Chapter 3

“Lift your tits!”

“Higher!”

“Bend over to the side a little.”

“Yes, like that! Let it all hang out!”

“There, it’s drooping to the side.”

“Those are some great pieces of meat you have… now spread your legs apart. Wider!”

I was about to let off steam in another two seconds. I was sure my face was flushed red in molten anger, but the photographer appeared oblivious to my mounting anger and continued his ceaseless instructions, sometimes praising, but most times just down right insulting.

I was soon beyond anger and reduced to fuming at near boiling point. Any moment now, and my whistle would blow. And it wouldn’t be short and sweet. I was clad in a champagne colored, floor-length gown, for goodness sake. What does it matter that my legs needed to be spread apart beneath it? But I did it anyway.

I shifted awkwardly into a new back-breaking pose and frowned out a grimaced version of a smile. Lights burst into flashes all around me, illuminating the shot to the point that it had me seeing stars.

It was only two days ago that I had a tussle with Erin over my photos. I was now on strict diet and exercise regime to tone down and firm up some excess, and that wasn’t helping with my disposition either. Most of my shots had been duds, but the ones taken where I had been reduced to molten anger had been brilliant. Spitting fire and with a sensuality I was in no way naturally capable of. Even I had been stunned to see those shots. But Erin had merely grinned with an I-told-you-so expression—as if he’d actually known. But I wouldn’t put anything past him. Erin could very well be all knowing when it came to this world I was trying to fit into. And that was exactly how I should’ve viewed this new venture into modeling as just another attempt to fit into something that was already too tight for me. But squeezing into where I wasn’t wanted was my forte. So, if it were molten anger that they wanted, then that was what I would give to them.

I swung my body into an impossible arc and displayed my assets in a very forward, 3-D pop-art manner. The lewd commentary from Jim Burnet, the photographer, urged me on. I was being made to feel like nothing more than a piece of trash, but I guess that was the price it took to bring out the very worst and best of me.

“I’ll frame this one and place it at my bedside,” Erin had teased, running a caressing hand down the front of the photo. It had been beyond hot, watching him caress my photo with his finger. I felt a shiver of goose bumps breakout along the surface of my skin as I shifted yet again, this time to stare intently at the camera. Recalling the expression in Erin’s eyes had me turning to stare searchingly into the camera lenses before more flashes lit up the room and blinded my vision entirely, if momentarily.

I straightened up from yet another impossible pose as Jim called a halt for a costume change. Then, Marie, my stylist for the day, swept in to cart me away. Rafael immediately took me under his wing to freshen up my makeup and fluff up my hair. Michelle then brought out a skimpy two piece that was clearly several sizes too small. When were they going to start stocking up on something other than size zero? Shouldn’t they know my measurements by now? I distinctly recalled having to stand for hours on end in nothing more than my undies for that sole purpose of their taking my measurements. Did they lose the sheet they’d been scribbling on?

It was these mind-numbing questions that had me preoccupied while I accepted the garment change and went through the routine of squeezing out of one outfit only to squeeze into another.

Then, I was back under the expertly wielded camera lenses and its accompaniment of flashing lights. I took my mind off its roving eye and thought back to Erin. He was all I thought of really. It was impossible to think of anything or anyone else when there was Erin.

Erin, Erin, Erin.

Always Erin.

He had given me a car ride home that day. After that first photo shoot. He offered it gallantly, with his usual mischievous smirk that sent my heart fluttering and my breath stuttering as I hesitantly accepted. Hesitant only because I knew what to expect of that ride. More Erin, Erin, Erin. The ride in the car had been all kinds of Hell. I had been reduced to a nervous wreck by the time we reached my home. The tension in the car had been palpable. But all that resulted from it was a swift hug and a fond farewell. I had ended up going into my home with immense longing, acute disappointment, and nothing more.

The lights flashed, and Jim urged me with yet more inappropriate remarks. But my attention had already wandered. After a couple of hours of the same vile comments, they’d begun to lose their shock value. I was already growing immune, and this was just my first official photoshoot. But I was still fuming mad. Only my anger was at myself. I feared I was well on the path to resuming my teenage infatuation with Erin Robertson. I had been all of sixteen when he first hit the runway and had his pictures splashed across every available media. The frenzy his images invoked was positively cultish. Just a glimpse of his face or torso invoked mass hysteria. He had been raised on a pedestal and worshipped by every hungry teenage girl that world over. Sad to say I was a voluntary worshiper of that God. If Erin was macho, manly, and sexy now, he had been positively to die for back then in my hormonal teenage days. I still had my collections. Memorabilia of his works—pinups that still hung in the back of my closet.

“Give me a growl, puss. Roar like a tiger!”

My next shot was unavoidably confused.

Then, I got his meaning; only it was my stomach that rumbled out an answering growl. Still, my scowl was back on and mighty fierce, too. But that was only expected when they kept me worked up and starving. Anger and hunger was not an attractive mix. I was ready to let it all out, and my target was the man dressed in khaki shorts and tee, who was doing a strange tribal dance in his bid to get the perfect shot. I wished him luck with that before emitting a truly fearsome growl.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Those husky tones sent shivers of anticipation rippling down my spine. A hunger of a new kind invaded my senses. “Must you glare murder at the poor guy? He is just doing his job,” Erin reprimanded me teasingly as he casually crossed the distance from the door to stand by Jim. Jim not only faded out into the background, but he disappeared altogether—as did everyone else in that room. At least to my overheated sense, they did.

I’d try to deny it, but it would have been a blatant lie to say I hadn’t been impatiently waiting on edges to see him again. Having only just seen him this morning didn’t matter. The hours since was too long in between to not immerse my senses in his company. And to think of that one instance when I had been enveloped in his arms would serve only to send me up in flames. Or down as the case may be. I did think to have lustful thoughts of anyone was sin in the eyes of God. I had been condemned to the pits of Hell ever since my eyes laid on him at sixteen.

But I was here, beneath the spotlight, being maligned and verbally insulted for hours on end. All because of him.

So, it was really a glare that I shifted to face the smirking Erin, rather than the adoring worship my idle mind had lingered on, only to be struck dumb for my efforts in awe over his otherworldly charms. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a vampire, but his deep tan was a dead giveaway. How did that man manage to take two steps forward without being accosted by every weeping woman? I didn’t know. I felt tears of my own frustrations coming on with a bawling vengeance. But again, the hunger pangs rumbled in to the rescue. I merely shook my head at him instead, more out of disappointment than admonishment. Erin stood there, unknowingly with a ridiculous pose that just screamed to be photographed. I felt like calling out to the idiot who was circling me like a leopard to his prey and telling him to focus on the hottest dude on earth just meters away. I didn’t understand what Erin was doing, jeopardizing his most photographic years away to boost others in the industry.

But I didn’t care! I reminded myself of the mantra I had been repeating since the wee hours of this morning when Erin popped up at my place and insisted I accompany him to his gym, where I was promptly brow beaten to attempt all sorts of bone-breaking equipment. It was a miracle that I was upright at all. I shot him a venomous glare at that reminder and was promptly lit up with yet more flashes as Jim no doubt went in for yet more shots. But then, I recalled the carrot Erin had dangled my way.

“I’ll promise to massage away your aches and pains if you’ll finish this one last lap,” he’d offered sweetly as I slavered away on the treadmill.

As far as lure went, that was one that could literally move mountains. I was no different. I fulfilled my part of that bargain and now only eagerly awaited only delivery of his. Yet, here I stood, still awaiting the great moment when Mr. Hotty Pants would do the deed and massage away the kinks persistently forming in my muscles even as the moments ticked on.

“To the left, babe. Tilt your bust to the left.”

I ignored the man behind the lenses and turned my head to the left to face the hottie who threw me a deliciously slow wink before lifting that sensual smirk of his up a notch as if I weren’t already combusting inside out with nuclear level heat. The man’s allure was nothing short of explosive.

I would happily go up in flames for him.

“Alright, that’s a wrap! You guys did great,” announced the photographer as the shoot ended.

I hurriedly rushed to get off the stool and dash past a grinning Erin into the changing room. Grabbing my old tattered jeans and a men’s shirt that I sometimes wore, I started to unzip the cumbersome top I had on, cursing at the missing assistance who conveniently disappeared altogether at the sound of pack up.

“Need a hand?”

I looked over my shoulder to find Erin leaning over with a wicked smile. I shook my head at his cheekiness and offered him my back. “Unzip me,” I said daringly. Two could play at this game.

The zip was tugged down with grating slowness. The sound of it reminded me of a trip to the dentist. I gritted my teeth and aimed for patience.

“Almost there,” Erin breathed in my ear, stealing my breath and attention. My focus, on him and on his fingers leisurely running down my spine trailing the reluctant zipper, was absolute. So, I was caught unaware as my top peeled away to fall at my feet.

I trembled momentarily underneath his avid perusal before modesty caught up to me, and I bent over to grab at the offending bodice.

“Leave it,” he bit out ruthlessly. I jerked up in response as his arms went about gathering me close.

“Do you need help with your dress?” came a snide query from the door. I watched Marie hurry in to pick at the discarded blouse that lay on the floor. “You might want to get some cover on those little beauties,” said Michelle, bustling in after her busily.

“Pah, they’re not in any way little. Huge is what they are, and by the looks of Erin’s expression, juicy too,” said Rafael crudely as he too cluttered in to pick at some obscure piece of hair ornament for melting away with a soft chuckle. Was this the way it would always be? No sparing my dignity? With a heavy sigh, I knew I would have to simply get used to it. My body was mine no more. It was a vessel to be dressed and put on display. I was not so naïve to not have expected this, having seen Janice all but naked, prancing around in nothing more than a G-string and heels in countless changing rooms in the past. It would naturally be no different for me. I suppose I should go invest in a pair of G-strings at the very least.

Still, there was nothing usual about the warm hand wrapped about my person—not in the industry sense and definitely not in a personal sense. My senses, as it were, went clamouring wildly with every exquisite sensation his touch invoked on me.

“So, Erin, who are you taking to the show tonight?” called out Rafael, impishly hoping to stir up trouble. That finally snapped me out of it. Jolted back to a sudden awareness to my surroundings, I pulled helplessly against Erin’s arm, still feeling terribly weak in the limbs. My release was excruciatingly slow in coming. Drawing his hand away slowly, letting it drift to slide across my stomach, he caressed the underside of my heavy breasts as he withdrew.

I moved away then, weakly, to hide behind drawn curtains while I changed. Listening avidly for his answer as I went.

“None of your business,” said Erin mildly.

“Rumor has it you’re taking Janice?”

I paused amidst drawing up my pants. It stung that he would go out with my sister after… after… after he’d flirted so shamelessly with me. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid for letting him touch me. Why would he be at all interested in me when beautiful Janice was around? I pulled on my shirt and buttoned it up, not bothering donning on my bra. I just wanted to leave as quickly as I could. I stuffed my belongings into my duffle and rushed out, calling my goodbyes as I went.

“Wait up. I’ll give you a lift,” called out Erin as he moved to hurry after me.

“No thanks!” I called back, not slowing down. With the temper I was in, I’d rather walk the whole block home than accept a ride with him.

In this too, as with all things else, the fates sided against me.

The ride in the car was as tensed as before. Only this time, it was mostly due to my compressed anger rather than some ridiculous assumptions from an overactive imagination. Sexual tension indeed! As if Erin Robertson had even a remote interest in jumping my bones.

I sat there, fuming. I didn’t appreciate being duped—or manhandled, for that matter. I hadn’t, after all, gotten into this car with him voluntarily. Enticing though that offer had been, I couldn’t allow it in principal. Thankfully, he paid me no heed, and I ended up in his car regardless. Still, that did not mean I had to appear happy about it. Or sit hear listening to what he had to say. I blew out a huff of hot air and, deliberately, though with some effort, drew my eyes away from his alluring profile to stare out the window. Refusing to pay heed over his attempts to reason with me, I stared out mutely at the passing cars, the footpaths littered with people, most dressed in suits. Erin’s cajoling tone washed over me, strengthening an already undeniable hold that he had over me. He was just so irresistible. But I was so over being played with.

Although, to be fair, I’d only been played once, and it had been mutual. Colin was a grand mistake never to be repeated, and Erin would be a mistake that would likely never even happen.

With a heavy sigh, I gave up an attempt to peer out the window and turned eager eyes back to rest on him—still mid-fuming, of course. I may not be able to deny his visual appeal, but that didn’t mean I had to give in to the guy completely. Who was I kidding? This man could walk all over me, and I would still roll over at the slightest lift to the corner of his luscious lips. I could still appreciate his raw appeal. Just thinking of the pressure he had applied to my forearm earlier to redirect me to his car was enough to bring out the hunger for more. And that was always underlying the tension brimming all over us. I could pounce on him and tear off his clothing … and…

We were here.

I promptly gathered my duffel and slammed out of his car to march angrily to my home without a backward glance at him. I ignored the niggling thoughts that he had given me a ride home, so I did owe him a thank you at the very least. Proudly resisting the urge to fall onto my knees and grovel with him to come in after me and …

I was already at my door and heaving a sigh of relief as I stepped into its cool, inviting depths when a well-shod foot shoved itself between the closing door. Even knowing that foot could belong to none other than Erin, I still gasped to find that he had followed me in.

Without an explanation and with an inscrutable expression, he reached out to grab at my shirt and start unbuttoning.

“Wha-?” I stuttered in shock. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded finally after organizing my thoughts back.

“I’m undressing you,” he murmured softly, his head bent in attention to what he was doing. “Can you not tell?”— lifting his hooded eyes to pierce me with their startling blue— “As my date for tonight, you cannot possibly go out in this. In fact, we have no time at all.”

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his mobile and set it to call. Keeping his mesmerizing eyes trained on mine, he murmured into the phone. “I am calling in a favor. Send a team over. Hair, makeup, and bring over a suitable dress for tonight. Heels and accessories too, I think.” He hung up then and bent to tap out my directions into his phone.

“I am not going with you,” I felt compelled to say even if I died inside saying it.

“Sure, you will,” he said soothingly, reaching out to resume his unbuttoning of my shirt. By now, the gaping in my bodice was already positively indecent, but he persisted regardless ‘til both halves fell apart to hang uselessly, framing my larger than life mammaries. His gaze rested there then—intent and unmoving. He reached out a trembling hand to sweep a long, slender index finger to swipe at the underside of one breast. I swayed forward suddenly, weak limbed. My hands reached up to grasp about his clenched biceps even as his hands settled about my waist, holding me up and drawing me in to him. I went willingly, no longer able to even fake an attempt to resist.

“In the meantime,” he whispered huskily, before he dropped his head down to take another swipe, only this time, with his tongue—only this time, on my distended nipples. I shivered and helplessly thrust my torso out further, silently asking for more. “In the meantime, I will punish you.”

“Huh?” That had me blinking.

“It’s time you learned some manners,” he murmured casually, leaning back to deliver me a rakish smile with an irrepressibly evil glint to his eye. “And be polite to your manager so that he will continue to grant you such favors, no?” He reached between my gaping lapels of my shirt to cup a mound in his palm and squeeze lightly.

Punish me with sexual frustrations? Yeah! Bring it on.

“To your bedroom, I think,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes trained on my not unimpressive assets. I held them up proudly, unable to stop myself from preening under his obvious interest.

“I am not going to bed with you. I don’t even know you,” I declared adamantly, proud of my ability to protest and deny myself a bedding with the God among men. Was I insane?

“I don’t share my cock with just anyone, love. I’m sure you’ve heard. But I cannot deny the pull of these magnificent beasts,” he paused to gaze on admiringly.

“I think you mean breasts,” I said, helping him out.

“These are so much more. It’s as if they have a life of their own,” he whispered mesmerized.

“It’s because they’re not silicone implants,” I whispered back furiously.

“Hmm… you could be right,” Erin replied with an up-to-no-good goofy grin.

“Come,” he said, grabbing my arm in a grip that couldn’t be broken and tugging me off to my room. I seriously did consider protesting and resisting, but Erin has always been my secret desire, and I was not stupid to pass up this chance.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded, and I did, uncaring that the gesture afforded him an up close and personal view of my jiggling ass.

“I won’t have sex with you,” I protested half-heartedly, out of principal.

“You sure won’t,” he agreed all too readily before moving to join me on the bed.

“I mean it,” I said breathlessly, feeling the need to make a final attempt to appease my conscience. My eyes zoomed in and stayed with the movements of his fingers leisurely unbuttoning his shirt. I silently urged them on.

“I know,” he replied soothingly. Then, his shirt was falling away, and just like that, I very nearly pounced on him. His perfect abs were mouth-watering, and that was not the only part of me swimming in a pool of lust.

“Sex is not just about me stuffing my cock up your pussy,” Erin was saying, sending another wave of hot flush of lust, rushing to my nerve endings, making me crave for just that. To have his … up my…

“Oh, God,” I muttered, already so incredibly turned on to a melting point. It wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge.

But then, he was reaching out to push aside my shirt ‘til it fell off my shoulders, closing in the distance between us and pressing himself up against me. The contact of skin against skin had a guttural moan of longing leaving my lips me even as I cried out for more.

“Soon, baby,” he whispered soothingly before lowering his lips to brush tenderly across my ears. The shudders that racked through me then had a reciprocating effect with Erin clutching me in closer and burying his open mouth in the curve of my neck where he moved to work his way down to my waiting tits.

“More,” I begged as he evaded the aching areolas to rain kisses down the valley between my massive mounds.

“More what, darling? You’ll have to tell me,” he urged huskily.

Just then, the doorbell pealed, causing a cry of denial to burst forth out of my throbbing but still untouched lips. But Erin was already moving away, picking up his shirt. He shrugged into it and then moved to my chest of drawers to tug them open and pushed them shut randomly.

I huffed out a frustrated breath as I fell back onto my bed, my eyes still raking him in greedily. “What are you doing?” I asked.

He lifted a large-cupped bra in response, waving it triumphantly as he made his way back to the bed.

“Get off, and I’ll strap you in,” he said as if the bra were some sort of harness. I felt like tossing his teasing ass across my bed and having my way with him, but as it were, I only meekly complied, feeling utterly disappointed.

“Turn around,” he muttered just as the bell impatiently pealed again. I pushed my arm through the strap and waited for him to slot the hooks in. It was a wait in vain.

The doorbell rang again, then again… and still, he struggled on.

“I’ll do it,” I offered for the umpteenth time.

“I can manage,” he gritted out for the umpteenth time.

He tugged and pulled then stuck his hand in to grab a tit and try to forcefully shove it into the cups.

“Your bra is too small,” he insisted again.

“No, it isn’t,” I vehemently denied, not quite truthfully, for I was sure they were swelled up in lust for him, and his rough handling of them weren’t helping.

The bell pealed again.

“I’ll do it,” I offered again, getting annoyed. I could have done it twice over already in the time it was taking him to do up my bra.

“I will not let these,” he muttered, cupping my breasts in his hands, “defeat me.” Then, he tried stuffing them into the bra again.

“I can understand you’ve only had experience in removing the contraption, not so much as slapping them back on,” I said snidely, unable to help myself.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve done both, and I will not cave in to these Everest,” he exclaimed insistently.

Suddenly, I’d had enough. Reaching out, I shoved his hands away then pulled on and hooked up the bra myself before twisting it back and slipping my arms in. I ignored the gasp from behind me, no doubt at how quickly I had conquered the Everest and grabbed at my shirt, buttoning up as I went to open the door.

“Hot as fuck!” he called softly after me, his words instantly deflating my anger and simultaneously firing up my blood. The rush of lust never far beneath the surface resurged with a vengeance.

I opened the door and exclaimed, “Colin?”