Claire and the Clay Cuffs
“Time’s up, ladies and gentlemen. Pencils down.” Claire sighed, finally relaxing out of the position she’d been in all class, drawing a pale blue soft robe around her as the art class around her began murmuring quietly. She looked away from the drawings they’d done of her; she’d learned to never look at work people modeled after her. It made her feel weird to see the way they had drawn her. Everyone had a different drawing style. Goosebumps rose on her bare thighs and she rubbed her hands up her biceps. Why would they keep an art room so cold, when they know that there would be nude models? “You can turn in your work at my desk,” the teacher was saying. Claire began gathering up her things, stepping behind the screen to pull her …