The Good Life

by Beau, Jodie

  “No problem. We’ll do the shoot tomorrow. Indoor pics at seven and we’ll go outside about eight. I get the best natural light an hour before sunset.”

  “I don’t really have any lingerie though. Not like corsets or garter belts or anything like that.” I threw away all of that stuff before I left New York. I didn’t want to hang on to any reminders of how hard I had to work to get my husband to have sex with me.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “Just some sexy underwear and stilettos will work – a few different sets. If you have thigh-highs or long necklaces we’ll use those, too.”

  “I guess I better start making some appointments then.”

  I turned off the TV and stood up. He smirked at me and ripped the banner off the wall.

  “See ya tomorrow, Little Girl.”

  I really got my ass into gear after he left the room, and I meant that literally. I showered, shaved and exfoliated. I then headed to a salon and got a Brazilian wax, a spray tan, a manicure and a pedicure.

  The next morning I washed all my bedding and cleaned my room up just in case he wanted to use my room for the shoot. I got my hair cut, dyed and styled and had a professional smoky-eye make-up application done at the salon. Even though I did have some cute underwear of my own, I stopped at a sex store after the salon to pick up some really cute underwear with ruffles on the butt. I used to have a pair of ruffled underwear back during The Summer of Jake and Roxie and he had loved them so I figured he’d appreciate this pair, too.

  Jake sent a text that said he’d meet me in my bedroom at seven. I would be a liar if I said that didn’t light the dynamite in my belly again.

  I wore my kimono robe over my underwear. For my first outfit I wore a white bra and the white ruffled panties. I thought the color looked good with my tan. I added several long black necklaces of different textures and a pair of nude patent leather peep-toes. Even though he asked for thigh-highs I thought white would look too bridal and black would look tacky so I kept those in the lingerie drawer.

  He arrived at seven as promised. He was very professional. He came in and started rearranging my furniture and bedding and curtains and setting up lights until he had the look he wanted. He took some test shots of me with my robe still on. I lied on the bed with my feet towards the window and he took the pictures from behind my head.

  When I took the robe off he never missed a beat – just kept clicking away. There wasn’t any eye contact between us because of the angles he was shooting from so, while I couldn’t be sure, he didn’t seem to be filled with desire. He could have been photographing a fruit bowl instead of a barely dressed person with whom he used to have awesome sex with.

  There was a small, very tiny, like practically microscopic, part of me that was hoping he’d drop his camera as soon as I dropped my robe, throw me onto the bed and rip those ruffles right off my butt. And even if he didn’t, I wanted him to want to. Just because it had been so long since anyone had wanted me. I thought it would be a nice feeling. But no, nothing like that happened.

  When he was done with the first outfit, I went into the bathroom and changed into pale pink cashmere panties and a matching sweater. He said he wanted elegant and what’s more elegant than cashmere? Besides, I paid a fortune for the set years ago and never had an occasion to wear it, so I was very excited to start getting some of my money’s worth.

  He took a lot of shots from behind in that outfit. Standing up in front of the window, lying on my belly, kneeling on the bed, all from behind.

  “Try turning around and leaning back on your elbows,” he suggested.

  I did as he said and he took a few shots. It was the first time we’d been face to face since he’d arrived. I could tell he was really into his job because he had the most intense look in his eyes. For a second he even stopped clicking and smiled at me.

  “How would you feel about taking off your shirt?”

  I bit my lip. If he wanted to touch me, then maybe. But for him to stare at me and take pictures that were going all over the internet, no way. “I’d rather not.”

  “Your face won’t be in these shots. No one will know it’s you – except me.”

  “No, it’s not that. I just …”

  “You just what?” He sounded patient as always.

  The truth was no one had seen me naked in a long time. Except Caleb who wouldn’t have noticed if I’d sat right on his face. There’s a big difference between twenty-one year old boobs and twenty-nine year old boobs, and I wasn’t ready for anyone to see my newer/older figure yet, especially Jake. He had seen the better version, and he would know what he was missing.

  I knew nothing was less attractive to a man than a woman who lacked confidence in her body, however, there was something about Jake that made me comfortable telling him just about anything.

  “I’m not twenty-one anymore, Jake.” I bit my lip and looked down at the subjects of our conversation. “They aren’t as perky as they used to be.”

  “Are you being serious right now?” he asked. His expression was one of disbelief.

  I nodded shyly.

  “You don’t need to worry about that, Rox. Boobs don’t start to sag until you’re thirty,” he said with a smirk. “You still have –” he paused while he silently counted the months on his fingers, “nine months left to show them off.”

  “That’s nice you remember my birthday,” I said honestly. “But I’m still not going topless.”

  He shrugged casually as he changed the lens on his camera. “All right. No big deal. Are you ready to go outside?” he asked. “You’re gonna look great on a chaise lounge.”

  Mom and Dad called the next morning to check on me. I was surprised it took them so long. Hello, parents, my world was shaken up like a snow globe, thrown onto the ground and smashed into pieces and then ran over by an semi-truck and, besides the flowers they sent during my first week home, I hadn’t heard from them in weeks!

  “Hey Buttercup!” Mom said. She sounded way too cheerful for 10am. I was still in bed and she was probably on her third latte. “How’s it going in A-Squared?”

  “Omigod, Mom! You know nobody says A-Squared except people who don’t live here.”

  “I don’t live there anymore, so I can say it.”

  True.

  “How’s it going?” she asked again.

  “All right.”

  “Your brother says you’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.”

  “Compared to a surgeon I guess I am doing nothing. I’m not saving lives. But yesterday I let Jake take pictures of me in my underwear.”

  “Well that sounds like a good time, dear,” she replied. Either she wasn’t really listening, or she wanted Jake to see me in my underwear.

  “And what are you up to?” I asked.

  “Oh you know, the usual,” she said. “Just finished up some Zumba at the rec center.”

  Zumba? Isn’t that some kind of booty-poppin’ dancing? What has gotten into her?

  “Any news from your lawyer?” she asked.

  “Not yet. She hasn’t been able to find any hidden assets but she sent over a counter-offer and we’re waiting to hear back.”

  “Any offers on the condo?”

  “No, not yet. We might have to rent it out until the market picks up. We’ve already lost money just having it vacant for one month.”

  “That’s a great idea. Just like you kids renting our place. It’s working out for the best for all of us. Are you looking for work?”

  “Not too much. But I’ve been helping a girl named Violet through Big Brothers and Big Sisters of America. I’ve also volunteered at a homeless shelter and donated a bunch of makeup and hair stuff.”

  “Very good, dear. You sound like you’re doing okay then. Hang in there. Your father wants to say hi. Here he is.”

  “Hi there, Sunshine,” my dad said. “You doing okay up there? Adam said you’ve been feeling pretty down. He’s got us worried.”

  “No, I’m okay, Dad. I got my hair and nails
done and I’m feeling a lot better now.”

  “He said you’ve been watching too much TV. If you’re gonna sit around, why don’t you do it outside by the pool? A little sunshine can go a long way, you know.”

  “I know, Dad. I do try to get out there a few times a week.”

  “Every day, Love. You should be out there every single day. And on the rough days when the sun doesn’t do the trick, well, you’ve got a professional bartender for a roommate. Have him make you a margarita. That always works for me. It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

  Did my dad just quote Jimmy Buffet? I didn’t know what had happened to the two of them. They used to be normal parents and now they were like … happy all the time. Maybe the sunshine and waves really could change a person. Maybe I should have moved to Florida instead of “A-Squared.”

  There was a knock on my door. “I gotta go, Dad,” I said quickly. “Love you guys. Talk soon.”

  I hung up the phone, got out of bed and opened the door.

  Jake was standing there holding out an iced cappuccino from the coffee shop with his laptop tucked under the other arm. “I couldn’t wait any longer for you to get up and see these pictures. I worked on them all night.”

  I opened the door wider to let him in, graciously accepted the delicious beverage and we sat down on my bed together. He opened up the files and started a slideshow. None of them showed my face straight on. There were a lot that showed my hair, but none of my face. He said it was better to show only the body because the women looking at the pictures (his target audience) could imagine themselves in the shot.

  There were a lot of close-ups, too, especially of my butt and my shoes. But they weren’t Maxim-style photos. They were classy and even a little innocent – as innocent as underwear pictures can be anyway.

  “Your face is in the original pics, though, so if you ever want me to make you some prints or a book or calendar I can.”

  I snorted at the idea. I didn’t imagine I would ever want a book or a calendar of myself in my underwear, and I knew for sure I wouldn’t be putting a print over my mantle like Rebecca Dunbar. But I didn’t say anything. I was too amazed by what I was seeing on the computer screen to even form a sentence.

  I knew the girl in the pictures was wearing the same things I’d had on the day before but I still had a hard time believing it was me. He must be an amazing photographer because he really did make me look good.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “You must have edited the hell out of these.”

  He laughed. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I actually look all right.”

  “I did edit the coloring on a few, but you looked good all on your own. Is it okay if I post them on my pages then?”

  “Yep. As long as you don’t tag me in any of them. It probably wouldn’t look good if Caleb or his lawyer saw them.”

  “Good point. And for every session I book for the next two weeks I’ll give you half of the session fee. That should help cover the cost of your recent, um, slothic behavior.”

  “Is slothic even a word?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to start uploading these,” he said as he stood up.

  “Jake?” I asked as he was walking out the door.

  He stuck his head back in. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks,” I looked down, feeling shy again, “for making me feel better about myself and getting me off the couch.”

  “No problem, Little Girl.”

  After he left, I took my dad’s advice, got into my bikini and took my drink and my tablet down to the pool. I’d finally given in to the tablet craze. I could play games, browse the web, listen to music, read books, and apply for jobs (if I was so inclined). I could even watch every single episode of Dawson’s Creek right on my tablet through the Netflix app. It was a lazy and unmotivated person’s dream, and I didn’t know why I’d held out so long. Technology was my friend. And my dad might be onto something about the sunshine because I had a feeling it was going to be a great day.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By the time Jake got back from his afternoon senior portrait session, he had messages from nine people wanting to book Boudoir sessions! At $200 per session that could mean an extra $900 for me to put toward my credit cards! And it was only the first day! Jake said he wanted to celebrate by taking me out to dinner.

  “I know a lovely Italian ristorante we could go to,” he teased.

  “No thanks, smartass.”

  We instead went to a Japanese steak house. They sat us in this cute private room with curtains and a couch and we had steak, chicken, shrimp and sake. Even though it wasn’t a “real” date, it was the best date I’d been on in years – maybe my entire life. When the bill came I tried to pick it up, but he wouldn’t let me. I thought that was really sweet.

  It started to rain on the way home. We both got soaked just running from the driveway to the house. It was so dark outside, even though it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. In the summertime, it doesn’t get dark until about ten and Michigan had the most fabulous summer storms. They came in quick, and everything got pitch black, and they left just as fast and everything got bright and dry again, like it never even happened.

  As I stood at the bay window and watched the storm, I remembered GLL Challenge #17 was to play in the rain. Maybe it was the sake, but I thought it was as good a time as any to complete that challenge.

  “I’m going outside,” I told Jake.

  “Huh? What? Why?” He looked confused.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to play in the rain.”

  I ran upstairs and dug in my closet for the rain boots I’d bought years ago and hardly ever wore. Minutes later I was outside in the street splashing in puddles in my yellow rain boots before Jake even knew what to think. He followed me out and shook his head at me as I splashed in the puddles beside the curb.

  “You’re crazy!” he yelled over the sound of the rain. He had on a white t-shirt and the rain gave a whole new meaning to the wet t-shirt contest. I had a grainy view of the tattoos on his chest and the sides of his abdomen. I hadn’t seen those particular tattoos in years and suddenly my mind was filled with flashes of images from The Summer of Jake and Roxie. I saw us in the shower, in my parent’s pool in the middle of the night, laughing under the covers in his room, napping on the couch when no one was home, eating pizza in bed. I could still remember the very first time, that night I asked Jake to take me home with him. Getting his shirt off that night had been a struggle because he didn’t want to stop touching me or kissing me for long enough to get it over his head. When he tried to take mine off, it was the same thing. I could still remember how good it felt once our clothes were finally off and we were skin-to-skin for the first time ever. Sigh.

  The tattoos brought back many memories and so many feelings, too. I especially loved the tattoos on his side. They were tribal astrological symbols – one for Leo and one for Scorpio. Those were his grandparents’ signs. His grandparents had raised him until they died in a plane crash when he was six. Those tattoos made me feel closer to him because nobody knew what they meant except Adam and me. Anytime I’d ever heard anyone ask him what they were for, he’d made up some silly story. But for some reason he didn’t feel like he needed to be fake with me, and I loved that.

  It was one of those ninety percent humidity days that begged for rain to put us out of our misery, and the rain finally breaking through was such a welcome relief. To have it falling directly on me was even better. It was the perfect ending to a pretty perfect day. There was only one thing that could make it better.

  It wasn’t like me to be spontaneous and reckless anymore. Everything fun I’d done all summer was because of Hope. But in doing so, I had rediscovered how fun life could be when I threw caution to the wind and did whatever the hell I wanted.

  I didn’t give it a few hours of contemplation or formulate a pros and cons list. I just did what felt right to m
e. I stepped closer to him, and he backed up until his feet met the curb. His hands were at his side and I reached down and lightly grabbed onto them so he wouldn’t move any farther away. That was when he understood my intentions. But he still made me work for it.

  Our faces were so close. I only had to move about an inch forward and our lips would meet, but I hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t because I was unsure if I wanted to finish what I’d started. I definitely did. I just wanted to give him a chance to back away, to make sure that he wanted me, too.

  He didn’t back away. Instead he tugged my hands to pull my body closer. That was when our lips met. It was just like in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, minus the trench coat and wet cat squished between us. Seriously, the best director in Hollywood couldn’t have created a better kissing-in-the-rain scene than we did. If I’ve done one thing right in my life, it was that moment right there.

  Next thing I knew we were in the house. Up the stairs. In my room. He closed the door behind me and pushed us into it with all the passion and urgency I’d been looking for the day before. We couldn’t get our clothes off fast enough. Just like that night so many years ago, neither of us wanted to let go of each other to get anything off. Even when we did try, it’s very difficult to get wet clothes off wet skin. It was like trying to untie a knot in your shoelaces in the dark with one hand. With every second that went by, we got even more desperate and frantic to get them off.

  Once our clothes were in a soggy heap on the floor, he stood back and looked at me. He had that intense look in his eyes again that I’d seen while he was taking pictures of me. I got the impression that he had stopped to give me a chance to back out, but I wasn’t going to.

  I knew it wasn’t the brightest idea. There were so many reasons why we shouldn’t do this. But I couldn’t stop if I tried. The way he had bit my neck and sucked on my lips made me feel like a wild animal let out of my cage for the first time. There was no going back in – I was feral.

  Once he seemed sure I wasn’t going to change my mind, his urgency returned and he pushed me up against the back of the door by my shoulders. Wet skin smashing into wet skin. It should have been uncomfortable, but it was the opposite. Touching from head to toe, it felt like I was finally where I was supposed to be.