The Art Class: A Harry Duke Experience

The art room is my home from home if I'm honest. I'm there more often than my own small room at home as it stands when I'm not doing my other classes. It really is somewhere I'm beginning to cherish and saying that sounds odd I know, but drawing is part of who I am. I'm 17 and in my last year or so of school. I don't have a uniform like those in the years below me, so that helps with my freedom with creativity. A stuffy old uniform can hold you back.

Admittedly, my skills with a pencil or paint aren't consistent – I can draw animals alright – bees especially – but buildings or landscapes aren't my thing. I'm starting to get better with faces now I do have to say but I've always been more skilled at drawing bodies, no idea why, it's just been something I can do with ease. I can find the lines and curves of a body and give them a fair representation. My art teacher Miss Purt still doesn't think I'm that good though.

"Harry, why do you keep on making their arms so thin?" she always asks me with a furrowed brow on her already quite wrinkled face.

Well, I can't explain that but I can tell you one thing. We're getting a model come into our lesson for us to draw tomorrow. It's been a bit of a controversial move by the school with some parents, but it'll help broaden our artwork opportunities, well that's how they got rid of their worries. I'm not complaining, but it is odd I'll admit.

Apparently they'll be male too, which is a relief. I can't do any justice to the female form and have always found something much better about the male one. That might be because I'm gay, but I doubt it's related as closely as that. Drawing a penis isn't a problem in my books, yes they're all different but there's something about drawing them that I just find so freeing.

All I'm hoping for is not an older guy if I'm honest, it'll be like drawing my dad and I don't want to think about doing that. That's all to come though...

I'm often running late to class so when the next day came and art was my first lesson of the day. it was no surprise that I was chasing down the person holding the door of the old art building for me.

"Thanks." I'd say to them. "It's one of those days." I'd add as they rolled their eyes at me; the door-holding for me was an all too common occurrence. I always got funny looks for it, but I've never been good at arriving on time, that's another part of who I am.

Anyway, class, it's in a big old room and my art group in my year is only for me and 11 other people - all of them being girls and extremely girly girls at that. Yes, I'm the only guy in the class, well I was until I walked in as there was our model.

"Timekeeping Harry." Miss Purt tutted as she grimaced at me in annoyance. "It's not for you, is it?"

I just sighed and then sidled my way to my small desk. We all had one, but mine was in the worst condition of them all, having dents and holes in it. As I sat down, I got out my things and then looked at the model we had. I couldn't believe who it was. It just struck me like that.

"Danny" I thought. "Danny Grainger. THE Danny Grainger. Why is he here? He's not seriously our model is he?"

He was and he smiled at me. Apparently he was stepping in for the model we were supposed to have; money talks as they say, which is a surprise considerably how badly funded the art department is.

But I suppose when you've got a body like Danny's – nice, well-toned and not in the least bit unappealing – taking off your shirt in front of a few people is no problem.

It certainly wasn't from my perspective. I'd always liked Danny. I remember us sharing classes when we were much younger but he probably doesn't remember me – I was very forgettable back then – the guy in the background, never making a scene in any way. He'd left school at the end of GCSE's to work in his dad's company and was just one of those boys that I dreamed about, there was another too, but Danny was always the better looking of the two.

When I knew I was gay I hoped Danny would be too, but no, he was the guy who was always attracting the girls left, right and centre. I couldn't have picked any worse in terms of those to turn gay. Danny was always straight. His good looks and all the girls proved it.

It may have only been a couple of years, but he certainly still looks good now as some people can age awfully in that time period – my friend Jamie being the case in point.

Anyway, for Danny just doing the simple act of taking his shirt off was something. His arms were big, bigger than I remember - there was no way I couldn't draw these hopelessly thin and I concentrated hard at drawing him. The girls in the class were clearly in admiration at Danny's shirtless body too. To be fair, Miss Turp, who has gone completely grey in her 30s, looked on in quite the way too.

I was pleased in more ways than one as well; I kept crossing my legs as I drew him to prevent any sight of what was happening in my boxers where it's safe to say my mind was going into overdrive. The drawing was actually going well too which was nice. Miss Turp, on her tour of the students' work, even look impressed with what was I was drawing.

"Nice" she muttered, but now I'm not sure if she was referring to my work or Danny's pristine chest. Could have been either.

Danny was clearly helping in more ways than I'd expected. And then, time was up and the lesson was over. Drawing Danny time was up. I couldn't believe where the hour had gone but I could relax again and hope any bulge I had on my tan trousers was now no longer showing. Sadly it still was bulging out and even though I was always last out of the class, I took a bit longer this time in the hope it would go down. I don't want to be known forever as Harry, the guy who got a hard-on in art.

Thankfully, it did go down, much to my relief even though I was watching Danny putting his shirt back on at that precise moment. I smiled at him and he smiled at me.

"He must remember me." I thought. "Why on Earth would he keep smiling at me?"

Then, he began to follow me out of the class.

"Harry." he called in his soothing tones. I turned and smiled, focusing on his lovely face. It was rugged and lovely looking. He still looked incredible. Even his not so great attempt at teenage stubble looked good when others guy couldn't put it off.

"Hope that wasn't too awkward.' he said, almost laughing it off. "I was told it was an all-girls class. Hope it wasn't too weird."

"Oh no, of course not." I said. "A body is a body. And yours is good. It wasn't off-putting." I added, trying not to sound too silly, but I don't think I succeeded. Danny didn't seem weirded out by that though at least. That was a relief. At this point I was still worried my hard-on would return so I just casually moved my sketchbook, now with shirtless Danny in it, across my crotch region.

"Glad to hear it," Danny smiled with a wide grin. It was such a lovely grin. One that everyone could love, not just a mother. My smile wasn't as nice, it always looks so false and I hate showing my teeth because of it. They're not crooked or anything, but just not 'perfect' if you know what I mean.

Anyway, as we began to leave the classroom, Danny noticed a small door at the far end of the room. It was the sort of thing you wouldn't ever notice it unless you were really looking for it.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"Oh, that's the small room as we call it" I answered. "If any of us want to spend any extra time on artwork outside of lessons in our free time, we can go in there and work on it. It's basically a closet but keeps you out of the way of other classes. We've all got keys for it."

"Oh" was all Danny said, and to be fair that's all that needed to be said on the matter. We kept chatting as we left the art room and then he said something that almost perked me up again in you know where.

"Well I'm glad it weren't awkward or anything Harry as I'm going to be in even less next week." he said in a kind of jokey manner before patting my shoulder and then walking off, lost very quickly in the big crowds of students.

"Even less?" I thought. "How much less? No jeans? No socks? No clothes at all?" is where my mind went. God, thinking like that in such a place is never a good thing. Thankfully I had my sketch book to hand to cover up any unwanted hard-ons, but I couldn't let that thought leave me for the rest of the day.

I thought about it in my maths lesson and my others too. I don't care about quadratics, I care about Danny Grainger and how little he'll be wearing. I wanted to know more of his body. I've seen him without a shirt – that was good, but more would be nice too.

Is that bad of me to think like that?

I hope not because my hard-ons are just going to get even more awkward if it is wrong...