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I shrugged. Sometimes I felt that I was, but sometimes, when all the girls got together and began to tell their experiences, I felt as though I had lived in another world.

"I know you were very upset about your parents getting divorced and for a while you hated me, right? You blamed me for it? You don't have to answer. I understand. In your shoes, I would have felt the same way. I hope the time we spent together skiing and horseback riding has been good for you and maybe helped to have you hate me less," he said sadly.

"I don't hate you, Tony," I proclaimed. I really didn't hate him, not now, not anymore.

"No? Well, I'm glad. I want us to be friends, to be more than friends." I didn't say anything. When he gazed up at me now, there was a different look in his eyes from the look he had while he had been drawing me. This gaze went deeper and made me very selfconscious. I allowed my eyes to meet his briefly and then I felt myself blush again and looked away quickly. "Well," he said slapping his knees, "time to go back to work."

He got up and went to his canvas. I went back to the couch.

"I'm going to draw you from the top down, working slowly, capturing the details," he explained. "I'm glad you wore that kind of blouse. I want to see you gradually. It gives me the sense that you're emerging from the canvas, rising up out of the blank page like Venus rising from the sea.

"I want to do an outline of your torso now. Just stand, with your arms at your sides, please," he instructed. I did. "Yes, that's it," he said excitedly, as if I had done something significant or difficult. "Yes, yes . . ."

He drew lines rapidly.

"Now, just unbutton your blouse enough to bring it down over your shoulders. Go on," he said when I didn't move. "It's all right. Just over your shoulders," he repeated in a soft voice.

I raised my fingers to my first button and undid it.

"Good. Go on. Fine," he coaxed. "Now another." I did it. "And another. Go on, one more. There, now lower the blouse over your shoulders softly. Yes, yes."

His eyes widened and he looked at me longer before turning back to the canvas each time.

"Another button," he said gazing at what he had drawn so far. I undid it. Then he glanced my way, looked at his drawing and nodded. "Just pull your arms out of the blouse and hold it slightly above your . . . your breasts," he said.

I understood and appreciated what he had said about Venus rising from the sea, but it felt so odd to undress this slowly. It was almost as if I were doing a striptease.

I brought my arms out and held the blouse from falling back and down. Tony looked at me for a very long time and then shook his head.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm not getting your shoulders right . . . something . . ." He approached me and squeezed his chin with the fingers of his right hand as he stared down at me. Then he reached out and peeled the thin straps of my bra off my shoulders. He stepped back again, stared for a moment, went back to the canvas, gazed at it and nodded. "Just turn around," he said.

"Around? All the way around?"

"Yes, please."

I did it and waited.

"Now, let your blouse go." I released it and it fell to my feet. "Yes," he said in a loud whisper. "The lines in your neck and shoulders . ."

"What about them?" I asked quickly.

"Nothing bad," he replied with a slight laugh. "They threw me for a moment." I heard him come up behind me and then I felt the tips of his fingers trace the curve of my neck and shoulders. I jumped when I felt him. "Try to relax," he whispered in my ear. "Sometimes, an artist has to make contact with his subject so he truly absorbs the lines and curves in his consciousness. At least, I do."

"It tickled," I said. I couldn't see him, but his breath felt so hot on the back of my neck, it made me think his lips were only inches away.

"Do you mind if I do this now?" he asked. He had his fingers on the clasp of my bra. For a moment I couldn't speak. My heart thumped against my chest. "I want an unobstructed view of your back at this point, okay?" he asked again. I just nodded and then felt the clasp undone, the elastic material snap away, and the undergarment loosen. With the shoulder straps already down, my bra fell clear of my budding breasts. I started to pull it back up, but Tony seized my wrists, quickly and roughly at first and then immediately softening his grasp. "No, just keep your arms at your sides," he said. He stepped back to the easel.

I stood as still as I could, my heart racing so fast, it took my breath away. It seemed I was standing this way for hours before he spoke again.

"This is coming along fine," he said. "Perfect."

I didn't move. What would he want me to do next? Suddenly, I felt him drape a white sheet over my shoulders. He pinned it around my neck like a cape.

"I know you're nervous," he said in that voice that was barely above a whisper, "but I'm not unhappy about that. I want to use it to my advantage, and as I told you, capture you as I would capture Venus rising out of the sea. Take off the rest of your clothing now, but keep this wrapped around you. You'll lower it as we go along, okay? I'll be right back. I want to check on what we have for lunch. It's almost time and I've worked up an appetite."

Why was he asking me to take off all my clothes if we were going