Shut Up and Model for Me (44 page)

He narrows his eyes. I know he won't give in. "Not at all. Just making sure we're on the same page."

I turn back to the models and relay what I want them to do. Evan rolls her eyes an uncountable amount of times, but doesn't argue. We're a team, and this is a job, regardless of how
unvirginal
she is in real life.

If more people know about mine and Evan's relationship, they'd think we were so weird. Maybe even disturbing. I mean, I make a living seeing my BFF in vulnerable and naked positions, and I enjoy it.

People need to take a chill pill when it comes to sex.

Dallas disrupts Evan from her innocent lounging and begins to strip her slowly. And she, like she hasn't been living with him for the past year and screwing him every morning, becomes drunk by his touch. He nibbles at her neck and she coyly succumbs, and Dallas tugs off the rest of her clothes.

"See, this is artful," Jaime remarks. I glance at him, and he has his pencil pressed to his lip thoughtfully. "If you went with the whole sorority-fraternity thing, a frat boy wouldn't be so subtle. He'd be douchier. Less sexy."

"Are you calling me sexy?" Dallas asks.

"Focus," I order.

"He has a point," Evan says, gasping in between her words as Dallas slips a hand between her legs.

I let them keep working, moving around the bed to change up my angles. "You're stereotyping frat boys. I'm sure some are sexy."

Sexy, yes. Dallas sexy, not so sure. There's a reason I hired him. There's also the fact that he's intelligent, educated, and knows how to treat a girl right. Guys like that rarely exist in undergrad.

But if the fantasy is played out, and the fantasy sells, maybe more guys will strive to be that way.

"What's so funny?" Evan asks. They're both totally naked now, sprawled out on the bed. Evan must have caught my smile and thought she was doing something wrong.

I shake my head. "Nothing. Just striving to change the world through porn is all."

CHAPTER SEVEN

When I arrive back home with Cam, the house is silent. It's nearly midnight and I know Mom and Dad must be asleep.

I check my email before heading to bed. I have a message from my publicist gushing about interest we've received so far from the media.

You could potentially be a game-changer in this industry
, the email says. A game-changer. I should be proud of myself, but there is something about working while I'm at home that's making me feel uneasy. As a person, I evolved. Women are afraid to admit a love for something like sex. They're worried about guys taking advantage of them or calling them whores. I had a fair share of that when I went to college, right when I began figuring out who I really was.

I lost my virginity in high school, but I was secretive about it. I avoided being called a whore or a slut. Hell, I even managed avoiding being called a bitch.

There's a thread on me in this forum online. I found it by Googling myself once when I was drunk. It was some men's rights forum... I should have known not to step into Trollsville.

I read her Huffington Post interview. This dumb slut thinks she can just walk in and get famous off an industry because she's a woman. Have you seen her softcore garbage? The only place a bitch belongs in porn is when she's being bent over and fucked on screen. Maybe McCulley needs to be shown her place.

I hold my head high and pretend people aren't saying these kinds of things about me, because it'll only affect my work if I dwell on it. Sometimes that nagging voice makes itself known—
you could have avoided this. Remember those days when you weren't called a slut or a bitch? Remember when you were insecure with yourself and kept up the good girl image because you were so afraid of being disowned by anyone because you loved sex?

I read the end of the email.
Here are the interviews I have lined up.
It's followed by a list of high-traffic blogs and a sprinkling of news sites.

Slut or not, this is who I am.

I slide my phone from my pocket and pull up my message thread with Jaime.

I miss you
, I type, and hover over the send button. The epiphany finally hits me that I'm afraid of him. Afraid this gentle, sexy, open-minded Jaime is just a lie and he's the unchanged boy I grew up with, a boy who really has a stream of thoughts similar to that forum post running through his head.

I delete the message. Then I trudge to my bed and belly flop onto my mattress, falling asleep with my clothes on.

///

When Jaime and Cam are invited to go golfing with my Dad, I know Jaime is getting onto really good terms with my parents.

Definitely better terms than he
was
on, even before the internship.

It seems that he's on better terms with Cam too. As they're packing their gear into Dad's Escalade, I hear them bantering like they used to in high school as I sit at the kitchen island and eat a late breakfast.

They start talking about girls, and I hear Cam list off the names of my models. He's asking Jaime who he thinks is hot as they walk into the kitchen.

Jaime and I make eye contact.

"I don't pick favorites," says Jaime. "Britain is the one who gets to be choosy with her models."

"They all know how to work with what they have." I slowly scrape my spoon along the edge of my yogurt bowl.

"You have to think one is hotter than the rest,” Cam says.

I slow-blink, and my eyes meet Jaime's again. He leans against the island and says. "I do think one is hotter than the rest," and nods toward me. My heart nearly stops in my chest as I think he's actually outing me and him to Cam before he tacks on, "Britain knows."

I exhale, attempting to cover my brief moment of terror with an indifferent shrug. "During his audition he won us over when Delilah worked him."

"I worked her," Jaime counters, and then smirks. "But yes, Delilah is a gorgeous woman."

"Eh," Cam says loudly, pulling orange juice from the fridge. "She's okay. Don't have a thing for redheads, really."

Jaime actually looks kind of irritated. "If you're seriously judging a girl's modeling by the color of her hair then you're doing it wrong. Jesus."

I snort my laughter, and quickly cover my mouth with the hand not holding my spoon.

Cam spins, his eyes darting between me and Jaime, looking suspicious. "Did Britain actually
laugh
at your joke? Wow... it's like the world has flipped on its axis. It's like bears no longer shit in the woods."

"Give me a break, Cam," I attempt indifferently, and then veer the conversation back on course. "What Jaime is saying is that confidence is what should make a model appealing."

"Boner-inducing," Jaime challenges slyly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Boner-inducing."

Cam shrugs, and the conversation is cut short when Dad enters the kitchen. "You two ready?" he says, giving me a side-hug and kissing me on the forehead. "Want to hang out at the driving range with all the men?"

"I'd rather eat rocks," I say cheerfully.

When Dad and Cam make to leave, Jaime ever-so-slightly runs his thumb along the skin of my bare back, where my tank top is hiked up and doesn't reach the hem of my shorts. He says nothing when he pulls away and leaves. And it's like only being allowed one lick of melting chocolate ice-cream on a hot summer day. And I kind of want to act like a toddler and scream for more. But I don't. I watch the boys leave in silence, and then turn my attention back to my work.

Andrea arrives at around eleven. After introducing her to mom as my "writer friend," I tell her to leave her luggage downstairs and she follows me up to my bedroom. It's time to start business.

When the door is closed and I know we're alone, I tell her in detail all of
the troubles I've had trying to find a theme, ending with the fact that I still don't have a storyline.

She frowns.

"The closest thing we came up with that was promising was something to do with sororities and fraternities, to keep the image young and fresh."

She mimics a gag.

"What?"
I nearly cry.

"The thing with Boston was that the whole haunted mansion theme was weirdly sophisticated." She shakes her head. "Same with the professor-student shoot with Dallas and Evan because
it was Dallas and Evan
and it was sexy instead of cheesy. But sororities and fraternities? Not sophisticated. Not at all. How would you work the erotic edge into it anyway? Naked beer pong? If you make hazing seem sexy, isn't that, I don't know, encouraging people to do stupid shit?"

I scowl and start to pace. "I don't know, okay? I'm good at taking pictures of naked people. Stories on the other hand..."

"I think you're being too afraid. The pictures you sent me last night of Evan and Dallas... it's the same poses they've been doing for a solid year. Him dominating her."

I cross my arms. "That's what they're good at."

"I know," she says. "They're so good that you haven't tried anything else. How do you know that Evan dominating Dallas won't be hotter than hell?"

I scowl, but mostly because I know she's right and I'm too prideful to admit it.

"My advice to you?" She sits on my bed. "Scratch the whole sorority-fraternity dream. I'll write a story about a bunch of friends who decide to rent a house in Malibu for a week-long vacation, and all the girls make a pact to seduce to boys."

I bite on my bottom lip, thinking. "Like, flipping gender roles?"

"Exactly," she says. "You won't need props or anything. The story will be in the house and in the action of the women."

I sigh. "All right, Andrea, you've convinced me. Now let's see if this is the key to making magic."

Thank god she is here. I feel more relaxed already. Andrea gives me a sense of courage—my right hand girl. Plus, she's much better at outlining than Jaime. I read through the notebook this morning.

Evan sticks hand down Dallas's pants.

The boy should definitely never take up poetry, that's for sure.

I drive Andrea over to Micah's house, and the second that we roll up to the gate, she already has her notebook out and is scribbling down ideas. "Holy crap, Brit, this house is insane. You know how many sexy things we could do with a glass house on the water?"

When I enter the house, it looks like the models have gone shopping; the kitchen is filled with boxes and bags of health and diet food. Evan and Delilah enter the kitchen in workout clothes and sweaty from a run. I order them into showers and hair and makeup.

"Now the question is, who should be my victims for my trial round?"

"Someone who you would least expect to be able to dominate a guy," says Andrea.

I frown. "Shouldn't we be taking baby steps here?"

"Nah," she says, pulling a diet soda from the fridge. "This should be an exercise for you as much as them. You should be letting go and learning to trust them."

I purse my lips before saying. "Alright, but if this goes awry, I'm blaming you. Chloe!" I yell, my voice echoing through the empty house. "Somebody get Chloe and Miguel into hair and makeup!"

Not knowing if anyone heard me, I make my way through the house to try and figure out the situation. Dallas and Evan took over the room we shot in last night, and Delilah and Adam are sharing a room too. Their on-again-off-again relationship is exhausting, to say the least. They're probably using this set-up to screw each other relentlessly without feeling guilty about it.

Chloe is sharing a room with Ella, which leaves Jaime with Miguel. The models have converted the largest bathroom into a dressing room. This is the first time I've ever done a full blown, multi-day shoot without an entire crew. Normally, the thought of shooting without a crew or makeup team would make me nervous, but I think the fact that it didn't even cross my mind until now says something about my team. I've been working with most of my all-stars for over a year now. I'm beginning to trust them.

This is good business.

When Chloe and Miguel are through with hair and makeup and water-proofed, they follow me down to the gorgeous infinity pool overlooking the ocean. Chloe looks nervous until I tell her to take a swim. Already bikini-clad, she dives in the water and pushes her wet bob back.

Chloe was the token adorable-little-thing I hired last year before the Boston shoot. She's probably my most insecure model, but uses her innocent demeanor to her advantage. At her audition shoot, Adam posed with her, drawing inspiration from an animal-and-his-prey theme. Chloe really hasn't shown me another character other than prey for the male gaze.

Andrea directs. She orders Miguel to sit on the side of the pool with his feet in the water. Chloe pulls herself from the pool, dripping wet, and Andrea has her kneel behind Miguel.

"Kiss his neck," Andrea orders. "But do so in a way that you are demanding him to pay attention to you. Be sly. Be confident."

Chloe takes a deep breath, and then says, "I don't know how to be those things."

I drop my camera. "You're thinking too much. Don't think. Don't worry about taking a bad picture. Pretend I'm not here."

Chloe thinks for a moment. She bites her bottom lip, and then reaches around Miguel, dragging her nails down his chest, decorating him with trails of water that are catching in the sunlight, making for an interesting photograph.

One of the highlights of my job is watching a model battle with enjoying themselves and doing their job. That's exactly what's happening with Miguel right now. He's enjoying Chloe learning how to access a new side of herself, learning that she is allowed to relentlessly tease. He's fighting for control over how turned on he is. I can see his erection straining against his board shorts, making note of it. It's part of my job.

Andrea makes a note of it too. She has Miguel lie back. Chloe takes off her top and kneels between his legs, sliding his board shorts off. I position Chloe so the shot stays classy, having her straddle him. But then she freezes up again, used to the man initiating the foreplay.

"How will you encourage him to taste you?" Andrea asks, allowing Chloe to make the decision for herself.