“Dammit, Drew, I didn’t bring you here to have sex with you. Now get serious about this.”
“Oh, I’m very serious, Lina.”
She stared at him—at his face this time, to let him know just how not funny she thought he was being.
“Okay, fine.” He stared at the ceiling.
“Now what are you doing?”
“Counting ceiling tiles.”
She tapped her foot and waited, trying not to stare at his cock. It took about a minute, but he finally nodded. “Okay, let’s play dress-up.”
She took the first outfit out of the garment bag. She’d chosen a pair of workout pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. He put them on.
“Shoes?”
“I have some. Hang on.” She started into the other room, then stopped. “Oh, I need your size.”
He told her, then she dashed in and came out with shoes. He put them on.
“Now, walk,” she said.
“Walk, where?”
“Back and forth, like you’d be walking on the runway.”
“How?”
Of course. He was a guy and had likely never seen a fashion show. “Like this.” She demonstrated, walking the length of the room, pivoting, then walking back.
He smiled. “You have a great ass.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you do the same.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to walk all girlie.”
“I don’t. I expect you to walk like a man.”
He slid his hand into the pocket and took a stroll.
God, he was a natural. Some models took years to perfect a walk like that. Drew took seconds to head down the room, stop, turn, and head back.
Women would be falling at his feet.
And even better, the outfit looked magnificent on him. He was tall, lean, with chiseled looks that would serve him well on the runway.
Or in a magazine.
Or on a billboard.
He was perfect for her line.
“How did I do?”
“Great. Stand there for a second.” She ran and grabbed her notebook and took a photo of him in the clothes. “Now put this set on.” She handed him the next outfit. He undressed, put it on, and did the same walk. She made notes and took photos while he tried on six different outfits.
He wore them all incredibly well. And didn’t complain once about being bored or irritated.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said as he climbed out of the last outfit.
“We’re done already?”
“Yes. Why? Did you enjoy it? Thinking of hanging up your skates and becoming a model?”
He laughed. “Not on your life. But for you, I don’t mind.”
He’d been so great about this. Even the professional models hated trying on clothes. Dressing them in an outfit and sending them down a runway at a packed show, fine. That’s what they were paid for. But they found fittings tiresome.
“You were awesome.”