Draw your own conclusion (for Tarrakhash and Blurugirl)

Blurugirl

Blurugirl

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Joined
Oct 25, 2019
Shahlah Jacobson thought she had a perfect life. Mostly.

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Granted, her life hadn't started off perfectly, mostly or otherwise. Her father had become enamored with an Iranian man, and Shahlah had been the result of the romance. But the romance quickly devolved into abuse and control from her biological father, who left her mother and her when Shahlah was five,

No problem. When Shahlah was nine, Shahlah's mother would meet the man who would become Shahlah's stepfather.

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Shahlah loved her stepfather. But she loved all her family. Shahlh's stepfather was a commercial artist who still kept tabs with his classical roots. He was successful enough that he could run his own business out of their office. But he also taught an art history class at the local college, and drew "non-commercially", as he called it. And though Shahlah had no talent of her own, her stepfather made sure Shahlah was still introduced to his world. He had not only taught her about different artists and artistic movements throughout history, but also how to appreciate and critically analyze art as a whole.

Shahlah had a good relationship with her mother. Mostly. Well, Shahalah's felt her slightly nerdy mathlete daughter should be outgoing, and she definitely did not appreciate the mostly frumpy, form hiding clothes her eighteen year old daughter wore. But Shahlah still appreciated her mother. Well, things had become strained between Shahlah's mother and stepfather, and she knew her stepfather spent some nights on the couch in his office, but he always said that was because he was working late. And if the two were having problems, they were going to great lengths not to expose their kids to their marital strife.

And Shahlah adored her little five year old brother. Mostly.

Hunter was blonde and blue eyed (the same as everyone else in the family except Shahlah) and was just as sweet as he could be. He would sit by Shahlah on the couch, cuddle up to her, and ask her for a story if she wasn't busy. Or just sit there and be sweet and good if she was busy.

Hunter was perfect. Mostly.

Except Hunter would draw on anything if given a chance. In response to Hunter's artistic exuberance, the walls were painted with wipeable paints, Hunter was given special crayons, and anything you didn't want drawn on, was locked up and put away. Because Hunter would listen and obey about everything except drawing.

Which is where the story begins.

Shahlah's stepfather would keep his office locked, to ensure that Hunter didn't draw on any of the more expensive books he had on his shelves. In addition, all important papers were kept locked in the bottom drawer of the office.

Shahlah and her mother had keys to the office, and Shahlah went into the office one to use the family printer. While she was printing out a paper due on Monday, she noticed the bottom drawer of the desk was ajar. She was about to close the drawer when a folder in it caughter eye. It was titled "Life Drawings." Shahlah immediately knew that meant Nude Sketches. Although she was a modest young woman (overly modest, in her mother's opinion), Shahlah wasn't shocked about the idea of her father making nude sketches. That's what artists did, after all. She would have been more shocked if her father made landscape paintings. He did have curt words about that sort of thing.

Curious, Shahlah pulled out the folder and began flipping through it. She didn't recognize some of the models, of course, but assumed they were student models her father had met at the college. One of the models, though, looked familiar to Shahlah. It took the teen a few minutes to recognize who the nude woman was in those sketches. It was HER!

Shahal was more than a little shocked that her father has been imagining her nude. Well, he had not only been imagining, he had been mentally airbrushing the nude mental image of his stepdaughter. The young woman in these pictures was gorgeous! It was sort of like the optimized version of what Shahlah thought she could ever aspire to.

Probably the only thing her stepfather had not improved on, Shahlah though with a self-conscious smirk, was the size of Shahlah's breasts in the sketches. But then she couldn't really fault her father on that. After all, with the frumpy clothes she made sure she was wearing any time she stepped out of her room, he had no idea on how to guess. The breasts in the sketches looked to be about a cup smaller than Shahlah's D cup.

Still, the part of Shahlah's mind that her stepfather had trained to look at a drawing analytically thought they were good, if woefully inaccurate. So Shahlah took a couple of post its from the desk, wrote some critiques, attached it to the drawings, then returned them to the bottom drawer. This time, though, she made sure the bottom drawer was locked. Hunter definitely didn't need to get to those pictures!

Chuckling, Shahlah locked up her father's office, headed to her bedroom, did a few things on the compute, then called it a night. At ten o'clock on a Friday night, Shahlah was happily asleep in her own bedroom.
 
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Stephen's life was less than perfect and was rapidly getting less perfect with every day. The only shining lights in his life, his art, Shahlah and Hunte, his kids. He was 52 this year, just a couple of weeks ago and the grind of work was starting to catch up with him. He had always been absorbed in his work, his art, his passion for drawing and it had always affected his relationship. He had married at 28, his first wife, that had lasted about 10 years and then she had gone, taken a good chunk of his money with her. She couldn't provide him with the kids he always wanted and he couldn't provide her with the attention she needed and so they had split, for five years he had bounced from woman to woman, but his focus had been his career and he had done well, more than well he was well off and could provide for others but still no children.

Then he had met Shahlah's mother, a much younger woman, and fallen for her and her little daughter, at 43 he had married her and finally had the family he always wanted but he still wanted to share his passion for art with others and her mother had become more demanding, eventually he had left his old job and started his own business, even lecturing at the college to continue his desire to teach others to draw, Shahlah had never had never had the gift but she had been a blessing in wanting to learn more of the theory and critique of art and she had taken to it, this had brought him so much joy and special time spent with his stepdaughter. At 47 years of age he became a father for the first time, and it was all the magical moments it was made out to be.

Driving home as he was now, he smiled, Hunter had wrecked some books but he could already tell he was going to be a chip off the old block and have some artisitc skill, but Hunter had also inherited the athletic abilities of his mother and her abiltiy to listen...non-existent. So he spent more time working in his office, sleeping on the couch and she spent more time driving Hunter to his various sports events...for a five year old? And that's where the fights normally started, over her pushing Hunter and him not pushing Hunter to achieve.

When she started blaming him for Shahlah's lack of interest in other people, going out and dressing stylishly, something her mother was fantastic at, that was when he started burying himself in his work, burying himself in his drawings, his little "Life Drawings." He did a lot of art, but those were easily his favourite, he loved drawing with pencil and charcoal and it just so happened his stepdaughters skin tones presented a wonderful challenge to capture, he had started just drawing her face but long, lonely hours denied his wife's bed with nothing but time his sketch pad and his pencils he had gone beyond that by a fair bit, and the challenge still remained to render her darker skin perfectly.

He climbed out of the car, seeing that the light in his wife's bedroom was already off he sighed, that meant he was late and he may as well go straight to his office. Letting himself in as quietly as he could he grabbed the plate of cold food she had left him a beer and made his way to his office. Turning on the lights as he made his way over to his couch, he smiled, it was very organized and clean before the advent of Hunter and now it was simply more homey, and messy of course, putting his food down he moved to the locked drawer and reached into the back to grab his drawings, he wanted to work a little more on the tone of Shahlah's legs, those were likely the part he had the most accurate because he had seen more of them than any
other part of her body other than her pretty little face.

As he flipped open to the last drawing his heart froze, the letters on the post it stuck across his attempts at his stepdaughters bosom was unmistakable...she had found them.

"Fuck."

This would be difficult to explain. Very difficult, he would need to talk to her the only silver lining he could see was that Hunter had soccer practice first thing in the morning...and he'd get his chance to try and cover up his secret there. It wasn't like it meant anything, he just....well, he just liked the challenge. He knew that his wife would never understand that, he would be getting divorced again, and if she had her way he'd never see either of his kids. Not if this came out...he had to stop it. Nodding to himself he sighed it was going to take more than a beer for him to get to sleep. Stephen stroked his fingers across his beard, flattening it somewhat as he opened the beer.

When morning came Stephen looked exhausted, the little sleep he had, had was marred by nightmares of losing Hunter and Shahlah but he had come up with a plan. As soon as his wife was gone with their sun he cooked breakfast, bacon, eggs and toast. Putting together enough food for the both of them, and two glasses of OJ on a tray he propped the sketch pad up on the tray as well and headed to his daughters room. He knocked on the door, waited for her to call her in and smiled, a nervous smile, his blue eyes sharp as he watched her face for signs of any kind of judgement or fear.

Putting the tray on her lap he smiled,"Morning, Shahlah, I think we need to talk...." His eyes fell to the book resting on the tray and he cleared his throat,"I figured we could do it while we ate?" He always involved food, in anything major, when he fought with her they talked about it over food, if he was upset with her he took her to the diner, if she fought with him he bought ice cream...food and emotions, almost as bad as his passion for art.
 
"Dad! Boundaries!" His daughter yelled from the closet. She had been up for some time, doing her morning exercise and had luckily stepped into her closet to look for something comfortable to wear when her father knocked on the door. She had yelled out that she was getting busy dressed, but he must have had something on his mind, because he came in carrying a tray and already talking a mile a minute. Fortunately, Shahlah was dressed in an over sized sweatshirt and sweatpants, and was unseeable in the closet besides.

Something must be really bugging him, Shahlah though. Her father's solution to everything was to try to fix it with food. Any time she or Hunter and their father butted heads, he wanted to talk about it over food. Shahlah appreciated the sentiment, but she had recently decided to adjust her living style, and one of those things was how she treated food. She wanted food for fuel and abstinence, and not as an emotional crutch.

"You know it's too early in the morning for me and fatty proteins," she added, with only her head sticking out from behind the closet door. "Just leave the orange juice and the toast. I'll be down to talk to you in your office in ten minutes. Now shoo!" she added with a smile.
 
Stephen gasped as she said boundaries, he turned away immediately, facing the door he sighed,"Sorry, Shay....sorry....I just..." He sighed, he had forgotten about this new fad of hers, most teenagers went through them he heard but this one was ridiculous, food as fuel? It spoiled all the good stuff? He grabbed the OJ and the toast, putting them one side and the OJ he nodded,"Fine, fine, I'll see you in my office."

This was not going according to plan, he had hoped to catch her still half asleep, all the people at works kids around her age slept in and devoured any food put in front of him. He smiled a little, but then again their kids were full of other headaches and she, she was just a darling. Sighing he went to his table, intent on waiting for her but as always it wasn't too long till he was sitting with his back to the door going through his sketch book, reading the critiques she had left his mind analyzing them and he was deep in thought stroking his graying mustache as he realized that some of her comments were correct.

His embarressment and concern temporarily subdued in his passion for art but it did mean she was likely to come in and find him staring intently at a drawing of her naked.
 
After downing the orange juice and gobbling her toast, Shahlah came bouncing down the stairs in a loose, very oversize gray sweater that hung down to past her hips and her favorite pair of faded baggy jeans. Her long dark hair hung loose, reaching to past the small of her back, and her feet were bare, revealing unpainted toenails, which was yet another point of contention between her and her mother, A point which Shahlah didn't understand at all.

For a second, Shahlah wondered if her Dad wanted to talk about something about him and Mom. She immediately put that thought out of her mind. She didn't know what her Dad was wanting to talk about, but it wasn't going to be that. Definitely not that.

She got to the door to her father's office and knocked. Not that she had to. But mainly because she wanted to make a point. She waited for him to tell her to come on in.
 
He looked up at the knock, realizing that at least she respected boundaries, he smiled and then looked at the book in front of him. Sighing he knew this could be the end of his marriage and his relationship with his kids. A sobering thought, closing the book and pushing it so it was in front of his desk he spoke,"Come in, Shahlah."

Once she was inside he looked her up and down, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk,"Sit, dear." He pushed the book forward and looked down at it and then at her,"We need to talk...."
 
"Ooooohkay," Shahlah drawled, a little worried now, but she wasn't going to freak out, Whatever her father was about to tell her,, she knew they could all handle it.
 
He sighed, gesturing to the book in front of her,"You found my live sketches." He slipped open the book and pulled out one of her critique notes,"And you critiqued it....and I wanted to, well, wanted to talk about it." He frowned,"You haven't told anyone about it have you?" He had eaten two plates of bacon and eggs mostly out of guilt and he now she looked concerned,"I just want to know that this is something we can work though....."

He looked down and sighed,"I can explain, if you'll let me."
 
Shahlah eyes went wide when her stepfather brought up the sketches. I just lectured him on boundaries, she thought, and now he thinks I was snooping around his stuff.

Shahlah guiltily reflected that maybe an argument could be made that she had been snooping around. She could have just closed the drawer and locked it without looking at its content. And maybe leaving the critique hadn't been the best idea, in light of her 'snoopiness.'

She was about to start apologizing profusely when her father beat her to the punch. He was worried about her telling someone about it? What was there to tell? I mean, she didn't want anyone looking at those drawings besides her father and herself. THAT would be embarrassing. But her father was an artist. He just drew what he drew. And she was sure that the drawings were personal exercises.

When he said he wanted to explain about it, she became really confused. "Wait a minute, you're not mad at me for sno --- um, stumbling on these drawings? You're worried about me being mad at you?"
 
Her reactions were telling and if his own mind hadn't been clouded with guilt he might have thought of that earlier and he shook his head,"No....no I'm not mad. But there is a reason why I have them locked up, your mother, and other people wouldn't understand this kind of thing. You know how I am about techniques..and well, your skin is the perfect color for me to really have to work on several techinques to shade it dark enough to resemble you but still get all the details, particularly around the more curvy areas where your body shades itself......"

He sat back his pale hand dragging across his face,"And that's how my love of art is going to get me into trouble." Sighing he shrugged,"There just aren't any models I can find that have your particular skin color so I had to work a little bit of imagination to see how the light would fall." Shrugging,"I thought they turned out pretty good actually.....so can we not mention this...like say to anyone?"
 
"Oh," Shahlah said, then a look of realization appeared in her eyes. "OH!" Yeah, she could imagine what her mother's reaction would be. Well, actually, she couldn't, but Shahlah was pretty sure it wouldn't be good. And Shahlah was pretty sure her mother wouldn't understand that it wasn't her Dad being a pervert or anything. It was just him drawing the human form, showing its artistic merit.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," she said with an emphatic nod. "This is just between us." Shahlah paused, before adding, "I do have a question, though, if you don't mind."
 
He smiled in relief, watching as she understood his situation,"Yes, I'd likely never see you or Hunter again if she knew about them....thank you my girl." She asked her question and he frowned stroking his mustache as he contemplated her,"You know I always have time for you, Shay, what is it?"
 
Shahlah frowned, trying to think of how to put her question diplomatically. "Well, I liked all your drawings, but I think you went all Boris Vallejo on the drawings of me. You know, making me look a lot more glamorous than I am. Although you did get one of the proportions wrong," she added. Shahlah pulled down her sweater, momentarily displaying the shape of her bustline, before releasing her sweater. She blushed at her own boldness before continuing. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I would love to look as hot as you make me look in those drawings, but I don't. And I thought the purpose of life drawing practice was to catch a realistic image of the subject."
 
An eyebrow rose slowly as she criticized his drawings and he was going to say something, he even raised a single finger like he did when he disagreed with her and then she pulled her jersey tight and his mouth shut with a snap and he forced his eyes up to hers, they had dropped Shaking his head he cleared his throat when she was done, clearly a little flustered about what she was correcting him about but he pushed on he had seen plenty of naked models, they just weren't the little girl whose behind he had spanked for being rude to her mother when she was 10.

"Well, Shahlah, you aren't wrong. I did get the proportions wrong, which is strange, normally I go up a size when I'm guessing not down.....", shrugging he tried to ignore the image his brain was creating with her properly proportioned body and he frowned,"But my dear, we've spoken about this before, and I know you think I'm just saying this because I'm your Dad, but you have a few issues with your self image, yes I had to guess for most of your body but your face, your face is accurate, you are growing into a very attractive woman and....don't put yourself down to much, okay?"
 
Shahlah ducked her head and blushed. "If you say so." It was really quite flattering to have an artist say that about her looks, even if was her father, and even if she didn't quite believe him. "I guess you could sketch my face and hair anytime you want to, even though I'm sure there are students at the college who are better looking and have my coloring too."
 
He raised a knowing eyebrow,"You know, it's not nice to tell me what you think I want to hear. How much do you trust me, Shahlah?"

He didn't really wait for an answer,"If you trust me, or at least trust my professional ability, enough allow me to draw you. Just the parts of you that you feel comfortable with that you don't believe are beautiful, perhaps your arms, your legs, your face and hair as you suggested. I will do accurate drawings, I won't embellish and I'll only draw that part that you want...perhaps that way you will start to see yourself through my eyes, and the eyes of others. It would be sad if you spent your life thinking you were not a beautiful woman!"

"If you like we can even start now, I can draw you sitting in this chair, or somewhere else if you prefer and you can see what you look like?"
 
"Now?" Shahlah looked shocked. "I haven't even washed my face. I mean, I'm not the self-absorbed preener Mom would like me to be, but I'm not totally grunge either," Shahlah said with a giggle. "Can I go scrub my face and put on a shirt I haven't worn around the house for the last three days?" Shahlah looked up at the clock. "Mom said Hunter's team has some kind of luncheon afterward, so they won't be home for about five hours." She added the last because even though a face portrait was fairly innocent, she knew her Dad wanted to keep this a secret from her Mom. She could understand about the pictures her Dad had drawn as he imagined her being...being...

Shahlah blushed. Sitting in front of her Dad, she couldn't let her brain complete the sentence.

But Shahlah didn't think that a face portrait would be anything to get worked up about. But things seemed a little tense between her mother and father these days, so maybe it would be best to keep all of this, even the innocent parts, between her Dad and herself.

"So, give me about five minutes to scrub my face and run a brush through my hair?" Shahlah asked her Dad.
 
He glanced up at the clock, tilted his head and then turned back to her,"Well it depends what you want to do, changing might be good...that sweater has seen better days, I'll grant you that..." He stopped his objections mid sentence and held up his hands,"Actually, Shay, you're in charge. I'm doing this on your terms, if you want to get cleaned up and get into something you look better in go right ahead."

He gestured to his office,"You get ready, I'll open a couple of blinds and let some light in so I can get the tones of your skin right....also, you're modelling. I might position you in various ways and expect you to stay like that, although likely not with a face portrait. See you in five, Shay!" He waved her out, rather excited to try and help his stepdaughter see herself as he did, and a little relieved she had decided not to make a big deal of his boredom induced doodles....even if they were fairly detailed doodles.

Moving quickly Stephen cleared the couch for her to sit on, close to the window, opened the blinds and got a fresh sketchpad and got his drawing chair and various pencils and such ready for his project.
 
Shahlah ran up to her bedroom and as soon as she closed her door, she pulled off her sweatshirt and tossed it on the bed. She headed to be bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and gave her face a good scrub. She then took a brush and pulled it through her hair a few times until all of the obvious snarls were out of her hair. As she headed to her closet, she wondered which of her house sweatshirts she would wear, then paused. Her Dad had said something about wanting to draw her arms. Well, her legs too, but legs seemed too personal somehow. Arms would be okay, She then felt a little self conscious and looked down at her fingernails. They were clean, at least, if not exactly sculptured and manicured.

Well, her Dad wasn't going to focus on her fingernails. And if he did, didn't she say draw her realistically. Shahlah couldn't help but laugh at the thought of her Dad doing a study on her hands, and where she occasionally bit her nails.

Shahlah looked through the closet and found a forest green T-shirt. It wasn't a tight shirt (Shahlah didn't have any of those), but it didn't make her torso look formless either.

Shahlah put the T-shirt on and looked at herself in the mirror. The image looking back at her made her grimace. The outline of the bra Shahlah was wearing was clearly visible. Normally, this wouldn't both Shahlah. She wore her bras for comfort and modesty, not style. But for some reason, it bothered her to think of her Dad drawing that outline of the bulky bra she was wearing. She paused, thinking about what to do. An idea came to her.

Shahlah took off her bra, not paying attention to the image of the large firm D-Cup orbs in the mirror that appeared to defy gravity, or the dark red nipples capping them. She headed toward her underwear drawer and dug through her collection of modest, utilitarian bras until she found the one her mother insisted she add to the collection. It was a flowery demi-cup and, when she put it on, it barely covered her nipples. She then put on the green T-shirt and looked at herself again.

Well, she couldn't see the outline of her bra, but she almost felt a little naked wearing what she was wearing. She wasn't, of course. What she was wearing was what...well, she told herself, it was what normal girls her age wore, who weren't always covering themselves. She wasn't showing any cleavage, her shirt wasn't skin tight and you couldn't see any...protuberances, she thought with a brush.

Shahlah thought about changing out of her baggy jeans, but she had been u;stairs for twenty minutes now. Didn't want her Dad to think she had chickened out, She gave her image in the mirror one last time before bounding down the stairs, With a mischievous smile on her face, she once again knocked on the door of her Dad's office.
 
Stephen was waiting, somewhat patiently, looking through various emails on his computer at the knock on his door he smiled,"Come in, Shay." She walked in and he smiled,"Wow, it's like you've transformed."He teased her gently,"You know you look just as pretty as before? But don't worry I'll show you that." He got up, and just like he did with all his models put her on the couch, arranged her arms and her face slightly, his lighter colored fingers contrasting so nicely with her skin, he reached down and tugged at the bottom of the green t-shirt the slightest bit to straighten up folds and things like that.

Sat down, looked at her for a few seconds, got up adjusted the blinds muttering to himself about adjusting the exposure before sitting down again. For about twenty minutes he simply looked at her, picking up his pencil and twirling it around, soaking up the details but not really drawing just looking at how the light fell on her skin. He got up a few times in that time, to look from a different angle once, to brush a strand of hair slightly differently and to cross her arms over each other. Then he pulled out his pencil and charcoal and started scratching away on the pad, looking at her every couple of seconds as he descended into the feverish pitch of creation that she had seen him enter into so many times where the world and time ceased to exist as he drew and sketched as accurately as he could.

He had always drawn fast, he had also always drawn very accurately but this time he was determined to make it the most accurate picture he could to give her an idea of how beautiful she was. Of course he never stopped, but if she asked for breaks he gave them, he was always considerate when he drew but he got consumed and as he drew his mind marvelled at just how gorgeous she was, and how she couldn't see it....although he had to admit to himself more than a few times that she had certainly grown in the chest area more than he had anticipated and to be perfectly frank, it suited her.

The hair and the light on her skin took him much, much longer than the shapes and features and yes...her slightly chewed on fingernails were in there two, along with the look she had on her face when she was relaxed. Finally he looked up at the clock, realizing they still had about half an hour or so before they were interrupted and he smiled,"Here...it's done, just black and white for now but I think it captures you well."

He came and sat next to her on the couch leaning against her shoulder as he put the pad in her lap,"What do you think? A beautiful young woman, right?"
 
Shahnah look at the drawing incredulously. It was good, of course. Her stepfather was very talented. Still, it always amazed her how much subtlety could be expressed with pencils or charcoal. But she was positive she wasn't looking at a drawing of herself. She was looking at the Vallejo version of herself. She simply did not look that good.

"This,..this is me?" she asked, sounding as stunned as she felt. "Am I that...tha...that?" Shahlah found she just couldn't get the word beautiful out of her mouth,
 
Smiling, he laughed lightly, reaching up to squeeze her shoulder and smile,"I did tell you...this is an accurate representation. This is how I see you, I am positive that others see the same." He reached up and stroked her cheer lightly,"You are a beautiful girl, you have to believe me." He looked at the picture and then at her,"Would you like to keep it? As a reminder of what you really look like?" Laughing lightly he shrugged,"And if you still don't believe me I'd be happy to draw more of you." He meant more pictures of her, that is what he meant, yes. Shaking his head he left the sketch pad in her lap and stood,"Well, your mom should be home soon...I'm sure she'll want to gloat about how well Hunter did in soccer soon, and if she sees you like that you know she'll never believe you were at home all day."
 
"She'll probably think I'm an imposter," Shahlah said with a laugh. "Because her real daughter would never change out of her sweatshirts voluntarily."

Shahlah nibbled on her thumbnail thoughtfully and said, "What about you keep the picture, and make it part of your practice album. And if you are getting something out of it, we could do another session next Saturday."
 
He nodded, giving her a smile,"Sounds good...it will give me something to look at from time to time when....." He fought with her mother again, and had to sleep here alone, his stepdaughter and son made him happy if he could show her how beautiful she was it was a win in his book. Moving to the cabinet, the cabinet drawer that had started it all, he stashed the book and moved to clean up his mess.

True to her word her mother arrived half an hour later with an attitude and a desire to fight, but as always the only sign of this was a few terse whispered sentences and the light in his office being on for longer than anticipated. The week rolled by, as it did, and to anyone in the house it was clear that other than one night, during which Shahlah heard them arguing the whole night, he clearly didn't come any closer to resolving his martial problems or getting to sleep in an actual bed.

So Saturday rolled around, Mom was gone and Stephen was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper, looking a little tired and defeated.
 
More than a few of Shahlah's friends noted that she was in a particularly good mood that week. They weren't the only ones who noticed. Shahlah had always had the reputation at school as that nerdy girl who might be knd of cute if she tried. Maybe it was the boost of confidence her father had given her, but a few jocks actually noticed her, and one even tried to chat her up.

Shahlah was having none of it. She had her friends, her classes...and now she might have Saturday mornings. She had known about what it took to be the subject of a portrait. A real portrait, not one that used a photo. But it was kind of exciting to be the subject of a portrait, She still doubted she looked as good as her stepfather portrayed her to be. But the doubts weren't as big as they had been in the past.

She wondered what she should wear though. Part of her was tempted to dress up as a barbarian princess, particularly since she had made tha Vallejo remark. But first, she wouldn't know where to get a costume like that, and two, she wouldn't have the nerve to wear something like that, not even in private where her father would be the only one to see her.

But the idea of a costume made her think that she should wear some kind of theme outfit. So Saturday morning, after she did her workout in her room, she decided to go down n her workout clothes. This consisted of shorts that reached down almost to her knees, white calf socks and cross training shoes and a grey sports bra. She was tempted to wear just the sports bra, but in the end, she chickened out and put a gray T-shirt over her sports bra. She left her hair in a loose ponytail and headed downstairs.

She was about to happily greet her father when she saw him sitting at the breakfast table, when she stopped before starting. Her father looked a little rough, and she hoped he wasn't feelkng sick or something.

"Are you okay Dad?" she asked, looking at him with concern.
 
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