Strip
The thudof the door closing echoes through the studio. I start tugging off my clothes and pull the lingerie on as fast as I can, the cavernous room making me feel more exposed than I’dlike.
The bra for this set has a cagey back with complicated straps. The cups, if you can even call them that, consist of black bands that encircle my boobs, only half lined with delicate lace, so that the top halves of the girls are on full display. I step into the matching underwear, simple black panties with lace cut-outs on the sides, and pull on a pair of black thigh highstockings.
There’s a mirror on one of the walls and I spin around in front of it, taking in the results of six months’ worth of kickboxing. While the ‘Cute Butt Benefit’ is an undeniable factor in why I work out, I don’t keep subjecting myself to the torture of Coach Kelsey’s drills just to be more attractive. Looking at the ridges of my abs, ridges I’ve carved out sit-up by endless sit-up, I don’t just feelsexy.
I feelpowerful.
Kickboxing has allowed me to own my body, to take care of it and test its limits in a way I never have before. Every time I look at them, the muscles I’ve built up remind me that if I can find that kind of strength and dedication in the gym, I can apply it to other parts of my lifetoo.
But all that aside, I really do owe Coach Kelsey a thank you letter for the current state of my ass. Accentuated by the cut of the underwear, it’s pushing Victoria’s Secret Angelstatus.
Aaron knocks on the door before pushing it open, and I hurry back over to the desk to throw on the blouse we’re using for this part of the shoot. I tug the shirt closed and cross my arms, wishing it was long enough to cover more of my butt. While I’m confident about my body, I’m not exactly thrilled to have it on display for AaronPenn.
He gives me a once over and I raise an eyebrow, daring him to make some kind of comment. Instead he just hangs his camera strap around his neck and heads to thewindow.
I follow, keeping the shirt wrapped tightly around me, and watch as he starts messing around with a light meter. The sun paints him in a golden glow, and I stare at the expression on his face as he adjusts the settings of his camera. There’s a focus to his features that I’ve never seen before, all his restless energy compressed and sharpened to a single point ofconcentration.
“Could you step in front of the lens?” he asks, still looking back and forth from the light meter to the camera’sdisplay.
I do as he asks. When he looks up at me he freezes, the moment stretching out into infinity as I watch his eyes travel up and down my bare legs. I want to call him out on being a perv, but something stops me from even being able to make asound.
He’s not looking at me like a guy checking a girl out. He’s not even looking at me like I’m a girl at all. As his gaze works its way over my every curve, I realize what I am to him right now: potential. I’m the kind of potential he knows how touse.
He steps forwards and starts to circle around me, craning his neck to catch glimpses of me from different angles. His footsteps fall with the precision of a predator stalking its prey, and I hug myself even tighter with my arms. When his voice rolls out low and rumbling from behind me, a shudder passes through me and I try to blame it on the fact that I have next to no clothing on rightnow.
“Your skin,” he murmurs, “looks perfect in thislight.”
Then I hear the click of his camera and whatever spell he’s put me underbreaks.
“Hey!” I snap. “A little warning would be nice before you start taking pictures of myass.”
“Relax,” he laughs. “I’m just making sure I’ve got the settingsright.”
I turn around to face him and find his familiar smirk back inplace.
“You know youaregoing to have to open that shirt. The point of you wearing the lingerie is so I can actually take photos of youinthelingerie.”
“I’m aware of that,” I deadpan, “but you’re not seeing me in my underwear for any longer than absolutely necessary. This is not a free show,Penn.”
“Oh? Then where do I buy mytickets?”
I throw my hands up in the air and the front of my shirt slips open. Aaron’s eyes go straight to my boobs and I whip the blouse closed again, glaring at him. He laughs as I turn on my heel and stride back towards the desk, picking up the oversized headphones we’re using for this part of theshoot.
“Okay,” I say, sliding them over my ears and adjusting my hair in front of the mirror, “let’s get this overwith.”
I position myself by the window and let my shirt fall open again. Then I stand there with my arms hanging limply at my sides. Even though we’ve already discussed in depth what we want the pictures to look like, modelling is not part of my skill set. I feel as awkward as if I were standing here dressed as a giant hot dog, instead of wearing a gorgeous set oflingerie.
Should I just start posing? What poses do I evenpick?
“Uh, what should I do?” I ask, as Aaron fiddles with his cameraagain.
“Well, this is the fun, carefree portion of the shoot, so just...be fun and carefree? Maybe jump around a bit?Twirl?”
I glare athim.
“Right. I forgot that fun and carefree isn’t exactly your style,Dominguez.”
