Chapter2
"I cannot believe you are doing this!" screamed the last person I wanted to see right now.
I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting to be called in for my first photoshoot. I would be put through the mill—made over and then adorned in possibly skimpy clothing before I was told to pose in various back-breaking positions. Familiar as I was with the routine, I knew I was in for Hell, and I would have to grit my teeth and smile through it all.
Having escorted my sister for just this type of shoot countless times in the past gave me insight of what to expect. Never in all those sessions had I an inkling that I would one day be sitting in front of the camera myself. It was all a little overwhelming to contemplate. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought this was all some elaborate plan—a hoax, cooked up just to get a few laughs at my expense.
"I don't know what you mean," I replied blithely, hoping to convey ignorance.
"I know I'm blonde, but you know better than to think I'm stupid," Janice replied with her usual candor. That was the sad truth on both counts. She was blonde and brainy. I hated that about her too. How did the old adage come up on dumb blondes anyway? All the blondes I knew were anything but, myself included.
"You want to show me some tits, babe? Show me what you got. Shake it for me," came the distant sounds of a photoshoot in progress.
I stared at Janice, and she stared back at me; then, we both burst out laughing.
In all honesty, hearing that go on behind the closed doors had me more than a little disturbed. It was the main reason I was so tense. But I knew from experience, hearing such talk meant nothing. The photographers could and would say just about anything to get the desired look on their shots. My guess was he was aiming for horny, but that was just it. What if I couldn't do horny?
"You'll be fine," Janice reassured me, correctly reading my open-as-a-book expression. "But are you sure this is what you want?"
I wasn't sure.
I only knew I hated what I already did. Living off Janice was not the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I knew I had to do something, and as I had no skills of my own to boast of, this was the only way to go about it.
"You are really not upset?" I needed reassurance.
"That you slept with my fiancé, Colin?" Janice enquired mildly.
"Yes."
"Well, of course, I'm not. I told you, I was not really engaged. Colin is an ass. You know I would never even grant him a second look had we not looked so good together. But we did, and us being seen together is good for business. You did me a huge favor by sleeping with him. Now, I can safely break it off and come off as the winner, with public sympathy. I'll be more in-demand than ever. I will need you as my manager to take advantage of the offers that will be pouring in," she reminded me of my place in the grand scheme of things.
Janice was almost diabolical that way; she could and would turn set-backs around to suit her.
"I need something of my own—" I started to explain, but she cut me off.
"Yes, I gathered that, and that is why I am here—to lend you my support—and in return, you need to only continue to be my manager."
"But everyone would know the reason you and Colin broke up was me," I reminded her.
"Yes, that is the best part of the plan. You will receive your just desserts for sleeping with my fiancé. How could you anyway? I thought you didn't even like him," Janice murmured unaffectedly.
"I didn't... I don't! It was an accident... unintentional," I murmured vaguely. "I just didn't want to age another year without losing my V-card. So I hadn't protested his advances."
"Yes, I gathered that must have been the case. Next time you feel horny and need some relief, come and see me. I can set you up with any number of guys—better than Colin," Janice assured me.
"She won't have to."
We both looked up to find Erin lounging carelessly against the door. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?
"I've already told her she must come to me. I would gladly settle between her thighs and take care of her every need," Erin volunteered with a wolfish smirk.
I must have blushed scarlet at that, but I couldn't tell from the loud beating that suddenly drowned out my ears. Janice lifted a cool hand to pat softly, if condescendingly, at my heated cheeks. But she need not have bothered, for his next words had me paling instead.
"You're next," he reminded me, ignoring Janice's glare as he hauled me up and gently shoved me toward the closed doors where all the primping would begin.
A woman, delicate and frail-looking, came forward to greet me.
"Hi, I'm Michelle, and I will be your stylist for today. This is Rafael who will do your hair and makeup. Then, we'll get to choosing your clothes and shoes," she said, as she led me forward to the dimly lit dressing area.
The makeshift work bench was propped up against a brightly lit mirror. I had seen similar setups many times but never with such trepidation. I felt my heart pump on overdrive, and my cheeks started to flush pink once again.
I turned to look at Michelle, who was dressed in an off-the-shoulder stretchy, black bodice and paired it with skinny jean cut-offs. She was herself un-accessorized and wore no apparent cosmetics. You couldn't tell from looking at her that she knew anything at all about the industry she was working in. But I had heard of her before, and I could tell Erin had not spared anything in ensuring I had the very best team to put me to rights before I faced the blasted cameras.
"Right! Strip. Take off all your clothes and put this on," said Michelle, handing me a white robe.
I knew the routine. Taking the robe, I went behind the makeshift screens and removed all my clothing. I stuffed them into the duffle bag that I had brought along and threw on the robe without looking at my reflection in the mirror first. I didn't need reality to bite any sooner than it really had to. I emerged back out more than a little self-consciously.
"Okay guys do your thing," I said goofily, before promptly taking a seat in front of the mirror. It felt really odd to be quite naked with only this robe to shield me and my many bulges, before so many people. But the robe was surprisingly soft even if it was stark white and not at all fluffy.
"Close your eyes," Rafael instructed, before he started plucking and shaping my brow.
Then he shaved off my upper lip and told me to visit his store on Elizabeth Street and have this done using threading techniques. After that he slapped on various creams and cleansed my skin before applying lotion, a base, concealer, foundation and powder. Then he began work on my eyes.
"You have some brilliant shades of gray here," he said seriously, as he applied various shades of eye shadow.
"Let's go for the smoky black, shall we? It will bring out the depths of your silver," he murmured, as he continued to dab on the dusky colors. I merely grunted a response, not being sure I even knew of the silver he spoke of. My eyes had always appeared just gray when I looked into them. Perhaps it was all these strong neon lightings. I kept mute over my doubts as he finished off with black liquid eyeliner and mascara. He drew out the blush then and turned to a palette of various shades of pink and pastels.
"Tsk, tsk, so much flesh." Frowning disapprovingly, he shook his head at my cheeks that got in the way of his accentuating my cheek bones. "Such fine bone structure you have beneath all this," he indicated at my abundance of flesh with a shrug of disgust.
I didn't blame him, for I often felt the same on looking in the mirror, which only made my being here at all beyond ridiculous.
"Don't mind him, luv. Rafael is a born grump. He finds flaws in everyone. You look beautiful just as you are," said Erin, sneaking up behind us.
I flushed red, unused to such flamboyant praise and feeling acutely naked under my wrap.
"How are you doing her hair?" asked Erin. And before I knew it, Rafael erupted into a volley of Italian, no doubt slandering Erin's very existence. Then, he moved on to a language I understood, "Do not even think of fucking telling me how to do my work. I will do her hair as I see fit."
I was shaken at this outburst, but on looking up worriedly at Erin, I saw that he only grinned down at me in return.
"Rafael, you know I don't mean any disrespect. You are the very best there is. That is why I have you do all my girls," said Erin, placating Rafael but deflating me in the process.
Of course, he would want only the best for all his girls. They were the source of his bread and butter. I was just one amongst the many—many skinnier models with visibly fine bone structures.
"Out!" Michelle came marching back in. "You are upsetting Rafael. We have much work to do without you interfering."
She chased Erin out, and I felt grateful. I didn't want Erin there, watching them transform me into the goose that laid the golden egg.
Then, Rafael was at my hair. Pulling and prodding first, he tossed my hair every which way before finally settling in on a style that suited him best, which apparently was simply to blow dry it straight.
"Your color is fine for now, but maybe in future, we can consider some highlights," Rafael complemented grudgingly. I only nodded my head in reply. I knew better than to actually respond.
"Alright, we are done with the preliminaries. Now, drop the robe and let us see what we are working with," said Rafael with a spin of my chair that had me turned to face him. Michelle moved around to close the curtains around us.
I knew this was coming and had been avoiding that fact, but I could no longer put off the inevitable. I took several deep, calming breaths then rose to my feet. With a strategic tug, I watched in horror as my robe floated up and off my shoulders to slip onto the floor like the pool of fine silk it was not.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and waited for their verdict.
The silence was deafening. I could almost hear the mythical ticks of the pendulum marking the passage of time. I fought against the urge to bend over and pick up my robe and burrow within the safety of its soft, white confines.
It was a short but worthy battle that was lost from the start. I parted my knees wide to support my un-athletic frame as I all but keeled over to collect the fabric and drape it back over my person. The loud groan that erupted came from behind me. The instant recognition that came with it had me stumbling forward in loss of balance before an arm reached out to haul me upright.
The fabric slipped free, and I found myself in an age-old pose of a modest Venus. Clamping a hand over my large breasts and one splayed open to cover my privates, I spun about to face Erin.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded in near hysteria, then not waiting for a reply, I snapped, "You are not supposed to be here. Get out!" I was flushed red, suffused bodily in that unbecoming color and utterly mortified.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," begun Erin, a start of a seriously pathetic attempt at an excuse. "But your sister just called me with a message for you. Can't say I regret being her messenger boy—at least not on this occasion." He paused with a wavering grin, his eyes shamelessly drifting down the length of me with keen interest. "You are simply stunning," Erin murmured, his eyes glittering with a strange light I hesitated to decipher.
"Out!" Rafael shouted then pushed at Erin's obligingly retreating back to make sure he went out the way he came in.
"My sister has my phone number. She can leave her own messages," I shouted out after him belatedly. He hadn't even conveyed the message she'd left me.
"Sorry, luv." Erin grinned wide and unrepentantly this time. "That was the best I could manage on the spur of the moment," Erin returned, with a wink over his shoulder, before he disappeared to the other side of the curtains.
"I don't care what he said. You are fat, and you have to do something about it," exclaimed Rafael as he huffed back to us.
"Of course, I'm fat! That's why I'm here—as a plus-size model!"
Duh?
"Don't sass me. They will Photoshop these extra folds," Rafael said, pinching a flab of fats at my waist, "but you cannot hide this on the runway."
"Rafael is right. We'll have you signed up at the company's gym," Michelle started a to-do list, pointing out all I would need to start doing to take care of my skin, hair, and shape.
This was beginning to sound like more and more work.
"We will have to get you ready in time for the fashion week in a little over the next quarter. We can launch you then," Michelle said, as she busied about me, taking my measurements.
"Five months? I cannot fix this," I exclaimed dramatically, pointing to my excessive curves, "in merely five months!"
"With our guidance, you can, and you will!"
Michelle and Rafael exchanged a wicked grin that had me groaning.
This was the worst photo shoot ever. I was stuffed into clothes that were too tiny for me and told to pose at angles that were mostly sheer impossible and made to smile in odd manners through it all. I mean, what is a pouty smile anyway? I could barely respond to the poor photographer's cajoling. His attempts to get me hot and bothered for a sensual shot only had me frowning, and my serious shots had me smirking. I was only thankful Erin had not been in there with me, or all my shots would have shown me blushing.
I still felt embarrassed over him having seen me naked. It put me at a disadvantage somehow, as if all my secrets were mine no more. I guess it really wasn't and less likely to be in the future too. This was a very public profile job that I was after. My face would be purveyed by the masses. My body no different, and my personal life would be splashed across tabloids and trash-talked across town. It was hardly an inviting profession, but it would be the one that would launch me out of my sister's shadow and more importantly from beneath her dainty, well-manicured, painted thumb.
After hours of torment, the photographer finally released me with a mild dismissive. "Right! All done."
I stared at his preoccupied face, looking for something that might indicate how the shoot actually went. But naturally, he was a professional, and I could tell nothing. So off I went to do as I was bid and changed back into the street clothes I had arrived in. It felt good to be back in clothing that wasn't stuck to me like a second skin and then some. Where I usually squeezed my plus size down into a size eighteen, I didn't put it past them to try to pull off a stunt of having squeezed out my life in a size zero. Perhaps those were the only sizes they had? It sure certainly felt like it. I rubbed away at the sore redness where the fabric's grips were too tight. Glancing momentarily at my nude form in the mirror, I could clearly tell all the bits and pieces that I could do without outlined by the clothing I had worn. I shrugged into my clothing and shrugged off my day. I had done the best I could with what I had been given, and the rest was up to the fates. I emerged from the dressing room a short while later, carrying my duffle, and I gave a vague wave at nobody in particular and a murmured farewell in general before gladly making good on my escape. But a message that pinged on my phone had me cussing a short while later.
Erin wanted to see me.
Erin: Wait for me outside.
I swiftly tapped back an answer. Both nervous to see him and yet impatient to know the outcome of my shoot. I waited impatiently at the curb outside, cursing myself for the umpteenth time. I should have just called a taxi instead of agreeing to meet with Erin after the shoot. What was taking him so long anyway? Were my shots really so disastrous that he balked, unable to face me?
I fumed over the delay as I started to pace up and down, uncertain whether to call him. But then, the clock ticked on, and I found myself calling his number to tell him off.
The ringing of a mobile phone right behind me had me spinning around to confront a grinning Erin Robertson.
"What was taking you so long?" I spat out at him rudely.
"Oh my, what temper." He clicked his tongue at me, mockingly. "If you must know, I was getting your preliminary shots before Photoshop did their magic."
"Eww!" was my instant unavoidable reaction.
"I thought you'd want to know how you did," he said seriously by way of an explanation.
"You thought wrong!" I exclaimed, grimacing at the sight of the brown envelope in his grasp.
"Don't you want to know how you did?" Erin asked me tauntingly, dangling the envelope before me like the proverbial carrot stick. Well, I was no rabbit. I would not bite. Not the carrot anyway. Or that envelop. Erin however...
"Not particularly," I said, raising my nose at his taunt.
"Well, I do," he said before making a grand gesture of unveiling its contents.
"Nooo!" I shrieked before I threw myself at him and tried to wrangle the envelope free. I wouldn't have him looking at my pictures within my presence.
"So, that was all it took to have you throw yourself at me?" Erin taunted smugly.
His arms wrapped tightly about my thick waist, and that was saying something. They were mighty long arms just like the rest of him. I glared up at him, not at all amused, while I struggled to get hold of the damned envelope, all the while, having to ignore the sudden thrummed-up beating of my delicate heart as a result of our close proximity.
"Tell you what. I'll hand this over without a peek inside if you will give me a 'thank you' kiss." He grinned wickedly as he attempted to negotiate the impossible. No way was I planting a pucker on his delicious lips.
There would be no stopping me from eating him up whole. Then, where would I be? Without a modeling agent; that's what!
"I don't trust you. You're a cheat. You meant to come ogle at me naked earlier, didn't you?" I accused outright, unsure why I brought that embarrassing moment up at this particular moment. But then, I was rather glad I did. It certainly put things into perspective once more. The man had already seen me in all my naked glory. What was one non-photo shopped picture?
"Well, of course, I did. I just had to see what was under all this packaging. It's a matter of professional interest. My timing, as always, was impeccable."
"You... you." Even knowing to expect his answer as I did, I still found myself helplessly sputtering.