Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  “I’m fucking with you,” Nathaniel said, tossing one of the couch pillows at him.

  Kelly deflected it easily, already glaring. “Give me that coffee back. I forgot to put rat poison in it.”

  “I’d still drink it for the caffeine.” Nathaniel took the mug and demonstrated. “Seriously though, Marcello wants some typical poolside photos, and it’ll look awkward if you’re fully dressed. We can hit the mall on the way, pick out a few swimsuits you like. Deal?”

  Kelly nodded. After a few more sips, Nathaniel decided to bring the coffee along, leaving immediately to take advantage of the remaining daylight and heat. They drove to the nearest mall, ducking in and out of stores, but Kelly seemed hesitant about the available options. Was he insecure about his body? If so, he had chosen the wrong profession. The quest for the ultimate swimsuit dragged on. They were walking through the mall when Kelly nodded toward the food court.

  “My ex-boyfriend used to work at the juice place over there,” he said. “He was one of the waiters at the charity ball that night. That’s who I was trying to get to.”

  “Really?” Nathaniel said, playing dumb. “What was his name?”

  “William.”

  He rubbed his chin theatrically. “Yeah, I definitely remember him.”

  “Really?”

  Nathaniel nodded. “He did a terrible job.”

  Kelly smiled a little. “Seriously?”

  “Yup. In fact, I wish he still worked here. I wouldn’t mind getting back at him. We could make him jealous.”

  “How?” Kelly asked.

  “By ordering a banana daiquiri with extra whipped cream.”

  “I’m not sure that would do it.”

  “When he put the drink on the counter,” Nathaniel continued, “I’d take off the lid, set aside the straw, and dip my finger in it. Then I’d let you lick it clean.”

  “That doesn’t sound sanitary,” Kelly replied, but now he was grinning.

  Nathaniel was flirting shamelessly, hoping to bolster Kelly’s confidence. It must have worked, because at the next store he actually considered the swimsuits instead of dismissing them outright. Unfortunately, what he ended up selecting wasn’t very inspiring.

  “What do you think?” Kelly asked, holding up a pair of long swim trunks.

  “I was thinking these,” Nathaniel countered, showing him a much skimpier pair.

  “Is that a thong?”

  “Speedos. They’ll show off your body, which is the whole point of a pool shoot. You aren’t there to enjoy the water.”

  Before Kelly could reply, a sales clerk walked up, his big watery eyes looking them over, lingering on the crutches. The top of his round head was mostly bald, the trimmed beard compensating on the opposite hemisphere. “Can I help you with something?”

  “We found what we need,” Nathaniel said. “He’s going to try these on. Right?”

  Kelly sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

  “The dressing rooms are over there,” the clerk said, pointing to curtained doorways on the far wall. “Do you need any assistance?”

  “Nope,” Kelly said, already heading there. “Thanks.”

  All three dressing rooms were occupied. While they waited, Kelly kept considering the skimpy swimsuit and making an unhappy expression.

  “Worried about filling it out?” Nathaniel teased.

  Kelly raised an eyebrow. “No.”

  Finally one of the curtains opened and a man exited, leaving behind pairs of crumpled jeans on the floor.

  “Oh, excuse me,” the clerk said, reappearing. He swooped into the small space and gathered up the pile of jeans. Then he stood just outside the door and smiled. “There you go! Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall.”

  “Thanks,” Kelly said tersely, heading inside.

  The sales clerk grabbed the curtain and held it open. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ll manage.”

  “There are courtesy wheelchairs in the customer service center downstairs,” the clerk said. “If you wait, I can fetch one for you.”

  Kelly looked at the corner of the dressing room, where a small bench was attached to the wall. Then he returned his attention to the clerk, his lips curling into a smile, but one unlike any Nathaniel had seen so far. Kelly resembled a viper. “What’s wrong with the seat in here? Do you think it needs wheels? Would that somehow make it easier to try on clothes?”

  “No, but it’s not a very big seat. I was telling my manager last week that there should be handicapped dressing rooms, just like there are restrooms. Nice and spacious with some bars on the wall and…” The man trailed off, misunderstanding Kelly’s impatient expression. “Sorry. Should I run and get that wheelchair?”

  “I’d rather you get a lobotomy, but there’s no point. If you had even half a brain, you’d realize how offensive you’re being.”

  “Offensive?” The clerk blinked a few times. “I was thinking of your convenience!”

  “You were thinking that all crippled people belong in wheelchairs. Do I look like I have trouble getting around?”

  The clerk set his jaw. “I was only trying to help!”

  “If you want to help me,” Kelly said, “you can promise not to reproduce. If you ever find someone stupid enough to mate with you, please, for the sake of mankind’s future, don’t do it.”

  “You’re very rude!”

  “And violent, so you might want to leave before I put the one foot I’ve got halfway up your ass.”

  The clerk spun around to face Nathaniel, but if he was seeking sympathy, he had chosen the wrong guy. A moment later he stomped toward the registers, cheeks red.

  “That was harsh,” Nathaniel said, leaning against the doorway. “I like your style.”

  Kelly batted his eyelashes innocently. “Just my little way of making the world a brighter place.”

  “You get stuff like that a lot?”

  “Yes. Mostly from kids. One asked me the other day if I was a pirate.”

  “Did you bite his head off too?”

  “No. Children are too young to know better, and frankly, there are worse things than being compared to a pirate. I might even dress up as one for Halloween. Speaking of which.” He held up the swimsuits and shook them.

  “Oh.” Nathaniel grabbed the curtain, just as the clerk had. “I’m here if you need me. Just in case you fall or something.”

  “Asshole,” Kelly said with a chuckle.

  Nathaniel grinned and shut the curtain. He waited for it to open again, expecting Kelly to demonstrate how he looked in each swimsuit. Instead, after much rustling of fabric and a barely audible sigh, the curtain was pushed aside, revealing the same outfit as before.

  “Maybe a pair of jeans,” Kelly suggested hurriedly. “They can be tight. I know a brand that looks good on me. The photos will still be sexy. I can make them work, you’ll see.”

  “Okay,” Nathaniel said.

  They went to a different store. Kelly knew exactly what he wanted. He was confident enough to buy them right away, asking the clerk to cut off the tags. Then he went to the dressing room to change so the jeans would loosen up before the shoot. Nathaniel had to admit they looked good. They showed off Kelly’s package nicely, but it still wasn’t the assignment they had been given. He was tempted to remind Kelly of this, but he’d grown quiet and reserved, confirming Nathaniel’s suspicions: The guy had body issues.

  They drove in silence to Marcello’s home, which of course had a sprawling patio and a large private pool. This location had been used for numerous photo shoots, Nathaniel grateful that using it didn’t require the usual paperwork or special arrangements. Just a certified lifeguard for insurance reasons. Today they would go without.

  “Feels weird being back here,” Kelly said as they wound their way through one of the living rooms. “At the time I didn’t understand that someone actually lived here. Jesus! Is that a Ming vase?”

  “If it’s got cookie crumbs in it, yes.”r />
  “What?”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “Marcello told me once he keeps cookies in his Ming. I always imagined it would be in the kitchen. Or next to his bed.”

  When they stepped out onto the patio, the sun was growing orange as it descended toward the horizon. Marcello’s home was built on top of a hill, affording an impressive view of the city. This was useful in terms of light, since the trees were too low to cast interfering shadows, but they needed to act quickly.

  “We don’t have much time,” Nathaniel said, unpacking the camera.

  He worried that Kelly would need to be coaxed out of his shirt, but when he looked up, it was being stripped off. He raised the camera, snapping a few photos. Then he lowered it again, because Kelly had a nice body. Slender. A runner’s build, even now. Arms ropey with muscle, tight pecs, and of course, those abs.

  “This light won’t last,” Kelly said, lowering himself onto a lawn chair to remove his sock and shoe. “Keep snapping photos. You might get something good. Or maybe Marcello has a foot fetish.”

  “He has every fetish,” Nathaniel said, raising the camera again. “He collects them.”

  Once down to his jeans, Kelly stretched out on the lawn furniture, but he wasn’t being lazy. He had good instinct for body posture and his position relative to the camera, especially considering that yesterday was his first day in the studio.

  “You sure seem to know a lot about cameras and light,” Nathaniel said while taking photos.

  “It used to be a hobby of mine.”

  “And now?”

  “Try holding that camera steady while hopping on one leg.”

  Nathaniel didn’t argue. Kelly was mostly stationary, but Nathaniel was ducking and dodging, moving around him to try different angles. He needed his full mobility and couldn’t imagine working like this while trying to balance on crutches. He kept taking photos, appreciating the orange glow on Kelly’s brown skin, but he was distracted by the mostly empty pant leg, which flopped around, getting tangled in an unappealing way.

  Nathaniel stopped taking photos. “You like to swim?”

  Kelly narrowed his eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I’ve seen enough inspirational movies to know that people are capable of anything they put their minds to. I stopped making assumptions after watching My Left Foot. So again, do you like to swim?”

  “I haven’t really tried since the accident,” Kelly said.

  “I just need you in the water,” Nathaniel said. “The shallow end will do.”

  “In my jeans?”

  “It was your idea.”

  Kelly nodded. He stood and moved to the stairs leading into the pool. He waded in, crutches and all, keeping close to the wall. Then he raised them for Nathaniel to take.

  “How’s it feel?” he asked, setting aside the crutches.

  “Warm,” Kelly said. “Is this pool heated?”

  “Could be,” Nathaniel said, looking through the camera lens again.

  Kelly glanced around, trying to figure out what to do. He inched along the wall to deeper water. Up to his neck.

  “Move back,” Nathaniel instructed. “Get your arms down.”

  Kelly did what he was told, the sun catching his brown eyes.

  The shutter clicked and whirred, and as handsome as the resulting photos would be, Nathaniel didn’t think they were getting anything special. “Listen,” he said. “You know how they say you should make love to the camera? I need you to fuck it. Hard. Like you and the camera broke up, got back together again, and you still haven’t forgiven it completely.”

  Kelly smiled but then grew serious. Bedroom eyes smoldered as teeth slid along his bottom lip. No come-hither expression, instead Kelly’s look said I’ll-come-to-you with a little bit of whether-you-like-it-or-not. Kelly moved forward again, placing his hands on the edge of the pool. Then he slowly raised himself, water cascading over his flexing muscles, weighing the jeans down so that one angular hip was exposed more than the other. Nathaniel was getting hard, but he ignored that. If these images were turning him on, chances are they would work for others too.

  “Do that again,” he breathed.

  Kelly lowered himself and repeated the maneuver, this time the water pulling on his jeans enough that Nathaniel could see a line of hair that he knew was just a few tantalizing inches away from a much more enticing prize. From the way the wet denim cupped his package, he could imagine how big that prize would be.

  The sun hit the horizon, the light becoming dimmer, the color still rich but too dark for the camera. Kelly must have noticed this, because instead of lowering himself back into the water, he turned and sat on the edge of the pool.

  “These jeans feel like they weigh a ton. Did you get what you need?”

  “Yeah,” Nathaniel said, more aware now of his own arousal. He did a quick adjustment, hoping to conceal it. “I’ll grab some towels.”

  Kelly just nodded. Had he noticed? Did it make him uncomfortable? Nathaniel walked to the house, keeping his back to Kelly. Only once he was in the dark interior did he turn around, feeling certain he couldn’t be seen. Kelly watched the house for a moment, then scooted toward his backpack and took out the basketball shorts he’d worn earlier. He hoisted himself up onto the lawn chair, then swung around, facing away from the house. From the motion of his arms, he was clearly unbuttoning the jeans. Sure enough, he then lifted himself to tug them off his hips, giving Nathaniel a nice view of his ass. A bubble butt with curves that made his mouth water. Once the jeans were tossed aside, landing in a wet puddle, Nathaniel realized he was seeing Kelly completely nude, even if most of the details were obscured. Kelly turned sideways and leaned back to pull up the shorts, his most intimate parts already covered.

  The amputated limb rose in the air briefly, the fabric tumbling down it before Kelly tugged the mesh-fabric over it again, hiding it from view. He shot a look toward the house as if concerned. Nathaniel felt like rushing out to reassure him, which would of course be hard to do without admitting he’d been spying. Instead he filed the issue away and went to fetch a towel. He checked the images on the camera display as he went: brown eyes smoldering with desire, orange light reflecting off beads dripping down dark muscle, and water sucking at jeans clinging to narrow hips. Nathaniel felt hungry, but he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in food.

  * * * * *

  Marcello flipped through the photos from yesterday’s shoot in a rare state of silence. Some of the photos he set facedown in a pile, rejecting them. To Nathaniel’s surprise, these included all of the pool photos except for the one of Kelly removing his shirt. Face up in another pile were those he approved of—Kelly looking grossed out while trying to drink coffee or laughing in the branches of a tree.

  “Sleeping on the job?” Marcello asked, holding up one.

  Nathaniel leaned forward. The photo was of his apartment, him stretched out on the couch, Zero pressed up against his side. Kelly must have taken it while he was snoozing.

  “Have you not seen these yet?” Marcello asked, reading his face.

  “No. Just grabbed them from the lab. Any others like that?”

  Marcello placed the photo between the two piles and resumed sorting. At the end, he shook his head. “That’s the only one, which is a shame. The composition is promising. Do you suppose Kelly got lucky?”

  “He used to dabble in photography until…” Nathaniel picked up on the double meaning and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what do you think?”

  “They have a certain charm,” Marcello said. “I’d like to offer a selection in our catalog and gauge the response. More to the point, what do you think of Kelly? He’s very photogenic. Should I offer him a full contract?”

  Nathaniel leaned back and sighed. “Depends on what you expect from him. If you want a normal model, then sure. If you expect his amputation to be part of the photos, it’ll take some coaxing.”

  “How so?”

  “He doesn’t like anyone seeing it. Kelly made sure to hid
e it from me. That’s why he’s climbing out of the pool wearing a pair of jeans.”

  Marcello stuck his bottom lip out in puzzlement. “I saw no such reservation from him in the studio. He seemed completely comfortable with his body.”

  “Really?”

  “I have the photos to prove it.”

  Marcello reached for a drawer, but Nathaniel stopped him. “I believe you. Maybe he changed his mind.”

  “I assure you, we spoke quite openly about the issue before this trial period began. I don’t leave much to chance, especially where emotions are involved.”

  “Then why—” A lurid smile cut him off. Nathaniel sighed. “You think I’m the problem?”

  “Perhaps you’ve caught his eye.”

  “The swimsuit probably made him nervous.”

  Marcello tapped the photo of Nathaniel sleeping on the couch. “He could have posed next to you while making a face, or written something on your forehead, or snapped a photo right after jarring you awake. Instead the photo’s perspective brings to mind an admirer, standing over the sleeping form of the person they long to touch.”

  “He barely knows me.”

  “Familiarity is rarely the heart’s first concern. How does his desire make you feel?”

  Nathaniel tore his eyes from the photo. “Feelings have nothing to do with it. He’s got talent. I think you should offer him a contract.”

  His boss’s theory was put to the test a week later. Nathaniel wasn’t the least bit surprised to find himself organizing a downtown photo shoot for a low-profile client who normally wouldn’t have merited a session outside the studio. Kelly would be the star of the day, posing in the middle of a crosswalk, surrounded by extras. The entire affair was over-budget before it began, but he knew Marcello would find some way of recouping his losses. The true purpose of the day was to put two chemicals together and watch for a reaction. Nathaniel had to admit he was curious. He already knew what he felt. Relationships were a bad idea. What Kelly felt was a mystery. In his mind, at least. Marcello remained convinced that Nathaniel had an admirer.

  Not wanting to compromise the experiment, Nathaniel focused on his work. Kelly did seem eager to prove himself. Maybe his crush was on the job itself, and any nervousness he felt was about performing correctly, because once they began, Kelly’s attention didn’t waver from his task. No longing glances were sent in Nathaniel’s direction. By lunchtime Nathaniel had already dismissed Marcello’s theory. He had more important concerns, since a bureaucrat had called to inform Nathaniel that certain promises wouldn’t be kept.