Nasty, nasty feet

There was a great moment in this class that I really loved.  When one of the girls won a competition and was asked if she wanted to pose with me for a photograph of her holding her picture, her tone of voice was perfect.  She said "yeah", with such a casual enthusiasm - almost like I was a bit of an idiot for even thinking I needed to ask.  And then she bounced up and posed with me.  I loved it.

This was one of those cheery, lively groups that seemed to be composed of a group of girls who all already knew each other really well and who really enjoyed each others' company.  It doesn't feel like work at all with a group like that, because their own enthusiasm - and probably their own excitement at being all together at once - really seems to carry everything along completely naturally.  All Alison and I have to do is suggest a challenge or an exercise and occasionally nudge them into a different direction.  

Thankfully, the Standard was much warmer, this time.  The radiators had been given enough time to take the chill off the room and I was able to shake off some of the shrinkage at last.  Stupidly, though, I'd had a glass of coke and a cup of coffee, between the two classes - and so, I was slightly nervous that I might need to take a toilet break halfway through.  That would have been disruptive.  It never became urgent, though, so I was able to cope without any real difficulty.

Yet again, I found it really difficult to pick winners out of a lot of the competitions, because there were some great drawings.  Lots of colour going on, too, which tends to influence me when I'm making my decisions.  For some strange reason, smiley faces have been known to sway me a lot, too.  Perhaps, deep down, I'm just a big kid ready to be distracted by the next shiney thing.

When we got to the "Make A Giant Man" challenge, one girl drew two feet.  Incredibly nasty feet, with horrible toenails.  Even the fact that she'd used the blue chalk to put the Saint Andrew's Cross on all the nails, there was no disguising that these were nasty, nasty feet.  Which actually might have made them the most realistic drawings that anyone's ever produced in these classes.

I never do this usually, but this time round I couldn't resist - and I asked if she was prepared to part with one of the feet, since she had two.  She gave it to me, and I passed it round the class and asked everybody to sign it.  It was a really cool souvenir to take away from this class.

The "Make A Giant Man" pose is perfect for photographic opportunities, even if only parts of the "Giant Man" are being displayed at any point.  The feet could almost have been enough to make a cool photograph all on their own, but a PG version is always worth having as a backup option.  Something that can be shown to the grandparents, perhaps... or those grandparents with a bit of a sense of humour, anyway.

One of the girls asked me what my favourite chat-up routine was like, and I told her I didn't have one.  I'm too shy.  I don't talk to girls in pubs.  Then, a little while later, one of them overheard me ask Alison if she wanted to get a drink when we were finished - and, crucially, she heard Alison agree.  And she immediately pointed out that clearly my chatting up skills were getting better.

But I still have nasty feet.  Luckily, they're not the feature that generally get the most attention at these events.

The "Lunge Monster"

Sometimes I lie awake at nights and worry.  And the main worry I have is a serious one.  It shouldn't be undermined or ridiculed or dismissed.  That sort of thing is cruel and insensitive.  The main worry I have is... do I still have a peachy bum?

And then, next time I do a bit of nude modelling, I anxiously scrutinise the pictures that result from the session, and I check the bum for signs of peachiness and pertness and general juiciness.  And so far, it seems to be doing OK.  I think it's still peachy, anyway.  What do you think?

Anyway, let's not worry about that any more.  It wasn't peachiness I had to worry about on Saturday, at  the Standard - it was shrinkage.  That pub was cold, that morning.  I turned the radiators right up and tried not to stray too far from them, but still... I found myself worrying about whether the girls were getting their money's worth.

Later, I asked Alison about it.  She assured me I was fine.  She said she'd checked.  And none of the girls had complained.  But then, they're looking for other factors.  A charming and engaging model, a bit of flirtatious banter and even (if they're particularly demanding) the occasional spark of wit and intelligence.  Mostly, though, I'm confident that the nudity is practically irrelevant.  I'm sure of it.

Alison and I have been developing the competition concept a bit further, lately.  We took a fresh sheet of paper out of one of the sketchpads and started awarding the girls three points if their picture was the best.  But we also started adding and subtracting points for various arbitrary reasons that we were making up as we went along.  It wasn't exactly consistent, but it didn't really need to be, since it was just for a laugh.  But I kind of liked the idea of checking them later, and finding out if anyone had lost more points than they had gained.

And in this class, we had a fresh twist that we incorporated into the point system, when one girl asked me if I had a nickname for my penis.  It had never occurred to me to give it one, so that sparked off a whole debate about what the nickname should be, and everybody agreed that one should be awarded before the end of the class.  Pieces of paper were handed out, the girls all wrote down their thoughts and then the results were put into a glass and I checked through them all, read them out and picked my favourite.  And so, for those of you out there who might be curious, my penis is now called "Fluffy".

I was tempted to go for "Spartacus", but I preferred "Fluffy".  After all... for something as shy, retiring and generally inoffensive as that little thing, it just seemed to be a bit more appropriate.

Alison noticed that the girls had brought some props along with them, and a pair of plastic boobs were suddenly produced.  I didn't need much persuading to put them on, because - as most people know - I'm not easily embarrassed.  I was a little reluctant to "do the tuck" when one of the girls suggested it, but I was persuaded - and then undid it right away, when some cameras were raised.  Alison thought that was great.  It seems she's finally found my limit and might be prepared to exploit that in the future, if she can just figure out a way to do so.

The pictures were particularly good in this group, and I had an even harder time than usual, when it came to choosing the winners.  Some were amazing.  More than once, I had to resort to the "applause-o-meter" and let the girls choose their own winners, which is always fun.  It's getting to be more and more fun to give the pictures names, as well.  One picture had me standing over a girl and reaching out towards her as she lay on the floor.  I had just been about to call it the "Lunge Monster", but then I turned it round to make it look like she was standing up and called it the "John and Yoko" instead.  It was just meant as a flippant comparison to the famous photograph, but after that I couldn't shake the connection, so that's the name that stuck.

Ultimately, though, the winner was called "The erection".  I really should point out that there were no genuine erections involved in the creation of this picture, but the girl who drew out clearly had an imagination that was perfectly capable of creating one, and so it became a key feature of the winning picture.  And yes, it was the "applause-o-meter" that made that final decision.