Light Me Up

by Isabel Sharpe

  Now...she just had to do it. Get naked. Or seminaked anyway. Wrap a flimsy bit of material around herself and walk back out there.

  Oh, God.

  She did it. Somehow. She took off her clothes, body shaking with tension, considered taking off her bra and panties just to show him, then decided she wasn’t quite ready to, er, show him. Finally she wrapped the material over one shoulder and around herself, sort of a combo sari and toga.

  There. That wasn’t so bad.

  Most important, before she went back in to face Jack, she took a minute for meditation, stretching tall, letting her body center and settle, clearing her mind as much as possible the way her yoga instructor had taught her. Her heartbeat slowed. Her muscles relaxed.

  Ready.

  Head high, she walked out of the bathroom and back into his studio without faltering, her stride smooth and even.

  And the Oscar for Calmest Half-Naked Model goes to...

  “Hey, you’re back.” He barely glanced at her, busy with his tripod. See? This was a photo shoot to him, this was work. This was not about her body except as it served his art. “Why don’t you sit over there against the backdrop, whatever way is comfortable, and let me check the lighting.”

  “Sure.” She sat gingerly on the white cloth, pulled smooth under and behind her, and pretended she was back in high school on stage, performing “Out of My Dreams” from Oklahoma for an adoring crowd of parents and families, not half-naked in front of a stranger.

  “Good.” He peered at the camera’s display screen, adjusted the lighting and umbrellas around her, peered again, adjusted again, until he had the level he wanted, then moved back behind his tripod. “Okay, in this series you’re Eve. Snakeskin scarf. I’ll be using an apple later, pretty obvious. The poses will be superimposed on other images in the final print, so they might not make sense at first.”

  “Sure.” Was she going to end up with cracks all over her? Ten feet underground? With worms crawling out of her she-didn’t-even-want-to-think-about-it?

  An hour later, she no longer cared. She’d been posed this way, that way, scarf wrapped this way, that way, the whole process routine and dull. Jack was distant, exacting and clearly frustrated. Was she doing something wrong? Didn’t he know what he wanted?

  “Let’s take a break.” Jaw set, he snapped off the lights and opened a small refrigerator she hadn’t noticed before. “Beer? Water? Something to eat? Bathroom break?”

  “Water, yes and yes.” She stood stiffly, shook out her tired arms and legs. Lying in Upward-Facing Dog; sitting in Lotus; bending forward in Child’s Pose. Apple on her head, apple in her hand being offered to the “snake” scarf in a weird twist that seemed oddly sexist, apple clenched in her jaw as if she were a suckling pig. Always keeping her face completely blank, devoid of emotion. Nothing satisfied him.

  “Here you go.” He tossed her a water, yanked the top off his and drank thirstily, hand on his hip. “Want an apple?”

  “Uh.” She grimaced, dragging on her shirt to cover herself. “Strangely, I’ve lost my taste for them.”

  He didn’t smile. “Cheese and crackers?”

  “That would hit the spot.”

  He grabbed a box of crackers from the top of the refrigerator and a plate of small squares of cheese from inside and started for the door. “Help yourself. I’ll be back.”

  “Am I not working out?” Melissa spoke impulsively. If this was her fault, she’d back out now and find some other way to pay him for Gretchen’s wedding.

  “No.” He barely turned. “You’re fabulous.”

  Melissa watched him stride out of the room, not sure whether to believe him. Mysterious and complicated guy. From easy charmer to intense and grumpy artiste. She rotated her shoulders, the left one sore from holding poses. Whatever he was after, she hoped he’d figure it out.

  Five cracker-and-cheese combos and one bottle of water later, she visited the restroom, put her clothes back on and wandered into his store, examined all of the pictures there and then the ones in various stages of completion in the back, glancing at her watch every few minutes.

  Then she did it all again.

  Finally, she gave up, cracked open a beer back in his studio and downed it while reading a photography magazine she barely understood.

  Another beer later, also ingested too quickly, and the obvious question could no longer be ignored.

  Was Jack coming back or had he ditched her?

  6

  JACK STOOD AMONG the trees in Cal Anderson Park, hands on his hips, breathing hard. He’d left the session with Melissa and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air to clear his head. Before he knew it, he was walking, striding then running down Broadway to get to the park, the place he’d photographed Melissa before.

  Nothing was working. Nothing. This had never happened to him. Sure, he’d had shots that took some juggling, but it had always been a question of tiny elements, small changes that needed to be made physically, conceptually, visually, mentally. Never anything like this.

  Melissa had done everything he’d asked except get completely naked. But every shot he took, every change he made took him farther from any result that satisfied him.

  What the hell was he doing wrong?

  A cool breeze blew a cloud over the sun, throwing the area into shadows, bringing him back to a day he’d photographed Melissa here, in similar light. She’d been radiant that day, her skin glowing gold and pink against the green around her.

  Jack closed his eyes to bring her back, alive, sensual, an amazing contrast of focus, sensuality and vivid life.

  Vivid life.

  That’s what was missing, what had drawn him to Melissa in the first place—the power of her life force, contained and controlled by the rigors of yoga. She was the perfect Eve, her feminine beauty, her stunning shape, her inner power. But he’d been fighting who she was and who Eve was by trying to stunt and twist both into roles and poses that suited neither.

  He needed to let them both live and breathe, to be warm, female and natural, women tempting snake, tempting man, women resisting temptation, woman seeking temptation, woman giving in, gloriously and finally and rapturously...

  Wait.

  Melissa—warm, female, tempting. Was he out of his mind? He’d barely been able to keep himself from sexualizing her when he was photographing her ankles. To shoot her the way he wanted, he would have to come face to face with what this woman did to him. On a precipice now, looking over the cliff, he could stay where he was, turn back or gather himself for the leap.

  Jack pulled the phone out of his pocket again and started walking back, determinedly dialing. He was not afraid of any woman, never had been, was not going to start now.

  “Melissa, where are you?”

  “Where am I?” She was understandably incredulous.

  “Are you still in the studio?”

  “For some reason. Where the hell are you?”

  He grinned at her frank irritation. “Cal Anderson Park.”

  “Uh... Is there a yoga class you didn’t bother mentioning?”

  “I’ll be back in five minutes. Can you wait?” He heard her sighing, and crossed his fingers. “The shoot will go differently when I get back. I’ve figured out the problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “The problem photographing you.”

  “I’m not a model?”

  “No, not that. Not your fault, it’s mine. I wasn’t letting you be you.” He thought he heard her snorting, didn’t blame her. “I wasn’t using you the right way. I’ve rethought. I have it now.”

  He waited, praying she’d give him a chance, even though he sounded slightly deranged.

  “Well...” She sighed again. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

  “Thanks.” He pumped his fist, started a slow jog. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “If you say so.”

  Jack shoved the phone back into his pocket and started running toward Come to Your Senses and his studio, confide
nt now, no longer chased by demons. He had his shot, the right one for this model. He’d work like hell to keep his professional distance. And if he couldn’t, then maybe this woman was meant to be more than an inspiration to him.

  Running fast now, he laughed, buoyant with energy, not feeling the distance in his lungs or in his legs, driven by his excitement.

  Jack had promised Melissa she wouldn’t regret this. He’d do everything possible to make sure that stayed true.

  * * *

  “FOR THIS SHOT, I WANT YOU on your stomach, but half-lifted, one knee forward, reaching with your arm, as if you’re trying to crawl away from something.” Jack reached into the refrigerator and pulled out another of her old friends. “Guess what?”

  “An apple, oh, goody, something new!” She grinned at him, still feeling the beer and trying to hide her buzz, wondering if he’d been indulging, also. He’d left the studio tight-lipped, tense, broadcasting dissatisfaction from every atom, and walked back in smooth, charming, lit by a creative energy she was instantly drawn to. Violently drawn to. Violently sexually drawn to. Worse than the way she’d been attracted to him that first day in his shop. Then he was just hot. Now he was on fire. Or maybe it was the alcohol in her system. “So you want Eve to resist temptation. I like that.”

  “It’s time we gave the woman a little more credit.”

  “I bet she deserved some.” Melissa stretched out on the floor, one arm forward, one knee lifted, making sure her stomach stayed sucked in. If she was going to represent the earth’s very first woman, she wanted to do a good job.

  It took her a second to settle into the pose, then she called on her yoga relaxation and tried desperately to channel Eve, woman of all women. First and only female in the Garden of Eden amid every delight imaginable.

  To her surprise, instead of feeling stupid and awkward, the way she had in previous poses, even those that were more natural for her body, she felt right in this one, strong and purposeful. Jack had changed the lighting, making it less of a cold, harsh searchlight, more of a warm, gentle sunbeam. Or maybe she was just responding to Jack’s new light, his charisma and enthusiasm.

  And rock-solid shoulders and abs, and amazing chest, thighs and—

  Down, Eve.

  “Good. Good. Reach farther, really make an effort to get away.”

  She strained with her body, made frantic claws of her fingers, caught the mood right away, as if he’d injected it into her. “Like this?”

  “Yes. Yes.” His voice was low, caressing; she could sense his excitement and his eyes on her through the camera. Total aphrodisiac even though she knew it was his art that was turning him on, not her. “Can you look more...vulnerable? But strong and determined in your body. Yes, like that. There. Yes. God, Melissa, you’re perfect. I’m going to come over and figure out how to position the scarf now. Hold on.”

  She held the pose, breathing steadily, trying not to betray her pleasure at his compliments.

  “This will spiral around you.” The soft material brushed across her naked back, across her upper thighs. The touch was sensual, the air around them turned electric. Or was that just her imagination? “Melissa.”

  “Yes.” She could only whisper.

  “If it’s okay, I’d like to move your panties so more skin shows...here.” He touched the side of her hip, and his fingers trailed briefly over the white cotton covering her right buttock. It was all she could do to stay in the pose. She wanted to arch up into his hand. She wanted him to flip her over and take her right there under the warm lights.

  What on earth was happening? She was turning into a primal beast. He was turning her into one.

  “Sure.” She tried hard to sound as if men asked her to move her underwear out of their way so often she found it incredibly tedious. “No problem.”

  His warm fingers trailed again, this time moving the cotton, knuckles brushing her bare skin underneath. Impersonal to him, artist tending to his model, yet his touch set fires wherever it landed.

  By some miracle Melissa stayed calm, kept her breathing yogic, slow in, slow out. Affecting her? Of course not.

  “Good. Okay, let me figure out the scarf part.” He walked around and looked at her head-on, hands in his pockets, scarf dangling from his hip, feet planted. His strong stance made her feel even more vulnerable half-naked on the floor in front of him. And even more turned on. “Okay, I have an idea. You okay like that?”

  “Oh, sure.” She smiled at him, ho-hum. “All that practice clawing myself away from snakes with apples has come in handy.”

  Jack snorted. “Good news. Now, for the snake, how about...”

  He walked behind her again. She felt the brush of his hands on the back of her leg, the smooth soft material winding around twice, calf, thigh. Then he reached under and brought the rest up between her legs, pulling slightly.

  Oh...my...

  She had to close her eyes again, force herself to stay calm. She wanted him to kiss her. Her mouth, her back, her thighs, everywhere.

  He splayed the end of the scarf across her back, so it hung down, covering her right shoulder and breast. The apple he put on the floor, under the material’s hanging edge. “I think that will work.”

  Depending on what he was trying to accomplish...yes. Something was definitely working. Or getting worked up. He needed to move away from her, because she could feel the warmth of his body and the warmth of the lights, and the material pulling between her legs. He was crowding her, her feelings were crowding her, her need was crowding her. She didn’t like this. She liked having freedom to move, freedom to call the shots. She needed to be in control and here she was...not.

  “You sure you’re okay?” He came back around, knelt by her head and brushed a lock of hair across her face.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. The silence in the studio was like a black hole.

  “Part your lips.” He was speaking quietly, too. Melissa couldn’t help it. She looked up at him, and caught his expression. Jack’s eyes were dark and intense, his jaw set. Was he looking at Eve? At his picture? Or...at Melissa?

  Kiss me. Please.

  She parted her lips. A lock of hair caught in the corner of her mouth. Jack pulled the strands away, repositioned them. Even that practical, professional touch on her cheek traveled down between her legs. Melissa was clearly beyond help.

  He stayed near her for a beat, started to speak. Stopped.

  Kiss me, Jack. Touch me again. Make love to me.

  He moved away.

  Thank God he had sense. She was insane with lust, as if the scarf had really turned into the snakelike agent of the devil, tempting her, making her someone she had never been before, someone who didn’t feel like Melissa Weber.

  Deliver her from temptation...

  Men had always been the physical aggressors in Melissa’s past. She’d felt, rather uncomfortably, as if lovemaking was something she controlled, and doled out to the deserving few. She’d never wanted it to be like that, believed the woman should want sex as badly as the man, and though she knew that was possible for some women, too bad, so sad, it had never happened to her.

  It was happening now.

  Click. Click. Click. She tried hard to concentrate on the pose, on the look, on being Eve and getting away from the snake and the apple.

  “Relax, Melissa. Be who you are right now. Eve. Yourself. More what you’re feeling, less what you think I want you to feel.”

  Breaths in and out, she opened herself to Eve, new to the world, innocent to fear and betrayal, but with an inner strength that guided her toward what she wanted. She allowed herself to be Eve and to be herself, aware of her near-nakedness, her vulnerability, her power, allowed herself to feel the lust, the fear, to indulge them both, hating the snake, loving the snake, wanting the apple, afraid of it, too. She was Eve and she was Melissa.

  Click. Click. Click. Picture after picture while she moved in new ways, inhabited the character to a degree she wouldn’t have thought possible.


  The white cotton bra felt ludicrously wrong, constraining, artificial. Eve’s breasts should be bare. Jack wanted that for his picture; Melissa was bold enough now to give it to him. She secured the scarf by squeezing her legs together and sat up.

  “Something wrong?”

  She didn’t want him to talk, didn’t want to think rationally or allow her Melissa-neuroses to stop her; she unhooked her bra, let it slide off and crouched forward again. Her hair tumbled over her face, and she felt like Eve combined with Xena, combined with Lady Gaga. The air in the room was cool on her nipples; this was wild and free and right.

  It took maybe two seconds to realize the camera was quiet. She turned, peering somewhat dazedly through the curtain of hair.

  He was watching her. Hungrily. Frozen by his camera, hand on the tripod. Not Eve and Photographer, but Jack and Melissa. This time there was no question.

  Neither moved. His dark eyes were reaching across the space between them, beckoning. She wasn’t going to go, couldn’t quite make herself. But oh, how she wanted to.

  “Hold that.” Jack broke the spell, moved back behind his camera. “Don’t move anything.”

  She didn’t think she could to save her life.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Her position had barely changed, only her head had turned, but the meaning and her role had clearly shifted. This time she wasn’t resisting temptation, this time she was temptation, the snake and the apple and her bare breasts all part of an invitation to Jack to lose control.

  “Perfect. It’s perfect. God, you are beautiful.”

  The passion in his voice nearly undid her. Following an instinct she didn’t understand, she reached to unwind the scarf, brought her knees up to pull off her panties and draped the scarf quickly to cover herself, then rolled to her side, tugging the rest of the material up between her breasts, stretching the hand holding the apple way overhead.

  Click. Click. Click.

  He’d taken the camera off the tripod, was coming closer. “Yes. Yes. Keep going. Whatever feels right, Melissa.”