Model Boyfriend

by Stuart Reardon

  “I mean the Greek origin of this word: phōtos is ‘light’ and graphé means ‘lines’ or ‘drawing’. So you see, photography means ‘painting with light’. And this is the miracle we shall produce today.”

  Nick was fascinated. He’d never thought of it like that and was now intrigued to see how this was going to work.

  Massimo bowed and pointed to a chair in the corner.

  “Please, to undress. You may put your robe over there.”

  Nick strode over to the chair and slid the robe from his shoulders.

  This felt awkward. It was completely different from being in the locker room with thirty other lads, all naked: here he was the only one.

  He felt seven sets of eyes burning into his back and bare arse. Even walking felt unnatural, and then he had had to turn around.

  He peered into the gloom when he heard a sudden noise.

  At the back of the room, Anna clamped her hand over Brendan’s mouth, ending the gasp he’d let out when Nick had dropped his robe, his eyes locked below Nick’s waist.

  “Not a word,” she hissed.

  Brendan’s wide eyes slid to hers and he shook his head, then mimed zipping his mouth.

  Eyes narrowed, Anna glared at Brendan until he gave her a sheepish smile.

  It was harder than she’d imagined—so much harder—seeing Nick surrounded by beautiful young women while he stood proudly naked in front of them. Much harder.

  I’m just being silly and jealous, she told herself sternly. Completely irrational. And I am the idiot who encouraged this.

  Her heart was hammering so loudly, her pulse racing so crazily, she had to force herself to take several deep breaths or risk passing out.

  But it was more than raw jealousy; it was the feeling that he belonged here and she didn’t. It was as if their relationship had slid into something unequal. And while she didn’t think of herself as ugly, she knew that Nick was in a different class. She’d always known that, even if he hadn’t.

  The pretty young makeup artist smiled up at Nick, and when he smiled back, Anna’s heart clenched painfully.

  Then the girl sprayed him all over with a product that made his skin glisten the way it did after a workout or shower.

  “You doing okay over there, Annie?” Brendan asked quietly, his voice loaded with sympathy.

  Anna nodded, because she couldn’t find the words to speak. This whole experience was so much more intense than she’d expected.

  Brendan reached out and squeezed her hand, but didn’t speak again.

  “This is a very strong look, Nick,” said Massimo seriously. “Let’s try this pose that we talked about earlier.”

  With something to focus on, Nick’s nerves began to dissipate.

  He suspected that the first dozen shots Massimo took would show a guy who looked like a deer in the headlights facing a double-decker bus on a motorway.

  But after that, everything started to improve. Massimo called him over and showed him on the camera’s screen some of the shots he’d taken. He certainly looked less startled in the later pictures.

  “Look, Nick, this is a good angle for you—you have very strong profile.” Then Massimo smiled. “Most people look better in profile. We must capture your best angle. Now we will change the lighting: this one higher, this one lower, to create the shadows on your abdominals and on your pectoral muscles. Too much light coming forward flattens the image. We must show this magical physique.”

  Nick nodded his understanding. He saw what the photographer meant about painting with light and shadows, and he wasn’t bothered by the nudity—the pictures were beautiful. Even he thought so.

  He shot a smile toward where he assumed Anna was sitting, then went back to focusing on giving the photographer the angles and poses that he wanted.

  Anna caught his smile and returned it weakly, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

  For the next two hours, she watched Monsieur Igashi snap hundreds of photographs, stop, talk to Nick, choose a new pose, rearrange his long limbs, contour the lighting around him; sometimes coming in close to focus on Nick’s eyes or chest or thighs or calves, sometimes from the back of the room, but always moving, never still.

  He encouraged Nick constantly, and the slightly startled expression that Nick had worn in the first five minutes had completely vanished. Instead, his intense focus spoke to the camera, that depth of emotion that Anna thought was hers alone, was on display.

  Anna realized with a pang that he was at home in front of the camera. So why did that bother her? She’d pushed hard for this project, and it was going even better than she’d imagined. But now…

  The pretty makeup artist retouched Nick’s face with a brush, and Anna watched as he closed his eyes so she could work. The woman was standing so close to Nick, yes, utterly focused on her work, but so close. Too close, her chest almost touching Nick’s, her thighs close to Nick’s splendid cock.

  Red hot jealousy flared through Anna, even as she told herself that she was being ridiculous. But she couldn’t watch this any longer.

  She turned to Brendan and whispered.

  “I’m going to get some air.”

  “I’ll stay here and keep my eye on Baby Spice,” he whispered back, his eyes narrowed on the pretty makeup artist who’d said something to make Nick laugh.

  Anna fled.

  ANNA STRODE ALONG the exquisite, cobbled street, arguing furiously with herself. She hadn’t been able to sit there a second longer and watch another woman touch Nick like that. Although, seriously, what could have possibly happened with everyone watching? Nothing. Nothing had happened, nothing would happen. Nick hadn’t encouraged her, and the girl had even particularly been flirting with him—they were all doing their jobs.

  “Ridiculous!” she snorted loud enough to startle a couple of tourists.

  Panting from the steep climb, she realized that she’d reached the summit of the Old Quarter. She stared down the long, twisting streets, taking in the ancient stone buildings, and squinting into the sun that danced and glimmered on the distant sea.

  Her body began to relax and she could almost laugh at herself. Almost. She allowed herself to remember that her feelings were completely natural. In no other environment other than modelling, or perhaps a medical facility, would Nick’s naked body be scrutinized at close quarters by so many strangers.

  It was modelling that was unnatural, not her feelings.

  The realization made Anna feel a hundred times better. It didn’t completely soothe the hurt in her heart when Nick had smiled at the young makeup artist, but she could persuade herself that it was meaningless.

  She realized, several hours too late, that there was a reason why nude photoshoots were usually closed sets. She also remembered reading an article about sex scenes in movies, and why significant others didn’t attending the filming—precisely because it was awkward and stirred difficult emotions.

  She strolled through the maze of narrow streets, taking time to enjoy the scenic old town, before finding a coffee shop where she indulged in a delicious lobster salad, a local wine, sweet and cool, followed by wonderful rich coffee, and a cheeky dessert of petit fours.

  And treating herself to a glass of wine and sugary goodness denied to Nick, gave her the tiniest little smug smile.

  She texted Brendan to let him know where she was and that she was fine after having a good wallow. He messaged back that the shoot was wrapping up so it was safe to return.

  At that moment, Anna appreciated him even more as a friend than as her wonderful assistant. Brendan was her best friend—he understood her, protected her when she needed it, then kicked her ass when she deserved it.

  She slid her sunglasses into place and made her slow way down the winding alleys, pausing every now and then to examine a curio or admire a display in a shop window.

  Feeling more like herself, she reached Massimo’s studio and used the huge iron knocker to let them know she’d returned.

  Elisa opened the doo
r with a smile.

  “How was your walk, Anna? Le Suquet is beautiful, no?”

  “Very! I had a lovely time, thank you. Is Massimo pleased with the shoot?”

  Elisa beamed.

  “Maestro is satisfied. He says Nick is very compelling.” Elisa touched Anna’s arm lightly as if to emphasize her point. “This is a great compliment.”

  “Well, thank you!” Anna laughed. “But it’s all Nick’s work—well, him and his parents! It’s got nothing to do with me!”

  Elisa smiled as if she knew a great secret, and leaned forward to whisper.

  “Maestro confides he cannot photograph happiness if it does not exist.”

  Anna was flummoxed.

  “He said that?”

  “Yes. You are surprised?”

  Anna paused, not sure how to answer. But then she heard Nick’s voice and peered over Elisa’s shoulder.

  He was dressed now, wearing the shorts and t-shirt that he’d arrived in, leaning over Massimo, dwarfing the older man. They were both bent over Massimo’s camera while the Maestro explained some of the technical aspects.

  Even Ning Yu joined in the conversation, her face surprisingly animated as she explained the lighting effects she’d used, and why she’d selected the different diffusing lights. She showed how she’d lowered the lights and added a spotlight to create drama for the black and white photographs.

  Nick was frowning slightly, as if deep in thought or concentrating very hard, nodding every now and again to show that he understood.

  The residual tightness inside Anna dissolved. Nick was completely engaged in the project, totally focused. He was happy.

  Perhaps this was the interest that Nick would find outside their relationship. Much as she would like to be everything to him, Anna knew that wasn’t possible—it wasn’t even healthy. She was fair enough to know that her own work as an advice columnist and self-help author was something that she valued. Nick needed the same stimulus, he needed goals.

  She walked further into the studio.

  “How’s it going?”

  Nick glanced up, his eyes bright with interest.

  “Hey, luv! I missed you. Did you have a good time? Brendan said you’d gone to find something to eat,” and he raised his eyebrows, clearly amused and just a little envious.

  Anna blushed and crossed her fingers as she lied.

  “Just coffee. But tell me about the rest of the shoot? I saw the first half…”

  Nick gave an embarrassed groan.

  “I was pretty rubbish at the start. Standing around posing isn’t as easy as it looks. I’ve been holding so many positions and trying to flex at the same time, I’m knackered! I never knew that modelling was so tough.”

  His eyes slid away as if he was rifling through the overload of experiences from the morning.

  “It felt a bit weird to have everything flapping around in the breeze, but all the guys were really cool about it, so that helped.”

  All the guys? Try four beautiful women and two gay men, Anna thought to herself cattily. She managed to keep a smile on her face, and Nick grinned at her.

  “Massimo promised that there won’t be any dick shots. Been there, done that!”

  This time, Anna laughed.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she smiled. “But you looked amazing out there.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Got me all worked up seeing you like that.”

  Nick shot her a surprised look, then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and a lingering kiss on her lips. Her arms circled his waist and she rested her head against the solid warmth of his chest, breathing in the scent of laundry soap and Nick’s faint cologne.

  After a moment, he stood up straight and stared at her seriously.

  “You know it didn’t turn me on, right? You could see that. You’re the only woman who gets me hard, Anna.”

  Her cheeks heated with gratitude and desire.

  “I do know that,” she whispered.

  And this time she meant it.

  Nick’s intensity lasted all the way back and he didn’t let go of her hand in the car. Brendan sat with the driver and chatted in French while texting on his phone.

  As they sat in the back seat, Nick brought her hand to his lap and let her feel the hardness under his shorts.

  Anna’s breath stuttered as she saw the heat and desire in his eyes.

  She tried to pull her hand free, but Nick pressed it more firmly to his straining erection, a challenge in the sly smile on his face.

  “We can’t!” she hissed, throwing a quick glance at Brendan and the driver.

  Nick raised an eyebrow.

  “We can’t,” Anna said again, more weakly.

  He clamped his large hand over her smaller one and moved her fingers up and down his length with firm strokes. He leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closing and his mouth falling open.

  His hand relaxed as Anna gripped him more firmly, still casting nervous glances at the front seat.

  She moved faster, feeling the tension in his thighs as she increased the pressure. She squirmed in her seat, the erotic charge electrifying between them as her panties grew damp, and her own need became unbearable.

  Sensing her distress, Nick’s hand slid across to her lap and his long fingers crept beneath her skirt, then inching upwards, until he hooked two fingers inside her.

  Anna shuddered, coming immediately as he pressed his thumb to her clit, sending her rocketing skywards.

  Nick moved his free hand back to his lap where Anna’s hand had stilled, setting up a fast, rough pace, but leaving two fingers inside her, moving them to the same rhythm.

  Anna whimpered and nearly swallowed her tongue, clenching her thighs to make this stop. But he didn’t. The rhythm was relentless and she felt herself building again.

  Suddenly, Nick released her hand and plunged his into his shorts, coming in short, thick jets over his fist.

  His eyes opened slowly as his breathing evened out and a relaxed, pleased smile spread across his face.

  Wordlessly, Anna searched in her purse for a tissue and passed it to him.

  Nick grinned as he calmly cleaned himself up.

  Anna was in shock. She’d never … not in public … not with two people, and one of them a stranger sitting just a few feet away!

  Heat poured from her whole body.

  She pushed the button to open the window, fanning herself.

  “Feeling hot, luv?” Nick asked, leaning toward her and kissing her neck softly.

  “Just a little,” she lied.

  “It’s definitely hotter in the back seat,” Brendan quipped, pointedly staring out of the window.

  Anna’s cheeks blazed red as Nick let out a low laugh.

  At the hotel, he dragged her into their room.

  “I can’t believe you … that I…” she huffed, still stunned by her own rash behavior.

  “Didn’t you know they call me Naughty Nick?” he laughed.

  Then he pulled her into the shower and didn’t wait for her to undress as the water poured over their bodies.

  “Nick! My clothes!”

  But Nick was a man on a mission.

  “Forget about your clothes, baby,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her neck and not so gently tugging her hair.

  She moaned, half appalled when he tore open her shirt, ripping it from top to bottom, revealing her breasts.

  Her bra disappeared with one swift movement.

  Nick was impatient, aroused by Anna’s words, the car ride, horny as hell, and shower sex had always been a real turn on for him.

  He stared, mesmerized by the water spraying and bouncing off Anna’s breasts. Her own excitement built as she caressed and squeezed his muscles, kissing and biting his chest.

  “I love you, naughty Nick,” she whispered with a smile. “Show me what you’ve got!”

  Her words were a spur and he shrugged out of his wet clothes, kissing every part of her body.

  “You make that l
ook so easy,” she breathed out. “Very James Bond, the name’s Renshaw, Nick Renshaw, 007 license for shower sex!”

  She felt the rumble of Nick’s laugh against her bare skin, but there was nothing amusing about his rigid cock, throbbing and pulsating against Anna’s wet body.

  All humour gone, she was grinding up and down on him, digging her nails deep into his chest and abs.

  He slipped one hand up Anna’s wet skirt and ripped down her knickers.

  “Naughty Nick is so rough today,” she groaned.

  Yes, the beast had been let out to play. The hours of standing around naked and being told what to do, his hunger and frustration rolled out of him as he rubbed her clit in a circular motion, moving with her as she pressed up hard against his hand, her moans and groans guiding his fingers.

  “I need you to fuck me hard,” she hissed.

  Lust flared in his eyes and he picked her up easily, lowering her onto him roughly and she gasped as he pressed her against the shower tiles.

  He thrust deep inside her again and again, the hot water pouring down with every movement, Anna’s moans increasing to breathless screams as she climaxed.

  Nick kept thrusting harder, faster, slamming into her as Anna cried out again, half pleasure, half pain, and then he exploded inside her, his body tightening, the cords on his neck standing out, the muscles in his arms and thick thighs rigid.

  Anna gasped for air, and Nick slowly relaxed, allowing her to slide down his body, her soaked skirt catching on him as they kissed, softly now.

  THAT EVENING, LIMBLESS and satiated, Anna dressed for dinner.

  Brendan had cried off, saying he wanted to find a club where he could ‘dance till dawn’, his words. In reality, it probably meant finding a guy to hook up with then gossip about the next day.

  Anna was happy to have Nick to herself. Sex with Nick was always hot and steamy, but there was something about the wantonness of their behavior, the chance of being caught, then shower sex with the rush of water over their bodies, Nick’s solid heat, the cooler tiles, the ruggedness of it as he’d held her up and slammed into her, his beard reddening her skin as he panted into her neck.

  Just thinking about it made her cheeks glow and her mouth dry. It had been so long since he’d wanted her this badly.