'No, no, for myself, I would prefer to see her leaning over the wash,' said another. Two others were adamant that they could only do justice to their subject if she was crouched down. Yet one was all for her presenting her bottom to the class whilst the other, somewhat confused about domestic positions, I considered, wished to see her on her back. 'As though she has had a slight mishap on a slippery floor,' he explained somewhat unconvincingly. Cousin Algernon let the argument rage for some minutes until it quickly became apparent that no one faction was in the ascendancy. 'Gentlemen,' he said, raising his voice to cut through the uproar. 'Since I can see that agreement is not be to easily reached, I have an alternative idea.'
With that he clicked his fingers and a small but sturdy kitchen table was conjured up, along with a rolling pin and a large quantity of dough. 'May I present Madame Babette Kneading Dough!' With the flourish of an experienced actress, Babette marched across to the table and in one flamboyant motion, shed her purple gown. A gasp of admiration rose up from the assembled gentlemen artists, for underneath she was utterly and hugely naked. With an exquisite sense of timing, she leant over the table and seized the soft, pliant mound of dough. As she forced her hands into it, squeezing it back and forth, then shaping it and thumping it flat again, her breasts swung between her arms, her belly rubbed against the table and her tremendous buttocks jiggled up and down with the effort of her labours. Her audience stared at her open mouthed, hardly moving, so transfixed were they by this vast vision of nakedness. From the back of the assembly there came a stifled groan. Several were visibly shaking with suppressed artistic inspiration. Then first one and then a second, pulling themselves together, took up their brushes and squeezed paint on to their palettes. Next there was a scraping of easels and stools as a number of them began to move into their preferred positions. I noticed that he who had been loudly in favour of the kneeling-seen-from-behind pose rapidly moved into the appropriate line-of-sight. I also noticed that he stationed himself within no more than an arms length of the twin subjects of his delight as they rose and fell in their majestic rhythm. 'Alas, I grow increasingly short-sighted,' he said hurriedly in order to justify his close proximity to Babette's bottom! 'A more convincing excuse if only he were wearing an eye glass or spectacles,' whispered Gwendolen, nudging me gently. The three of us were now standing quietly against the wall as this amazing tableau vivant unfolded itself before our fascinated eyes. Now the gentlemen fell to their painting with a quiet but splashy intensity. Brushes charged with full loads of paint were slapped and smeared on canvases. By the sweeping motions of their paint strokes I could understand that the great curves of Babette's body were being energetically, if none too skilfully, transferred to canvas. Cousin Algernon, in his role of teacher, moved from one to another, advising and encouraging. Here he deftly showed one how to mix a convincing flesh tone. There he demonstrated how to achieve the fullness of texture demanded by the subject. Meanwhile Babette plunged and swung and thrust and kneaded. At one point the self-declared short-sighted gentleman crouched down on the floor peering intently up between her massive thighs. 'So difficult to catch the play of light and shade low down,' he muttered, with even less conviction this time. 'Ah, yes, a close scrutiny of his subject is a sign of a true artist,' replied Cousin Algernon. 'But you would not wish to impede the view of your fellow artists I believe.'
A little reluctantly, the myopic enthusiast withdrew, understanding that a polite reprimand had been given. Then Babette paused in her labours. 'Please, gentleman. A moment's rest for Madame Babette,' said Cousin Algernon. A subdued ripple of disappointment ran round the room but this was instantly replaced by a collective sigh of pleasure as Babette stood upright and then slowly stretched herself. All eyes were on her as she displayed the full splendour of her body. Paint dribbled unattended from wavering brushes. Several of the gentlemen sat down with shudders of emotion, some almost bent double as if in pain. Trousers were hastily adjusted and first one and then another hurriedly left the room in order to answer an urgent call of nature. Babette turned to our direction, her lush pussey hair standing out proudly against her flesh, and winked very slightly at us. I smiled back but swiftly resumed my most demure countenance. George stepped forward and handed her her robe which she put on with an easy but most provoking twitch of her shoulders. 'A short break for refreshment before we resume our artistic endeavours?' suggested Cousin Algernon as a decanter and glasses made their appearance. After ten minutes or so, Cousin Algernon called upon his class to resume their places. 'Another three quarters of a hour will be enough,' he said to us quietly. 'I find that my more mature students can only stand a couple of hours.
Such is the intensity of the artistic experience that for the most part they will be quite drained and more than ready to adjourn quietly to their clubs or their homes.' So the second half of the art lesson passed. Babette, clearly a woman of considerable stamina, ploughed her swaying, quivering way through a second mountain of dough. As she sprinkled flour on hands and board to prevent the mixture sticking, smears of flour and dough transferred themselves to her face, her forearms and even to the Himalayan mounds of her bosom.
As first a lump of dough clung from one dark plum-like nipple and then as a sifting of flour settled on her luxuriant bush, so the brush work of the amateur artists became more and more wild and erratic. As though in sympathetic response, flecks and gobbets of pigment landed on smocks and faces. Whilst some were working themselves up to a positive frenzy of strokes and dabs, so others began to grow slack and exhausted. Eyes began to glaze over and brushes wilted in trembling hands. Soon several members were standing open-mouthed, sucking air into their labouring lungs like athletes at the end of a long foot race. Babette herself began to move slower and slower, though still driving and pummeling the dough. Beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and trickled down her heaving flanks. As she breathed ever more deeply her chest expanded and contracted and her enormous breasts undulated, rising and falling in a surging tide of flesh. Her well-planted legs flexed and trembled while her short-sighted posterior attendant, knees buckling, lowered himself on to his stool and sat there gasping for air like a landed trout. 'Time, gentlemen, please,' said Cousin Algernon. 'I feel we have accomplished enough for one evening.' There was a half-hearted groan of disappointment but fatigue had indeed caught up with the best part of them. 'I hope though that you will all come again,' he continued.
'I suggest we reconvene in two weeks time at the same hour. I propose to join you in attempting to do justice to Babette Kneading Dough. If I am satisfied with my own work, I might, when it is completed, put it up for auction, restricting the bidding to those here present.'