FIC The days after the first kiss, part 12 (Spencer) G

Author: astabasta
Rating: G
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Spencer
Summary: How far will Spencer go with Emily?

Spoilers/Warnings: None

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is?" Spencer asks Emily as they laugh their way into the garage/art studio.

Emily gestures her arms widely towards a blank canvas on an easel and a large table draped with a white cloth.

"This is your brilliant idea for a new piece?" Spencer asks disbelievingly. "I waited all through lunch and the drive here - "

"Don't forget our detour to the beach," Emily chimes in.

"All that for - " Spencer pauses. "Okay, what am I missing?"

"A model," Emily says. "My idea needs a model."

Emily cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows at Spencer.

"Oh no," Spencer responds shaking her head. "I seem to recall your mentioning 'nude' and 'abstract' over lunch. 'Abstract', I can get into but I don't do the other thing."

"But you're perfect."

"No way," Spencer blushes and turns away.

"For the sake of art, it'll be tasteful. No parts exposed. I promise."

"Are you kidding?"

"No one will even know that it's you."

"Then get someone else to do it."

"Let me show you," Emily says pulling Spencer toward a shelf of drawing books. Emily opens a large black leather-bound sketchbook, which reveals bold, thickly applied strokes of bright pastel color in the shape of what appears to be a woman's body. In the bottom right hand corner is a Polaroid of a young woman with bare shoulders.

"This is my friend April," Emily says then turns the pages.

"This is Jack, my neighbor. This is my sister, my best friend Hugh. This is Anita - "

"These are really beautiful," Spencer says flipping through the pages of pastel colors and Polaroids of topless subjects.

"Now do you see why I need a new model?" Emily pleads. "I've practically drawn everyone that I know. Now I'm ready to make one of these on canvas. And you're my inspiration."

Spencer raises her eyebrows.

"All those sketches," Emily gestures to the leather-bound book. "They're just exercises all preparing for this: finding the perfect model to paint."

Spencer flips absentmindedly through the book not paying attention to the images on the pages but distracted by Emily's words.

"Think about it," Emily sighs as she preps a workstation for Spencer's lesson.

"By the way," Emily continues. "Any ideas about how you'll pay for your lessons?"

Spencer jerks her eyes up from the book and gasps, "You wouldn't!"

"Think about it," Emily says with a singsong lilt in her vice.

"There's nothing to think about," Spencer mumbles as she sharply turns each page of the book. This time Spencer studies each drawing and each topless subject. All the girls are photographed from the shoulders up and the guys from their waists. All of the subjects look relaxed and comfortable: unmistakably, unabashedly, and willingly naked.

Naked!?

None of the drawings actually look like the person in the photo but something about their poses and their attitude is conveyed in the broad strokes, the smudges and markings of the oil pastels. Spencer believes that if all of the photos were separated from their drawings, she would be able to match them back. The drawings are vibrant, alluring, and bright, they practically jump off the page and dance with energy in Spencer's eyes.

Spencer contemplates her good girl status and contemplates all the bad things that she's done. Skipping school, lying to her mom about how much time she does/doesn't spend with Ashley, and the biggest bad of them all, losing her virginity before marriage. Now where does posing nude fit into all of this? L.A., the city of angels, or is it the city of lost angels, which is what Spencer felt like ever since she moved here; like she lost herself, but not in a bad way. She lost the Spencer who didn't really know herself so she created herself into an image of who she thought her mom wanted her to be and who she thought her friends expected her to be in Ohio. This Spencer, the L.A. one, skips school - only with much prodding and gentle, seductive arm twisting from Ashley - lies to her mom and dad, and sleeps with a girl. This Spencer, the L.A. one, could pose nude...for the sake of art, of course.

Spencer slowly raises her eyes from the book and says, "I'll -"

"There's a clean robe in the bathroom. And the heater will be warm by the time you come back," Emily says with a wink.

"Keep your underwear on," Emily calls after Spencer as she leaves the garage toward the house.

"Sit right at the edge," Emily says. "That's it. Move a little over to the left so the light catches you just right."

Wrapped in a plush terrycloth robe, and despite the discomfort of being a fabric away from being completely naked, Spencer does her best to follow Emily's directions.

"I'm going to fall off it I move anymore," Spencer says blushing.

Spencer sits on the cloth-covered table with her back at a 45-degree angle to Emily. Her legs are bent and Spencer leans on one arm.

"Now, I want you to look over your shoulder," Emily says. "At me."

Spencer does so as Emily backs away towards her canvas and easel all the while studying Spencer. Emily's eyes wander along Spencer's arm, up to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw line. Their eyes meet. Spence blushes and looks down at the heater, which blasts warm air up to her face. When Spencer looks up again, Emily is still focused on her.

"Your hair," Emily says. "It has to come down."

Spencer removes the clip. "Do you have a brush?"

"Ya, but don't. I like it like that. Out of control, unkempt. You know, that just-done-it-and-just-got-out-of-bed' look."

Spencer feels a flush starts at her neck and spread up to her hairline. Emily smirks at Spencer's reaction.

"That's cute," Emily says as she locks the door that leads to the house. "You can take off the robe now."

Spencer slowly opens the robe and lets the cloth fall off her shoulders. She pauses, sighs and lets the sleeves slide down her arms until the robe sits at her waist. Spencer stares at some obscure spot on the floor not daring to look up at Emily or down at her own body. The warmth from the portable heater wraps around her yet Spencer shivers, triggered by a draft in the room or by her own nervousness. When her nipples suddenly become taut, Spencer turns a bright red and draws her arm across her breasts.

"I don't think I can do this," Spencer pleads.

"Your lines are perfect," Emily exclaims as she walks back to Spencer. "Look at you."

Sweeping Spencer's hair off her back, Emily runs her fingers gently along Spencer's shoulder examining and evaluating her subject. Emily's fingers glide down the arm that Spencer leans on and another set of fingers follow the lines from Spencer's armpit down the side of her body to her waist. Spencer flinches as an exhilarating sensation passes through her.

"Sorry," Emily says. "I should have warmed my hands up first."

Emily adjusts Spencer's position one last time, passing her palm along Spencer's thigh, from her knee to her hip, once again assessing her subject's angles.

"This sitting is just for the sketch," Emily explains. "I'm going to need you to sit a couple more times for the actual painting."

"So when do I get my lessons?" Spencer asks.

"Don't worry," Emily smiles sheepishly and winks. "We'll fit them in."

Emily walks back to the easel. "Look at me. Look right at me."

And in the slow, gentle lift of Spencer's head, then eyes, Emily witnesses her Mona Lisa come to life. Emily and Spencer exchange an intense stare. From behind the canvas, Emily wipes moisture away from her eyes. She asks Spencer, "What are you feeling? Don't think about it. Right now."

"Nervous...scared...daring..."

Emily begins to sketch.

Why do I feel guilty?

"...shy...brave...," Spencer continues.

"Mmm," Emily contemplates. "Tell me about her."

"What?" Spencer asks surprised, yet knowing exactly who Emily is talking abut.

"Your friend," Emily says. "The one you keep blowing me off for."