Her make-up had been washed away by tears, they made her look like a raccoon. This was just the kind of excuse I needed. I offered her a paper napkin....She seemed a little surprised when I handed it to her, but took it and wiped her face clean. She blew her nose and threw the napkin in the trash. ‘Thanks,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You’re welcome,’ I answered. I half expected her to start telling me her life’s sad story, now that we had broken the ice, but instead she closed her eyes and leaned her. Here at art school, we were all outcaste. Even from each other. I never saw anyone smile.The second semester studio class was Figure Painting. The old guy, Mr. Johnson, came in twice to model. Maybe it gave the girls a thrill to stare at a real live cock dangling in front of a guy. God, he was hung. I fervently hoped the girls didn’t think that was how guys were supposed to look. They’d be really disappointed someday. I played racquetball at least three times a week now and just battered the. More

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