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Instead of untying my wrists, he began to wrap my forearms, the new position putting some strain on my shoulders. Not enough that it was painful, but it was definitely new and not exactly comfortable…but oddly comforting.
“If any of this hurts you, just tell me.”
I nodded, more aware of his touch than his words. His fingers were strong, but not rough. The way he wrapped the silk around my arms from wrist to elbow was quick, but not sloppy. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel how each scarf rested against my skin.
“We’ll start with some pictures with you like this,” he said, his voice low as his fingers brushed through my hair. He twisted and adjusted my curls, everything about him clinical, professional. “And then we’ll move you around a bit, see what else strikes me. How does that sound?”
I nodded. I could do that.
* * *
I wasn’t an impulsive person.I thought things through, planned. It was why I’d graduated at the top of my class, how I’d done so well in college, why I was good at my job. It was also how I managed to convince my parents that I wouldn’t end up being a prostitute in the Big Apple because I was in over my head.
I told my college roommate that once, and she laughed like I was joking, but that really happened. Mam had been convinced that I wouldn’t be able to handle living on my own, especially not in New York City. Only my brother Donald had supported me from moment one. Being gay in a Catholic family came with its own set of difficulties. I’d stuck by him from moment one, and he’d done the same for me.
I wondered if he’d support me now.
Alix had stuck to his word about no nudity, and he’d been nothing but professional yesterday, but I doubted any of that would make my family comfortable with what I’d done. I was all about women being empowered to make their own choices about their bodies, so I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong, but that didn’t mean I liked the idea of telling my parents – or my overprotective brothers – that I stripped down to my underthings, let a man tie my arms up, and then take pictures for the world to see.
And I for certain wouldn’t be telling them that a part of me had enjoyed it.
I was already regretting posing for him before I even gotten home last night, and the anxious thoughts had kept me tossing and turning. I’d only gotten through today because I’d kept busy. Cooking. Cleaning. Spending a couple hours on Skype, first with Mam and then with Donald. Now, all that was done, and even a long bath hadn’t been enough to stop my brain from going over all the possible ways one poor decision could seriously fuck up my life.
How was I ever going to face Alix again? Sure, all the essential bits had been as covered as they would’ve been in a bikini – more than some – but it had felt different. Alix had been a complete gentleman, giving instructions, and only touching when necessary, but I’d still been so aware of him that by the time the session had ended, my hands had been shaking.
He’d excused himself to the darkroom to give me privacy to get dressed, and I’d appreciated it, but a part of me still wondered if he’d realized how strange it would be to see each other on Monday. Though, I supposed it was possible that he was accustomed to this sort of thing. Photograph a woman in something revealing, then talk to her like he hadn’t seen anything intimate.
But it hadn’t been intimate, I reminded myself. We’d shared nothing precious, done nothing shameful.
I sighed as I rummaged through the kitchen, trying to find something to distract me. The only alcohol in my apartment was whiskey from back home, but I didn’t think that would be a wise idea. I could hold my own better than one would think for someone my size, but I didn’t fancy dealing with a hangover if I let myself drink enough to forget. Ice cream would’ve been my preference, but I didn’t have any of that. Money had been tight since my former roommate moved back to Nashville three months ago, leaving me with the full cost of rent.
The money from yesterday’s photo shoot was more needed than I wanted to admit. I couldn’t go back and change things, so there wasn’t much point in going on about it, but I could be smarter in the future. I’d go in on Monday and tell Alix that while I appreciated the opportunity, I’d be taking payment for one session and going back to my original job as his assistant.
I found a container of frozen grapes and smiled. Marcia, my former roommate, had turned me on to those during a brown-out two summers ago. Not ice cream, but still a treat.
I popped one into my mouth, grabbed a bottle of water, and curled up in my favorite chair. I was ten minutes into my favorite episode of Britain’s most famous science fiction series when someone knocked at my door.
I frowned as I paused the show and pushed myself up out of my chair. At least three times a month, some delivery person came to my door instead of going up one more floor to the Del Rio place.
Except when I looked out, it wasn’t a delivery. It was Alix.
I flipped both the deadbolts and unchained the door, opening it before I remembered that I was wearing my most comfortable – and therefore my most worn – pajamas. The shorts weren’t those cute little ones that most girls wore, but rather a pair from my high school football – soccer in America – league, sporting our colors of purple and white. My shirt had been a hand-me-down from my oldest brother, Patrick, when he’d moved out. He wasn’t the biggest of my brothers but big enough that the shirt almost covered my shorts, and the neck often slid off my shoulder.
Alix didn’t comment on my outfit and I motioned for him to come inside. I closed the door, crossing my arms as I turned to face him. My pulse began to race even as my stomach tied itself in knots. His expression was serious, his eyes stormy, and I didn’t know what had happened to make him this way. Whatever it was, I knew he wasn’t here to borrow a cup of sugar.
“The pictures came out amazing,” he said, pacing to the lone window before turning to come back toward me. “They were exactly what I imagined. The color and lighting and...” His eyes met mine. “You were perfect.”
I supposed now was as good a time as any to tell him that I’d decided those would be the only photos he’d get to take. But even as I opened my mouth, he was talking again.
“We need to do more. I have a whole range of ideas for a series. And if you’re worried about people recognizing you, I can make it work without showing your face, or I’ll give you a mask.”
A series? Dammit. He wanted to display the pictures. I was an idiot for thinking otherwise. I hadn’t even considered what it would mean to have people looking at them. Stupid, I knew, but entirely on me.
“You have no idea how long I’d been looking for someone to make things come alive again.” He was suddenly directly in front of me, the faint scent of tea tree oil soap surrounding me. “So, what do say, Sine?”
I was having trouble breathing, much less thinking. I shouldn’t do it. I had dozens of reasons why it was a bad idea. For one thing, I wasn’t a model. “Now that you’ve found what you want to do, you should look for a real model to complete the series.” My nails dug into my forearms as I resisted the urge to touch him. Whatever energy between us at the studio was nothing compared to what I felt weaving between us now.
“A real model?” he echoed my words.
