The Nude Model

Levi and Doug evidently liked what they'd seen, because a few days after the shoot, I heard from two of their friends. They were the gay couple I'd seen in class, who turned out to be named Rico and Miguel. These guys were photographers too, though their style seemed very different from Levi and Doug's. They didn't want to shoot me on the beach-- or, for that matter, anywhere in public. They were looking to do studio work, which sounded a lot like the classroom stuff I was used to, though it turned out to be anything but.

Rico asked if I was cool with body paint, and I said yes. He also asked if I could recommend other models who could pose alongside me. I jumped at the chance to recommend Brandon, since we'd still never posed together. Miguel wanted a third model too, so Brandon recommended his friend Deshawn. Which was how we all ended up in an old converted warehouse, with the three of us once again naked for the cameras.

Brandon and I had jacked off beforehand, since that had now become our well-worn routine. We hadn't asked Deshawn to join us, which in retrospect it would've been fun; but it was just as well, since it turned out to be a helluva shoot.

"Are you ready for this?" were the first words out of Rico's mouth, as he showed us a big selection of body paints.

"I'm down," I said. "What do you have in mind, exactly?"

Rico held up a can of spray paint. "Okay," he said. "Close your eyes for a sec."

I did as I was told, and I felt a cool sensation as he started to spray me down. It took a few minutes for him to cover my body, including my cock and balls. Then, when I opened my eyes, I saw my whole body was silver.

"Nice," Brandon said. "You look like something out of

Terminator 2

."

Rico laughed. "You're next," he said, and he proceeded to spray Brandon down too. I had to bite my lip when he made Brandon bend over, open his ass cheeks, and show off his taint and hole. But within a few minutes, Brandon's whole body was silver too.

Deshawn went last, and then we got down to business. For the first few shots, Rico and Miguel had us do a bunch of old-school poses, as if we were Greek or Roman statues. For a few shots we stood in contrapposto; for others we pretended to throw a javelin or whatever else.

The real fun started when Rico and Miguel gave us cups of colored paint. They had us pour the paint on each other, so we got globs of color against our silver skin. We couldn't help goofing around a little, so we put our hands in the paint and started putting prints all over each other.

"Think fast!" Deshawn said, and the next thing I knew, a glob of paint hit me in the chest.

"Oh no you didn't," I said, as I picked up a cup of paint and threw it back at him. Then Brandon joined in, and the next thing we knew, all three of us were darting around the space, our cocks and balls flopping every which way, our asses jiggling, and the rest of our bodies covered in streaks and splatters.

Rico and Miguel kept running around us, trying to capture us in all our multicolored glory. I've gotta say, it was a helluva sight. Deshawn had a big blue spot on his shoulder, some yellow on his chin, and a trickle of red running down his leg. Brandon had green on his forehead, which had dripped across his face and mixed with some orange on his chest. I could see blue and white on my abs and legs, and I could only guess what colors were on my face and my back.

It was super erotic to be messing around with two naked guys, especially considering how one of them was my fuck bud. But I told myself that if I'd managed to stay soft in front of Levi's bare body, then I could stay soft anywhere.

It turned out that Miguel was the first person to pop a boner: he tried to hide it, but his shorts were so tight that his tenting was impossible to miss. It didn't take long before his boyfriend got horny too, and a spot of pre cum started soaking through Rico's clothes. Deshawn was next, followed by Brandon. At that point I couldn't resist getting hard myself, but I'm proud to say I was the last-- and it was just as we were wrapping up.

The building only had a small makeshift shower, so we had to take turns washing off the paint. Deshawn went first, while Brandon and I chatted with Rico and Miguel.

"Fuck yeah," Rico said as he started looking through his pictures. "These will work great for FinestFest."

At first I didn't get what he was saying. "How do you mean?"

"We're gonna be showing our work there," Rico said. "A whole bunch of us will have a booth set up."

I blinked. FinestFest was a neighborhood tradition, basically a three-day festival. "You mean you'll be showing the stuff we shot today?"

"We'll show other stuff too," Rico said, "but yeah. Along with Levi and Doug."

I kept a pokerface, but just then, Deshawn emerged from the shower. He waved for me to go next, so I grabbed a towel and went to wash off.

As I stood in the shower, the implication started to sink in. If I understood what Rico was saying, he'd be putting my nudes on public display. I knew a lot of my neighbors would be at the festival, and possibly some of my coworkers. Then I remembered my call with my mom, when she'd mentioned bringing my grandma.

Oh fuck

, was all I could think. The last thing I needed was for my grandma to find out what I'd been up to.

I guess I should've expected that at some point my worlds would collide. But I'd managed to put it off so long, I'd almost assumed I could do it forever. Now I was scared shitless about what might happen next.

I dried off as fast as I could, put my clothes back on, and stepped outside to call my mom.

"Hi Josh!" she said.

I cut right to the chase. "Hey," I said, "I don't think we can do FinestFest this year."

"Why not?"

"I've got a busy work schedule--"

"That's okay. We can work around it."

I gritted my teeth. That wasn't the answer I was hoping for. "No... I mean...."

"And you can step away whenever you need to. Grandma and I can take care of ourselves."

The last thing I wanted were Mom and Grandma exploring the festival on their own. I could only imagine what they might find. "But," I said, "are you sure she's even up for it?"

"Of course she is. You're making it sound like you don't want to see her."

"I didn't say that--"

"You know she looks forward to this every year. Not to mention how much she loves getting to see you."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I was trying to tread carefully, since I didn't want to raise her suspicions. But by the end of the call, I felt like my ploy had backfired.

I'd just ended the call when Brandon stepped outside. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"W-what do you mean?" I asked.

"You seem worried. You were so excited before--"

"Excited?" I clucked my tongue. "I thought we weren't supposed to pop a boner in front of clients."

"Well... I think it's different when your clients are popping boners too." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Is that what this is about?"

I shook my head. "Does your family know you've been modeling?"

"Oh shit. Did yours just find out?"

"Not if I can help it."

"I mean," he said, "my family knows about the Lavandula League. Or at least, they found out about our first fundraiser years ago. As far as they know, that's the first and only time I've taken my clothes off for an artist."

"So even after all these years... they never found out?"

"Why would they?" Brandon asked. "My parents don't ask questions about anything risqué in my life. The last thing they want is TMI. And they live in La Jolla, so they're not going to randomly stumble across it."

"My grandma loves FinestFest," I said. "If I'd known these guys would be there, I wouldn't have agreed to this." I looked over my shoulder. "I dunno... what if I just asked them not to show this stuff?"

Brandon shook his head. "No," he said, "they hired you for that exact reason. And those pictures are legally theirs, so they can do whatever they want with them."

"Fuck...."

Brandon put his arm around my back. "Do you need me to run interference?" he asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if these guys are all at one booth, we can make sure your grandma never sees it. The festival is big enough, there'll be plenty else for her to see...."

"Hm," I said. "You really think that would work?"

Brandon shrugged. "It's worth a shot," he said.

With that, we headed over to Thaxter's, ordered drinks, and started working out our scheme. Brandon texted Rico, though he didn't let on what we were doing; he just said he'd had a great time, and he couldn't wait to see the pictures. Rico thanked him and said he was already busy editing, and that he'd keep everyone posted.

After some more back-and-forth, Brandon got to the real heart of the issue, and he asked Rico where the booth would be. Rico didn't seem to pick up on why he was asking. Without batting an eye, he said they'd be at Eighth and Balboa, and that Brandon should come by. I couldn't help thinking that that spot was near the end of the festival grounds, so it would be easy enough to avoid-- or at least so I hoped.

Over the next hour or so, Brandon and I hashed out how we'd pull it off. I would take Mom and Grandma to the opposite side of the festival, while Brandon scoped out the booth. He'd text me to let me know what he found, but he'd need to do it discreetly, since Mom or Grandma might see it. We agreed on a color code of sorts: a green emoji would mean the coast was clear, a yellow emoji would mean proceed with caution, and a red emoji would mean stay far away. And if Mom and Grandma gave me any trouble, we had a nuclear option: an explosion emoji meant Brandon would find us and invite us to dinner, and knowing Mom and Grandma, they could never pass that up.

I wasn't thrilled at the thought of Brandon possibly meeting my family. I tried to tell myself that I'd just introduce him as my friend, but I couldn't shake the thought that Mom would see right through that. Then again, it would still be better than having Grandma see me naked-- not to mention having to answer the crazy awkward questions that would inevitably follow.

We'd just left Thaxter's, and I was walking back to my place, when I heard shouts down the street. At first they were so far away that I didn't recognize them. But then I realized Levi and Doug were having a fight.

"What the fuck!" Doug was yelling.

"Okay," Levi said, "if you're not gonna listen to me--"

"I'm listening, you asshole! What have you got to say for yourself?"

"So that's what you call listening?"

It was kind of embarrassing to hear those guys go at it. But I put my head down and headed for my building. Eventually I heard a door slam, and I saw a shirtless Doug storm away in the distance, though I pretended not to pay attention.

I was tempted to text Levi to see what was going on. I couldn't help thinking I could comfort him or something, though I also didn't want to come across as an ambulance chaser.

I spent a lot of that night surfing Google. I wanted to see if I could find anyone in my situation, and if so, how they'd handled it. I assumed I'd find something on a message board somewhere--maybe on Vitruvian Men for example-- but I came up empty-handed. I did find the story of Darren Dickson, who'd been married to a woman while doing gay porn; his wife had found out, filed for divorce, and gone after him for all he was worth. There was also the story of Flynn Taylor, another gay porn star, who'd touched off a scandal since his dad was a Texas politician. None of this struck me as encouraging.

I liked to think that my situation was different, since I wasn't doing porn. But I still shuddered to think what would happen if my modeling went public. I knew some of my co-workers went to FinestFest too-- from my day job that is-- and the last thing I wanted to do was risk getting fired. I was so mad at myself that I'd gone this far overboard, all because of my crazy crush on Levi, especially since Levi had never shown any interest in me. Now I was in so deep that I didn't know if I could get myself out.

As the festival got closer, I kept acting like my life was totally normal, as if my modeling had never happened. I could've taken any number of gigs at school, but I turned them all down. I stayed in touch with Brandon of course, and part of me wanted to keep hooking up with him, but we never did. I definitely didn't see any of the other guys, most importantly Levi, since I didn't want to risk unnecessary drama.

The day before the big event, I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I put away my dildo, my lube, and my cumrags; and for added security, I hid them in my dresser under my clothes. I also cleared my phone's browser history, and I hid a bunch of apps. I was determined not to let Mom or Grandma know that I was anything other than the straight-laced boy I was pretending to be.

I woke up early that Saturday morning. My nerves were tied up in so many knots that I didn't bother making coffee; if anything, I felt like I needed a beer. But I stayed on my best behavior, and I did my best to relax as I waited for Mom and Grandma.

I texted Brandon as soon as I saw Mom's car pull up. Mom miraculously found a parking spot on my block, and she got Grandma set up with her wheelchair. Then we headed for the festival grounds.

I was the one who pushed Grandma's wheelchair. Grandma took the opportunity to ask a million questions about how I'd been doing, and whether I'd met any nice boys. I knew this was par for the course for her, since she was always keen on having me settle down. I acted as chill as I could, and I made it sound like my life was just business as usual.

When we got to the festival, we saw any number of tents and booths and whatnot. At first we just browsed through them, but then Grandma pointed out one in particular.

"Look Tookie," she said. "The Mission Valley Art Institute."

My first thought was that I didn't like her calling me that, though she'd been doing it since I was a kid. It took me a second to see the bigger issue: the school had set up a tent to showcase its students' work. As that idea sank in, I realized I had no idea what had happened to all the drawings, paintings, and sculptures I'd posed for. Hell, I didn't even know how many might be out there, much less how revealing they might be.

I pointed to another tent. "Check that out," I said. "Glasswork? That looks cool."

"Yes," Grandma said, "we can look at that next."

"But--"

"You heard her," Mom said. "We can look at the glass after this."

I bit my lips and guided Grandma's wheelchair into the school's tent. As soon as I did, I saw Dr. Peiris in the distance. I lowered my head and tried to look away, hoping against hope that she wouldn't recognize me.

I tried to be discreet as I texted Brandon:

How goes it?

But I didn't want to tip off Mom or Grandma, so as soon as I hit "send," I shoved my phone in my pocket.

One good piece of news was that the art on display ran the gamut. A lot of it was abstract stuff, full of geometric shapes, lines, and whatnot. There were also a fair number of landscapes and still lifes. Only a fraction of the artworks showed the human form, and even then, only a handful were nudes.

It occurred to me that I'd never posed for actual photography classes; all of my school-related gigs had involved drawing, painting, or sculpture. That might've made things easier, or at least so I hoped, since I couldn't tell if the stuff on display was supposed to be me. And if I couldn't gauge it myself, I thought, hopefully no one else could recognize me either.

I felt a buzz in my pocket, and I checked my phone. Brandon had sent me a green apple emoji, which meant the coast was clear. I felt a huge weight off my shoulders, though I tried not to let on. I responded with a thumbs-up emoji, and I let out a deep breath.

"Tookie, look at this one."

I looked up to see Grandma admiring a landscape painting. It showed a sunset over the ocean, with a beach in the foreground. I couldn't help thinking it looked like the beach where I'd posed for Levi and Doug.

"That use of light is extraordinary," she said. "The way it dapples across the waves?"

"Yeah," I said, "they did a great job."

"You know, you've done some great drawings of your own. Did you never want to go to art school?"

"Oh no," I said. "These guys are way more talented than me."

"How do you mean?" Grandma asked. "I imagine you'd need to know them to be sure."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I didn't want to admit that I already knew any number of these artists.

I eventually got Grandma to leave the school's tent, and we checked out the glasswork nearby. We spent the next hour or so browsing the festival grounds. Eventually we got to a stage where a jazz band was playing, which was right up Grandma's alley.

I slipped away to use the bathroom--or at least that was the excuse I used--and I made a beeline for Rico and company's tent. Levi and Doug were nowhere to be seen, though I didn't think anything of it, at least not at first. The tent had a bunch of pictures on display, though they were all G-rated: they were either closeups where you didn't see anything, or wide shots where it was hard to make anything out, and none of those pics showed our faces.

I was feeling pretty good when I got back to Mom and Grandma. I felt like the crisis had been averted, and I could finally relax. But all of that changed after dinner, when we were heading back home.

"Josh!" came a French-accented voice, and I turned to see Jean-Jacques in a tent of his own. "Have you seen all of this?"

"All of what?" I asked, but then I realized what he meant. Levi was sitting beside him, and they had a bunch of my beach photos on display. This collection wasn't G-rated at all: almost every picture showed my cock and balls, and the rest showed my ass. Most importantly of all, these pics clearly showed my face.

Mom froze when she saw it. "Josh," she said, "is this what I think it is?"

"I mean--"

"Oh my," Grandma said. Then she started repeating herself: "Oh my... oh my...."

"It's not what it looks like," was all I could say.

"What on Earth does that mean?" Mom asked.

"Levi, what the hell?" I said. "I thought you were showing your stuff with the other guys."

"Doug and I broke up," Levi said, "so I had a change of plans."

"Oh jeez--"

"Well," Mom said, "there's nothing here I haven't seen before. It's just... a lot bigger than it used to be."

"Hairier too," Grandma said.

I felt my face turn red with embarrassment. I pretty much wanted to crawl in a hole and die. After everything I'd done, and all the planning I'd worked out with Brandon, it had all been for naught. I knew Mom was downplaying her reaction in public, and Grandma was too; they'd still want to talk about it later. Worst of all, I looked like an idiot in front of Levi, the guy I'd been trying to impress this whole time, not to mention the whole reason I'd started modeling at all.

The whole next hour was a blur. My stomach was tied up in knots as I took Mom and Grandma back to the car. We had the most awkward goodbyes I could remember; Mom said she'd call me in the morning, which almost made things worse. The only time I felt a hint of relief was when she and Grandma drove away-- which meant I wouldn't need to deal with it for at least a few hours.

Once they were gone, I tried texting Brandon, but he didn't respond. Then I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. That pissed me off even more, since the whole point of our plan was for Brandon to have my back.

I was walking to Brandon's place, near the side door he always made me use, when I saw him in the window. Doug was sitting beside him, visibly upset, and they seemed to be having an intense conversation. Brandon put his hand on Doug's cheek, and Doug looked into Brandon's eyes.