Cover Model (5 page)

What am I going to do?

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

ELECTRA

“Shall we?” Connor smirks, showing off his perfect teeth.

At the sight of those even white teeth, another aspect of my painful past comes crashing instantly back. I try not to snarl. Unlike me,
Connor
never needed braces in high school. Before I got braces,
my
teeth looked like a graveyard full of tombstones after a tornado hit.
His
teeth were naturally perfect. But I do believe he whitens them. Smoker’s teeth don’t come in that shade of fluorescent. Not that the brilliant white looks bad against his tan skin and stubble. It looks quite—what am I thinking! I have work to do. I’m a journalist, not one of his rabid groupies. “Shall we what?” I growl. “Start the interview already? Sounds like a great idea.”

“I wasn’t talking about the interview…”

I follow his gaze to the disheveled king size bed. The sheets are everywhere, revealing the plush pillow top mattress.

That breaks the spell. A firestorm of rage explodes inside my chest. “Can I get you a cigarette?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you, you know—” I motion toward the bed with my chin, sounding friendly and sarcastic at the same time, “—want to take a moment to maybe enjoy a few puffs on a Marlboro? I know you liked to smoke in high school, and I imagine you’d want a cigarette
AFTER YOU JUST FUCKED SOME RANDOM SKANK IN THAT BED!!!
”

After a long silence, Connor breaks into a self-satisfied laugh.

“Jesus, Connor! Did you seriously think I’d have sex with you
right after
you had sex with someone else? In the
same
bed?! I was standing right there when she walked out! How long is your memory?”

“Not half as long as my dick,” he smirks.

It’s long all right, and still a throbbing hot rod that is noticeably twitching in time with his heartbeat. Looking away, I shake my head in awe. “I can’t believe your audacity, Connor! Are you still trying to get me to have sex with you?”

He lifts his eyebrows, grinning from ear to ear.

“Gosh, Connor. Maybe I should take a number first.” I stride to the hotel room door.

“Where are you going?”

I whip the door open and twist my head from side to side, looking back and forth along the empty hotel hallway. “Just checking to see how long the line of bimbos is.”

He laughs like this is all some big joke.

Maybe it is.

I slam the door closed and stare him down over my glasses, my fists on my hips. “News flash, Connor. I have a job to do. If I don’t get this interview, I will not get paid. If I don’t get paid, I can’t make rent. Someone like you probably has no idea what that even means.” I scowl at him like he’s a steaming mound of toxic waste.

He stares at me, blank faced.

I hike my eyebrows. “Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Damn, Warmoth. I forgot how gorgeous you are when you’re mad.”

I blink several times. “What the hell are you talking about, Connor?”

“Look in a mirror. Most girls go ugly the second they lose their cool. Their faces bunch up like a paper sack. Yours doesn’t.”

Although there’s a huge mirror mounted to the wall over the low chest of drawers, I refuse to look at it. “Grow up, Connor. I’m here for your interview. That’s it.”

“How much?”

“What?!” I gasp. Then I figure it out. “I’m not a
hooker
, Connor! I’m a reporter! Jesus! You never quit!”

“Nope. Never.” He grins smugly. “Anyway, how much are they paying you?”

I shake my head, totally lost. “What are you—?”

“For the interview? How much are they paying you to do this interview?”

“That’s none of your business, Connor!”

“All I’m saying is, if they don’t pay you, I’ll cover it.”

“What?! Why?!” I sound like I’m losing my mind. The truth is, I’m so confused right now I really am starting to lose it. Connor
always
did this to me. He literally makes me insane.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess because I wouldn’t want you to miss your rent payment. Getting evicted is a bitch.” His words are soft and sincere.

I’m taken aback. “Um,
thanks
?”

He smiles instantly. “Any time. So, about this interview?”

There’s a knock at the hotel door.

“What?!” I shout as I yank it open.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

ELECTRA

“Did we come at a bad time?” Romeo asks.

He’s flanked by two people: a man with camera bags and lighting equipment, and a woman with what looks like makeup cases.

I lean toward Romeo and mutter, “I thought there weren’t supposed to be any photographs until the unveiling?” I’m thinking about what Vince told me on the phone earlier, but if it’s okay to snap photos of Connor’s secret face, I’ll whip out my smart phone and take a bunch of candids and upload them to Vince with a headline inside of sixty seconds.

MYSTERIOUS HEARTTHROB CONNOR HUGHES FINALLY COMES CLEAN. Exclusive Exposé to follow…

I don’t want anyone beating us to the punch.

“They’re with the convention,” Romeo says, motioning to the people with him. “Margaret asked me to escort them up here.”

Great. I haven’t even started my interview. I need a settled room if I’m going to do it right. These people will be a distraction. Interview subjects aren’t apt to reveal the kind of sensitive information that makes for a juicy Q&A if they aren’t relaxed. This is a disaster. If I have any hope of uploading my article before my deadline runs out, I need everybody out of here.

Romeo strides into the room like he’s on a mission. He stumbles to a stop when he sees naked Connor standing by the bed. He gasps, “What have you two been
doing
in here?!”

“Nothing,” I grunt. Am I surprised that Connor’s cock is still half erect? No. And how does it make me look being in the room with him naked? At least I’m dressed, which gives me plausible deniability. I don’t intend to be a part of Connor’s steamy story. I’m just the reporter.

“Did you shoot video?” Romeo demands. “I’d pay good money to watch your sex tape.”

“We didn’t do anything,” I grumble.

Romeo’s eyes dart between me and Connor.

Connor shrugs, “I tried. Couldn’t get her chastity belt off.”

“Do you need a key?” Romeo pulls a massive jingling keyring out of his black vinyl trench coat. “I have plenty.”

“What are all those for?” I marvel.

“Chastity belts. Handcuffs. Padlocked bondage outfits and ball gags.” He shrugs. “The usual. You never know when you might get stuck and need a key.”

“What was your name again?” Connor laughs.

Romeo twirls his hand in the air and does a low courtly bow. “Romeo Fabiano, at your
dis
service,” he says impishly. “I always aim to
tease
.”

“Where should we set up?” the guy with the camera bags asks as he shoulders into the room lugging his gear, followed by the woman with the makeup cases.

The makeup woman stops in her tracks when she sees Connor and his cock. “Ahhhh… should we come back later?”

The photographer is all business, already setting up his gear. “We can shoot him from the waist up. It’s fine.”

“But I have to put his makeup on first,” the woman says. Her own makeup is conservative but artful. She gives me a nervous glance. “I’m Beverly. You can call me Bev. Pleased to meet you.”

We shake hands.

“Nice to meet you.” Now she has an ally. I can tell she’s uncomfortable being in the room with naked Connor and the photographer. The photographer has scraggly long hair, a blurry tattoo of a naked woman on his pale upper arm, and those yellow tinted shooting sunglasses. He reminds me of a sketchy gun-toting anarchist. What woman wouldn’t be nervous in this situation? It’s not like Romeo is going to pull a laser rifle out of his Matrix trench coat and save Bev and I if the men get out of hand. I smile at her, “My name is Electra.”

“That’s a nice name,” she says warmly before setting her makeup cases on the low chest of drawers along the wall. She starts unpacking them with practiced skill.

“I’m Ted,” the photographer says to me, offering his hand. His jagged smile says he’s trying to flirt.

Ted? Like, Ted Bundy? The serial killer?

“Nice to meet you,” I say politely, withholding my name even though he probably heard me give it to Bev. I’ve dealt with crazies on assignment in the past, but Ted seriously skeeves me out, and I don’t skeeve easily. I briefly shake his hand, which is rough and calloused. He seems like the kind of guy who likes to tie women up and lock them in his filthy roach-infested sex bunker. His hands are probably calloused from tightening all his itchy sex bunker ropes. Poor women. I repress a shiver.

I notice Connor’s eyes are pinned on Ted. He’s watching the guy like a hawk. What’s that about?

Ted says to me, “So, why are you here again?”

“I’m doing the interview.”

“Oh? Who do you work for?”

Why do Ted’s questions make me feel like he’s invading my privacy? “Uh,
Trending Magazine
?” It’s not like telling him that reveals anything important about me.

“Do you have your own blog or Facebook or something? Where you post your articles?”

“Um, no,” I lie. Ted is making me increasingly uncomfortable.

“Do you have a card? I do a lot of freelance photography for other journalists. Maybe we could exchange emails and—”
I could tie you up in my smelly sex bunker and lick your face with my filthy tongue
“—work together some time?”

A deep voice booms behind Ted. “You sure ask a lot of questions for a photographer, Ted,” Connor says ominously. He’s a mountain of muscle towering over the smaller man.

Ted nearly jumps when he notices how close Connor is standing. The fact that Connor is
very
naked and standing mere inches behind Ted adds a certain Jailhouse Justice vibe to the moment. Ted gulps audibly.

Connor says to him, “Maybe you should get to work setting up.
Ted
.”

Relief washes over me. I turn my head to the side, repressing a grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ted grumbles nervously as he retreats to the far corner of the room. He starts snapping together a lighting tripod while shooting dirty looks at Connor’s back.

Wow, I can’t believe Connor stood up for me. That’s a first. I didn’t think he had a nice bone in his body.

Bev turns to Connor, “Do you mind if I start your makeup?”

“Sure. Where do you want me?” Connor grabs a pair of black boxer briefs off the floor and steps into them.

Bev relaxes noticeably now that Connor’s privates are covered. “How about by the window where the light is good?”

“Sounds great.” Connor sits on the table top.

Bev goes to work applying foundation with a foam wedge.

Connor glances at me. “Why don’t you start with your questions, Warmoth. I’ve got nothing but time.”

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

CONNOR

“First question,” Electra says, facing me in a chair by the window.

“Shoot—”
my load all over that pretty mouth of yours,
my mind finishes. Electra is crazy fuckin hot. I can’t stop staring at her sweet-ass lips. I would kill to have her wrap that fiery mouth of hers around my cock and go to town. My dick is raging in my boxer briefs. It’s pointing straight at her. I may have fucked Babe What’s Her Name an hour ago, but I’d do anything to have Electra hike up her skirt and sit on my dick. Then I’d grab those perfect hips of hers while she rode me like a horse at a merry-go-round. I want to come inside her so bad right now I can’t think straight.

Fuck.

I’m going nuts.

Speaking of nuts, thanks to my hard on, my boxers are all bound up and digging into my balls. I shift on the table, trying to get some relief. I feel bad for Bev, but she’s a trooper. She ignores my giant rager and applies my makeup like this is business as usual. Who knows? Maybe it is. Maybe she does makeup for porn.

“How did you get started as a cover model?” Electra asks. “Were you discovered? I’m sure your fans would love to know.”

I smirk to myself.

Being a model seems great until you know why I became one. Then you wouldn’t wish my life on your worst enemy. But nobody wants to hear that sad shit. They want a glory story. How I got discovered surfing or base jumping, or shit, while I was working at a gas station. And how everything was golden after that: money, bitches, mansions, blah blah blah.

People want to hear about rags to riches.

Not rags to shit.

Nobody wants to believe that being any kind of celebrity is weird and twisted and so much bullshit I avoid like the plague.

“Well?” Electra prompts.

“My agent saw me in a club on Sunset. Told me she wanted to represent me.” It’s true enough. Five years ago, Gloria Powers took one look at me in that club and drove me back to her place where we fucked until morning.
Then
she offered to rep me. I didn’t even know she was an agent. She was hot. I wanted to fuck her. End of story. It turned out she was a bitch in bed, which I liked. Seemed like she’d be a good agent. So why the fuck not?

“Is that it? Just, ‘Here’s my card, Connor, call me for representation’?” Electra sounds amused.

“Pretty much.” Like I said, the truth is uglier than fiction, and people want the fiction.

“That sounds boring, Connor. Maybe you’d like to embellish it a bit? For your fans?”

Damn, when did Electra develop fuckin mind-reading radar? “What do you want, Warmoth? My life story? You already know it. We grew up together.”

“I don’t know you, Connor. Just because we went to the same high school doesn’t mean I know the first thing about you.”

“Whaddya mean? We talked practically every damn day at North Valley.”

“You
harassed
me every day, Connor. I’d hardly call it talking.”

“True.” Thinking back, I sort of feel like a dick. I was hard on her, but I didn’t know how else to get through her thick skin. She never opened up to anybody that I knew of. I don’t think she had friends. Not
real
friends. Shit, neither did I. Most of those fuckin jocks were just good time buddies. Just because you talk to the same people every day doesn’t mean they’re your friends. As sappy as it sounds, there was something about Electra that made me think maybe me and her could relate on a deeper level. We were both cut off from everybody. Maybe I was wrong. Who knows. I was a dumb kid back then.