Rinko leaned back against the door, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling violently with each gulp of air, that breathtaking curve on her body shifting with every breath.
She did not dare look at Tanaka. She buried her face in her smooth black hair, her voice trembling like she had just finished an 800-meter sprint.
"J-just this once! It is only... only for reference! You are not... not allowed to get any weird ideas!"
It sounded half like she was psyching herself up, and half like she was warning him, announcing her bottom line in a tone tragic enough to belong on a battlefield.
Tanaka almost burst out laughing at how adorably fierce yet hollow she looked.
"Of course, Kurosawa-san. Please rest assured, I am a reference model with professional ethics." He spoke with a straight face. "Our goal is to pursue the most authentic state possible. So... where shall we begin? Should we start from basic observation of muscle lines, or move directly into stress-response testing under dual-person movement?"
This string of high-flown, artfully phrased dirty talk successfully yanked Rinko out of the panic of "I am about to do something indecent with a man in the pantry" and back into the mindset of "I am conducting a serious academic study". Her embarrassment eased considerably.
Her breathing slowly steadied. When she raised her head again, her cheeks were still flushed pink, but there was already a spark of artistic focus and curiosity in her eyes.
"Let us start with... with what you mentioned before... the arm muscles." she whispered, her voice still carrying a faint tremor.
"Very well." Tanaka nodded, then casually rolled his T-shirt sleeve up, revealing his solid forearm.
His body after transmigrating was the textbook type that looked slim with clothes on, but distinctly muscular without.
Years of "forearm training" had left his arm lines beautifully shaped. The muscles were clearly defined, powerful, yet not grotesquely exaggerated like a gym-obsessed bodybuilder's.
Rinko's gaze was instantly hooked.
"Use your strength," she ordered, slipping naturally into the professional tone of an artist directing a model.
Tanaka obeyed and slowly clenched his fist.
In an instant, the muscles in his forearm swelled and stood out, veins coiling beneath the skin like tiny dragons, twisting in a vivid pattern.
The smooth, flowing shape of the muscles shifted into a structure built of sharp, angular blocks ready to erupt with power.
"Ah..." A soft sound of amazement slipped from Rinko's lips before she could stop it.
This kind of living, breathing change, full of life, was something no photo or video could truly capture.
She felt her creative inspiration erupting inside her like a volcano.
By pure reflex, she wanted to reach for her tablet to sketch a quick study, but halfway through the motion, she remembered they were in the pantry.
"Just looking... is not intuitive enough," Tanaka chimed in at the perfect moment, speaking in a gentle, guiding tone. "You cannot just look, you need to touch. The hardness of the muscle, the temperature, the faint trembling under different levels of exertion... all of these are crucial elements for creating a sense of realism. Do you not want to feel it for yourself, Sensei Kurosawa?"
That word, "Sensei", was like a shot of courage straight into her heart. Her bravery ticked up another notch.
After a brief hesitation, she made up her mind and slowly extended her slender, pale hand. Her fingertips, cold and soft, touched down on Tanaka's hot, rock-hard forearm with a feather-light, tentative pressure.
"Oh my God..."
It was like an electric current ran from her fingers straight through her entire body. Rinko's mind went blank.
This was a sensation she had never experienced. Hard, burning, overflowing with male strength, like a dormant volcano hidden beneath the skin.
Her fingertips could clearly feel the texture of his muscle fibers, could almost sense the rush of blood flowing under the surface, carrying heat with it.
This was nothing like what she had imagined.
This was more real, more sensual, than any picture she had ever drawn.
Her face flared red all at once, like steam might start billowing off her head at any moment. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, pounding like it wanted to leap straight out of her throat.
Tanaka watched her dazed expression and knew the first step had been taken.
The smile on his lips deepened.
"Now I will relax." he said softly, slowly loosening his fist.
Rinko immediately felt the change beneath her fingers. The rock-hard tension softened into a supple elasticity. That transition from hard to soft delivered another jarring shock to her senses.
This is so much fun.
"This is what I meant by dynamic." Tanaka's voice slid into her ear like a devil's whisper. "Next, we should study a more central area... for example, how power flows through the waist and abdomen."
As he spoke, he tugged his T-shirt up from the hem, revealing sharply defined abs and a sinfully deep Adonis belt.
Rinko's breath stopped.
If the arm muscles were a demonstration of strength, then the lines of the abdomen were the physical embodiment of male hormones.
Those neatly arranged abdominal muscles, the seductive V-lines disappearing into his waistband... for an illustrator who worked with anatomy every day, it was a piece of supreme art, more potent than any aphrodisiac.
Her gaze had completely shifted now, from initial shyness and resistance to the crazed obsession of an artist.
"Turn... turn around." she ordered hoarsely, her voice rough at the edges, then unconsciously swallowed hard.
Tanaka obediently turned his back to her, presenting the smooth, flowing lines of his back.
This time, Rinko did not hesitate. She placed both hands flat against him at once.
From the broad shoulders, to the tight lat muscles, and down along the powerful line of his waist...
Her hands moved over his back, not simply touching a man's body, but examining a masterpiece of Greek sculpture come to life, measuring the contours of a statue that had stepped off its pedestal.
...