As his erection continued to fill the screen on my computer, and I had to watch him trail his fingers over his cock frame by frame, my blood pressure started to rise. Just out of anger, nothing else, but it was making it even more difficult to think and to be objective about which pictures were the best.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t looked at the blog. In my defense, I’d wanted to find out the reactions to the new photos. Seeing what they were responding to would help me see what direction I needed to take for the edits and even for future shoots.
I’d only sent him a few, but he usually didn’t take too long before he posted something from a shoot. He was a bit of an attention whore and would want to get his followers all stirred up. Eli usually posted about everything, from how the shoot went to random facts about his day, all while showing off his body and the lingerie.
I might have been stupid for looking at the blog, but he was just an ass.
It was one long rant about me. Well, it didn’t start that way. Toward the beginning, he was teasing about the new shoot and giving vague hints about how they were going to love the new pieces. How he wasn’t really supposed to be sharing them, and how Preston would punish him for even thinking about letting the pictures out, but he just couldn’t help himself.
The way he wrote, I could almost hear him purring in my head about how naughty he’d been and how he needed to be spanked—but that he would do it anyway just for them. It made me want to pull my hair out and then demand to know what was going on between him and Preston. If he was screwing the owner, I was going to be out on my ass as soon as the brat batted an eyelash at him.
And if he was bending over for Preston, why in the hell was he flirting with everything that moved?
As he started to ramble on, oversharing and talking about the shoot itself, I could almost feel his anger rising. No comments about his own idiotic behavior, just random notes that they knew how a shoot affected him, and that he wanted his passion to come through in the photos.
Then it took a turn for the nasty and absurd.
Every little comment I’d said, and some I couldn’t even remember making, was laid out on the website. He told them I called him a hooker and said he should be making twenty bucks a blow job on the corner. I never said an amount or what activity he should be doing.
Not that the specifics would matter much if Preston saw.
The brat was clearly trying to get me fired.
By the time I’d finished more of the edits and sent the photos off, my messages were getting terse, and I was a bit…frustrated. The comments on the blog were clearly supporting Eli’s fucked-up version of events, and I was getting tired of reading about what a horrible person I was.
Finally giving up, I closed the computer and walked away. Hours of staring at the computer screen had my head hurting, and hours of watching Eli’s long, naked body had lower parts of my anatomy rebelling.
As much as my head realized how difficult he was and how I was never going to get involved with someone like that again, my cock didn’t have the same aversion. Knowing that my own body was betraying me, and making it harder to do my job, just made my frustration rise even higher.
Everything in me knew Eli and everyone like him was bad news, but my goddamned dick couldn’t get the message. The last time I’d had a shoot with him, I’d had to break down and jerk off. I wasn’t sure what I’d been angrier about when it was finally done, myself for being weak, or Eli for being a temptation I didn’t need.
When I’d first started dating, I couldn’t figure out why the nice girls or even the wicked ones didn’t really appeal to me. After I figured out I was gay, I’d run into the same problem with the nice, professional guys my mother kept pushing at me.
After the initial shock had faded for her, she’d made it her mission in life to find me a “nice boy,” not letting anything stop her from getting me fixed up with someone she thought of as perfect. But the polite, presentable guys she dragged me to meet at every social event she could find weren’t any more interesting than a lot of the women I’d been introduced to.
Sure, my imagination and libido took more interest in the guys, but the passion that people talked about had been missing.
Well, it’d been missing until I’d met a bratty little twink in college. With nothing in common but a mutual love of spankings and drama that turned into fiery sex, we hadn’t lasted long, but it’d shown me what I was missing.
My mother had chalked it up to a man’s love of “bad girls” that she translated to “bad boys,” but I hadn’t even tried to explain. Until it’d become absolutely necessary after the disastrous explosion that my life became when Ken lost his fucking mind.
Pushing that out of my head, I found myself looking back down at the computer. My finally behaving cock went back to rebelling at the thoughts of Eli’s pictures that were just there waiting for me. But I was a professional photographer, not some porn director who jacked off to his model's pictures.
Needing a break, and a way to release some of the energy that was building inside me, I started stripping off my clothes. I might not have a gym membership, but I had a few weights at home and a park not far from the apartment that was well lit and busy enough in the evening that I didn’t worry about being out after dark.
Ignoring my hard cock that was still pushing for attention I wasn’t willing to give it, I headed into the small bedroom. It was plain and sparsely furnished, but it had a bed and dresser, so I couldn’t complain. Before I could even grab my workout clothes, my phone started ringing again.
“Shit.” If that idiot thought he could badger me into changing my mind, he was crazy.
Long strides had me out to the living room in seconds, my anger coming out in every step. Swiping my finger across the screen, I saw that it was a different number from earlier and tried to rein in my anger. “Landry Photography, Roman speaking.”
“You have to reshoot the scenes with the red panties.”
Eli.
“I thought those pictures turned out fine.” They were from the first part of the shoot and had a different look than the ones I’d taken toward the end, but there was nothing wrong with the photos.
“The color is coming out pink, and I want different lighting on them before we put them on the site. There’s no way I’m putting up pictures that look pink but that are labeled red. It will confuse the customers.” His tone said he thought I was a moron for not understanding what he was talking about.
