AN: This is part of a University-verse I'm working on.
Surprisingly, Keith Logan enjoyed teaching far more than he originally thought he would. What had started as a semester favor to a friend had grown into a tenured position in the school of art. While there were not many universities that had a program dedicated solely to the art of classical sculpture, Keith excelled in the environment, creating a safe place for students to study, grow and learn the discipline.
Working with some of his more advanced students, he looked forward to the new semester. As Keith favored classical techniques and continued anatomical studies, the small group of students met on the first day of the semester for sketching session. Keith arrived early, as usual, to meet the class model. After studying the naked human form in all of its many conditions for years, the professor had almost no reaction to the various models the department sent to him. All he cared was that they were able to sit still and take direction. He had a reputation of being demanding, but didn't pay attention to the rumors – he only wanted the very best for his students.
A knock on the door caught his attention.
"Come in," he said gruffly.
The door creaked open, and in walked a young woman. She introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Mina, the department sent me. You must be Professor Logan?"
He nodded, then pointed behind him, "You can disrobe in my office."
She wandered away, muttering something about buying a girl a drink first. Stepping out of the room, clad in a short white robe, he caught a glimpse of the form that would completely capture his very being for the semester. He moved to say something, to redo botched introduction, to make up for his social awkwardness when the students began filtering into the room.
"Where do you want me?" she asked innocently.
Desperately fighting back obscene images that poured into his brain, he pointed to the small couch in the middle of the room. He saw her in a thousand positions, most of them illegal and uncharacteristically blushing, grumbled, "Recline on the bench, put your hair over one shoulder."
As Mina settled into place, Keith stepped forward and announced, "This is Mina, everyone. You know the rules. Let's do one hour. I'll check your progress."
Turning around, he braced himself for a full look at a body of a goddess. Sleek and generously curved, she was a fascinating study of the female form. Her blonde hair tumbled invitingly over her shoulder, teasing skin he knew would be as soft as silk. He guessed she was in her early twenties, given the perky form of her perfectly molded breasts. With an artist's view, his trained gaze observed the nipples tipped in the lightest shade of rose, when, without warning his view dipped lower, over a sensually rounded hip down to a neatly trimmed, but almost bare…
He shook his head. She was a masterpiece.
She was Venus, reborn.
Keith couldn't remember the details, but suddenly there was a large pad of paper in his hands and he was frantically sketching her form, desperately attempting to capture the beauty in front of him. When the class ended, he felt reluctant to let her go, unsure if he would ever feel so inspired again. He had never felt so entirely possessed to create.
After class, still in a daze, he drove home, and, not bothering to stop, walked directly to his studio. A few years ago, after selling one of his first major pieces, flush with money, he purchased a large block of expensive and rare marble. The large material had been delivered and he had left it untouched all these years, never having anything worthy of the beauty in the stone. Tonight, in the dusk, he saw her form distinctly imprinted on the block in front of him.
Over the weekend, he worked like a man possessed, first molding a clay figure into the form he wanted the marble to become, then beginning to sketch out the details and design on the massive block.
On the piece of stone, he used his Italian crafted la Mazza and assorted gli Scalpelli to expertly carve and reveal layer after layer until after most of the semester had passed, and he was satisfied with the final result. To the model who inspired the creation, he said nothing. And yet, he would feel her eyes upon him as he sketched. Uncharacteristically, he used her for all levels of his classes. They barely spoke as the weeks passed, and he wondered when he would tell her about the piece.
"Who is she?" A voice asked.
A shirtless Keith spun around, and sighting his neighbor, Jack, relaxed marginally. Jack was a political science professor, pundit, and general spokesperson for any number of political topics. The two were friendly, sharing a beer and barbequing now and then. With his good looks and charming attitude, Jack was quickly moving towards a full time position at one of the major networks.
"Oh…" Keith's voice trailed off, and he was unsure how to answer the question. She was everything. She was a stranger. And soon, she wouldn't be in his life.
"I don't know much about art, man, but this is really something."
Keith took a step back and looked over the completed form. Sticking his hands in his back pockets, he answered, "Thanks."
"What are you going to call her?"
"Venus Felix."
"Hmm… Well good luck with that."
AN: Debated having a super angst ending, where Mina dies, and the sculpture is the only thing that remains, but just not in a sad place right now. Also, I obviously can't figure out a good ending, so look for part II at a later date.
Finally, this author may or may not have been sketched for her own sculpture by a D-List celebrity!!!!!