From: "A.K." <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Sent: Monday, October 22, 2007 1:08pm
Subject: My Ten Models 11/12 (Encounters)

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MY TEN MODELS
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007
written on November 14, 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by John

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"MY TEN MODELS" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

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CHAPTER 11 - Back to the base, and Henry the photographer

When I was back home, I hung all my paintings in my atelier to choose
those I would use for the planned exhibition. There were many, and I
liked all of them. As I had decided to title the exhibition "Gods,
demigods, heroes and mortals" I chose them so that I could illustrate
that theme and also thought about the title to give to each painting.
Then I invited Thomas to see them. He too appreciated them very much.

He exclaimed, pleased, "That journey really did you good!"

"Yes, and not only about my painting style. It allowed me also to get to
know myself better, to understand who I am. It has been a precious and
unforgettable journey."

"The landscapes are really beautiful too. In my opinion you should hold
two exhibitions at the same time, in two different galleries - one with
your nudes and the other with your landscapes. It will be this year's
happening, believe me. For the nudes, I like the title you thought of,
and I think you can call the one with the landscapes 'Mediterranean
dreams'."

"Yes, but to put on two exhibitions at the same time I need to find
another gallery available on the same days..."

"Yes, I will find one But first it will be necessary to have photos
taken of all of your paintings. Do you have a good photographer? A
professional one?"

"No.. up to now I always shot pictures by myself."

"Well, I know a good photographer, he's young but really skilled. The
only problem is that at present he is doing his army service..."

"Is he so young?"

"Yes, but he is really a wizard of art photography. Moreover he is not
yet expensive. I'll try to see if I can find him and if he has some
spare time."

"Alright, thank you Thomas."

"You are welcome. Your paintings are really beautiful. Keep the prices
high..."

I called my usual frame-maker and with him I chose the most suitable
frames for each painting. A few days later, Thomas called me.

"I've found the boy I was telling you about. His name is Henry Haidou,
He'll call you in a couple of days."

"Haidou? What a family name is that?"

"Ah, he is a really interesting boy. He is a half-bred Latin, the type
you like. It seems he has Greek, Italian, Portuguese and French blood in
his veins, with a hint of Scottish..."

Henry called. He had a beautiful voice, warm, sensual, that gave me
shudders of emotion. He was speaking perfect, almost copybook English,
with a beautiful intonation. He told me he had some time off duty the
next day, and that he would come to my place. Well, he came with the
cases of his photographic equipment. He was wearing his uniform and I
thought he was incredibly good-looking! But above all so very likeable.

He looked at all my paintings for a long time, "Wonderful! It will be a
sheer pleasure to photograph them." he commented.

We prepared the easel where we would put the paintings one after the
other, then the lamps and he carefully measured the lighting. He was
working with competence and seriousness. I liked him.

At one point I asked him, "May I call you Henry?"

"Yes, sure."

"And you call me Shaun, please."

"Yes..."

"Listen, I would like you... if you could sit for me. I would like to
include some portraits of you in this set ..."

He looked at me astounded, "I? With those? I'll cut a bad figure for
sure."

"Oh no, it is just the opposite. I think I would add you amongst the
gods!"

He laughed lightly, with a shy expression.

"I haven't yet seen you naked, but if your body matches your face, I
have no doubts you deserve a place amongst the gods." I said.

"I never sat... not even for a photograph..." he said with modesty.

"Please! I would really like to. If we started soon, I would be in time
to insert your portraits in the exhibition..."

"Well... if you really insist..." he said.

So I asked him to undress and looked at him in fascination - he was
really splendid. Henry, noticing my glance, blushed slightly,
delightfully. I saw he was somewhat uneasy.

"Does it bother you being naked in front of me?"

"No, in the barracks we always shower all together, all naked... but
nobody ever looked at me... in that way." He answered, lightly
embarrassed.

"In that way... how?" I asked.

"Well... with so much interest."

"I am a painter..." I said in a casual tone.

"Well... it's not just a painter's look, yours. I... I've read in it
something more."

"Something more? What more?"

"I don't know. Something more. Admiration, possibly..."

"But does my way of looking at you annoy you?"

"No, on the contrary it gives me pleasure. It's always good feeling
admired. But it is also a bit embarrassing."

I wanted to touch him, to make love with him. Happily I was wearing my
clothes so he couldn't see the erection he had provoked in me.

"I will make you a portrait standing, near a horse, on a sea-shore...
Or, even better, near a unicorn.."

"How will you do the horse?"

"It isn't a problem. The only important thing is that you have the right
pose." I said going on to draw sketches on my pad. He really had a
splendid body.

Later, while he was putting on his uniform, hiding that eighth wonder
that was his body from my eyes, I got the feeling as if the sun had been
suddenly covered by clouds. I desired that boy! His body was ripe and
full of life, sensual, virile.

When he was clothed again, I asked him the decisive question, "Do you
have a girlfriend?"

He looked at me with surprise, then answered, "No... Why do you ask?"

"Nothing... just so..." I answered hesitantly.

He didn't comment. "Is it alright if I come again tomorrow at noon?"

"Yes, sure, I'll wait for you. Will you do the shots and also the
sitting?"

"Yes, of course..." he answered

Henry invaded all my thoughts. He was wonderful. I wanted him so much
that I was feeling totally blocked!

He came again. I wanted to ask him if he was gay, I would have proposed
him to make love with me, but was not able, so we just chatted of this
and that... I liked talking with him. I liked looking at him. I liked
listening to his voice. I liked just being near him.

I was just thinking that when he said, "I like being here, talking with
you."

I looked at him surprised, but he was checking the framing for a
photograph.

"I too..." I just managed to say, moved.

"I don't have many friends. Real friends, I mean. And only with them am
I able to talk as happily as with you. And yet, we two still barely know
each other. It's odd, isn't it?" he said, still without looking at me.

"I... I would like to become friends." I hesitantly answered.

"Yes, I would too." He said quietly. "We have almost ten years of age
difference, and yet... I feel as if we are the same age. You have a
fresh, young way of thinking. I like it."

I didn't know what to say. I too like you, I wanted to answer but, I
don't know why, I was absolutely tongue-tied.

"Right," Henry said looking at his watch, "if you want me to sit for
you, I have to stop shooting." And without waiting for an answer, he
undressed.

I looked at him, moved, and took my pad trying to hide my feelings. He
assumed his pose and I started to draw.

"Do you believe in horoscopes?" he asked.

"I don't know. I never thought about it." I answered.

"I believe them just for half. A friend of mine, who does them
professionally, did one for me. She correctly told several things about
my past that she couldn't have known. I was amazed. Yes, I was really
amazed. And she said I will have a long and happy relationship with...
with a person born under the sign of the Taurus."

"Of the Taurus?" I asked, but didn't have the courage to tell him that
it was my sign.

"Do you believe in love?" He then asked me.

"Yes... even though it is difficult to find the true one."

"Yes? The problem can possibly be that everybody would like receiving
love but few are ready to give it. To love means to give oneself up to
the other, remaining totally defenceless, unarmed, without a mask... And
it can be dangerous, if the other person doesn't do the same."

"That's true."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Really in love? No, I don't think so. I have been infatuated,
attracted.. Maybe I also had some crushes... But I never gave nor
received true love. I don't even know if I would be able to recognize
it..."

"Sure, the first time it can be difficult. One can possibly be afraid of
deceiving oneself."

"That's it."

"But if one is too afraid, he can possibly run the risk of losing the
opportunity of his life, can't he?"

"That's true..."

"In your opinion, does physical attraction or spiritual love come
first?" He asked.

"That depends. One of them can come first but then be completed by the
other, I think."

"Yes, I think so too. But when both of them are there, it's great, isn't
it?"

"Sure, it must be perfect."

The day after we talked about friendship, then about eroticism... We
then talked also about god and religion. I would have told him about my
desire for him, but was not even able to hint to it, not even when the
conversation topic could have made it easier... I was feeling totally in
a daze, more and more attracted to him and more and more unable to make
him understand it.

He finished shooting all the photographs but continued to come to sit
for the painting. After the one with the unicorn, I started a new one.
He seemed happy to sit again. And during the sessions we went on talking
and talking... And the more we talked, the more I got to know him, the
more I liked him and not only physically. And each time he undressed in
front of me to sit, I was aroused.

"Your paintings, the nudes I mean, don't represent just beautiful
bodies, but also the models' soul. Looking at them I can understand who
that man or boy is, who you have portrayed. How can you get to represent
the soul like that?"

I smiled. "I don't know. Perhaps I try to get to know the one I'm
painting and not just observe him..."

"Yes, that must be so. That's why your paintings are so beautiful."

"Do you like them?"

"Of course, and very much. If I were rich, I would buy all of them."

I smiled again, "And what would you do with them?"

"I would admire them, of course."

"Do you like the one I did of you with the unicorn?"

"Yes, very much. Even though you made me more beautiful than I really
am..."

"It is the way I see you."

"Thank you. It's kind of you to say that."

"One of my models once said that beauty is in the eyes of the one who
looks."

"I never thought that. But it has to be true. To be able to see so much
beauty and to represent it so skilfully, you must have eyes and soul
filled with beauty."

I completed the second painting and wanted to start a third one at once
- I didn't want to deny myself Henry's presence. He again agreed and I
felt grateful. I had the frames for the first two made just in time to
add them for the varnishing-day of my exhibition "Gods, demigods, heroes
and mortals".

Henry could not come to the varnishing-day because he had training but
he came to see the exhibition two days later.

"In the newspapers there have been only positive notices, did you see?
Both your exhibitions are a real success, but especially this one."
Henry told me, pleased, when he visited the gallery where my nudes were
exhibited.

"Yes, the critics have been generous with me. And I think it is also
Thomas's merit."

"Your merit, I would say!" he corrected me with a smile, then asked me,
"Have you sold any yet?"

"Yes, six paintings, including one of yours."

"Good. I hope you can sell all of them."

"Well, all... that would be difficult. If I sell just half of them I
shall consider myself lucky."

"How is the other exhibition going?"

"Nicely also, thank you. I've already sold five landscapes."

"Very good. Listen, tonight I can go back to the barracks quite late.
May I invite you out for supper?"

"Yes, thank you, provided you allow me to offer... Did you see the
catalogue with your pictures? It is really beautiful. Here, I have a
copy for you."

"Thank you. You put the unicorn on the cover!"

"Yes, I wanted to have you on the cover."

We went out to dine. I was not able to move my eyes from him, I was
desiring him more and more.

"When the exhibition is over, would you come to sit for me again?" I
asked him.

"Yes, willingly." He answered with such a sweet and luminous smile that
made me totally melt.

I would have kissed him there, in the restaurant, in front of everybody.
And yet I was not able to tell him, to make him understand how much he
attracted me.

The next day I got a surprise. I saw Auguste and Jules enter the
gallery. I had sent them two copies of the catalogue. I welcomed them
with real pleasure. We chatted in French while they were visiting the
exhibition.

When they were in front of the two paintings of Henry, the only two of
him they had seen among the pictures in the catalogue, Jules asked me,
"Is he your lover? Your most recent conquest?"

"Unhappily not. He sat for me, but nothing erotic happened between us."

"How come? He's such a beauty!" Auguste exclaimed.

"I couldn't gather the courage to make him a proposal. Perhaps he's not
even gay. He is the photographer of the catalogue, now doing his army
service..."

"Oh, for goodness' sake! You have to try! One like that... at worst he
can just say no."

"We became friends and I would regret losing our friendship..."

"Let us meet him, "Jules proposed, "and we will wean the baby."

"Oh no, please..." I said, serious and worried.

"Hey, we'll not eat him, will we?" Auguste said.

"Later he can possibly come. But I beg you to tell him nothing..." I
insisted.

"Alright, as you want. But you like him, don't you?"

"To die for. And I think I'm falling for him totally." I confessed.

"Aha! Then it's more serious than I thought..." Jules commented.

When Henry came, I introduced him to Jules and Auguste with some
apprehension. But both my French friends behaved themselves.

At one point Jules said, "It is a pleasure to get to know another of our
Shaun's models personally. It would be great if we were all here in
flesh and blood, don't you agree?"

"Yes" Henry answered with a smile.

"Shaun is really an exceptional painter, isn't he?" Auguste said.

"He's an exceptional person, not just as a painter, I mean. It's really
a great pleasure talking with him..." Henry said with some enthusiasm.

Auguste looked at me with an expressive glance, then said to Henry, "I
totally agree. It's a stroke of luck your having met him."

"Yes, that's true." Henry said.

"And you have the chance to live in London too, so you can meet him any
time.." Jules said.

"That's so..." Henry quietly nodded,

Auguste and Jules bought a painting each. Then offered us supper. I was
somewhat hesitant, fearing that the two friends wouldn't weigh their
words with Henry, But he seemed to appreciate the invitation, so we
went. All during the meal, anyway, my two French friends again behaved
themselves. We talked about many subjects, in an easy, friendly
atmosphere.

While Henry went to the toilet, Jules told me, "He is delightful, that
boy. And in my opinion he too is in love with you. He looks at you in a
way... He is hanging on your every word."

"No. It's just friendship. He could possibly have admiration for me, but
only as a painter."

"No no," Auguste said, "I totally agree with Jules. Why don't you bring
yourself to tell him what you feel for him?"

"No, I cannot. Moreover, he never exposed himself, he never made me
understand he is feeling for me anything more than friendship."

"Come on Shaun, I really don't recognize you!" August said with a soft
laugh.

"But the more I feel in love with him and more I feel shy with him." I
admitted.

"And perhaps he feels the same." Jules suggested.

"I can't help it..." I said.

"We could say a good word for you..." Auguste suggested.

"No, please!" I said, alarmed.

Henry came back and we resumed chatting of this and that. Then Jules and
August called a taxi to go back to their hotel.

"You stopped at the same hotel?" Henry asked.

"Yes, of course. We booked a room together. We're intimate friends,
Jules and I." Auguste said.

I threw him a harsh look but he had an innocent, angelic expression
painted on his face

Jules said, "Can we meet tomorrow as well? We are staying here in London
for three days..."

"Yes, sure. If you came to the gallery, I will be there."

"Alright. And you, Henry, will you be in the party again?"

"Not tomorrow, I am not off duty. But the day after tomorrow, if you are
still here..."

"With pleasure. So, see you soon, dear friends." The two French boys
said and went away.

I saw Henry to the barracks.

Along the way he said, "Jules and Auguste are really likeable.
Especially Auguste. They make a nice couple."

I looked at him amazed, then said, "They are friends. Auguste lives in
Nice and Jules in Paris."

"Oh, I thought they were together. They seem really close."

"Both are daddy's boys, but yes, they do resemble each other a little."

"Yes, a little. But Auguste seems more simple and spontaneous."

"I agree."

"And you like Auguste better too, don't you?"

"When I first met him, I thought he was a street boy... I wouldn't have
made the same mistake with Jules."

"A street boy? Do you mean a thug or... or a hustler?"

"No, not a thug. His eyes are too sincere and honest."

"So, then, a hustler. What made you think so?"

"His somewhat provocative and cheeky glances. "

"Did you ever pay a hustler?"

I looked at him in amazement, without answering.

"Up to now I didn't yet. But at times I thought I would like give it a
try..." Henry said in a casual tone.

Was it a message? He wanted to tell me he was gay? Or was it just a
curiosity without implications?

I then said, "Some of my models were hustlers."

"Ah. What types were they?"

"Like all the others. Possibly just a little more uninhibited sitting
naked, that's all."

"That's understandable. At first I was somewhat inhibited being
completely naked in front of you, even though I tried not to show it.
But now it doesn't have any effect, I don't feel ashamed any more."

I felt I should say something to him ... but what? A dozen different
sentences came in my mind, but none of them surfaced to my lips.

The following day I met Jules and Auguste again. Both insisted that in
their opinion Henry would have been game, if I just tried with him, but
I was not convinced. In the afternoon they went for a tour in London,
and in evening we met again for supper and spent all evening together.

Then again, the day after, Henry was also with us. While I was talking
with a buyer I saw, from the corner of my eye, that my three friends
were chatting and laughing together. I hoped that Jules and Auguste said
nothing compromising to Henry. They had promised not to, but...

When I reached them, everything seemed normal. That evening we also went
to have supper together, then to a pub. Auguste and Jules said goodbye
to go to their hotel - they would leave for France the following
morning.

Jules said me, "Oh, I was almost forgetting, Jacques sends you his good
greetings. He asked me to tell you he doesn't forget the happy hours he
spent with you..."

I felt a little embarrassed but answered, "Tell him thank you for me.
And also, I'll send him a catalogue, I didn't think of that before."

"He would be really glad, and proud."

We said farewell and they left. I saw again Henry to his barracks.

Henry said, "You were right, Jules and Auguste aren't a couple. Even
though at time they make love together..."

"Did they tell you?" I asked, somewhat troubled.

"Yes."

"And... what more did they tell you?" I asked, now alarmed.

"About what? About them?"

"Yes..." I said, hesitant.

"Very little."

"And about me?"

"That they admire you a lot."

"Nothing else?"

"No, why?" he asked me amazed, possibly more for my tone than for the
question itself.

"Nothing, just so, out of curiosity. What effect does knowing they are
gay have on you?"

"What effect? None, why? Do you have something against gay people?"

"No, no, not at all. Several of my models were gay and they were all
delightful boys. Moreover, Jules and August are two good friends..." I
hastily said.

"Yes that's right. Gay isn't a synonym for effeminate or paedophile, of
course."

"Quite right." I assented vigorously.

I was telling myself that it was the moment to reveal myself, to tell
him about me, to tell him... But we were already in front of his
barracks and he said goodbye to me with his usual strong handshake.

For three days we didn't meet. I submitted myself to a kind of self
brain-washing - I had to take the risk, I had to find the courage to
tell him, to take the first step...

I thought I was finally decided, to have been able to convince myself.
But when we met again, when he next came to the gallery in his perfectly
pressed uniform and came towards me with his smile and greeted me, I was
not able to say anything but trivialities. I was mentally calling myself
an idiot, a coward, but was absolutely not able to take that first step.

Both the exhibitions ended. I had sold in both something like four
paintings out of five, and it had been a real success, both on a
cultural and on a financial level. In an album I had gathered all the
press clippings about my two exhibitions, and all of them were positive.
I celebrated with Thomas, Henry and the owners of the two galleries, as
well as with a few more friends.

Henry asked me if I wanted him to resume coming to my atelier to sit for
more paintings. Of course I accepted his offer at once.

He came again and having him naked in front of me, was a real mixed
blessing. On the small piece of furniture where the telephone was I had
put the wooden box that François gave me, with the rose inside and his
letter. I had not forgotten him, rather I often recalled that sweet boy
and his love. And at times I was thinking that a similar system could be
good to propose to Henry.

So, one day I went out to look for a symbolic gift for my sweet soldier.
I went first to Harrod's, as there you can find everything, but I toured
it far and wide without finding anything suitable - everything was
either banal or too explicit, or too cloying, or too aesthetic... I
left, somewhat disappointed. What could I give Henry to make him
understand what I was feeling for him? I went then to the Gay's the
World, but there I found nothing satisfying. I then walked along
Portobello Road, but it was a waste of effort. I went back to my atelier
just in time for the date with Henry.

We talked, I painted him, he left.

That same night I decided to go out. I didn't really know where to go. I
went to Piccadilly Circus. The Eros statue was under restoration, the
whole fountain was hidden behind scaffolding and several advertising
boards. There were people sitting on the steps or leaning against the
railings, mainly young people, and several punks. A collection of varied
mankind.

I sat on the steps. A group of boys and girls nearby had a portable
stereo and were listening to the Europe's music. I recognized the song,
it was "Love Chaser". Right... I was a love chaser... but so awkward!

A boy stopped in front of me. "Do you have a fag?"

"Sorry, no, I don't smoke." I answered, absentmindedly looking at him.

"Do you know the time?" He then asked again.

"Seventeen past ten." I answered.

"Are you waiting for somebody?"

"What? No..."

The boy sat on the steps near me. "You are alone too?" he asked.

"Yes, alone." I automatically answered.

"We all are alone and lonely, in this jungle of roads. But, if we want,
we could enjoy our own company, you and I."

I looked at him more carefully. He was smiling to me in an alluring way,
half way between the shy and the cheeky.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty." He answered.

He had an agreeable expression, and was dressed rather nicely.

"Do you have time?" I asked him, thinking he could possibly be a
hustler.

"Yes, rather..."

"I'm a painter. Would you come to my atelier and sit for me?" I proposed
him.

He smiled slyly, "If I sit for you, will you give me fifty pounds?"

"Yes, sure. Will you come?"

"Let's go."

He followed me. We rode the underground. We went up to my atelier. When
he entered he looked around and gazed stupefied at my nudes on the
walls.

"But you really are a painter!"

"Sure, I told you."

"I thought... that it was just a pretext to fuck with me."

"The one doesn't exclude the other."

"Would you like to fuck first or to paint first?" he asked quietly,
going on looking at my paintings.

"What about you?"

"Fuck. So afterwards I can sit more relaxed."

"Let's undress."

"Did you fuck all of them?" he asked pointing at the paintings while he
was starting to take off his padded jacket.

"No, not all of them, unhappily." I answered starting to undress in my
turn.

His body was not really beautiful, but it was nice enough.

"Which do you like better, to fuck or being fucked?" the boy asked.

"What's your name?" I asked.

He seemed surprised, but answered, "Call me John, it's alright."

I noticed that neither of us was still aroused.

"But... do you really want to fuck?" the boy asked, looking in my eyes.

"Yes..."

"Do you want a blow-job, for a starter?"

"Alright." I answered sitting on the sofa.

He knelt between my legs and started to work it. He was skilled, he gave
me a hard-on immediately.

"It's starting to get better, isn't it?" he asked, satisfied.

I nodded.

He again asked me, "Do you want to fuck me, or to be fucked?"

I didn't know. It was absolutely all the same. "I want to come... it
doesn't matter how." I answered in a flat tone.

He looked at me. "You're weird. Customers always know very well what
they want from me... What's the matter?"

"Nothing..."

The boy came to sit at my side and caressed my chest, my belly, then my
member that was already starting to soften.

"Would you prefer to talk, then?" he asked with a gentle expression. "At
times we just need to talk but we have nobody ready to listen to us...
If you like, I'm able to listen..." he said, going on to lightly caress
me.

I embraced him and he leaned his back against my side, going on to
lightly caress me. I too caressed him and felt in him an odd tenderness.
Now we were both a little aroused.

"My name's not John. I'm Andrew. And I'm just eighteen..." he said in a
low voice.

"Okay, Andrew. I'm Shaun. And I'm in love with a boy just a little older
than you, but I'm not able to tell him..." I said, and related to him
all that was happening to me.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 12

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In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to
read them, the URL is

http://andrejkoymasky.com

If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English
please e-mail at

andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

---------------------------