“Only just,” said Nathan, setting the water to full throttle again. “Getting myself washed and ready and prepped to give you a good time. But do you really want to start here? In my—what was it you called it—phone booth shower? I mean, is it safe, bearing in mind you can barely manage the stairs?”
Unheeding, Jaymes wrenched open the cubicle door and squeezed in with Nathan. Instantly his arms snaked around Nathan, their slick bodies crushing together, Jaymes’ already hard cock rubbing against Nathan’s, their mouths finding each other with new familiarity. After a satisfying sigh, Jaymes pulled away, then pushed his nose gently into Nathan’s ear.
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
* * * *
Jenny Nwadike’s studio sat tucked away in the centre of Royal Tunbridge Wells, above a travel agent on the main high street. Nathan found parking a few streets away on the third floor of a municipal car park. As the engine died in the gloom of the building, Nathan felt Jaymes’ gaze come to rest on him. Insightful as ever, he’d read Nathan’s mood and kept the conversation light on the drive. Nathan valued Jaymes’ calming presence, not truly appreciating how nervous he would be feeling. It wasn’t every day he was asked to take his clothes off and showcase his naked body.
As though hearing the doubting voice in his head, a warm hand landed on his thigh and squeezed.
“You’re going to rock this.”
“Not sure about that.”
Nathan mourned the loss of heat when Jaymes removed his hand, but almost immediately the warmth transferred to Nathan’s neck and shoulders, pulling him into Jaymes’ body. Nestled against him, Jaymes kissed the side of Nathan’s face and whispered in his ear.
“I’m going to be with you, Nate. From beginning to end.”
Those words worked magic. Nathan found himself getting calmer on the stroll from the car park to the studio. Jaymes walked alongside him in companionable silence, their shoulders occasionally bumping. At the top of a narrow staircase, a smiling Jenny met them at the front door to the studio, which calmed him even more. After shaking hands with Nathan, she peered quizzically at Jaymes.
“This is a friend. Here for moral support,” said Nathan, clocking the appraising looks Jenny cast Jaymes. “And no, before you ask, he’s not a member of the football team.”
“More’s the pity,” said Jenny, smiling at Jaymes. “Come on in, both of you.”
Inside what was probably once a two- or three-bedroom flat, the structure had been knocked into a studio. Two doors led off into what Nathan assumed to be a bathroom or a kitchen. Three couches were arranged against one of the walls, one beneath shuttered windows and the others on either side, somewhere for the subject to relax when not being photographed. Someone had set up a corner of the studio to resemble a baker’s shop. Shelves housing trays of assorted glazed bread loaves, buns and colourful cakes, together with a wooden butcher’s block lit by bright spotlights, filled the space. Even Nathan could tell the baked goods were fake, the surfaces too glossy and uniform.
“They’re plastic,” said a smiling Jenny. “Well, a couple of the props are real. But a friend works in West End theatre as a set designer and loaned them to me.”
“They look good. A lot better than the display in my shop. Where do you want me?”
“Let’s sit down first. Have a cup of tea and a chat. Then I can tell you what I have in mind.”
Jenny’s ploy, clearly meant to relax Nathan, worked up to a point. Apart from soothing music playing in the background and a lavender infuser lightly scenting the air of the room, they reclined on one of the comfortable sofas. Jenny ran through her ideas of having him in a variety of poses. Although he would be naked, his groin would be covered by various props. For each idea, she continuously asked his opinion and purposely included Jaymes. To complement the glaze of the loaves, she suggested Nathan oil his entire body with baby oil and have him naked except for his football socks, either shoved down the ankles—as though he’d just played a game—or neatly pulled up to the knee. Citing his good looks, she wanted shots with him looking directly at the camera and others where he picked a spot off-camera and held the gaze as though looking at someone.
“You’re probably thinking this is all about the body, but remember people often zero in on the face first. A good-looking one like yours with an interesting expression will trump a sexy body any day. And remember, I’m a static camera photographer—no Annie Leibovitz—so don’t worry about me hopping about or crouching down in front of you. I’ll be seated on a small stool all the time, but if you get the impulse to move about, don’t worry. Just go with your instincts. The camera’s on a swivel, and I’ll follow your lead.”
An hour after they’d arrived, she suggested he head to the bathroom to get undressed, oiled up and put on his white robe. She needed the time to play with her light meter and adjust her camera with trial snaps at the empty backdrop. Jaymes offered to help, but Nathan waved him off, knowing that if Jaymes started to rub him down with oil he would never be able to leave the bathroom. Just as Nathan began to stand, Jaymes put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down. Without removing his hand, he began to massage the shoulder.
“Relax, Nate,” whispered Jaymes. “You’re wound tighter than a tourniquet.”
“I’m fine.”
Jaymes reached another hand out and tidied a lock of hair over Nathan’s ear before massaging the other shoulder. Nathan closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation.
“You want me to cook you dinner when we get home?”
Nathan opened his eyes and smiled into Jaymes’ warm gaze.
“You cooked breakfast. How is that fair?”
“Do you hear me complain? Besides, it’s part of our rental agreement. And I’m hoping that maybe you’ll get naked for me again tonight.”
Nathan chuckled and felt some of his anxiety fade. But the soft clicking of the camera brought him back to himself, and he began to stand. Before leaving, he leant in, held Jaymes’ chin in one hand and pecked a kiss on his lips. Freezing suddenly, he realised what he had done and cast a nervous glance at Jenny, but noticed she was already immersed in her work.
“Sorry. Let me get this over with.”
Unlike the rest of the studio, the tiny pink bathroom appeared original with its cracked sink, scratched Perspex shower cubicle, short but deep bath—all in pink, of course—and pink toilet. Only the floor-to-ceiling mirror with lightbulbs all around appeared new. Nathan undressed, grabbed the family-sized bottle of baby oil and started to smother himself. After ten minutes, Nathan poked his head out of the door and called Jaymes in to check that he had covered himself evenly. After a smirk and a nod from Jaymes, Nathan tied his robe and pushed his mesmerised lover back out into the studio.
