Kelly Ferjutz of Cleveland Heights, Ohio, has won a literary award for this piece. She's been writing almost all of her life and has had two books published by Berkley Publishing and Jove.
She attended college on a music scholarship but pursued many other careers before deciding to devote herself to writing, exclusively. She was a truck driver, race car driver, mechanic, bookkeeper, theatre costume shop stitcher,dressmaker, travelling salesperson and telemarketer.
Kelly Ferjutz
ARTISTS and MODELS
by
Kelly Ferjutz (copyright 1997 All Rights Reserved)
Almost late (as usual) for her "Life Models" art
class, Kristi Manning hurried around a corner, and ran smack
into a rather handsome, but unknown, older gentleman. At least
he wasn't one of her professors, she thought gratefully, as he
stooped down to help her gather up her scattered belongings.
His clear blue eyes twinkled at her from his tanned
face, which was topped by a marvelous mop of frosty white curls.
His smile was to die for, she thought, as he stood up, helped
her up, as well.
"I do beg your pardon, Miss, but I haven't yet become
accustomed to 'driving' on the left side, shall we say?"
He was tall and slender, looking every bit as
aristocratic as his English accent.
"No, I'm afraid it was my fault," she offered by way
of apology, "you see, there isn't quite enough time to get from
my just-ended class to my next one, and I'm always running, and,
well, sometimes I just simply don't watch where I'm going. I'm
terribly sorry."
She smiled up at him as she juggled her belongings to
offer him her hand,
"I hope I didn't hurt you?"
"My gracious, no," he exclaimed, "I should hope I'm a
bit sturdier than that!"
Again, that high-voltage smile creased his worn face,
"Perhaps I'll see you again, some day?"
"I'd like that," Kristi said, turning to walk away
from him, all the while thinking, "What a charmer!"
By then she was at the door to the classroom, and
putting him from her mind, began the mental preparation for her
next period of study.
The title of the class, LIFE MODELS, always got
everyone's attention, usually in the wrong way. True, the models
were real people; all ages, sizes, colors, conditions, and of
both sexes. It was important for future artists to have a
thorough understanding of the human form, and while at first, it
may have been slightly titillating, it soon ceased to become
anything other than what it was: work. Work for both artist and
model.
Quietly greeting her classmates as she wandered
through the random arrangement of easels and stools, Kristi
found her own station and busied herself with preparations. She
wasn't quite ready when the instructor, Ms. Jenkins, announced
that the modeling session for today would now begin.
The soft padding of bare feet across the hollow wooden
platform indicated the presence of the model, and for the first
time, Kristi looked up. Dear God in Heaven! It was the gentleman
from the hallway. Standing up there in front of everyone, he
calmly removed his robe, the only covering he wore. He struck an
athletic pose, somewhat similar to the famous "Discus Thrower".
He certainly was well-muscled, and in very fit condition for a
man of his age. Hm-mm-m. Wonder just what his age was anyway?
Settling down to her work, Kristi banished all such
thoughts from her mind. The muscles and tendons of his back and
thighs were her particular concern for today, and she'd best get
to it while the opportunity was there.
Walking home from school later that day, however, she
found time to wonder if her memory was correct. She didn't know
his name, but she was quite certain that he had not worn any
kind of ring. On either hand. Of course, that could mean he'd
merely left it home. But maybe not.
**********
Geoffrey Ffoulkes, for that was the name of the
gentleman, carefully closed his mind to all outside influences
as he shrugged off his robe and assumed a pose. After the first
few minutes, he would allow a thought or two to penetrate the
calmness his mind. Not surprisingly, a mental picture of the
young woman who had so nearly bowled him over in the hallway
appeared first, and he nearly smiled in remembrance. With her
shining brown hair and hazel eyes, she reminded him rather much
of his own granddaughter, Janney, who was perhaps a little
older, but just as rambunctious. She'd probably be scandalized
at his current occupation, but what was a man to do with
himself, in a strange country, a strange city, and shy of funds.
Oh, just until his bankers caught up with him, to be sure, but
in the meantime, thank goodness he'd seen the ad for a 'life
model'. It only paid $5 an hour, but it put food in him, and,
coupled with the handyman work he did at the bed-and-breakfast
where he stayed, also provided a roof over his head, allowed him
to at least subsist.
Arizona was wonderfully warm, and he greatly enjoyed
the mountains visible from wherever he paused to look at them.
He dutifully ran his ten kilometers every morning, enjoying the
brisk fresh air, slightly scented with pine and other
scintillating things. He had just about reached the decision to
settle here. He'd miss his son and grandkids, that was for
certain, but he didn't want to be underfoot, either. Better this
way.
The timer dinged, signaling that it was time for him
to change position. He breathed deeply, flexing his muscles,
before turning his back to the young artists, planting his feet
some eighteen inches apart, and assuming the position of an
archer, albeit one with an imaginary bow.
*************
"Gran! Gran, where are you," Kristi sang, as she
entered her grandmother's apartment.
"Right here, dear! I'll be with you in just a moment."
Kristi dropped her school bag on the floor and flopped
on the couch, just in time for a gentle scold from her
grandmother.
"Dear, I do so wish you'd not do that."
"I know. I keep telling myself I won't do it anymore,
but it's so inviting."
Absently, she patted the soft velvet covering, "What
do we have planned for the evening?"
"I'm not sure we're doing anything. Don't you have
homework?
"Not really."
Kristi glanced over at the older woman, still trim and
agile in spite of her
years. Her once blond hair had mostly turned to silver, but her
latest hair-dresser had 'washed' in
something that put just a hint of gold back in it, blending well
with her lightly tanned skin. All-in-all, Rosemary Whitney was
an attractive woman in a city well populated with other widows,
but Kristi had an idea...
How to make it happen, though? That was the question.
What was the answer? She lowered her eyelids to keep Rosemary
from seeing the devilish glint that had just appeared in those
lovely hazel eyes. It would definitely be worth missing a class,
if only her bright idea would work!
**********
"Gran," Kristi added a worried tone of voice to her
words, "I seem to have dropped my English notebook somewhere.
Could you see if you can find it, and bring it to me?"
She held her breath waiting for an answer.
"Where do you think you left it?"
"I'm wondering if it slid off my lap and under the end
of the couch where I was sitting last night."
"Where you flopped, you mean. Hold on and I'll go
look."
A big smile creased Kristi's face. That's where the
notebook was, because she'd carefully placed it there. So far,
so good.
"Yes, dear, I have it in my hand. Now what?"
"Well, I don't need it until class after next. But I
really can't miss that one, either. Know what I mean?"
"Of course, you want me to bring it to you, that's
what you said. Correct?"
"Yes, Gran, please."
"What time and where shall I meet you, then?"
"How about just outside the LIFE MODELS room. You
know, that bench there, in about, oh, say, an
hour-and-a-quarter?"
"Yes. I'll be there, notebook in hand. Don't worry,
dear. You won't get into trouble today at least."
Kristi heard the sound of the phone being gently hung
up, and she felt like doing cartwheels down the hall. She
hurried to her LIFE MODELS class, this time watching carefully
as she went. Ahh. There went Mr. Ffoulkes.
**********
It took her longer than usual to clean her brushes and
pack away her supplies, but it wouldn't do to leave the room too
much in advance of the model. With careful planning, she
contrived to appear at the doorway just as he did.
"Hey, Mr. Ffoulkes," she greeted him.
"Well, hello, Kristen," he returned, opening the door,
"going my way?"
"Could be, could be," she replied with a smile,
crossing the fingers of one hand behind her back.
Looking up, she pretended surprise, allowing her jaw
to drop just a bit,
"Look who's here? Well, you wouldn't know, of course,
but it's my Gran."
Turning to face the older man, she asked, "Would you
care to meet my Gran?"
It took only one look, and he decided he would indeed
like to meet her Gran. Very much, in fact. By some strange
coincidence, Gran seemed to share the feeling. The three of them
stood and chatted for a few moments, until Gran suddenly
remembered the reason she was there.
"Kristi, here's the book you forgot. Shouldn't you be
on your way to class?"
She held up her face for a quick kiss, holding out the
book.
Halfway down the hall, Kristi turned back for a quick
peak. This time she did a cartwheel, right there in the middle
of the corridor. Gran and Mr. Ffoulkes were chatting away, six
dozen words to the minute, and he was holding her elbow as he
escorted her from the building.
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