The substitute model
It was already after nine. My sketch book was ready, the easel in place. My model was late and I wanted to work in the morning light. Close to ten the bell rang. I went to the door and opened it. My heart skipped a beat. My tongue froze to the roof of my mouth. “Mr Elvers?” he asked. “Yes,” barely escaped my dry mouth. “Marty couldn’t make it. He asked me to sub for him.” I don’t know what I answered or even if I answered. Before me stood Olympian Apollo. My eyes swarmed across his in a...
Gay