#3042: Bruges, Belgium
A shy art student builds up the courage to confess her feelings to the barista she admires, only to find her unexpectedly posing nude as a model in class. What begins as artistic admiration soon transforms into an intimate and passionate encounter that both women had secretly wanted for weeks.
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Transcript
I was never an early riser, but since starting my studies at the art school, everything changed—not because I loved waking up early to dive into my work, but for another reason entirely. Each morning, I passed a small café on my way to the studio. And though the waffles and coffee were delicious, they weren’t what truly drew me in.
That day, I took extra time with my makeup and carefully picked a dress. A quiet thrill buzzed in my chest, the feeling of readiness pulsing through me. I told myself this was the day I’d finally gather enough courage to ask the question that had been resting on my lips for far too long. I’d thought this before—too many times to count—but each time I saw Lina, all the words dried up.
Still, I had to try.
Stepping outside helped soothe the nerves. The city was alive in its usual way, with boats cutting through the canals and crisp air brushing past my face. Even with its old-world charm and storybook buildings, the city never felt aged or distant. It pulsed with energy—especially during festivals. I loved it for that.
When I reached the café tucked into the corner of the block, I immediately scanned the room. My heart sank when I didn’t see her. Lina worked most mornings, but not today. The disappointment hit me harder than expected. I had come so prepared, so sure this would be the moment—and yet she wasn’t there. I finished breakfast quickly, barely tasting the waffles, and moved on with my day.
There was no time to dwell—I had class, and that day’s lesson would involve painting from a live model. Those sessions always fascinated me. Capturing stillness in a living subject, the subtle tension in the body—it was always a challenge I welcomed.
The studio was already buzzing when I arrived. Our instructor, a renowned artist, explained that we would be working on full-body nude figure studies. No one flinched or acted awkward; we were all used to it, and professionalism was expected. I focused, preparing my materials.
When the model entered, wearing only a robe and slippers, I froze.
It was Lina.
She stepped forward confidently, taking her place at the center. When she spotted me, she smiled, and my heart raced. I gripped my pencil tightly, trying to maintain composure, but nothing had prepared me for this. I hadn’t expected to see her today, let alone like this.
She removed her robe and settled into a pose.
I inhaled sharply, taking her in fully for the first time. She was beautiful—elegant and real, with freckles scattered across her smooth, pale skin. Her breasts were soft and perfectly shaped, her thighs strong, her stomach gently rounded in the most inviting way. I felt my cheeks burn and hid behind my canvas, willing myself to act like a professional.
I forced my attention onto the technicalities—the curve of her shoulder, the tilt of her hips. Slowly, the nerves eased. I drew, focused, then occasionally met her gaze when she smiled. Every time, it shook me back into that state of heat and yearning.
Despite the flurry of emotions, my painting progressed well. The instructor praised it, and I could barely contain my joy. The session ended too quickly. One moment she was seated before me, vulnerable and still, and the next, the class was packing up. Everyone left, except for me—and Lina.
She slipped her robe back on and approached, her smile still soft and warm. She looked at my painting, clearly pleased, and I offered to give it to her once it was complete. She accepted.
We stood in silence for a moment, the air thick between us. I could feel the tension building again—this time not from fear, but from anticipation. I had wanted to speak for so long, and finally, I did. I told her everything—how long I had admired her, how much I wanted to know her beyond the surface.
The look in her eyes said she’d known all along.
She stepped closer, lifted my chin, and our lips met. A spark ignited instantly, electric and overwhelming. My hands found their way into her hair as her arms wrapped around me. I untied her robe, pushing it off her shoulders, exposing the body I had studied so carefully just moments before—but now, through entirely different eyes.
Our bodies moved in sync, her chest pressed against mine. Her fingers slipped beneath my dress, peeling it away along with my bra. Skin against skin, our nipples grazed as we breathed each other in. The studio around us faded—concrete floor, easels, the smell of paint. It all disappeared as desire took over.
Lina gently pushed me down onto the floor, straddling my thigh, her slick warmth already spreading across my skin. Her breath hitched as she rubbed herself against me, hips rolling with growing urgency. I opened my legs wider in invitation, and her hand found my center.
She caressed my clit slowly, teasing. Her fingers whispered over my skin, and then two of them slipped inside me. I moaned, breath catching. She matched my rhythm, moving against my leg while her fingers worked within me. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and pleasure. I couldn’t believe this was happening—that all the desire I had kept hidden was now being answered, so completely.
I watched her hand as it moved between my legs, soaked and glistening, her fingers driving me closer to the edge. The dual sensations overwhelmed me—her touch outside and in, the heat building to a fever.
I clung to her, whispering silent pleas through ragged breath. I needed it—needed her. And she knew exactly how to give it.
We both reached our peaks in tandem, tangled bodies trembling, our skin damp with sweat and pleasure. Lina’s fingers coated with my release were offered to my lips, and I tasted myself without hesitation.
She kissed me once more, slow and deep, before rising to dress again.
Before she left, I asked if she’d like to go out for lunch.
She agreed—with one condition: anything but waffles.