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I just finished unpacking my last box in my new apartment. I spend the next hour or so putting things in their place, setting things up and untangling computer cords. After it's done, I put my hands on my hips, admiring my accomplishments. I finally did it, I finally got my own place. I decide to go out on the town, maybe try to make a few friends in this high-wired town. I check my pockets, only 47 bucks. Damn, I need to find a job very soon.

New York was certainly different than what I was used to. All the bright lights and people bustling through like it was complete normalcy. Being a country boy, I knew this was going to be quite an adjustment.

I find a bar that seems to be pretty heavily cramped with people. I walk in and I notice there is no particular demographic tailored to. There are people of all ages, middle aged, business professionals, and some college kids like myself. I find an empty stool and ask the cute bartender for a drink. Her hair falls loosely down her tank top. She looks a bit damp and tired from a busy night at work. She smiles at me and hands me my beer. I smile in secret because she hadn't carded me, and I'm only 18. Lucky me.

I take a few swigs and scan the place. It has very earthy tones, revealed bricks strewn throughout the walls. It's very... New York. There are a few people dancing and carrying on and I try to see if I can find any guys about my age to strike up a conversation with. I find a couple, make some friendly conversation. Most of them are from New York, so we don't have much in common. They wish me luck starting my new life here, and depart, on their way to another party or something.

I have had a few beers now, I think about four. I decide to cut myself off, since I'm low on cash. The music starts to flow through me and I feel a bit drowsy, loose. I sit on another barstool and scan the room once more. All of a sudden, my gaze is glued.

She stares back at me, sipping a drink through a tiny straw. She looks a bit older, but in my buzz, I can't really tell. I would guess 30s, maybe 40s. I have never been into older women, but damn I was interested in her.

She runs her index finger around the rim of the glass, her legs crossed, one high heel dangling off her toe. It feels like she can see right through me. I am a bit nervous to proceed.

Suddenly, she crooks her finger at me, sipping her drink again. I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath, and start walking toward her. She motions me to sit down in the chair across from her. I do, my face flushed with embarrassment. What the hell do I say to this woman?!

She smiles deviously at me. My fear is apparent. She's mocking me.

"Maybe I could buy you another drink, baby?" Her voice is like silk. I am instantly turned on by her.

"Um, sure. Why not?"

She looks behind me and raises her hand, points at me, and winks at the bartender. Soon, I have another beer in front of me.

"Thank you, Sandy." The bartender scurries back to her post, leaving me to be studied by this alluring woman. "Well, may I ask what your name is, handsome?"

She thinks I'm handsome? Holy hell. She must know I'm much younger than her. How does she remain so confident? I'm a mess!

"Um, my name is Parker. And yours?"

"Mel. Just call me Mel."

I go through the possibilities of her full name in my head. Melony? Melody? She looks at me and smiles again. She knows she has caught me in a brain teaser. Very clever woman. I feel stupid.

"It's Melony if you're wondering, darling."

"Beautiful name." My voice is sincere.

"Thank you, Parker. So, what brings you here tonight?"

"Well, I just moved here."

"I can tell. You're accent is quite interesting."

Shit. I forgot about the accent. I must sound so awkward to her. "I'm from uh... the south."

"Yes, I know," she smiles. "What brings you to New York?"

"I just needed to get out of that town. Find my own way, you know?"

"Do you have a job here, Parker?"

She must know I don't. "Um... well, no not yet."

"Interesting." She takes another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe I can help you until you find one. Would you be interested in a proposition, Parker?"

Holy shit, is she asking me to sleep with her for money? Do I give off that vibe? "Um, I don't think you have the right idea about me..."

She bursts out in laughter, almost spilling her drink. "Oh my God, no my dear boy! That is not what I meant!"

I blush instantly. Again, I feel so fucking stupid. "Oh... Alright then. What is your proposition?"

She stops laughing. There is a look of shock on her face. She notices my new confidence and realizes that she has offended me by laughing. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset. Sandy, another drink over here, please!"

The cute bartender comes back around and sets another beer in front of me. I crack it open and take a huge swig. Mel frowns. I am undoubtedly upset.

"Sandy, come back over here please, dear." The bartender turns around and walks back without so much as a flinch. "Sandy, would you do me a favor?" She nods. "Tell this nice young man that I am not crazy." Sandy looks at me and smiles, shaking her head. "See, Parker? Sandy has heard my proposition before, haven't you dear?" She nods again, looking down shyly. "Sandy, were you satisfied with what I had to offer?" She stares directly at Mel now, and nods vigorously. "Thank you, Sandy. You can go now."

I am very confused, and frankly a bit drunk now. "What exactly do you want me to do, Mel?"

"Well you see, Parker, I am a well-respected art gallery organizer. I am setting up a new one in three days. Would you like to help me with that, Parker?" Her eyes become half-lidded now, and she sips her drink once more.

"That um... sounds innocent enough. Sure, what does it pay if you don't mind me asking?" I swig my beer again.

"Four grand for two hours." I spit out my beer, and begin to choke.

Mel remains calm, staring at me. She snickers. "So? Are you interested?"

"Hell, yeah!"

"Good. Follow me." She hands Sandy a large mound of cash, takes me by the hand, and walks out. We reach her car, and we slip in the back, while Mel's driver starts the engine. "Circle the block for a bit, won't you, Henry?"

"Sure thing, ma'am."

The car roars and we slowly glide onto the busy New York streets. I look over at Mel, and I start to shake a little. She is so calm, collected, and I think she is running her eyes down my body. I can't really tell in the lack of light.

"Parker, let me start by asking you this. Are you a shy fellow?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, that may not work."

"No, no! Wait, please. Tell me how you need my help. I could really use the money."

"I don't know if you could handle what I need from you."

I am very confused now. This sure sounds like a prostitution situation. I still am very curious to know what I might be getting into.

"Tell me. Please. I really need the money, Mel."

She smirks, and crosses her legs, showing a bit of her garter to me. My eyes widen. What the hell is she going to say?!

"I need art."

Huh? "Well, that's a bit vague, Mel. I'm not much of an artist."

"You misunderstand, Parker. YOU would be the art."

I am speechless and a bit frightened by what she said. I'm the art? What does that mean?

Suddenly, she reaches to her left and presses a hidden button on the side of the car door. A compartment slowly opens. She reaches inside, taking out a small stack of papers, maybe two pages or so. She hands it out towards me. "Read this, dear."

I reach out my shaky hand and take the papers. I struggle to read in the dim light.

"Oh, do forgive me." Mel hits another button and a shallow light appears above me. "Now, that's better."

I look down at the paper and begin to read it:

CONTRACT: The art piece will arrive at the gallery at precisely 4 p.m. sharp. Any later, and the deal is off. The art piece must come freshly showered and completely shaved from the neck down. The art piece will undress and be inspected by the gallery coordinator thoroughly. If the art piece is satisfactory, then the gallery coordinator will direct them to the desired display region.

The contract continues on and I am very shocked by the content. Also, very intrigued. This could be exciting. It speaks of possible touching from gallery onlookers, and how I must remain completely still for the entirety of the two hours. That might be painful, but surely worth the four grand.

I look up at Mel and raise my eyebrow. "Is this for real?"

"Yes, Parker. Are you interested?"

"Um, I think so. I will be safe right?"

"Of course. I wouldn't put you in danger. I have a reputation to uphold."

"Can I refuse to be touched?"

"No."

That worries me a little. I consider my options.

"Don't worry, dear. Remember what Sandy said at the bar?"

"She didn't say anything. She only nodded."

"Well, that's just how she is. Not a very talkative person. Very shy, like you."

I reread the contract again and see a blank signature line at the bottom for the "art piece". That would be me. I peer over the paper and Mel is holding out a pen. I take a deep breath, take the pen from her, and sign the paper.

Mel laughs in satisfaction. "Good. I will pick you up at the same bar around 3:30 p.m. on Friday night. Don't be late."

Oh, I don't plan to.

Of course I can't sleep. I stare at the ceiling of my new apartment, intensely feeling how alone I am. This is not how I planned my first night on my own to pan out. All sorts of questions swim in my head: What position will I be in? Where will I be touched, and by whom? Will Mel be displeased by my body?

Then, I find the one thing that calms me... four thousand dollars. I drift off to sleep.

My first few nights in my apartment were alright. I cooked myself decent meals, did my own laundry. Life was falling into place, becoming normal.

My eyes open slowly, the room is very blurred. I sit up and stretch with a big, satisfying yawn. Then it hits me... today is Friday.

My eyes shoot open and I hop out of bed. I look at the calendar. Good, I don't have anything planned for today... except one thing.

I make myself breakfast. The day goes by slowly, as I consider everything that might take place in the closing hours.

1 p.m. I hop in the shower. The hot, steamy water falls hurriedly down my body. It feels good. I pick up my razor and then look down. I need to shave all of this. Where the fuck do I begin? I place the razor on my collarbone, slowly bringing it down my body, rinsing it every now and then. It takes about a half an hour, but I completely shave my entire body from the neck down. Curiosity beckons me to feel my chest, my legs, my groin. I have never been this smooth. It feels... nice. I can see why Mel wanted me to do this.

I hop out, go to my closet and choose a plain white t-shirt, burgundy boxer briefs, and tight fitting jeans. I look at the clock and see it is 3 p.m.

I have to go!

I get in my car and blast my favorite CD as I cruise to the bar. Once there, I get out and before I even reach the entrance, I see Mel. She smiles at me and hangs up on whoever she was talking to on her cellphone.

"Parker! Glad to see you, dear."

"You too." Damn, I'm so nervous.

"Come, dear. Let's go."

Henry drives up with her car and we slip in and speed off again into the streets of New York. The drive is probably only about 10 minutes or so. Not a word was spoken between Mel and I, but she does stare at me from time to time, smirking.

The car pulls over. "We're here, Parker."

I nod and we head to a staircase that leads down to an almost hidden black door. When we enter, Mel puts her hand at the small of my back and leads me instantly to a dimly lit room on the left of the hallway. I am taken by surprise as she shuts the door behind us. "Alright. Remove your clothes." She is very stern, very serious.

I look down as I slowly undress, my face getting very hot and flushed. As my clothes create a pool around my feet, Mel walks around me with her finger on her chin. "Look straight ahead, please."

She studies my body hard. She brushes her fingers along my chest and back, making sure I am smooth enough for her pleasure.

"Impressive. You will do." That makes me smile. "Let's go."

She opens the door and leads me to a wide open room with three areas spotlighted in a row. I see two other people standing in the other regions. One is a girl, young, redheaded. She is a little curvy, and surprisingly has a quite hairy pubic region. Her breasts are hanging gently and her hair is pulled straight back in a ponytail. She stands straight up, her hands at her sides. She does not look at me. I remember then that we are not supposed to move.

The other region hosts an older gentlemen, probably about 40 or 50. He has salt and pepper hair and he is also clean shaven like I am. He is sitting Indian style, looking straight ahead as well.

I look to my right, and there it is. My region.

"Stand there, Parker." Mel is very business-like when she talks to me. I oblige and she walks around. "No, no. I don't like it. Bend over. Hands and knees, Parker." My eyes dart to her and widen. "Do it, Parker. You signed the contract." I nod, and do as she says. It seems strange, but I feel quite comfortable. I mean, I'm not the only naked person in the room. Mel adjusts my body to make it what she wants. When she is satisfied, she steps back to address all three of us.

"You will stay in these positions until otherwise notified. Is that understood?"

We all nod and return to being still.

"Good. Andrea, let them enter." I hear doors open, and people talking, but I do not move. The guests start to surround us, admiring our stances and dedication to this project. I hear many things come from the redheaded girl's region, men saying things like, "Oh, very nice. Her body is so unique."

A few people come over toward me and watch me from behind. I feel the graze of fingertips down my arched back. It makes me shiver, but I remain still. "Look at his form. Just simply amazing," a gentlemen says on my left. They continue to touch me, stroke my hair, grope my ass. This is all very surreal, and surprisingly arousing. I can feel my cock getting hard and I panic. Mel stands in front of me and stares into my eyes, smiling.

"Change position. Look directly at the redheaded girl." I do. She is being touched all over her body. Her nipples stand at attention and her chest rises and falls quickly. She is aroused. Her eyes flicker uncontrollably as a man runs his fingers through her pubic hair. My cock stirs again.

"See? You're not alone. You are doing great, Parker. Keep it up."

I hear Mel go over to the other gentlemen and ask him to look directly at my body. Even over all of the guests talking, I can hear his breath quicken. He must be gay, and gets turned on by watching me. This is all so interesting. The touching, the tugging, the stroking, oh it never seems to end.

An hour in, my cock is really hurting. My hands and knees are beginning to quiver. I am still looking at the redheaded girl. She is starting to glisten. Men and women stroke her hair and tweak her nipples. I am enthralled watching it.

I am startled by Mel clapping loudly. "Alright, everyone back away from the art pieces for a moment." All the guests go to the opposite side of the room. "Art pieces, stand and face forward." We all listen. It is a relief to finally be able to move my body in a different position. "Down on your knees. All of you." I am a little scared by this demand, but I listen. "Open your mouths."

Oh my god...

"The guests may commence." Instantly flies are unbuckling everywhere. There are cocks all around our bodies, and rubbing our flesh. The women stay back, watching with devilish eyes. I realize that I am the only art piece who is not into cock sucking, which of course makes me the most popular. Before I can process things, there are cocks shoved in my mouth from all directions, salty cum being sprayed in my mouth, hands pulling my hair and my nipples. My cock gets hard instantly, and I feel hands there too, tugging me. This is the craziest thing I have ever done. I squeeze my eyes shut repeating "four thousand dollars, four thousand dollars" in my head.

"Open your eyes, Parker, or you can forget the money." Mel's voice is hard. I open them as wide as I can, cocks everywhere. The women are giggling and moaning in the background. I feel cum all over my body, dripping down my chest and my legs. My hair starts to stiffen as I become more and more drenched.

"Alright. Enough." Mel's voice seems pleased now. "Everyone stand back." I can hear me and the other art pieces breathing heavily. We are all equally shocked. "Thank you for your contributions, men. Now, the real art is on display. Feel free to admire. No more touching."

I see now. This was the art form. The guests walk around us, commenting how beautiful we look covered in cum. It's all very primal.

Slowly, the guests start to depart and the room becomes empty.

"Time's up. Thank you for your contributions, art pieces. You will find shower stations and your clothes to the right of that door. Your money will be waiting for you when you are done."

We all stand and look at each other, all of us equally drunk with shock. We shower and dress, walking towards the exit. There is a woman standing with three stacks of paper. One is given to each of us. They contain a copy of the contract, an envelope with the money, and a flyer for the gallery. It simply states one word, "White". Clever, Mel. Fucking clever.

I unlock the door to my apartment, sit down on my recliner and count my money. Clipped to the back of one of the $100s is a small piece of red paper. It is stamped with the words, "Thank you again for participating. Your contract states that you are not to speak of this experience to anyone. If you so wish to work with Delaney Galleries again, please contact us at the following number."

I kick off my shoes and sit back. Wow. I survived this crazy night, and honestly, it was fun! This was so worth it. I think I am going to do very well in New York.