Alluvion's Water Lily

Chapter 3 - One (Lucid Dream) by Golden Child

Twenty minutes later, the photographer claims he has what he needs for the outfit that I am currently wearing. I make my way to the small changing room and eyeball the next outfit they plan on shooting. It honestly is pushing the clause in my contract regarding how revealing my clothing during these shoots is allowed to be, but that's part of the reason I specifically keep getting hired for these shoots. Because I am willing to take such huge risks and stand at the edge of what is right and wrong, both morally in general and in regards to the clauses that my former manager insisted be put in my contract. Not to mention I'm pretty pissed at Essentials Music right now, so they can fuck off when it comes to their rules and regulations.

I go through the traditional seductive sexy poses and the listless dreamer poses that I have memorized by heart. I'm not even remotely surprised that the photographer doesn't suggest whimsical fun poses for this outfit. I really don't think it would fit the idea the designer was going for when he drew the concept sketch. "Now, I think I want you to do something different for me. I want you to look at the camera as if it were the one person that is meant to be yours. Look at it as if it were your soulmate. Let it know with your eyes how much you want to be with it, and show me how you promise to always love and stand by it."

I've worked with this photographer before, and he definitely surprised me by suggesting this approach since he's never proposed it before. I realized in that moment that I hadn't let myself think about my potential soulmate since I had initially gotten the injection. When I hadn't felt the sting of the potential mark's placement after I channeled somnium venereum that very first time I had let it drift from my mind, thinking perhaps I didn't have a soulmate after all. That didn't mean I didn't want one though, despite my colored history.

That's when my thoughts begin to derail. I'm no longer conscious of the camera or the numerous staff members scattered around the room, instead I'm lost in my own mind. I start wondering where my soulmate might be if she is actually out there. That thought seems to trigger a chain reaction in my mind. Just thinking about the possibility of her being out there again apparently sends me into somnium venereum without even intending to. The sharp pain I expected to feel about three years ago makes itself known on the upper left panel of my chest. It takes a lot of effort to first regain my focus, and then keep myself in character for the shoot. I can't outwardly show the shocked surprise I am currently feeling, but that doesn't stop the train of thoughts currently running rampant in my head. It doesn't stop the numerous questions piling up. Does this mean she only just recently got her serum injection? Or did I fuck up by not letting myself try to channel somnium venereum again in that three year time gap? My mind drifts as I begin to wonder all kinds of things about her. How old is she? What does she look like? Hell, I find myself even wondering what her favorite color and flowers might be. Or if she likes chocolate... Who am I kidding? Is there anyone that doesn't like chocolate?

I'm not sure how much longer I can contain the sudden excitement that is bubbling up inside of me, and also somehow keep it from appearing on my face. It's probably the only thing that could have improved the day I was having. I can't help but feel relieved when the photographer claims, after only a few more clicking sounds from the shutter of his camera going off, that he is sure at this point he got what he needed.

I rush off to the dressing room to change into the street attire that I first arrived in. By the time I come back out that same makeup artist is standing there waiting for my return. It's more than obvious that she is about to utter more salacious suggestions since I am about to leave. I give her a sharp unapologetic look before interrupting any of the undesired flirtations that would be seeping from her mouth. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."