I was done with relationships.

My divorce, though messy, was a relief, despite wasting over 20 years on that man, and being single again at 43, I felt free,

new, like anything was possible. That was the first blessing. The second is that all the kids had left home before he decided to trade up.

So I had time to myself to think, move, and just generally, get my life on track again.

I needed an outlet, so I took an art class downtown near my work, figure drawing.

The first week went about as you would expect. The girl teaching was very bubbly and pretty.

Molly was her name, and she had a cute Irish accent, long wavy hair, nice fit body,

like the one I used to have. And if I'm being honest, she was very sexy in a way I don't think I ever was.

I don't know why, but I noticed she never wore a bra,

and that periodically I'd catch myself staring at her hard nipples. By the third week, I was really looking forward to that class, to see Molly, who had taken to

wearing overalls and a tube top. I couldn't distract myself with her nipples anymore because

of the overall bib. But I caught myself seeking glimpses of her side boob.

One evening, she came over and put her hand on my shoulder as we sketched the model, a nude man.

Here, notice the lines of his back.

The buttocks are rounder too.

Don't be afraid to explore. Reach out with your mind, like you're touching him, she said and pushed herself into my arm. My heart raced as she

smiled and looked down at me. What the fuck was happening to me?

God.

She smelled like ivory soap and lavender,

and her sweet voice stuck in my head.

Yeah, okay, I said,

unable to process this sudden feeling inside me.

...