Trapped
It seemed innocent enough. Sitting for an art class at an elite all-girls academy…but he was TRAPPED!
Mr. Evan Johnson, Literature instructor
I didn’t give it a second thought when Ms. Moreau invited me to sit for her senior art class. She and I have been colleagues together for nearly 10 years. Our classrooms are neighbors on the Arts hall at Village in the Pines Country Day School for Young Ladies. These past four years we have taught the same cohort of girls in successive periods. Frankly, I consider it an honor to be asked. It was a chance for me to see these young ladies in a different venue from my classroom.
Tatiana told me the girls had several different projects underway and they needed a model to pose for different pieces they were preparing for their senior portfolios. I would be posing with different props to help them visualize what they were creating. Why not!
Ms. Tatiana Moreau, Resident Artist and Art instructor
“Ladies. Ladies! Settle down please. Let’s give a warm welcome to Mr. Johnson. Thanks to Elise’s nomination and your overwhelming vote, he has won the privilege of sitting as our model for your senior projects. Now you all know Mr. Johnson, your literature teacher, you see him in the hour before you come here most days, so I don’t think he needs any further introduction.
“Mr. Johnson, please join us on the stage and we will get started.”
Elise Black, Senior Class President
I’ve been making eyes and spreading my legs in front of Mr. Johnson for almost 4 years and he’s never given the slightest indication of interest. He never meets my eyes unless he’s addressing a question to me. He’s incredibly built. I can see his neck and chest muscles pressing on his starched blue button-down Oxford cloth shirts. I’ve never heard him mention anyone in his life.
Is he a monk or is he gay? Whatever. His body is smoking hot and I’m going to see it in Ms. Moreau’s class when he sits for us.
Ms. Moreau led me by the hand to the front of the classroom. There’s a stage in the center the platform is up 2 steps and about 10 feet across and 5 feet deep. In the center is a box with a wooden stool attached to it. It’s another step up onto the box, which is about 3 feet square. The box has doors on all four sides and holds the props for the sitting. Ms. Moreau continued to provide a steadying hand to see that I ascended to the stool and turned me to face the girls.
“Sit please, Mr. Johnson. I will be supervising this sitting and helping you with various props to help the girls depict their characters and scenes. Okay?”
“Sure. You’re the director.”
“Excellent! Ladies, to your easels, please.”
“Evan, some of the girls are working on characters for graphic novels, so I’ll be giving you some props to hold from time to time. First up will be a detective. Please sit your right side on the stool with your leg bent and heel catching on the bottom rung. Let your left leg brace you on the box. The first one is called Detective.”
She gave me hornrims with no lenses to put on. A couple of pens for my shirt pocket a toy cell phone and handcuffs. She helped me stage the pose then stepped down from the stage for a moment.
“Why don’t you look off to your right, out the window there as though you are thinking about something.”
“Sure, that’s easy enough.”
While I looked out the window, I heard the girls buzzing and giggling and Tatiana moving about behind me. There was a tug at my pant leg.
She had cinched loops of rope from the box around my ankles lashing me to the stool.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m just preparing for the next pose. Just relax.”
She took the the glasses and toy phone from me and dropped them in the box below then quick as a flash, she snapped the cuff on my right wrist and pulled it back toward my butt and fastened the other end to the leg of the stool.
Stepping up onto the box, she slipped a blackout hood over my head then grabbed my left hand and tied it with rope to another leg of the stool.
“Ready for Interrogation, Ladies?”
She stepped up on the the box on the stage and whispered, “Isn’t this delicious? The girls have been sharing their fantasies with me for 2 years. I have to say, I’ve been curious about you too.” She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled the tails from my waistband. Sliding it back over my shoulders and down my arms to my wrists, my torso was full exposed.
I heard the girls gasp as Ms. Moreau got their attention. She traced my body with her red fingernails and narrated. “Look at all of the shadows! His arms have lovely muscle definition between triceps and biceps. Girls, don’t forget your anatomy and shading to show the topology of the body.”
She traced up my shoulders across my traps to my jaw then from my chin drew down my neck with the backs of her lacquered fingernails. When she passed my collar bone, she turned her fingers over and scratched my chest. I groaned a bit through the hood.
“Shh. There’s no need for that. This is the last period of the day and you have nowhere to be. Just breathe through this like the big strong man you are.”
The room grew quiet. I thought I heard the girls whispering among themselves. I heard one voice rising above the others, Elise…
“Please, Ms. Moreau? Just for a few minutes?”
“Maggie, Karen to the door.” She ordered. “Janice and Marcie get the blinds please.”
I felt a tug at my belt and pulling of my fly then a hand fishing around in my slacks. There was nothing for me to do. I was their toy and I was trapped.
Thanks for the inspiration and challenge: TRAPPED! by Zantanna Dark.
