“How in the world did you manage to get a modeling job? Don’t you have to have an agent for that?” As far as I knew, Stefan hadn’t said anything about modeling since we’d been at our new apartment. The jobs he’d applied for so far had all been typical nine-to-five jobs that only required a high school diploma.
“I saw an ad online looking for professional models. The requirements were that you have to be good-looking and be physically fit. I said fuck it and sent in a few pictures and said I was representing myself. That was yesterday, and there is already a response today.”
“They must have really liked you,” I remarked.
I brought Stefan’s breakfast along with his glass of orange juice over to the coffee table and set it before him. He closed his laptop and set it aside on the couch and then patted the seat next to him.
I flopped down next to him, trying not to let my disappointment show.
“You’re not pleased, I take it?” Stefan asked as he grabbed his fork and began digging into the pile of eggs.
I pushed an errant strand of hair out of my eyes. I swear, since my pregnancy, my hair volume had increased so much that it drove me absolutely wild. “Well, it’s not that. I always thought you could be a model. I just don’t know how I feel about you modeling in your underwear.”
“I figured you would feel that way,” Stefan said, grabbing his glass of orange juice and taking a gulp. “But you shouldn’t worry. It’s a totally professional environment from everything I've seen, and the pay is pretty good. I looked it up online, and even for an amateur model like me, I could fetch a hundred dollars an hour. I'd only need to get a few sessions to pay for most of our expenses.”
I smiled. “Well, that does sound wonderful.”
Stefan bit into a piece of bacon and then flashed me his killer grin. “I’ve gotta put these good looks to use for something.”
I grew silent, unable to offer much of a response. After a moment, Stefan seemed to notice that I didn’t have a plate of food.
“You’re not going to eat?”
I was feeling a little sick, and just the thought of eating made me feel queasy.
“I’m not hungry,” I replied.
Chapter 32
Stefan
Lights flashed rapidly in my eyes, nearly blinding me as I stood before a large green screen in torn blue-jeans and no shirt on, striking a masculine pose.
“You’re doing beautiful, Stefan,” my photographer, named Jenny, a young woman with chipmunk cheeks and short brown hair, purred as she peered through the lens of her camera. “Absolutely beautiful.” There was a flurry of activity behind her as people scurried about, shouting commands. I was one of several models doing a photo shoot at the same time, and multiple green screens were set up as models were brought in and out for various shoots.
She was one of the first women I’d met when I entered the studio, and I found her to be slightly bossy almost immediately, but I attributed it to the demands of the profession.
After all, photographers were used to issuing orders to get the models to pose in the way that they wanted.
Jenny peered over her camera and motioned at me. “Can you pull down your pants a little and show a little of your underwear?”
I shifted on my feet and did as she asked.
She beamed at me, her eyes seeming to feast on my body. “Good.” More flashes went off.
What am I doing here? I asked myself.
It seemed so surreal. Although I knew I was good-looking, I’d never thought I’d end up modeling because I had dropped out of college to support my pregnant stepsister. But the pay was good, and considering how hard it was to get a good job with only a high school diploma, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Very good, Stefan.” Jenny straightened and motioned at one of her staff members, who went scurrying off to one of the other green screens. “I’m going to bring Cara, a swimwear model, over to take a few pictures with you, okay?”
“Of course,” I said, trying to seem casual by flashing an easygoing smile.
A second later, Jenny’s assistant returned with a tall, curvaceous, dark-haired beauty dressed in a barely-there bikini in tow. I quickly averted my eyes as she made her way toward me.
“Cara, this is Stefan, a new model who is having his first shoot,” she introduced us. “Stefan, this is Cara.”
The beautiful model held out a hand to me and flashed a pretty smile as she appraised my muscular torso. She seemed attracted to me, and her eyes seemed to be silently saying, I don’t know you, but let’s go fuck after this. “Nice to meet you, Stefan.” She had a foreign accent—some type of European. I wasn’t sure.