http://tipdeck.com/wp-content/uploads/2 ... Model2.jpg

"Today, we've managed to get a male model to pose for us," Ms. Henshaw stated to her art class. She grinned, then made a gesturing motion towards the opened door of the classroom where a young man, probably in his early 20's came out of.

Needless to say Aegir had set all this up placing the idea into Ms. Henshaw's head, dominating her, then acting on impulse. He had always been trying different things to kill his boredom and his node had been hidden, unseen due to it's diminutive size as it scanned all the minds as they came off of the airplane.

Most had been discard by Aegir. Some past the bill and it had been these that he had focused on. He learned what made them tick, their interests and dislikes by his node that had already progressed these things from out of their minds as it collected these memories.

This had been a means of getting closer to his target of course and his boredom could be set aside too for a time given the unusual approach. As a model he could scan Soliel's mind and thoughts. He had a loose plan in how to approach her afterwards though that could be adapted with the passage of time as he tunneled into her mind.

So he came out in nothing more then a white robe. His eyes seemed to survey the room before setting on a stool in the center of the room where seats had been circled around. Canvasses and sketch pads out on wooden implements as he stood forward.

"Your model ... Henry Winston will be your subject today. Now Henry hails from Madagascar,"

He took a seat, paused for a second, then untied his robe and let it flutter to the floor. He was toned, not muscled but it showed that he worked out. He had been completely nude beneath the robe, his cock flaccid and quite large being a foot or so in length.

Sitting down he cocked his head to the side in Soliel's direction while one foot came up to hook partially on the seat of his chair while the other remained on the floor.

To say that Soleil was having a little bit of trouble getting around during her first week of classes would have been something of a colossal understatement.

She rushed into her introductory art class just before the late bell, panting as she made her way back to her seat, setting her things down next to the stool and sliding onto it, smiling apologetically at her teacher. The woman just glared at her and made her way back to the front of the classroom, clearing her throat to draw the class to order.

Fucking shrew... Soleil thought, firing a glare back herself as she began to take out her things.

Mrs. Henshaw mentioned something about a male model and Soleil inwardly rolled her eyes at the sight of the lecherous grin on the woman's face. She was alright with figure drawing, not opposed to it as a rule, but she tended to prefer to work more on abstracts. Still, she knew one had to learn the rules first, it was the best way to know how to break them. That's at least how she saw it. She chewed her lip, watching as the model entered.

Madagascar? Looks like South Beach, she thought to herself, stifled a laugh. She bent down to her bag as the model dropped the robe and when the gasp left the group of girls around her she figured they were just being dramatic. When she picked herself back up and got a look at him she realized they weren't. He looked to be hung like a damn moose.

She set to drawing as he threw his leg onto the stool, light pencil strokes around the shoulders.

Henry Winston... she thought, chewing her lip, Winston... Winston Salem... Goddamn I need a cigarette...

Born and raise there surprisingly ...[i] A voice chimed in her mind, a deep masculine one that sounded youthful. Or perhaps it had been her own inner voice? No, this had been different, external rather than internal she had surmised given the tone did not feel quite like her own.

She sketched, and as she did so the voice chimed in again. [i]They say that smoking's bad for you, kid, at least that's what they tell me, anyway. I got a pack, not Winston's though but smokes regardless. You can have one later if you want.

Everyone seemed busy sketching save for Miss Henshaw who had gone about looking at the progress of the various sketches. Henry waited until she had her back turned, then he winked at Soliel before he had become more passive in nature. It had been as if he were letting her know who had been behind this bout of telepathy that was coursing though her head.

If you haven't guess by now I'm a telepath. Not very good, I can only pick up on surface thoughts, send and receive messages and that's about it. I can't pry into memories or such, he lied of course. Aegir was very adapt at this sort of thing doing so for millennia now.

Jesus! In her mind she shrieked in surprise. Meanwhile, she managed to keep herself rather more composed physically. She lost her balance on the stool a little and nearly dropped her pencil, but other than that, she seemed fine. She shot a nasty look up towards the front of the room at the model but got it back under control before Mrs. Henshaw made another round by her.

She ducked her head beneath the top of the sketchpad so he couldn't see it, leaning in close to the paper, Wow, as enticing as that offer sounds, because really, I love taking cigarettes from strange men who can't keep their thinky... feely... thingies... restrained to their own brainpan, I'm going to pass. I've got my own, thanks.

The wink came when she went to shoot him another angry look, ducked her head back down to the paper once more, So, I take it there's no such thing as privacy laws in Madagascar then? You know, there's a reason that I haven't offered the things going on up here to the rest of the class, i.e. I'd rather keep them inside my head and out of anyone else's.

She fought to empty her mind of anything but the paper in front of her, wanting to keep it neutral.

A masculine laugh rushed through her mind. Not too much privacy there, not in the chummy "districts" where you have families of seven or eight people crammed into a single room building. Conditions are rather poor there and up until a few years ago we had stark problems with pirates.

Well, I guess they weren't a problem for us natives but the other contents.

His words paused for a moment as he reflected for a brief moment. Really? I figured that those would be contraband here. It's not as if I've seem vending machines and we are on an island from everything. Correction, you're on an island I fly back to the mainland this afternoon.

And my telepathy is a result of an ... well, an accident let's say. My control of matters is limited, disorientating and tough to get use to at first, all the buzzing thoughts that you have to filter through, I still have some problems though nothing like I had.

She lofted an eyebrow, a facing the description of his home life with a bit of incredulity, Lot of gyms in those tiny eight-to-a-room houses? 'cause that doesn't exactly look like the kind of body that just, you know, happens upon a person or anything.

She kept sketching, bending her nose closer to the paper as her pencil made quick strokes, outlining shapes in negative space, Sure, cigarettes are contraband. So are plenty of things, but that doesn't really matter if you know where to buy them anyway. I know somebody who sells, I don't ask questions about where she got them from. It's probably much better off that way, come to think of it, too many questions don't make friends.

Mrs. Henshaw paused over Soleil's shoulder and peered at her sketch, "Ms. Lefyre..." she began, "Are you attempting to draw our model or a loosely arranged stack of marshmallows?"

Soleil frowned and tilted her head to the side, "You know, now that I think about it, I'd probably rather go with the marshmallows."

No, not many gyms at all come to think of it I don't know of many though I suppose you could make a gym out of everyday objects in your house. I mean, they do it all the time. Naw, I got mostly in shape when we moved from Madagascar to South Africa in my early teen years. I worked in a few of the mines eventually getting into one that dealt with blood diamonds but before that I did heavier work chiseling away at rock face and using machines in the mines that had them. As a result I did get a bit bigger then I otherwise would have.

He paused, running through the plethora of memories that he had stolen though his hesitation had been brief. [color#400000]Elise, right? I was dying for a smoke, mentioned that in her presence and she sold me a pack or rather half of one. She was selling them by the individual cigarette so it was half empty before I got the rest, it cost me half a 6 pack that I brought with me that I figured that I could polish doff throughout the day so I guess an exchange of contraband there. Or is there someone else? I guess it really doesn't matter as long as your contact doesn't get cut off.[/color]

I take it from her reaction that your sketch looks like shit.

Wow, rude much? Soleil glanced over her shoulder as Mrs. Henshaw turned and left, stalking between the rows of the various easels, every now and again bending and peering at what one of the students was drawing. That was a little uncalled for, don't you think? I mean, it's not shitty, it's just different, and I... what the hell am I doing still in this conversation, anyway?

She shook her head, sighed, and bent back down to her work. Her teeth found her lower lip as she thought. If her sketch didn't look too much like the person, there was still something to be salvaged. She went about trying to make it the best person-shaped pile of marshmallows that she could, doing her best to keep her mind completely blank as she did so, focusing all of her attention on the sketch itself and attempting to push any stray thoughts she might have had to the back of her mind.

Just a little. He chuckled into her mind. I suppose your still in this conversation because you don't see a way out of it. Oh, you can try to do the silent treatment but that doesn't work for long. Have you tried to think of absolutely nothing? I only said what I did because of the reaction of your teacher and your response to her in what you rather be doing so I assumed that the work had been no good or rather less then par.

You speak... er... think... you think really... circle-y... This whole thing is making my head hurt. She sighed, almost dropping her head against the paper. She leaned back on her stool, running her fingers through her hair as she bent, snatching a bottled water from the ground and taking a long drink before she leaned back in, her fingers making a few quick strokes on the page.

Could you please find somebody else's brain to bug, I'm sure there's somebody else in the class you could be chatting it up with. I just want to get through class, have a cigarette, go home, and take a nap. She reached up, rubbing her temples softly.

God, I'm getting such a freaking headache...

His eyes shifted without his body following, the wisps of a barely restrained smile around the corners of his mouth before his gaze settled back on her. I guess I could bother someone else but there not half as cute. He paused for a long while making her feel as if he had broken away from her to speak with someone else but then after a few minutes he was chiming back up.

You know what's great for headaches? Reefa. Weed. You smoke?

She leaned to the side after that first remark, peering down the line left in the aisle at him in the front of the room, staring for a moment, more than a little bit of skepticism on her face, Are you... hitting on me?

She shook her head and leaned back, it seemed like he had already drifted off to speak to someone else. Er... think... to someone else. The whole situation was sort of a mess. She still really couldn't wrap her head around the whole concept and wasn't trying too hard. It would have given anyone a headache and she wasn't looking to make the one she already had worse.

No, she rolled her eyes as he chimed back up in her head, I don't smoke pot. Well, I mean, I have, I just don't regularly, doesn't do much for me.

I am merely stating a fact ... take it as you see fit, though I must illerate that you are good looking. It isn't likely that I could steal you off for a movie or dinner os something given that you're here for the most part.

He paused as if in reflection. Unless ... He broke off as he considered something though seemed to brake off with the answer that she relayed to him. A piety at that, I had a joint left over from a party I was at last week. Left before we could smoke it up, wasn't my sort of party, anyway.

Does this campus have a visual arts class?

Ummm, sorry if I led you on or something, she brushed her hair away from her face, Yeah, not really interested in the joint, and sorry, but dinner and a movie? Definitely not happening.

She looked around, watching as Mrs. Henshaw continued straight past her, heading for some of the girls in the back row of the class who seemed a little too busy chatting amongst one another, breaking them up as the class fell into silence save for the scratching of pencils once more.

Yeah, I'm more of a girl's girl, if you know what I mean, she blushed a little as she bent down closer towards the paper, Not that I don't like guys at all, I do, it's just that, you're really not my type. She paused as though for emphasis, I mean really not my type.

He reflected on her words for a moment, seemed to grin a little then moved to answer. Win some, loose some. No offense taken, preferences are well ... something that you can't predict anyway or have any real choice over.

Not that I'm everyone's flavor of ice cream. Some people like vanilla, some chocolate and others strawberry ... no denying that your cute though.

Not that I wouldn't mind seeing that either ... typical guy I suppose watching two hot chicks going at it, not that that's likely to happen either.