sighed as I walked past the tall mirror that hung from the back of my closet door. I had lost quite a bit of weight recently and my body certainly looked better, but it hadn’t changed much in the past few weeks. I had hit a plateau despite sticking fairly well to my diet.

I knew that the main problem was lack of movement. I had been so caught up lately in my routine that I had forgotten to get out and exercise. I needed something more than just heading to the gym. I could do that any old time. It was boring. I wanted a challenge
—
something that would make me feel a little more competitive and a little less bored.

As I walked the few blocks to Fluff and Stuff I noticed a few familiar faces. Since I walked on nearly the same schedule each day I’d become acquainted with certain sights. There was the blue-haired lady who walked her Pomeranian. There was the hot dog vendor who didn’t seem to comprehend that people did not want to eat hot dogs for breakfast. Then there were the runners. They were always moving too fast for me to name them in particular so I just named the group of them
—
the runners.