Beautiful Boy(2)

Once I nervously turned my attention to him, the flash went off,  temporarily blinding me. He maneuvered around the table, making me  follow him with my eyes everywhere he went. With each step, the shutter  clicked and the flash exploded around me. In a cascade of white stars, I  became engrossed in his movements and the glimmer of fireworks left in  my eyes from the camera's light.

I never wanted the moment to end.         

     



 

In an instant, his lips were on mine. Light flickered beyond my closed  eyelids, but I wasn't sure if it had been the camera or the effects of  his kiss.

Warm, soft lips melted into mine until they had coaxed my mouth open,  and then he gently pushed his tongue in. Bright spots continued to dance  as soft, gentle kisses turned fevered, rushed, hungry. His hands roamed  from my face down my neck, to my collarbone, to my breasts, to my  bellybutton. A trail of heat blazed through the slight chill on my  chest, and I quickly realized my shirt had become unbuttoned, exposing  my plain white bra.

I started to panic, to object out of fear, but then his lips met my skin  right above my jeans. Body parts buzzed and zinged with a tight  pressure, aching and throbbing. I had never been touched there. I'd  promised myself that when it would happen, it would be with someone I  loved. But at the moment, I only cared about having the ache eased,  having the burning need met.

So I didn't object. Not when our eyes met, or when his fingers released  the button on my pants, or even when he slid my jeans down my thighs. I  didn't stop him when he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of my  cotton panties, or when he tugged them away. And when his tongue finally  met the ever-increasing ache, I couldn't do anything other than throw  my head back and moan as new sensations flooded my system.

Fire burned inside me, and then everything around me exploded. Regret or  logic never entered my mind. Consequences be damned. All I cared about  was the release Nolan Richards had given me. The kind of release no one  had ever given me before. And I couldn't wait until we returned to  school so I could see him again, replaying our little secret in my mind  every time I'd see him in the halls.

Yeah … consequences be damned.





One





Fifteen years later …





"We need more oil," I called out to my assistant as I flipped through  the digital images on the camera in front of me. The shoot had been  going well, but there were still a few more shots I needed to acquire  before calling it quits. And in order for the lights to appropriately  pick up the angles, I needed more shimmer on his body.

Shari came over with a bottle of body oil and began rubbing it on the model's insanely ripped chest.

"Not too much, Share … I want him to glisten, not look like he has a sweat  problem," I said without taking my eyes away from the images on the  small screen in my hands.

Silence met me, which was odd considering Shari never kept her opinions  to herself. I peered over my camera and caught her expression-it  silently said, "I know what I'm doing." My smirk formed automatically.  She did know what she was doing. Shari had been my best friend since  high school, and when my photography business took off, there wasn't a  single person I wanted by my side other than her. And she never  complained about oiling the models for me. I could've done it myself,  but it had been a perk Shari enjoyed-one I graciously let her keep.

Once he'd been oiled to the light's liking, I moved in closer and got  down on my knees at his level. Bronson, the male model in front of me,  lay on his back in the middle of my studio in nothing but a pair of  black boxer-briefs. I straddled one of his legs and aimed low, needing  the perfect angle for this shot.

My studio had made a name for itself in our area from the boudoir shoots  I'd done. Taking pictures of half-naked people had never been my goal,  but after one impulsive spread I did for a local magazine, everyone in  town had heard of me. Before I could even blink, aspiring models and  small marketing companies sought me out for hire. I couldn't complain … it  paid the bills, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy doing it.

Bronson had come to me hoping my distinctive ability could give him  something impressive to offer the agents he wanted to acquire. I thought  headshots would be enough, but for whatever reason, models these days  felt they needed to strip down in order to find work.

I took about twenty more pictures before climbing off his body and  calling it a day. I tossed him a towel, more so he could cover his  raging erection, but he used it to wipe off the oil from his chest with a  grin. I guess he didn't mind having his excitement on display. If  Bronson had no qualms about being nearly naked and erect in front of a  couple of strangers, then neither did I.

I thanked my client, escorted him out of the studio, and locked the door  behind him. It was late, so Shari and I had to hurry and get the space  cleaned up. We were both starved from a day-long session and in  desperate need of nourishment, which typically came from a bottle of  wine and takeout.

"Your house or mine?" Shari grabbed her purse and headed for the door once we had everything put away.         

     



 

I followed behind her, ready to lock up once we were out. "Mine is fine.  I have Pinot in the fridge and your favorite Tai place is on the way.  How does getting hammered and staying the night sound? We can talk shit  about boys and their asshole ways?" We normally didn't sleep over at  each other's houses, but her boyfriend had broken up with her a few  weeks ago, and even though she tried to act tough, I knew she needed my  support.

"Only if you let me watch whatever movie I want. I can't take a sappy  romance tonight. I want to see blood and guts spewed all over. I need to  experience something horrific."

My eyes rolled dramatically as I shook my head and laughed at my friend.  "Sure. Whatever you want, Share. But if I fall asleep in the middle of  it, you can't hate me." She knew I despised those kinds of movies,  especially the war ones. Those were her favorites, and every time a new  one came out, she'd go on and on about how I needed to see it. But I had  no desire to watch movies about war. Nothing about watching soldiers  die did anything for me. But since she was my best friend, and going  through a hard time, I gave in and let her have her way.

Bitch knew I couldn't tell her no. After all, she had been there for me  countless times. She'd listened patiently while I'd complained and  ranted over the same thing time and time again.





After dinner, and on our third glass of wine, I decided to get out my  computer. I had made it through half the movie but couldn't take any  more carnage. I needed a distraction and wanted to start editing the  photos from earlier, but disappointment plagued me once I realized I'd  left the SD card back at the studio. With nothing else to do, I scanned  my email, going through hundreds of spam and deleting them. It had been  an overdue task I ignored on a daily basis. Nothing like a gory movie to  make me do it, though.

Four emails in and my heart stilled in my chest. Fighting through the  memories of my past, I opened it, only to see what he wanted and why he  would email me after fifteen long years.



* * *



From: Nolan Richards

To: Novah Johnson

Subject: Your profession …



Ms. Johnson,

I see you're doing very well with your business. However, I can't help  but think of the hateful words you and your family used when describing  my actions after I had done the very same thing you now profit from. I  only want to know what you have to say for yourself.

Nolan Richards



* * *



"Oh my God," I whispered through my fingers, which now covered my dry lips.

Shari turned to face me, and after a moment of not gaining my attention, she paused the movie. "What's wrong? You look pale."

"Nolan Richards sent me an email."

She let out a gasp and then moved closer to me on the couch. "What did that prick have to say?"

"He said I'm no better than him and then asked if there's anything I  have to say for myself." I finally removed my attention from the  computer screen and gazed at her. A warmth of fury coursed through my  veins, setting my body on fire.

"No better than him? What the fuck is he talking about?"

"Because of what I do for a living."

"Is he seriously comparing your job to what he did to you in high school?"

My hands trembled uncontrollably. Adrenaline consumed me and left a  ringing in my ears. Even after fifteen years, Nolan Richards had a way  of getting to me. "Yeah. How can he possibly even think it's the same  thing?"

"He has some balls. What are you going to say back?" Her voice was full  of venom as she inched even closer to me to offer reassurance.

"Nothing! I have absolutely nothing to say to the bastard. I said it all  fifteen years ago. What more could I possibly have to say to him?"