“Breakfast was our first stop, and an excellent one at that.”
“I stand corrected; this is stop two, come on.” He comes around to open my door, extending his hand to me.
The receptionist greets him immediately. “Mr. Kendrick, so good to see you.”
Mr. Kendrick? He’s like twentyish years old.
“Thank you, Angela. I believe Paul is expecting us.
This is Laney Walker.”
“Of course, come on back.”
Come on back? Who is expecting me for what?
Breathe, Laney, breathe. I agreed to let him make the plans, and I agreed to go with him today in the first place, so time to man up.
Paul is a fascinating man, definitely same-sex oriented, and apparently he loves me and I’m his darling. I love the way he says both, incessantly. It becomes clear very quickly that I’m here for a photo shoot, and I suddenly feel nauseous. Surely this isn’t a normal first date, well, this isn’t a date, but this is as intimidating of an event as it gets...Dane is a “go big or go home” guy apparently.
“Dane,” I lean to him and whisper. “What the hell?! I can’t do this! Why would I do this? If you think I’m putting on some lingerie and posing, I’m gonna run out of here...and I’ll be nixing the whole ‘spend time together thing,’ you perv.”
He rubs water from his eyes he’s laughing so hard. “Oh Disney, never quit talking, please.” He catches his breath. “I already know you well enough to know lingerie would never be an option, and while I’m confident you’d look fabulous,” he winks, “I wouldn’t orchestrate for other people to see you in it.”
Oh Lord, good answer; I feel heated, and oddly flattered.
“I want you to see how beautiful you are, accomplished perfectly with clothes on. Now go with Paul and I’ll wait here.”
I start to slowly drag my feet in the direction of Paul.
“And Laney!”
I turn back to look at him. The little sneak.
“Have fun.”
Paul puts me in a silky, flowing dress of beautiful light green with a cream overlay. I argue with him a bit about it being a dress because I don’t do dresses, but he assures me that he does this for a living and I look marvelous. “I think Mr. Dane wants you to see what he sees. Let me bring that out for you. Trust me.”
I go with it; might as well make the most of the experience, this is something I’d never have thought of myself.
When Paul’s crew is done, my hair is down and curled and my feet are bare with a dark red polish on my toes. My makeup is light except around my eyes, where it’s heavy and smoky.
Paul pulls me to a backdrop of sheer white and places me on a dark chaise. Then he aims a fan at me from far away. This is the real deal. I feel a bit like Cleopatra or Elizabeth Taylor.
“Look up, left, at me, no smile, sultry, pout, look away, right arm back, left ankle in, arched back, shoulder down, look down and over,” Paul drills out commands, jumping around me like Tigger.
I’m more than a bit overwhelmed. I ask him to stop a few times so I can calm myself, but finally he says we’re done and that I did well.
Dane ambles over to me. “How was that?” “Actually, it was really fun once I got used to it.
“Thank you so much.”
“You’re more than welcome. I’ll look at the shots while you get changed. I think he got some really nice ones.”
I swallow heavily. “You watched?”
“Every second. You did amazing. Did it feel good, Laney?”
If I discount away my anxiety and take it at face value, yeah, it did. “It did,” I finally answer.
“Well then, stop two is a success.” His cocky grin is brilliant.
When I’m changed, Paul calls me over to look at the shots on the monitor. I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the floor; I love them. I barely recognize myself and am definitely shocked at the look in my eyes he’s captured.
He rolls through the pictures, Dane and I looking over his shoulder.
“That one!” Dane says suddenly. “Bdub it.”
Suddenly, the picture in front of me becomes black and white. It’s a close up of my face, head slightly turned, and one curl falling by my cast down eyes. Dane reaches over Paul, taps a few buttons on the keyboard, and the nearby printer comes to life. As quick as that, there are two large prints of the shot in the tray and Dane moves to put one each in a separate manila envelope.
“One for you, one for me,” he says, handing me one. “You’ll get a copy of all the rest later, but I had to have this one now.”
Paul kisses me on each cheek and I thank him for the greatest time, promising to come back for another shoot sometime. Walking out, I stop Dane short and give him a huge hug. I can’t hold it in a second longer. “Thank you again, Dane, I mean it. You’ll never know how much.”
He winks back at me, of course he winks, and it’s enough; I’m starting to speak wink.
“So where we headed now?” The exhilaration still courses through me as I slide into his car.