There’s a knock on our door and in walk Cheryl and Tony, each carrying a silver tool box.
“Mikal. Ashley. Good to see you. When you’re ready, undress and wrap in a towel. We’re doing full body makeup for the shoot,” Tony says.
“I’ll be working with you, Mikal, and Ashley, you’ll be with Tony,” Cheryl informs us.
“Great, let’s get changed, Mikal,” I say, leading him to the back room of the trailer.
“Do we have any music, Tony?” Mikal yells over his shoulder.
“In one minute.”
I pull the curtain to the back room once Mikal has entered and pull him by the shirt into a kiss. Hungry. Taking the bottom of his shirt in my hands, I slowly lift it over his head. Squatting, I smell him from his belly button up through the valley between his pecs to his throat. Placing his hands on my belt line, he runs them up my stomach and chest, lifting the shirt as he does so and finally pulling it over my head. Then, taking me roughly by the shoulders, he pulls me to him. Flesh on flesh. Hot skin on hot skin. I fumble with his belt buckle as music begins to pour through the trailer. Mikal rips open the buttons on the front of my jeans and slides his hands in the back, grabbing my butt. He kisses me like he may never again have the opportunity. I unzip him, and his jeans fall to the floor. He pushes mine down, and we press together, pants around our ankles, which we attempt to step out of, still locked in a kiss.
We succeed after dancing and kicking off our shoes and fall onto the bed. I lay on Mikal, and he wraps a leg around the back of mine, squeezing tightly. He smells so good and is throbbing under me. I straddle him and pull his arms above his head, as he did to me in the limo, pinning him there as best I can. I’m sure Mikal could wrestle free from me if he desired, but he doesn’t. Stooping down, I lick his ear and whisper, “We need to go. We’re getting too excited and we have to work.”
He pouts his lower lip, which I kiss quickly as I lift myself off him and grab one of the fluffy white towels Cheryl handed us. I wrap it around my waist and shimmy out of my underwear, smiling at Mikal, still lying on the bed smirking at me with his arms tucked behind his head. “You are soooo cute!” he mouths to me, and I feel heat rise to my cheeks. I can’t even remember the last time I blushed. I give him a wink and sneak past the curtain back to the main area of the trailer.
“Oh good. Sit here, Ashley, and I’ll get you started,” Tony says, patting a black canvas director chair facing one of the lighted mirrors.
I hear the curtain drawn open and Mikal joins my reflection, giving me a playful headlock, his bicep bulging against my chin. “Did you know this man is only eighteen years old, Tony? Already a prince!” He smiles at me in the mirror. We do look good together, a beautifully contrasting match.
“Only eighteen, Ashley? To think such youthful beauty forced to share company with an aged relic today.” Tony laughs, ribbing Mikal.
I squeeze the bicep around my neck. “Yeah, it’s a good thing he stays in such great shape. Doesn’t want to see me escape.” I wink at Mikal, who releases me to take a seat in a matching director chair. Tony and Cheryl start mixing their colors, holding them up periodically to our faces.
I can barely stand sitting here next to Mikal. Inches away. Naked but for a towel. Cheryl takes perfection and paints an Olympian deity. Defining and extending already perilously long lashes. Increasing dimension to his shadowed jaw and cheekbones. Dusting radiant gold bronzer across his chest. Tony and Cheryl clip, buff, and moisturize our hands. I’m starting to wonder when the work starts when Marc swings the trailer door open, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.
“How long, Cheryl? Tony? Are they ready in five?”
“No problem, just have to dust and spray them. Which wardrobe would you like them in first?” Cheryl asks, releasing Mikal’s hand and standing.
“Let’s go with Mikal in the white Active Short and Sleeveless Crew to start, and Ashley in a black Square Cut and Classic Crew. Let’s take it all down, though. We’ll have them change on location, if that’s okay with you boys?” Marc asks, already on his way out.
Mikal and I stand. Tony and Cheryl dust us with bronzer and spray us head to toe with a setting mist.
“All right, we’ll give you guys a couple minutes to get in wardrobe, and we’ll meet outside to take you down,” Tony instructs.
“Thanks Tony, Cheryl,” I say, following them to the door, holding my towel on with one hand. I close the door and Mikal wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing the back of my neck.
“I couldn’t wait for them to leave. Having you in a towel was too much for me, I was going batty,” he whispers in my ear, running his hands down my arms.
“I know, I was thinking the same thing. Well, maybe I wouldn’t have used the word batty,” I say, turning to face him, looking up into his eyes. “Kiss me gently. Don’t fuck up my makeup.”
Mikal laughs and pulls me tighter, leaning down for his kiss. I keep my eyes open, marveling at flawless skin. I can’t get over how he smells to me. Like sex, all the time. Like alluring cologne and sex. Enough to make me faint. Too much for my senses. Never mind him pressed against me in this towel. I’d love to rip his towel right off. Just let it fall to the floor. Why is it still on exactly? Right, because I don’t want to seem like a slut. Why? Because it’s just not a good thing. And because I really, really like Mikal. Not just for his Italian handsome face, not just for the immaculate Men’s Fitness body, not just for his tool aching against my stomach. And not just because he smells like sex. Beyond and more importantly, it’s for the true gentleman he is to me. Because he takes care of me and holds me. Because he’s a man who can love and chooses to give that love to me.
Right. Okay, so if he’s the One, we have a couple options. Maybe it’s good to take things nice and slow, savor every moment of the journey as it unfolds. Or maybe it’s okay that I am so passionately enamored by him that he wouldn’t think me a dirt bag for wanting sex immediately, simply insatiable.
Scary thought. What if when we do have sex he doesn’t like it? I mean, he’s never been with a guy. Up until last night, he’d never kissed one. We’ve gotten past that all right and everything seems fine, but at any point he could be like, “Yeah, I thought this was for me but really… not so much.”
We could be right in the middle of something, and he could decide he doesn’t actually like it. Then where does that leave me? How can I fall in love with him if I don’t know if he’ll even dig it? I mean, I think he will, but I can’t know. Why do I think at all? It’s way too stressful.
“Mikal, you’ve never slept with a guy before?” I ask.
“Well sure. We used to bunk up on sports trips in high school. And I slept with you last night.”
“Right, but you’ve never had sex with a guy before?”
“I hadn’t even kissed one until you last night, remember? Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking,” I say. “We should get changed. They’re waiting for us.”
Mikal gives me a quick squeeze and releases me, letting his towel fall as he turns to the counter with our “wardrobe.” A breath catches in my throat. I’m not ready to look down. I can’t. I don’t want to see yet. I turn away.
“Just let me know when you’re good to go, Mikal.”
“I’m good to go right now. What’s this? Are you shy, Ashley? Come on, we have the same equipment.”
“I know, but I’d rather it be different. You’re not just any guy in the locker room to me.”
“Ash… babe,” Mikal purrs. “All right, I’m ready. Your turn.”
I turn around to an underwear billboard ready for Times Square. The Sleeveless Crew is taut over Mikal’s chest and perfectly displays those prize biceps. The Active Shorts hugging just right, not leaving a lot to my imagination.
“Oh my Antonio Sabato Junior.”
“What?”
“You look amazing. Can you wear this out when we go on our first date?”
“Ashley, this afternoon will be our
first date. Just in front of a few cameras. Now get dressed,” he says, turning away. Nothing wrong with this view either. I drop my towel and realize I am living every woman and gay man’s fantasy: standing naked with an underwear model. I pull on my black Square Cuts and reach for the T-shirt.
“Mikal?”
“Yeah?”
“I like when you call me babe.”
XVII
WAVES BEAT at the shore rhythmically. A few seagulls call out high above, their voices stolen by the wind. A portable stereo sings nondescript dance hits. Mikal is kneeling in front of the headboard of the big four-poster bed laughing, his arms outstretched and relaxed on the dark wood. I have a white linen pillow, grasped by the end in both hands, slung over my right shoulder.
“Okay guys, you know the sequence. Mikal, bigger laughing this time. You’re really having fun. He’s not hurting you even if he does. Ashley, don’t hurt him. And action!” the photographer yells, obviously a guy with aspirations of working in the movies.
I raise the pillow over my head and charge Mikal, who really is laughing. At least I “charge” as best I can on my knees across the bed. Mikal puts his hands up in self-defense, and I land him a good one on his shoulder. Feathers fly up from just behind Mikal, strategically blown by a fan. Mikal grabs the pillow and tosses it to one side. He takes me by the waist and pulls me to the headboard. I kneel beside him, sitting back on my feet. We just look at each other for several long moments. Mikal reaches up and tucks a lock of blond hair behind my ear, then rests his hand on my shoulder. I lift my right hand to his chest. Then a slow but determined rise to kneeling again, we face each other. Getting closer and closer but allowing for plenty of moments for the camera. We pause for what seems like an eternity, moments apart, looking into each other’s eyes. I can taste Mikal’s milk-and-honey breath on my lips. The moment is beautiful and excruciating. In my peripheral I can see the flashes going off and hear the lenses zooming. I look into those big green eyes and can’t wait to end this yearning. Ever so gently he kisses me, and there’s an electric dance on my lips. I bite his lower lip lightly. His eyes scrunch a little, and suddenly he pulls back.
“I’m sorry, everybody. Can I take five? I’m just feeling a little weird.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief.
“Nothing, it’s no big deal, Ashley. I just wasn’t in the moment.”
“You weren’t in the moment? What’s the problem?”
“Ashley, I just need five, okay?” Mikal says, already getting off the bed. A production assistant comes up, handing him a robe. Marc, smoking, walks up to me.
“Ashley, don’t worry about it. We’ll sort this out. We really don’t have time for this, though. If Mikal needs a break, I’ll call Fernando or one of the other boys in. We can’t afford to not get these shots before sunset.”
“Let me talk to him. Maybe I can find out what’s up,” I say, hopping off the bed and following Mikal to the surf, where he’s staring out to sea.
“What’s up, Mikal?” I ask, placing my hand on his elbow. “What just happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine, it’s just this whole thing is a little overwhelming. It’s like coming out—but to the world. I think my nerves just finally caught up with me. You were right. Once we shoot this, there’s no going back.”
“So it’s not me?”
“No, of course not, I’m just getting over myself.”
“If it helps, Tony told me he thought we made a stunning couple.”
“See, that’s the shit I’m scared of. How do they know?”
“What do you mean, Mikal?”
“How do they know I’m gay? You’re obvious; you’re just too pretty. But I don’t know if I want everyone to know. Can’t our bedroom be our business? Can’t we just screw around and not have the world talk about it?”
“What did you say? Is that what you want, to just screw around? Because I was getting a really different impression. I thought you cared about me.”
“Ashley, I do. It’s just….”
“Just what, Mikal? There is no just…. Fuck today and this shoot. I don’t care what you decide to do one way or the other. I know that when I was on that bed with you, hell, any time I look in your eyes, I’m dying to kiss you. If you had a problem ‘being in the moment’ or if things change when we’re in public, then I think you need to really consider what I mean to you, if anything.”
“Ashley….”
“Mikal, I’m going to go and get back in position on the bed. I’d love if you would join me because you’re really the only person I want to share today with. Like you said, it’s an exciting day for us, professionally and I thought maybe as a new couple?”
Mikal continues looking out at the ocean and his chest heaves as he blows out a breath.
“Marc will call Ferni if you need a replacement, but I hope it’s you I’ll be spending the afternoon with. My five is up.” I turn and walk quickly back to the bed. Tony and Cheryl join me to do touch-ups.
“Is everything all right, Ashley?” Cheryl asks, powdering my face.
“Just fine, thanks. We’ll be good to go right away.”
“Great.”
Mikal walks up to the bed, looking sheepish. He places a hand on my shoulder and gives a weak smile. “Ashley, I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t yet. I’m sorry.”
All I can do is nod. And Mikal backs away, joined by Marc, who walks him quickly to a golf cart. What the fuck? Did I imagine this morning? Tony brings me a robe, and I sit dumbfounded on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t worry about it, Ashley. Seriously,” the photographer says, putting an arm around my shoulder. “Marc has Fernando on his way. We’ll have this shoot back up in forty-five minutes. You’re looking beautiful. Guess Mikal is just not comfortable with the gay direction of the campaign. I thought for the money he’d do it. His problem, not yours. I’m sure he would have been a shitty kisser anyway.”
“I’m sure.” I nod with a polite smile, kicking the sand. “I’m just going to walk up the beach a ways. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“I’ll send Marc in the cart to get you as soon as Fernando is here.”
I love the way wet sand seeps through my toes as I walk. I love the mystery of my fading footprints as I walk farther up the beach. Fading. That’s what I wish would happen to today. In tough times I always think, by this time tomorrow, this will have passed. Growing up I hated hockey practice. Dreaded it actually, would be sick all day thinking of having to go. I used the analogy taught by my mother to get through. It’s only one Sesame Street and one Mr. Rogers long, and you’ll be finished. How many episodes of Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers until I can get past the bullshit? I’m so tired of all the drama. Why can’t life be simple? Ironic, how originally Mikal was so gung ho about this shoot and I was the one with trepidation.
Am I overreacting? I mean, I’ve been there myself. Most of my life. Coming out is a huge occasion. I should have been more empathetic. God, I feel like a jerk. I mean, today was big. A lot has happened. Here I go again, matching furniture before we’ve even gone for dinner.
I’m a jerk. I remember how hard it was when I left Rachel for Chris and the thought that someone would find out was a constant virus in my mind. And here I go acting like “get over it, it’s no big deal.”
I wonder if Chris got my e-mail. Wow, that seems like a week ago and it was just this morning.
Maybe Mikal isn’t into it. I mean, he said our kiss last night was comfortable to Ferni. Then today he says he’s not in the moment. If that’s the case, then life sucks. I write a good riddance letter to a supposed boyfriend who’s been cheating on me in the morning, spend the afternoon blissfully falling for a god only to be dissed before dinner. What is it exactly that I’m doing wrong? Are these just the practice drills I need to go through before finding love? I realize I’m eighteen, but at this pace I feel like an embittered, crotchety old bachelor who is waiting to meet my reflection just around the corner.
It’s really not fair. Those blissful couples that fall in lifelong love in high school. Disgusting. The football hero and beauty pageant queen destined for eternal romance. Who am I kidding? That never materializes. I need to step outside of me to see what others do. What is it that attracts people and then sends them running? Am I actually gross and disgusting on the inside? I’m a joke; I’m a stereotype of American society. Or am I just its product? One more box with a shiny label on a shelf of others. Enough with this driveling banter.
I hear the low hum of a motor and turn to see Marc on the golf cart approaching, a puff of cigarette smoke rising behind. “Ready, sport? Fernando is here and is just getting final touches done. I’ve walked him through what’s going to happen,” Marc informs me as I climb into the passenger side. “You okay?”
I look up to the blue, blue sky and a few clouds meandering inland. “I’m going to be. Let’s get this show on the road.”
XVIII
WHAM! FEATHERS fly as I smack Fernando on the shoulder with my pillow. Laughing, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to himself. I kneel beside him at the headboard, laughing. All fun and games in a dorm room, right? I raise my eyes to Fernando’s and see he isn’t laughing anymore but rather looking seriously at me. Slowing he lifts his arm off the headboard and tucks a blond lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is electric and his deep brown eyes pulse with Latin sensuality. Intoxicating.
I rise up from my haunches and tentatively bring my hand to rest on his chest. His body a da Vincian study of sinewy musculature, every cell perceivably rigid and lithe at the same time. My hand is burning up on Ferni’s mocha chest, his body so hot compared to the early evening air. With our eyes locked, a magnetic force draws us together, slowly. Slowly. Allowing the photographer plenty of time, Ferni parts his lips slightly and closes his eyes. I do the same.
Warm strawberries carried on a mint breeze. Tender and soft.
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