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Street Hustles
Modeling Behavior
Trinity, Mar 15, 2007

I enter the room. Eyes glaring staring piecing me together then ripping me apart. Without a word escaping my mouth. They judge me and hold me to society�s views. Having no idea why the fuck I�m in their classroom. The teacher comes in. Now I strip off my clothes. Down to bare skin. All body parts exposed. I walk into the center of the large room. Twenty people my age ready to sculpt. Ready to look at every crease, ever bend, every curve of my structure. The cold getting to me but there is nothing I can do. Strike a pose I hear the teacher say. Twenty minute poses for five hours today. I place my hands on my hips and spread my legs. I twist my small hips just like she said. I looked up to the right so I couldn�t see their eyes. I swallow myself inside and I hide. I couldn�t close my eyes for tunnel vision would come. I would drop to the floor and my opportunities gone. So I stare really hard and try not to move. My hands going numb and my foot felt like it was glued to the floor. My heal was aching. My neck was so twisted. I don�t think I was breathing. I turn 90 degrees after a ten minute time. New people to look at. Nervousness climbs. They packed on the clay for my thighs. Some were working on my butt, my breasts, my eyes. I posed and I held it and all I could think was their eyes, they are staring at EVERYTHING. We break off for lunch and I go for a cig. I cowl in a corner and try not to think. I�m doing this again. Getting naked for money. I guess it is better then selling myself or stripping again. For this is art. this is art. this is art. The break nearly over. Time to strip again. The teacher she glares when I asked to turn on the heater. But she said �no not until after the fifteen minute break.� but I�m freezing! She was a total bitch and I wish I didn�t have to come back but I severely need the money. Fuck. It�s okay though. Somewhere on the break I heard a group of guys in the class saying I was hot. So I guess I will play and have a little fun. I posed again in the middle of the room. Looking at them straight in the face. While they analyze my body and their perceptions they trace out with the clay. My butt he was touching. I mean on his sculpture. Not really my butt, but I swear I could feel it. So I look into his eyes. He started to turn bright red. So I stared harder. And he broke off her arm on the piece he was working on. I smiled and giggled deep inside. I wonder how many people I can get to be as nervous as me. How fun. So funny how this shit works. One minute you�re nervous the next your not. Instead of hiding inside I am now playing games and seeing who I can get to mess up. Who I can make turn red. Who I can get to forget what they�re doing. First they were judging and now in my eyes. Now they can see that I am more than their god. I am the art that they need to bury in their soul to make their work come out so perfect and full. I turn again after the ten minutes is up. I lower my arm so the boy could size my elbow up. I place my hands back onto my hips. This shit is hilarious and I think it will stick. I guess that this shit isn�t so bad. I sneeze and drop pose. Then I pick right back up. Again I think this shit isn�t that bad. It could definately be worse. This is perfect. The day finally up. The class it was over. The boy I made nervous rushed out the room. Followed me down the steps and asked me to dinner. It was a little goofy in a little boyish charm sort of way. �I�m sorry� I said and turned my back. Next Tuesday I�ll do it again. And I will be nervous. I will have fun. I will pick a game and play until the whole day is done. Excitement.

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