eyebeholder.html Title: Eye of the Beholder 1/1
Author: Icecat62
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Category: Romance Challenge
Pairings: FraserThatcher
Spoilers: None.
Teaser: Art is in the eye of the beholder.
Originally posted to RedSuitsYou in December 2000.
Standard Disclaimer: due South and it's characters belong to Alliance. I
just use them for fun. Hopefully they will return to their world unharmed
and ready for other people to play with them.
He didn't know how he had gotten himself into this mess. One moment he
was chatting with the diplomat from France over a cup of punch and the
next minute he had found himself agreeing to pose nude for a charity fund
raiser at the Chicago Center for the Arts. Closing his eyes, he swallowed
nervously. He didn't normally pray, but he found himself now silently
begging God to make sure he didn't make a complete ass out of himself. He
also begged that no one who personally knew him would be here.
Opening his eyes, he began to slowly disrobe. Carefully setting his
stetson, Sam Brown and red serge down on the chair next to him, he reached
down. Unlacing his boots, he could hear the sounds of woman talking.
Several woman as a matter of fact. Women who had pair top dollar to come
and sketch some of the best looking male figures that Chicago had to
offer.
He was one of two other models hand picked by the French diplomat. She
had pleaded her case with him. Begged him to do this. "You would be
helping to keep the arts alive. You do like the arts do you not?" Yes he
did. He loved classical music, he loved the opera, he love Shakespeare.
How could he refuse her and still look at himself in the mirror every day?
Setting his boots aside, he took off his jophers and socks. His thumbs
hooked their way into his starched white boxers, slowly peeling them off.
Folding them neatly he placed them on the chair with the rest of his
clothing.
A cool breeze caressed his naked skin, causing his nipples to harden.
Looking down at himself, he frowned. If he got too cold, he would be
doubly embarrassed. A model wasn't supposed to be shriveled up. Rubbing
his hands together, he then began to shake his arms and legs, trying to
get the blood flowing.
"Are you ready Constable?" He jumped at her voice. The French diplomat
stepped into the room, looking him over. A slow smile appeared on her
face. "I knew you would be perfect. So like a marble work of art." He felt
his face growing hot, he knew his blush was now making it's way to his
chest.
"Do not be embarrassed. The male form 'is' a work of art. You should
be proud that you can be of service in this manner. You are using what you
have to benefit the arts." She waved a hand toward the door and handed him
a plain cotton robe. Fraser quickly yanked it on, relieved to cover
himself from her prying eyes.
*Dear Lord, I can't do this.*
Walking slowly, he followed her out to the main room. His eyes locked
on the platform that he would be standing on. He was to be at center
stage, a standing nude. It was the perfect thing for him to do, being that
he stood sentry duty. He could stand as still as a statue for the hour
that he was to be sketched.
Totally ignoring the women who were standing by their easels, he
stepped up on the platform. Taking a deep breath, he took the robe off and
let it drop to his feet in a pool of white cloth. He could do this. These
women were artists. They weren't ogling him like he was a male stripper.
They were there to draw a nude and support the arts with their generous
donations. He had been told that the ten women here had paid a thousand
dollars a piece for the chance to do this. He would do his part and then
leave. No one was getting hurt by him doing this.
Trying to relax, he shifted himself into a stance that Michelangelo
would have been proud of. Classic, but not so stiff that he looked like a
mannequin. Evening out his breathing, he settled himself for the one hour
that he would be there.
Listening to the soft scratching of pencils and the dragging of
brushes, Fraser did relax. No one cared who he was. No one knew him. He
was just a beautiful body to copy onto a piece of paper or canvas. The
time passed quickly. Before he knew it, the French diplomat was making her
way around the room, thanking everyone for their contribution.
Bending down to retrieve his robe, he looked up. Letting his eyes
finally scan the room, he watched the women as they chatted or packed
their art supplies away. He had been right. He was nothing more than what
he was supposed to be. He was a model for their creative outlet. Nothing
more. Then he saw 'her'.
His heart skipped a beat as one of the women peered around her easel.
A small smile was on her lips, her eyes sparkled with laughter and...lust.
He froze like a deer in headlights. *Oh dear!* There was no mistaking that
face. The auburn hair. He wasn't imagining things. She kept her eyes
locked with his as she walked toward the platform.
Once she reached where he stood frozen in place, her smile widened.
"Good evening Constable Fraser." His mouth opened and closed. Swallowing,
he stuttered out his reply. "Um...good evening...Inspector Thatcher."
Mortified. He was mortified. For the past hour he had stood naked in front
of her. She had stared at him this entire time. She had drawn his...oh my!
"Fraser do you make it a habit of posing in the nude or is this
something you've just begun to do?" "I...well...Miss LeDuex...the
French...she asked me to help... and....oh dear." To his surprise Thatcher
began to giggled. "Fraser don't worry. I knew about this. Miss LeDuex had
sought my approval on this venture of yours prior to you doing it. She had
wanted to make sure that Canada would approve."
Looking him over from head to toe, her smile grew even wider. "I
believe that Canada would have been proud of your efforts. To raise funds
for the arts." She turned and walked back to her easel and began to pack
her supplies. He couldn't move. She had just told him in a round about
way, that she thought what he had was good.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the platform and made his way
over to Thatcher. Walking behind her, he looked at the pencil sketch that
she had done of him. It was exquisite. Perfect. "I didn't know that you
were an artist." Thatcher gave him a coy look over her shoulder. "There's
a lot you don't know about me, Fraser." There was no mistaking the teasing
quality of her voice.
She continued talking to him as she packed her things. "I was
wondering. Would it be possible for you to come over to my apartment when
you leave here? As you can see, I didn't get to finish my drawing." He
looked at the sketch and then back at her. He knew she was done. He knew
what she was offering him.
"I suppose...well, I don't think I have anything else planned." She
smiled again as she took the sketch and placed it in a leather case.
"Good. I'm sure you can remember your pose. I just need to work on a few
things." Her voice was heavily laden with innuendo when she said things.
Willing his heart to slow down it's rapid beating, he took a few
calming breaths. It wouldn't do for him to physically embarrass himself
here. He would let her know just how much he felt about her when they
arrived at her apartment. When he posed for her, he would definitely let
her know then. Hiding a smile of his own, Fraser excused himself.
"I'll go and get dressed." Thatcher nodded her head, the ghost of a
smile still on her lips. "I'll be waiting out in the foyer by the front
doors." Walking back to the small room where he had changed, Fraser
practically yanked his clothing on. Maybe if he were lucky Thatcher would
let him sketch 'her' in the nude. If he were luckier, maybe they could
work on a few 'artist' endeavors together.