I Dare U 02

Hi Everyone, Welcome to I Dare U.

To refresh your memory. My name is Anne. I am twenty-seven years old and live on the north side of Brisbane. I have a little quirk that has caused me almost intolerable anxiety and apprehension. On the bright side, with help from my husband's wicked imagination, I have been driven to some incredible heights of arousal. My little quirk, I can't resist a dare. The more exposed I might be and the higher the risk of being caught, the harder it is for me to refuse.

Trust me, I've tried, but when it comes to crunch time, my resolve crumbles, and I give in.

~~oo0oo~~

Big Bash Cricket

This dare could have been far worse than it was. Ian considered the risk factor way off the scale to do it in any other place or time. Although I must admit, thoughts of other possibilities, such as State of Origin or a Five Day Test Match, got my blood pumping.

My dare was to go to a women's big bash (WBBL) cricket match.

Easy, you say. No problem, I hear. That's what I thought. Keep in mind Ian's wicked imagination.

The match was between Brisbane Heat and Perth Scorchers and was to start at eleven o'clock. Ian booked us into a motel near the field so we didn't have to deal with traffic and parking problems. It was an easy walk to the ground from there. Even though I'm not a real dedicated sporty, I got more excited as match time got closer. We had just finished eating our breakfast when there was a knock at the door. I looked at Ian, and all he did was grin, then stood up.

As he walked past me, he reached out and held my chin between his thumb and finger. He smiled, then said, "I dare you," before opening the door.

I had no idea who the two people were, a male and a female, or why they were there. I looked back and forth at Ian and the two visitors as he invited them in. I was sitting on the bed in one of Ian's shirts.

Our visitors came in, and Ian closed the door. They were each carrying cases that looked like camera cases. My hands attempted to secure a few more buttons, but Ian stopped them.

With a devilish grin, he leaned toward me and whispered, "I dare you," then introduced our visitors and explained why they were in our motel room at nine-thirty in the morning. To say I was shocked was an understatement.

When he finished, he turned to me and repeated for all to hear, "I dare you to go to a women's big bash cricket match,"

I was speechless and stared blankly at him and our visitors. I had already forgotten their names but didn't think that mattered anymore. I sat there, still unable to speak, as Ian helped me stand and undid the only button holding my shirt closed. My arms, hanging by my sides, never lifted my hands to try to stop him. My mouth was dysfunctional. My shirt pooled around my feet.

Ian moved in behind me, lifted my hands onto the top of my head and held them there, then whispered sweet nothings in my ear while our visitors went to work.

An hour later, the two visitors stepped away from me and declared they had finished. I was dumbfounded. I looked like the hottest Brisbane Heat supporter you could ever imagine. I was 'wearing' the active-wear version of a player's shirt, including sponsor's badges, my name and a number. On the bottom half, I was 'wearing' a pair of three-quarter active-wear tights, ankle socks and my usual gym shoes. I looked in the mirror and could not believe what I was seeing.

Before I could question Ian or our visitors, it was time to leave, and Ian virtually pulled me out the door. We walked out of the motel and into a public park towards Allan Border Field to watch a women's big bash cricket match. My body wanted to run back to the motel room, my mind telling me to act normal, behave like nothing was out of the ordinary. Christ, I was nervous.

I tried my hardest to act blase. Heads were turning toward me, then turned away. There were a few grins and a few stutters, but all in all, not a lot of people even noticed. There was more blue than orange queued up at the gates, and apart from the double-take looks from those close to me, I looked just like another supporter. I was more relaxed when I got to the turnstiles and handed over my ticket. The young ticket collector looked me up and down and smiled, so I gave him a wink and kept walking.

When we got to our seats, the players were on the field. Ian had bought tickets in a less populated area, so I was a little less concerned about what I was 'wearing'. I watched as the players went to their positions, and the game started. As everyone knows, these games turn into a bit of a bash fest, and the ball gets hit over the fence quite a lot. Of course, the supporters of the batting team react appropriately, cheering, throwing their arms in the air signalling a six and jumping up and down. The enthusiasm increased as the scores got closer together, and the balls yet to be bowled got less. Much to Ian's pleasure, I was no different.

Some spectators started one of those Mexican waves, and even with the small crowd, it travelled around the ground fairly quickly. Of course, I couldn't resist the temptation to join in. It wasn't until the third lap that I realised that almost everyone around me was turning their heads to watch me when we all quickly stood up and then sat down again as we waved our arms in the air.

As the final scores edged closer together, the cheering got more boisterous. To Ian's amazement, I was right in there amongst it. I was screaming and yelling, jumping up and down with the rest of them. My concerns about what I was 'wearing' had been swamped by the friendly combative atmosphere of the game and the supporters around me.

Two balls and four runs to win. Everyone was on edge. CRACK. One ball and three runs. Someone yelled, "Hit the fucken thing, don't tickle it," and the batter did. CRACK, Four. We won by one run. The Brisbane Heat fans went wild, and so did I. Everyone within twenty feet of me stopped and stared. I kept jumping around and cheering until I sensed something had happened. I stopped. It took me a couple of seconds to figure out why they had stopped, and I blushed so furiously that I felt like I was going to self-ignite.

Before I realised what was happening, Ian herded me to the nearest exit, and then as inconspicuously as possible, we made our way back to the motel. I was still buzzing from what had happened at the game.

When I calmed down, I thought about how much fun I'd had and remembered the numbers five, four, seven and two that had been up on the big scoreboard screen. I smiled and thought, The only thing between me and five thousand four hundred and seventy-one people had been body paint and a few pieces of medical tape. Trust me, Ian didn't get a wink of sleep that night.

~~oo0oo~~

A Day in The City

Ian and I decided to spend the day in the city. There was no real commitment to do anything except just wandering and enjoying our surroundings, especially South Bank and the Botanical Gardens. We also agreed to take as many ferry trips as possible, transferring to and from, and getting on and off when we wanted, for lunch etc. The predicted weather was sunny and warm high thirties, so spending our day on the river sounded a bit cooler.

Brisbane has two types of river ferries. The big twin hulls (City Cats) go up and down the river, and the little wooden mono hulls go across it. Recently the little ferries were auctioned to private buyers, and some have been beautifully restored or modernised.

I first suspected Ian was up to something when we left the house, and he was carrying his camera. My last experience with Ian's camera left me high on arousal and low on morals. This time I was wearing less clothing, a light cotton button-up dress, and g-string panties, no bra. Brief glimpses of memories came back as we got in the car and headed for our nearest ferry terminal.

We boarded the City Cat and sat down in the back.

As soon as we departed, Ian said, "For your first dare, I dare you to stand here and take your g-string off, then hand it to me."

I looked around and then at Ian. I had picked up on the 'for your first dare' and smiled to myself with anticipation. I could feel my pussy stir, my clit and nipples harden and tingle, and my arousal was being fueled and stoked.

Two other people boarded the ferry with us and sat inside the cabin. I did another quick visual sweep, looked back at Ian and held his gaze as I stood up. My hands slid up my thighs to my hips, and my thumbs hooked in the waist string and gently tugged downwards. As they slid down, my arousal went up. My pussy, was almost dripping with expectation as I held my g-string out for him to take.

"On the next ferry. I dare you to do the Titanic thing with your dress open," stated Ian quietly and calmly. Like I've said before, Ian's wicked imagination is out there.

My mouth gaped. A great rush of pictures flashed before my eyes. A virtually naked me, standing at the bow of a ferry as it crossed the Brisbane River, heading towards its next stop. Ian explained what I had to do, and my anxiety skyrocketed. I was to get off and wait. He would go to the next stop, get off, and wait. When the ferry returned, I was to get on and travel to where he would be waiting. That way, Ian could get photos of me doing my almost naked figurehead pose as the ferry approached. Pictures of a crowded ferry terminal fueled my apprehension and, I admit, my arousal.

As the ferry approached the terminal, Ian repeated my dare before I stood up and walked toward the exit. My hands were shaking as I held the rails. My mind was trying to wish that the next terminal would be closed to the public. Ian smiled and waved as the little ferry birthed, and I disembarked. He waved again and mouthed the words I Dare You as the little ferry pulled away.

The ferry returned, gently bumping against the floating terminal, stirring me from my thoughts. I took a deep breath and boarded, walking straight to the bow and getting into position. I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. The skipper was looking back and forth from the terminal to the river. The crew was busy with the ropes. I nervously began undoing buttons, starting from the bottom and working up, then from the top down. By the time we departed, I was ready to go. With all the buttons undone, I held my dress shut.

I strained to see across the river to the next terminal looking for Ian, but it was too far. My little ferry lifted and bounced over the wake of a passing boat, and I had to let go of my dress to hold the rail. My dress fell open, and I quickly grabbed the two sides holding them to the rails with my hands. I swallowed hard and breathed deeply. I was now fully exposed to everyone in front of my Titanic.

We launched and headed across the river, my eyes nervously oscillating on the lookout for any approaching river traffic. Halfway across, I spotted Ian and was about to wave. The thought of my dress flying in the breeze had me holding on even tighter. I tried thinking of other things to allay my fears, but the constant cool breeze on my bare skin felt amazing. My libido was heating up and taking control, and I couldn't stop it. My pussy got wetter, my clit tingled, my nipples ached. I closed my eyes briefly and thought of naughty things. I pushed my tits up and out, seeking more caresses where I wanted them.

As we got closer, my eyes locked on the terminal, I saw someone with Ian. I cursed under my breath but held my stance. The closer my Titanic got, the harder my anxiety and arousal duelled. The person with Ian, waiting at the terminal, was an elderly lady in a mobility scooter, and she was holding up a phone. I suddenly realised she was videoing me, and I almost lost it.

I continued to watch them as she handed Ian the phone, and he kissed her on the cheek. I found out later that he had paid her twenty dollars. With a bump, I suddenly remembered where I was, and my fingers took off at lightspeed, darting up and down, doing up buttons. I got four out of ten before hurrying to the exit.

When I stepped onto the dock, the lady looked me up and down and commented, "At Woodstock, I'd've thrown the dress in the river," as she went past.

I could feel the heat of embarrassment spread across my chest and face. Ian thanked her again, and we waved as the little ferry headed back across the river.

After a day of exposing myself and the numerous extreme risks of being seen, to say I was horny came nowhere near describing my emotional state or level of arousal. I was beyond ready to get physical and enjoy my reward, or if it was up to me, my rewards. My mind wandered in that direction. The gentle cooling breeze was again caressing me.

Ian had positioned me on a rock wall with the city in the background. My left leg was up and bent, my foot resting on the wall. My dress had fallen open, exposing me almost to my waist. My right leg was relaxed and had rolled to the side, spreading them further apart. The top half of my dress was unbuttoned and billowed in the breeze. With the right angle, the view of my whole tit and nipple was complete.

"Would you like me to take a photo?"

I looked around, and behind me was a male in his mid-teens carrying a skateboard. I went to put my leg down, but Ian stopped me by whispering, "I Dare You," and I froze. I tried to look as calm as possible with my dress the way it was. Nevertheless, Ian handed the young man the camera and stood beside me. When the teenager lifted the camera and looked through the lens, his mouth gaped open before he smiled.

After he took the photo, Ian asked him if he would like one as a souvenir. His face beamed. Ian asked for his phone, which he surrendered enthusiastically. Ian had me turn my head toward the city before he moved to a position that helped to hide my face. When the teenager saw the picture, he smiled like a Cheshire cat and thanked us relentlessly as he skated away.

"His mates would never believe him without the pic," said Ian as we resumed our journey home.

My libido was raging like wildfire, and I was ready for action when we got to our car, but Ian had another plan.

Ian guided me to the backdoor of our car and opened it as if he were my chauffeur. On the seat was a fluffy white towel, a long stem red rose and my favourite vibrating dildo.

That was all the prompting I needed. My dress came off, and my vibrating dildo was on high. My first orgasm came moments after Ian started the car. I have no idea how many more I had or where he drove while I did. When we arrived home, he had my favourite drive-thru takeaway dinner and a chilled bottle of chardonnay.

I looked at him curiously, and he said, "With the windows down and the bottleshop guy dropped the first bottle,"

I felt a familiar tingle, the fish and chips got cold, and the wine got warm. Orgasms counted like a ticking scoreboard. Locations were like a treasure map of our house. My last orgasm in the bedroom pushed me over the cliff of exhaustion, and my world went black. Dreams, glorious dreams, filled my night.

Ian told me the next day that I had woken him a couple of times through the night, grunting and groaning as I humped my fingers in my sleep.

~~oo0oo~~

Before I go any further, I should let you know that Ebony did the, My Turn, Your Turn from my first I Dare U. I told her about Literotica and then dared her to write her stories.

~~oo0oo~~

The Street Artist

Our weekend began as it usually does. The weather had been hot and sunny all week, and the temperature constantly in the very high thirties (Celsius). Keeping cool isn't all that hard because Ian and I spend all our time at home in the nude, so we had been looking forward to the weekend.

Ian and I were up early to do a few things before it got too hot. We were sitting in the kitchen having breakfast when he said he'd seen this bloke doing street art and couldn't wait to see the result. Ian described the developing art in detail, and I must admit, it piqued my curiosity to have a look.

We decided to do some housework and then go to our favourite cafe for coffee. On the way home, we would have a look at the street art before doing the shopping. Hopefully, we would get back home before it got too hot.

After we finished the housework, I grabbed a light button-up dress Ian liked, and he pulled on his usual shorts and shirt. It was a short drive to the cafe, and I ordered while Ian got us a table. Ian explained that the street art was just a short walk away.

As usual, the coffee was great, and when we'd finished, Ian led the way. It was already getting hot, so we decided not to stay long.

When we approached the side of the building, I was speechless. The detail in the artwork was stunning. Even as Ian began talking with the artist or continued from before, I couldn't help staring blankly at the wall. There was a gap in the centre, like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle, but the overall scene was incredibly life-like. It made me feel as though I could walk into it.

I had no idea what they were talking about and didn't return to the present until Ian whispered, "I dare you," in my ear.

I stammered a reply, "I'm sorry, I beg your pardon,"

They both smiled, and Ian introduced Travis, then explained, "Travis said he needed to find a model, and I said, I dare you,"

I looked at Travis and back at Ian. "I dare you, what?" I asked, still a bit bewildered.

"I dare you to be Travis's model,"

As soon as he said it, I smelt a rat, but it was too late. The challenge was out there twice. The penny dropped a second later. This morning's visit was a set-up, and I had willingly walked straight into a dare. I stood there and waited for either Ian or Travis to explain.

Travis looked hesitant but was prompted into action when Ian cleared his throat.

"Umm, yeah, OK. What I need is for you to stand in different places and different poses in front of the wall so that I can get a picture of how it's all going to fit together," Travis paused for a moment, then dived his hand into a bag, and pulled out a plastic folder.

"One option is to paint you into the piece like this," Travis opened the folder and flicked through a few pages, showing me how the model became almost invisible. Considering the content and subject of the artwork, the model was painted into it as if covered with body paint camouflage matching her background.

"The second option is to paint you into the piece but have you in plain sight. Like this," said Travis as he stopped flicking through the pages. The pictures were of naked models, and they appeared as if the scenery was gradually consuming them. One looked as though the model was melting into the artwork. Another showed a naked woman wrapped in vines, and a third, a model walking along a laneway with her dog, and she was fading into transparency.

"I dare you to be Travis's model," said Ian, holding his hand out. I looked at his hand and then up at him. He knew I couldn't refuse. He knew I would give in and start undoing buttons. I looked at Travis, and all I saw was hope. I turned and gazed up and down the street, then back at the folder. My resolve crumbled, and I lifted my hands to the first button.

As my hands worked their way down, my apprehension levels escalated. The release of each button, like stairs to more apprehension, stoked my intensifying arousal, the release followed by a glance over my shoulder. I got to the last button, and my hands were shaking so much I had trouble getting it undone. Finally, it let go. I looked at anything and everything except Ian. I knew he was smiling. He'd done it again with another dare that pushed me to my uttermost limits. I was so flighty and ready to bolt I couldn't think straight. I was panting, trying to calm down.

I glanced over my shoulder, looked at Ian's hand, took as deep a breath as I could manage, then slipped my dress's straps off my shoulders and peeled it away from my body. I knew I was dragging my feet, probably hoping that someone would come and interrupt what was happening.

I gathered my dress in my hand and draped it over Ian's arm. I looked at Travis, probably hoping for a sign I was about to be told to put my dress back on. Travis looked down at my feet, and I got the hint. I was to be barefoot naked. The sandals came off, and Ian picked them up before taking a few steps back out of the way and out of reach.

Travis came over and offered his hand, which I took. I thought he was about to lead me to where he wanted me to stand. Instead, he turned me into a pirouette as he looked me up and down. Travis didn't comment but smiled his approval, then led me to the wall. He quietly and calmly explained what he wanted me to do.

"I need your mobile phone, please," asked Travis.

"Excuse me, You what?" I replied. My mind was shutting things out, trying to protect me and, at the same time, seeking any opportunity to make my body cover itself. It's a strange feeling having your instinctual modesty stripped away and intensified by the presence of a stranger. Ian must have noticed my anxious struggle and stepped up beside me. I felt his hand rest on my bum cheek and heard his comforting words whispered in my ear. What he couldn't see was my nervous system had me on the verge of vomiting.

"Can I have your mobile phone, please, because I'd like to take some pics of you in the poses against the wall, so you can see what you look like. You will have total possession of the pics and can do what you like with them after we decide which one is best,"

True to form, Ian piped up. "Here, use mine. My mates will never believe this," Travis just about had an apoplexy and stuttered a protest.

I glared at Ian. "You wish, pervert," I scoffed as I handed my phone to Travis. I laughed when Ian gave me a crestfallen look. Travis realised it was an attempt to ease my nervousness and smiled. It wasn't until Travis gently pulled my arm toward the wall that my reality returned, and I followed his lead.

My nervousness returned as Travis gave me instructions on how to pose. I would be standing there alone and unprotected as two clothed men openly looked at me and took pictures. Ian had no idea that I was so close to running. When Travis was satisfied with my position, he would take a couple of pictures, and we'd move on to the next one. I noticed each time Travis took a pic, so did Ian. After each one, he blew me a kiss. I knew his mates would never see them, but that didn't help me. It only saved him from retribution.

I don't know how many pics Travis had taken, but I must admit I didn't feel as nervous the more he took. My mind was accepting. My modesty was diminishing. With Travis's almost constant praise of my unskilled modelling efforts, I could feel myself relaxing more and more. Every so often, little reminders would crop up, but each time, I would take a deep breath and try to think of something other than being naked on a public street in the middle of the day.

Travis called a break, and we all gathered around my phone. My nervousness showed in the pics, but I soon visibly relaxed. Ian commented that I even started to move into poses without Travis's prompting.

After we decided on about six keepers, Travis handed me my phone to delete the leftovers. He looked at his watch and declared that it was almost lunchtime, so we would stop to have something to eat before continuing. Ian volunteered to get something to eat from the cafe and headed off before anyone could change his mind. I wanted to protest that I would be naked and alone with a man I'd just met, but the words were too slow coming out. Travis offered me a chair, and we sat and chatted while waiting for Ian to return. Travis noticed that I was fidgeting and looking around. "He took it with him," he calmly said. I almost screamed.

During our conversation, Travis told me he was a photographer and had ventured into painting as an adjunct when things were quiet. He started taking photos of things such as birds and then painted them off the photo. The painting then digressed into street art when a business asked him to paint a feature wall on the front of their building as advertising for what they did. It was a huge success, and painting soon outgrew photography.

"Here, I better give you this," He passed me an envelope and told me that the contract to do the artwork also catered for professional models. Travis told me that I was as good as, if not better than, all models he'd used before, so I was to consider it payment for my services. I thanked him and admitted that apart from being extremely nerve-racking, I had also enjoyed it. He then asked me if I would consider being his model again if he got a similar contract.

"Travis, I can't answer that until I talk to Ian. It was him that got me into this. The thing I'm finding hard to get my head around is that I am sitting here in a public street, naked and alone, let alone getting offered a job to be a nude model by a man I only met a couple of hours ago,"

Travis roared with laughter. "Certainly not the usual job interview and offer, is it?"

I laughed. "No, it's not, and my butterflies have returned ten-fold even thinking about willingly doing this again,"

Just then, Ian walked around the corner carrying the lunches and a fresh coffee each. As he got closer, I stood up and whispered to Travis, "Don't worry too much, Ian will say yes," Travis whispered back, "Thank you,"

As we sat and ate lunch, Travis told us about all the places he'd been and the things he'd painted. He told us how hard it was to find models that weren't mainstream and didn't act like preprogrammed stick figures when posing. He explained that the best model for his type of artwork is the everyday person off the street. They don't come with any preconceived ideas and are more natural. I thought to myself, this is as good a time as any.

"Ian, Travis has asked me if I would be interested in being his model for any future contracts he might get. I told him I'd discuss it with you first,"

Ian looked me up and down, then looked me in the eyes. I picked up on his silent question and winked. He winked back at me and turned toward Travis.

"It'll have to be weekends only," Ian stated.

"That's fine by me. Initially, I spend most of my time planning and sketching anyway," Travis waved his arm around in a big arc, then added. "Something like this can take a month from start to finish. Nearly all the painting is in the last few days. Sometimes at night. Yeah, I can work with weekends,"

Travis held out his hand, and we made a three-way handshake to seal the deal.

"OK, now it's time to get back to work," said Travis as he stood up and walked over to the paint table.

I stood up and asked, "Where do you want me?" It was out before I realised what I'd said. Ian laughed, and Travis went as red as a beetroot. "Shit, I'm standing here naked, and I can't believe I said that,"

"You can believe it, and there are two men here, probably with the same answer," stated Ian.

"Sorry, Travis," I apologised, then glared at Ian for adding to my embarrassment.

I did more different poses and positions before we called it quits, and Travis began packing up. Ian held up my dress so I could slide my arms in.

As I was buttoning up the front of my dress, Travis asked me for a contact number to let me know when he had finished. He also said that he'd need a number for when he would like me to model again. Without saying so, I gave him Ian's number. Ian knew I was using him to vet any calls and that there wouldn't be any contact without him knowing, and he discreetly nodded his acceptance.

We said our goodbyes, and Travis thanked me for being his model and that he looked forward to working together again soon.

When we arrived home after the shopping, I handed Ian the envelope.

"Travis gave me this while you were getting lunch. It's my payment for being his model. It's in his street art contract. I didn't show you before because I didn't want it to influence your decision about me being his model again,"

Ian opened the envelope before looking up at me.

"There's something else I need your help with," Before Ian could answer, I lifted the front of my dress and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I ran out of tissues over an hour ago. That cucumber and the ladies restroom at the supermarket were very tempting,"

So, I'm a girl. I squealed when he grabbed me, I squealed when he pulled my dress off, and I squealed as he chased me up the hallway into our bedroom. I didn't squeal when he caught me, though.

TUESDAY...

Ian strolled into my office, knocking on the door as he walked through the doorway.

"I just got a call from Travis. It's finished, and he'd like us to meet him there at lunchtime,"

"OK, I can manage that," I replied.

The first thing I always do when I get into my car after work is take off my damn bra. I considered this no different and flung it onto the passenger seat with my bag. I did the usual wriggling, scratching and rubbing, welcoming the removal of the restriction. After ten minutes of driving, Ian parked the car around the corner from the artwork.

Travis was standing there waiting for us and had a smile on his face like a Cheshire cat.

We stopped in front of the wall beside Travis. I was so astounded that my jaw dropped, and I dropped my bag. I was completely and utterly speechless.

"Holy Shit," Ian exclaimed.

The artwork was astounding. The intricacy was breathtaking. I was instantly drawn into it and couldn't look away.

There I was, centre frame, as large as life. If I'd been nude, it would've been like looking into a mirror. I'd have been easily recognised as the model. The closer I stepped, the more detail became apparent. The colour of my hair to the strawberry birthmark on my upper thigh. Even the rose-pink hue of my blatantly hard nipples and crinkled areola to the little tuft of hair that Ian always said tickled his nose. The more I looked, the more realistic and alive the scene seemed.

My face wasn't blurred or blacked out but in shadow from the same hat I had worn on the day. You could make out some facial lines, jawline, nose and brow, but there was no colour, no detail. I had my usual bag over my shoulder and was carrying a shopping bag. In the shopping bag was an item painted the same colour as the dress I'd worn.

The scene depicted an old Victorian-style arcade with curved and carved woodwork. The paned glass windows and shop fronts. The gas lantern style lighting and the signage proclaiming Watchmaker, Pawnbroker, Haberdashery, and Apothecary, to mention a few. The flooring was a kaleidoscope of mosaic tiles. People were there too, walking away or standing, window shopping.

The main subject(me) was walking through the arcade toward the observer, in all her unabashed glory, naked as the day she was born and obviously at peace with herself and her lack of attire.

I stood there for quite some time, taking in the complexity of the detail. The sensation of being there and witnessing it physically happening was hard to ignore.

Ian took some pics of the artwork and some with us in front of it. Travis thanked me, and we went our separate ways.

BTW, I've modelled for Travis twice since that day. They weren't dares but just as nerve-racking.