Sketch Artist

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Not all artists are starving. If they're smart, they put their talents to use as a side gig, while making real money in their regular job like me, an art instructor at a local community college. Otherwise they'd have more than a rumbling stomach to worry about. Besides, with art these days, what's fashionable and hip today will become run of the mill and an overused fad tomorrow. It's one of the reasons that I've limited myself to charcoal sketches. It's one of those timeless mediums that doesn't require an avant garde sense of styling to appreciate. It's art for the normal people, so to speak.

But any artist, no matter how talented they are, will suffer the occasional creativity block, where nothing comes to mind to inspire you, no fresh ideas, no new techniques, nothing. It's that stage in your life where you look at a blank canvas, and all you see is a blank canvas and nothing more

It was that kind of moment that had came upon me. Sure, I could try to start with a few charcoal strokes and see what develops from there, but I was never good at that kind of technique of winging it like some of my students. For me, I needed an image in my mind, something that I could visualize as the finished product.

I finally caught a lucky break when I was supervising my students doing their 3/4 portrait drawings. The students were doing interpretive drawings based on a live model. Some were caricatures, similar to what you would see boardwalk artists do, large head (and brasts and hips to match), small body. A few were trying their hand at realism, though most were too caught up in the details to capture the realism in and of itself. As I studied each student's work, I realized that I hadn't done a 3/4 portrait in quite a while myself. The last few portraits I had done were commission pieces and there was nothing that I had kept for myself. An idea was forming in my head.

At the end of the day the small idea had morphed into a plan to do a nude drawing. It woud be one of my 'not for sale' pieces that I could use as a discussion piece for guests. With my idea set, I began to put my plan in motion. The biggest hitch would be in finding a model. Using one of my students was out of the question, as was using any of the student models. I've known a few of my colleagues to crash and burn from mixing their personal passion with their professional ones, and I knew better than to cross that line. This left me with few options until I remembered a website I visited one late night. Dollgrrls.com, if I remember correctly. An escort service with a twist. All of their girls were artificial. High end androids that cost a pretty penny to own, but a less bitter pill to swallow to rent for the weekend, which is about as long as I would need with one to bring my sketch to life. The request for a random girl was made on Wednesday through the website; Thursday evening, I had a confirmation email, and on a rainy Saturday morning, there was a knock on my door.

Dollgrrls usually come in two varities, I learned. They're either tall, statuesque, graceful, and busty, or petite, cute, perky, and just as busty. The young lady who was at my door was of the latter variety, and though I had hoped for a taller model when I clicked the "Randomize" option, I was still impressed.

"Good morning," she said. "My name is Lin, and I am here because of a request that was made through our automated systems. If you are the the person who made this request, please say your last name and request number."

"Last name Lett, request number 263147."

"Thank you," she said. Then she paused, but only for a brief second before she reverted back to her smile. "By saying 'yes,' you agree to the terms and conditions as set forth by DollGrrls, Inc., and you waive your right to hold DollGrrls responsible for any injuries or property damage that may occur from your experience with me."

"Yes."

"By saying 'yes,' you also agree that if I am damaged in any way that you will contribute toward the cost of my repairs from our encounter."

I sighed. Those corporate lawyers are tricky bastards. "Yes."

"By saying 'yes,' you agree failure to adhere to these agreements will result in immediate termination of our encounter, and in extreme cases subject you to legal action for compensation."

"Yes."

"Thank you." She paused again. "Your requested time will begin at 9:00 am on Saturday, October 2nd, and will terminate at 9:00 am on Monday, October 4th. If you need to adjust your scheduled time for this encounter, feel free to contact our customer service department at anytime." She smiled.

I smiled back. "Please, come in," I beckoned.

She stepped in, and I eyed her up and down. Her petite frame and buoyant breasts were covered by a short miniskirt, black stockings that highlighted her thigs, and a pair of leather boots The short sleeve zip sweater she wore exposed a finely sculpted midriff. She was quite a looker. "What do you have planned for us today, Mr. Lott?" Her tone was much more natural now that she didn't have to churn out that legal mumbo jumbo.

"Today I have a special project for us today, Lin. And please, call me Spencer. It makes our time more intimate, I think."

She smiled again. "Of course."

"Now, if you will, please follow me."

I led her into an unused bedroom that I had converted into my studio. "What's your special project, Spencer?"

"I am an artist, and today, you are my subject. It's been a while since I've done any quality work, but I'm going to change that. I am going to capture your essence and bring it to life on this canvas. I think you'll like it."

"Well, I'm sure that I will," she smiled. In reality, I knew that she couldn't really like it. It's in her programming to say that though. I could've shown her a stick figure drawing, and she would have the same response as if I showed her the Mona Lisa. But then again, it's not for her enjoyment, but mine.

"Well, let's get started. I want you to assume a pose." She smiled and stood there. I waited. She didn't move. Then it dawned on me that she was assuming a pose. "Are there any other poses that you can assume?"

"Well, I'm not really made for this kind of work," she said innocently. Translation: She wan't programmed to vogue. "But I'd love to learn how to pose for you."

This is had to give some thought. Teaching her how to assume static poses presented a language compatibility problem. I didn't know any robot code, and it didn't seem like she took to knowing what a pose is.

"Okay, let's try this. Think back to all of your previous encounters with your other clients. Pick a random moment. Pause that moment and recreate it here."

Her first few poses were nothing short of akward. They were truly random poses. But on her sixth pose, she finally got it. It must've been an encounter where she played a school girl. She had that innocent look on her face like she was asking a question that she shouldn't be. "Hold that pose." I said, as I grabbed my pencil and chalk and began to sketch.

It took me about 25 minutes to finish up the sketch. When I was done, I showed it to her. "How do you like this piece, Lin?"

She looked at it and smiled. "I think it's beautiful, Spencer." I knew she would like it. But I didn't. The quality was there, but there was something missing, so I told her that I'm going to make another portrait. She picked another random pose. I don't know what scene this came from, but it was a beautiful pose. Her butt was slightly tucked out as she arched her back. She placed her arms over her head and held them there. I immediately went to work, this time using a different technique.

She said nothing as I sketched. The only sounds filling the room were the scratches of my pencils and chalks against the canvas, the drops of rain outside my window, and some jazz music playing in the next room. It took about the same time to complete the second sketch as it did for the first one, but I still wasn't satisfied with this one either. So I tried another pose, with another technique, and then another, and another. Lin loved them all, but I still didn't think I was there. I was almost ready to call it a day and send Lin back, but I wanted to try one more idea.

I went to Lin and unzipped her blouse. With no bra to hold her breasts back, they popped out of her shirt. I couldn't help myself to letting my hands massage her breasts. She leaned her head back and let out a soft moan. A soft moan that her designers must have spent weeks perfecting. The kind of moan that made me want to throw her onto the bed in a fit of passion and make endless love to her.

But I couldn't. I had sketches to make.

I went back to the canvas and asked her to strike another pose. She did, but this one was different. It was more seductive in a subtle way. It took me longer to complete the sketch this time, but it was such a vast improvement over the others. Without saying a word, she switched to another pose, silently encouraging me to pick up my materials and continue. I started sketching, but I couldn't finish. It wasn't because I couldn't decide what to draw that I couldn't continue, rather it was that I was distracted by Lin, who I realized was a work of art herself.

"All this time I was trying to turn you into a work of art, I should've realized that you were one already," I told Lin as I got up from my chair. She flashed a quick smile before assuming a new pose. I gently placed my hands around her breasts and slowly caressed them. They had such a beautiful curve to them, and were sized just right. Large enough to please the eyes, but not too large that they're too much to hold. Her nipples, erect from my previous fondling, went even harder. I held them in my hands as she put her head back to allow me to kiss her lips. Her beautiful lips that invited me to explore her mouth and admire the craftsmanship that went into constructing it. I took her invitation and kissed her deeply, and continued to work my hands around this marvel of artificiality. I wanted to break away to finish my work, but I knew I couldn't. She was doing what she had been designed to do best, take me in seductively, and I was in her trap. As I felt my way around her body, I couldn't help but notice that she didn't feel like a real woman. It was different, like how tofu doesn't taste like filet mignon. But her artificiality didn't take away from the experience, it enhanced it, having a sense of familiarity with the genuine article, but in an exquisitely reproduced way. I ran one hand up her skirt and into her meticulously crafted vagina. The wet feeling was there, but it didn't feel like a normal vagina. I probed inside of her as she stopped posing and reacted to my inputs to her systems. She gasped as I ran my fingers in and out, pinching her clitoris and then inserting them again.

Some works of art can be appreciated with only of the human senses. Others require two or three. Lin, on the other hand required all five. A sight to behold, and pure joy to touch, her moans drove me wild, and the light perfume she wore enhanced the overall feeling of being intimate with her. The only thing left to do is taste her. I guided the DollGrrl into the couch, where I lifted back her skirt, spread her legs, and slipped my tongue inside. She gasped and bucked as I licked her way to orgasm, and fell limp as she came down from her preprogrammed sexual high.

I thought we were done, but she took my face in her hands, bring me up to look into her coal black eyes and said, "Take me."

We moved from the couch to the floor, and with my member throbbing jealously from not being involved, I pulled my pants down and guided myself into her waiting love. She smiled as I drove myself in, adjusting to keep me stimulated inside of her. My grinding started off slow and deliberate, but the rythm increased along with her moans and the raindrops until I could hold it all in no more. Her vagina tightened as I exploded inside of her. She let out a final moan as we both went limp from the activity.

We laid there for about a half hour, my head resting on her chest. I had my ear right where her heart would be, listening to what an artificial girl like Lin sounds like. I couldn't hear anything, not even a hard drive. We didn't say anything as we rested. I finally got up to go get cleaned off. She started to get up after me.

"No, wait," I said.

"Is there something wrong," she asked.

"No. But I found the perfect pose. Go back to the way you were, please, " I begged.

She went back to how she was. I grabbed my sketchpad and a few pencils and went to work, furiously drawing out the scene. The way she was resting, the open shirt, the look of satisfied bliss, it was in a word, perfect. When I was done, I stepped back and admired my masterpiece. It was a work of pure inspiration. I named it Lin in dedication for the work of art herself who inspired me.

We made love once more that night and spent the next day in the studio alternating between sketching and exploring Lin's body. It was an invigorating experience to say the least. I was sad to see her go on Monday, although I knew she would always be a phone call away, I knew that it would never develop beyond my infaturation with her, as she will always be the same person, as she is programmed to be. When she left, I did give her one of my sketches to take back to her corporate headquarters, as an indication of my satisfaction with her. I hope they put it to good use.


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