Nude Men

realistic, though that’s not nice.
    I don’t go on a diet, as I did before, and I don’t exercise. I think Lady Henrietta is great because she accepts me as I am. For five days, I’m so happy. But there’s one thing that puzzles me. I know that no portrait of me could ever be in Play girl. I am simply not good-looking enough. I wonder why she chose me and why she needs a portrait of me. I fantasize that maybe it’s for her own pleasure. Maybe it’s to keep for herself. But I doubt it.
    I am a little ashamed to admit that since posing for Henrietta I have become very confident when I’m around my girlfriend, Charlotte, and neglectful, as though I have power now.
     

chapter four
     
     
     
    T he day of the second posing arrives. I buy Lady Henrietta a potted lily of the valley, my favorite flower. She likes it, smells it, and is very polite and proper. I realize that I want to ask her out on a date. But I have to wait a little while to see how things go.
    Like the last time, she tells me to lie down in the most comfortable position I can find. She paints me while nibbling on marzipan lions, and I feel great. I become even more self-confident, and I continue talking about my life.
    After fifteen minutes of posing, Henrietta shouts, “Sara!”
    A moment later a tall little girl enters the living room. She has long blond braids and reminds me of a child heroine from a fairy tale, like Alice in Wonderland, or Gretel. She is so pretty, her skin is so flawless, and her features are so perfect, that she looks like a cartoon. She is wearing white knee socks and holding a Barbie doll. I can’t quite determine her age. Her body is rather developed and looks inappropriate in her childish clothes, but her face is very young, very little-girlish.
    She walks over to Henrietta and stands next to her, looking at me.
    “What do you think of my new model?” Henrietta asks the little girl.
    “Excellent,” says the girl. “Where did you find him?”
    “In a coffee shop, eating Jell-O.”
    “I’ve never seen a more extreme O.I.M.”
    “Thank you,” says Henrietta. “Jeremy, this is my daughter, Sara. Sara, this is Jeremy.”
    I want to ask them what is an O.I.M., but due to the terribly awkward situation I’m in right now, my curiosity leaves me as quickly as it came. Sara walks over to me and extends her hand. I am so shocked that this little girl can see me naked, and that Henrietta has a daughter, and that the girl is approaching me, and that she wants me to touch her while I’m naked, that at first I don’t move. I feel that any movement on my part would emphasize my nakedness. But the girl doesn’t move either. She just stands there with her hand extended, so I finally shake it. I have a lump in my throat, the same sort of lump one gets while watching a sad movie and trying not to cry.
    “Sara, I have a little problem here,” says Henrietta. “I need your expert opinion. Jeremy is supposedly lying in the most comfortable position he could find, but it doesn’t look quite right.”
    “You’re right,” says the little girl. “It’s totally off. It looks very tight. And he lied to you. He’s not in the most comfortable position he could find. In fact, he’s not very comfortable at all.” I marvel at her perceptiveness. I am lying in a rather uncomfortable position, and I hadn’t bothered to change it.
    “Naughty, naughty, Jeremy,” says Henrietta, shaking her paintbrush at me. “You are not comfortable. How do you expect me to do good work if you’re fooling me? Do something about it, please, Sara.”
    Sara stands right in front of me and says, “Get up.”
    I get up. I have never, ever in my life been so conscious of my penis. The greatest wish I have right now is to be castrated and look like a doll, with no sexual organ, just smooth flesh.
    Sara puts a pink sheet on the sofa, and then a black sheet, and she tells me to lie on it again, in the most comfortable position I can find. I obey her. She covers one of my legs with a corner of the pink sheet, and she says to her mother, “How’s that?”
    “You are a genius, my daughter. Thank you. Now run along and get ready for your dancing magic lesson.”
    “Please,” says the girl, “I really don’t want to go today. Please .”
    “Oh, come on, it’s only twice a week.”
    “That’s a lot. Don’t say ‘only.’ That is so much a lot.”
    “But you’re always in such a good mood afterward.”
    “That’s because I know I have