Vanilla. Megan Hart

at Scott. “This is just for the pictures. I don’t really think we need to get a safe word or anything for the sake of art, do we?”

      “If you don’t need a safe word for art,” Scott said, “it ain’t very good art.”

      I looked back to Jack, and I let my smile fade. My fingers tugged the tiniest bit. “I’m still not going to hurt you on purpose. You tell me if I do.”

      Jack grinned. “I’m good.”

      I tipped his head back harder, watching to see if he winced. I really didn’t want to hurt him—even if this had been a real scene between us, I wasn’t particularly into causing pain. I liked the reactions to it more than giving the pain itself. For the sake of a picture I could make it look like I was being totally sadistic, though, if that was what the photographer wanted to see. With Scott’s murmured words of approval, I looked down at the man in front of me on his knees and waited to feel something. Anything. He was gorgeous, thick, dark hair, a killer smile, a lean athletic build and a very, very pretty half-hard cock that I wasn’t going to stare at, because that just wouldn’t be polite. I appreciated the package, but that was it. No spark of attraction.

      Modeling is sometimes about acting as much as it is posing, so I put on my best resting bitch face and worked it. And I worked Jack, who was a good sport and an excellent partner. We didn’t fuck or anything like that, not even simulated. There was lots of skin to skin, though. He was totally naked, and I wore lingerie that was too small, a fact I’d pointed out when I put it on and had been told by a grinning Scott that the size was perfect. When we paused for a break, Jack did apologize for getting hard.

      “Honey, I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” I told him. I shrugged into the silk robe I’d brought along. Jack had wrapped a towel around his lean hips. We were both drinking sodas that Scott’s assistant had brought up from the shop downstairs while the photographer himself pulled up the first set of shots onto his laptop to preview for editing.

      Jack stretched out long legs on the chaise in one corner while I took a spot in a comfy armchair. We’d spent the past hour mostly naked and entangled. I’d met him only two hours ago. He felt like one of my oldest friends at this point.

      “You work with Alex, right? Olivia’s husband,” Jack asked.

      I sipped soda and rolled my head on my neck to crack it. “Yep.”

      “Yeah, my girlfriend is like, her best friend.”

      “Sarah?” I laughed. “Wow, small world.”

      “Yeah, tiny.” Jack nodded.

      “I don’t know her,” I added. “I mean, I’ve heard Olivia talking about her, but we haven’t met.”

      Jack nodded. “You have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? I guess I should’ve asked that, sorry. Didn’t mean to be whatever you call it, genderist.”

      “I don’t. Never had a girlfriend, thought about trying it once or twice but I’m kind of hardwired for cock. The last boyfriend I had was a long time ago.” I leaned back in the soft chair and forced away thoughts of Esteban. He’d never been a boyfriend.

      “How come?” Jack leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

      I shrugged. “It ended badly. Haven’t really wanted to have another since.”

      “How long is a long time ago?”

      I paused, sort of embarrassed to say it aloud. “Something like four years.”

      “Whoa.” Jack shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

      I laughed. “It’s okay. Really. I haven’t suffered for lack of a boyfriend, trust me.”

      “Come look at these,” Scott said from the desk.

      Jack and I got up to see what Scott had done. He’d pulled up a black-and-white shot from earlier in the day. Jack on his knees, my fingers in his hair. Scott had captured a small, assessing smile on my face. Jack’s eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted. His cock not yet erect but clearly getting there.

      “Beautiful,” I said, meaning Jack.

      Jack snorted soft laughter. “Pretty hot, man.”

      Scott didn’t look at either one of us. His fingers continued smoothing and shifting the image in tiny increments. Enhancing, not changing. I loved the way he made me look. I’d worked with a few other photographers who always tried to make my tits bigger, my belly flatter, my ass rounder. Scott always made me look just like I do, only a little...better.

      He looked over his shoulder at us with a grin. “Pretty, huh?”

      I hugged him from behind and pressed my cheek to his. “Gorgeous. And I look okay, too.”

      “Are you kidding?” Jack said. “You look fucking amazing.”

      I gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

      “You guys need more of a break? I have a few more things I want to try.” Scott twisted in his chair. “You up for it? I want to take you outside.”

      We were both up for it. And let me tell you, I’ve never really been an exhibitionist, but there is something awfully exhilarating about stripping down to bare skin out in the middle of the woods with a totally attractive guy wrapped all around you. We had fun, too. Splashing in a small waterfall, both of us with teeth chattering and goose bumps. Lying out in the sun to dry, our fingers linked companionably while we chatted, and Scott took picture after picture.

      “Good,” he said finally with another look at his camera. “That’s it. We’re done.”

      Back at the studio, Jack and I hugged goodbye. We exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. Scott made sure we both took postcards for his upcoming gallery show, which would, he promised, feature some of the pictures he’d taken today.

      “I’ll be there,” I promised.

      “You’d better,” Scott said and kissed me firmly on the mouth, then the cheek, and hugged me close to whisper in my ear, “I don’t see you often enough. You okay? What’s going on?”

      I shook my head. “Nothing.”

      He gave me a suspicious look. “Uh-huh.”

      I wasn’t going to tell him about Esteban, especially now that I’d been so unceremoniously dumped. “Really. I promise. I’ll see you at the gallery show.”

      “You’d better see me before that,” he told me, and I said I would, though I think we both knew it wasn’t likely.

      He gestured to me just before I left. “Look at this before you go.”

      He showed me the rest of the shots he’d taken. Even without editing, they were stunning. Anyone who didn’t know that Jack and I had been strangers at the start of the day would’ve thought we’d been lovers forever.

      “You’re beautiful,” Scott said, slow-clicking through a series of images. “Look at you.”

      I looked.

      I saw what he meant. Lines and curves and shadow. Tits and ass and lips and hair. There was beauty there, all right. But it was like looking at a picture of someone else. I was a stranger to myself. That woman in the photos was someone adored and cherished and worshipped, and that was no longer me.

7

      Funny how best friends just know when something’s wrong. I hadn’t talked to Alicia in weeks beyond a few texts, but that didn’t matter. The second I saw her number on my screen I answered, and within minutes we were laughing as much as we always had.

      “So, what’s new, what’s going on with you? Feels like I haven’t talked to you forever,” she said finally. “I got a Connex invite to Scott’s gallery show. I guess you’re going to be in it? Sexy pictures.