Hi! Ana Bosch here, joining the celebration for the Pants Off Reviews 1-Year Blogoversary! I'm really excited to be here, and what better way to celebrate a year of taking your pants off than to talk about guys who take their pants off?
I'm not talking about our lovely porn stars or exotic dancers this time. I'm talking about nude models, the type you find at an art school. I have a huge amount of respect for good nude models because the only thing worse than having to sit absolutely still for 20-minute intervals throughout a 3-hour period is having to do it naked.
Say you're a nude model. You arrive at your class, perhaps make some awkward small talk with a few of the students, and then change into your robe. From there, the instructor might start you out with a series of gesture drawings, where you try to come up with as many varied 30-second or 1-minute poses in succession as you can. You'll run out of ideas and end up contorting yourself into some painful positions for the sake of variety. Then you'll sit around during your break and wait for your spine to settle back in place, and you'll try to ignore the uncomfortable draft that blows into your robe while the instructor tells his students whatever he needs them to know.
Next, you'll probably move on to some longer poses. You'll try not to fall asleep or lose your balance or have any unfortunate mishaps with your body—such as getting aroused during a two-person modeling session, as I've seen happen before. (Say you're an artist. It can be a little startling if you've sketched in a man's privates and when you go back in for detail and shading, they're in an entirely different position.)
Back to the modeling session. You put in your three hours of posing, and your body is slowly giving out with each passing minute. What's your reward at the end of the session? You get to see some of the world's most hideous renderings of yourself by kids who are on the verge of transferring out to study nursing. You'll get to listen to the instructor critique the few good drawings and say things like, "You idealized him," which is basically a synonym for, "He's uglier in real life." In extreme cases, the instructor might point out the inches that the students have added or subtracted from your manhood. Of course, I should mention that most of the students probably didn't really draw your genitals in that much detail. If you look at student art, you'll see a lot of mysterious shadowy voids between men's legs—voids that might also cause you to doubt yourself a little.
So yes, these models deserve a lot more appreciation than they probably get from their young, sleep-deprived, unskilled, and often hungover audience. If I could, I would go back and kiss the feet of every single model who posed for me when I was in college.
While I'm at it, I should probably also kiss the feet of some of my old classmates. The great thing about art school is that even when you're not in a figure drawing class, you're surrounded by fellow students who, for the most part, are more than happy to shed a few items of clothing and pose as reference for your latest illustration. After all, they understand your situation, and in a month, they may need you to reciprocate. Art school is the only place where I've ever been able to ask a hot twenty-two-year-old to take off his shirt, climb onto a table, get on all fours, and bare his teeth like a wolf so I could take pictures—and have him do it without even asking questions.
(Okay, so I haven't tried out that request in a great number of places, and perhaps I'd have equal luck if I went to a bar and timed it just right, but a restraining order is probably the likelier result.)
In Art of Death, my new novel, Riley is an art school graduate who is so desperate for cash that he returns to his alma mater as a nude model. This is not something I would ever be able to do. My sister, on the other hand, actually posed nude for her university's art college while she was still a student. Again, I don't have the guts to do that. Hats off—and pants off—to anyone who does!
~I'm giving away one free ebook copy of Art of Death. To enter the drawing, leave a comment and let me know if you would ever be willing to take your pants off for a classroom full of art students—or if perhaps you already have!???~
- Must be 18yrs or older
- leave comment with email
- Contest runs until August 2nd 11:59pm EST
Despite the support of his rich older boyfriend, starving artist Riley Burke is determined not to be a trophy—hence his second job as a nude model at the local art school. It’s important to him that he pay his own way, so when the artist Coliaro requests a private modeling session with him, he jumps at the chance to earn some real cash.
Then he hears the rumors—that Coliaro is undead. That his worshippers perform rituals to fill him with life energy. That every time he paints a male nude, the painting transforms to depict a gruesome murder. And that shortly after, a young man turns up dead.
The source of these rumors is a man named Westwood, who claims to be an instructor at the school and warns Riley not to get involved. Riley ignores the advice—but when the rumors pan out and another murder looms, he turns to Westwood for help. Westwood is clearly keeping secrets. He’s dangerous, and Riley doesn’t know if he can be trusted—which makes him all the more attractive. Riley is in way over his head… and his involvement with the undead may make him the ultimate target.
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