Cylus 29, 720
Abigail's heart was pounding in her chest as she stood outside the door to one of the university's many auditoriums. She was excited for what was about to come, biting her lip, as she waited. She could hear the professors inside explaining to multiple classes what was about to happen. It was a shared class, between various art classes, as well as an anatomy class from the medical department. Drawing students, painting students, sculpting students with their clay ready, anatomy students (which was also drawing), all were filled around the circular auditorium, mixed in with one another. The various professors had encouraged them to mingle, to be prepared to move around. For this was a long class today, several hours long, to examine a single subject.
Abigail.
Abigail had heard that her painting professor was looking for a new model for the class, one that Abigail herself would normally attend. The professor said it would pay well, and would count as a lesson for the volunteer if they were a student as well. And so, of course, Abigail had volunteered herself. She did enjoy the attention from others, enormously so, she loved participating in her artwork in a new way. And it was something she'd never done before. That alone was more than enough to push her to take up the offer.
Finally, her painting professor spoke a bit louder. "Please give a warm welcome to this morning's model, one of our own, Abigail Cooper." Abigail turned the knob on the door, walking out into the center of the auditorium. She was clothed in a simple, black robe, tied at the waist. Her feet were bare, her face unadorned by makeup. Her hair was left messy and long, not at all tied up, painted, with no accessories, hanging down her back to her waist. She walked across the cold marble, to the absolute center, kept well lit by braziers on the ground and some hanging from the ceiling. It was not as ideal as natural light, but such was the way of Cylus.
Abigail turned, facing west toward many students, some of whom she recognized, most of whom she did not. Then she untied her cloth belt, her fingers moving up to the cloth above her cleavage. She slid it off her shoulders and let the entire robe fall to the ground, standing there nude before hundreds of students. She took a deep breath, remembering the rules given by the professor. No facial expressions. She needed to hold a face impassive. But she would be smiling if she were allowed, feeling the eyes of many on her.
Her painting professor spoke first, "Pose one please, Abigail."
Her professor had helped her to come up with the many various poses she would perform today, based upon her body type, musculature, and ability to hold it. And so, Abigail entered pose one. She raised herself up on the balls of her feet, close together, reaching up with a single hand, as if to be reaching for an apple in a tree, her other hand open and behind her to help keep her balance. This pose emphasized the muscles in her legs, which were not so prominent as she was not a woman to work out so much, so there was a layer of jiggle in her womanly curves. The soft lines of her arms were visible as she reached, her breasts dangling down in the grips of gravity as she was leaned forward ever so slightly, her nipples erect, both from the chill in the room and her own excitement. Her entire body was devoid of hair, having cleaned herself prior to this.
And so, Abigail began to focus on holding the pose, maintain a low and even breath, so as to not be so disturbing. The art students quickly began to draw, paint, and mold clay. Meanwhile, the anatomy students were drawing while their professor spoke about the various muscle groups and parts of Abigail's anatomy and how they related to one another. Her eyes were locked upward, so she could not see the eyes upon her nubile form, but she could most certainly feel them, and she tried to fight down the arousal she was feeling, to take this role seriously.
