Culinaria L'amore

Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lauren was constantly moving, asking us to shift around so that our arms and heads were in different positions every time. After she seemed satisfied with the film that she produced on a small screen, viewing it for over five minutes as we stood awkwardly with the props in our hands, me with a chewed up tomato, she clapped her hands again, it seemed to be a habit of her as a way to gain attention, and shouted, "Dang guys, that was really good, way better than the Aussies. Let's move on to the next section. I want some funny poses okay? Too mean makes us look like a bunch of bitches."

We all nodded our heads like obedient soldiers and got into our new positions as she directed. I found myself sticking out my tongue and holding a chopping board over my head as if I was about to break it like a crazy ninja. Garrett donned a white apron spelling "Kiss The Chef" and held a smiley face pancake on a plate while Angela licked a spoon covered in white frosting and Alonzo juggled plates in his hands like an expert. Every few seconds as my tongue got drier, the camera flashed, and Alonzo continued to throw his props around, I would gear myself for a big crash next to me, but none came.

I switched spots with Angela and we took a couple more shots, Lauren occasionally shouting orders as my shoulders, arms, and legs gradually got more tired.

Then came the last major pose. After we were 'refreshened' by makeup artists, hair sprayed, lips reglossed, and bronzer reapplied, Lauren directed us around once more.

"Garrett hoist Angela into your arms. Yes, don't be shy and Alonzo stop giving him death looks. That you growling? Alonzo, grip your girlfriends legs so that she's straight from her stomach to legs. No! I don't want to see the underwear! Pierre? Mind getting two sets of forks and butter knives? Garrett, Alonzo, hands out in front, grasp those utensils and hold them out in front of Angela's body. Use your arm strength men. Kirsten, go get those white porcelain plates and the red checkered napkins. Stick those right on Angela's body like on a table. There we go! Kirsten squat down, no not like you're about to take a piss but act as if you were sitting in a chair. Yep. Take that bowl of red, white and blue ice cream, I don't suggest eating it since it's mashed potatoes in reality. Act as if you were going to take a big spoonful! Good! Now all of you, don't budge!"

Lauren's request was completely unreasonable for me as my calves strained from doing the sister of wall sits, my feet trembling and hurting inside of my pumps. I envied Angela as she propped an elbow up with a smile on her face, completely relaxed as Garrett and Alonzo held her, their arms trembling slightly under the strain.

Finally, with a couple of last shots and more shouts, Lauren set her camera onto a tripod and clapped her hands... again.

"You guys are so great! After your crazy culinary gig, you should totally get into the modelling world!"

I looked at her as if she was crazy; I was not going to spend my youth eating cuccummber spinach sandwiches on thin slices of whole wheat bread.

"Anyhow, Kirsten, I need you right now by yourself. I want some individual shots of everyone and maybe some pair ones. You call them sous chefs or whatever, right? Okay then, everyone off! You all can admire. Tommy, drag that table and that chair up for me? Kirsten, hop onto that stool. Yep like that. Trying lifting up your right leg and placing it on the table, heel and all. Perfect! Now take that fork and put it in your mouth, downside. Good good! Now give us a nice sultry look yep!" The shutter went off a few times before Lauren beamed. "Awesome! One more shot!"

The table was removed and I was asked to lean against the seat, bracing myself again the head of the chair and putting my other hand on my hip. Pierre positioned my hair so it spilled down the front of my dress and I stood there for a couple of seconds, a placcid expression on my face as Lauren commanded.