by Virna DePaul
I trust him to protect me from embarrassment. I trust him to give me more pleasure. He’s a total stranger, but I trust him in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a very long time.
He licks my throat again and starts thrusting once more, causing me to moan. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let that pretty little pussy come all over my cock.”
No one’s ever spoken to me like that before, but it only arouses me further. I nip at his shoulder, wanting to mark him, and he chuckles that low, dark laugh again. His hands are on my hips now, his fingers digging into my skin, and I’m so close. I gasp; my throat closes. I can’t breathe, the pleasure is so intense.
And then the wave is here, and I’m gone. I spiral, down and down, and I hear him groan, but all I can concentrate on right now is the absolute bone-melting pleasure of this moment.
I collapse against his chest. I can’t move, and I’d be fine if I never had to move ever again. My body is still shaking, and a fine film of sweat covers us both. Caleb tilts my chin up and he kisses me, all lips and tongue and teeth. It’s a kiss that tells me he’s claimed me, and with his cock still inside of me, I know it’s true.
He’s captured a part of me that I’ll never get back. It’s a terrifying thought, but when he kisses me, any fear melts away.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I realize that I’m getting cold, sitting here in the air conditioning, naked as the day I was born. I move off of his lap and we both dress. I leave the dressing room first, stopping at a mirror to make sure I look as presentable as possible given I’m missing some buttons so my blouse gapes open in certain places. The woman who stares back at me is a stranger. Flushed. Her eyes glazed with satisfaction.
I should be horrified.
I’m not.
What an utterly exceptional experience, I think. One I enjoyed and the memory of which I’ll be able to savor during the long, lonely nights ahead.
Several minutes later, I’m looking at a V-neck shirt I think would look amazing on Caleb when he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses the side of my neck. When I turn, he’s dressed and carrying the pair of pants I picked out for him. He holds it up and says, “perfect fit,” and I can’t help but think he’s talking about the two of us and how our bodies had come together so easily.
“I’m glad,” I say. Reaching up, I straighten out his collar, even though it really doesn’t need to be straightened. “You’ll look great for your meeting, or whatever it is you have planned,” I say.
At my words, he frowns and checks his watch and grimaces. “Shit, I have to go. I really do have a meeting.”
He pulls me toward him one last time and ravishes my mouth. Then we pull apart, and for moment, we stare at one another.
He looks conflicted when he says, “Heather…”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. Thank you for helping me through the flight. And as for…” I tip my head toward the dressing area. “Well, it was unusual for me, but it was fabulous.”
He nods. There’s still something in his eyes, though, like he wants to say more, but when I just smile at him, he shakes it off. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
“You too, Caleb.”
6
Caleb
I won’t lie, I really wanted to stay and savor every inch of Heather’s body, preferably someplace with a big bed and complete privacy, but I have a meeting with the editor in chief of Bella and can’t risk being late. More than that, I’m strictly a casual sex kind of guy. I don’t do relationships any more, and if any woman screams she’s a relationship-type of woman, it’s Heather, with her fancy clothes and adorable inhibitions. So when she’d basically shooed me along after she’d gotten hers (and I’d definitely gotten mine), I’d tapped down my surprising reluctance to leave her and had done just that.
After checking into my hotel and quickly changing in my room, I head out for the meeting in downtown LA. I arrive at a swanky high-rise and the editor in chief is already seated.
She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at my entrance. “Glad you could join us, Johnny,” she says in her posh accent.
“Nice to see you again, Rebecca. Dave, Catherine.” I shake hands with the rest of the group before sitting down.
Although my first name is Caleb, I go by Johnny (from my last name Johnson) after some fashion bigwig basically decided that he preferred it to Caleb. So, I’m Johnny in my professional life.
“Yes, well, we were just about to get started.” Rebecca is in her mid-forties, her hair a dark brown and her makeup minimal. But her clothes are perfectly tailored and she exudes money. Rebecca was born with a silver spoon in her mouth but everyone in the industry knows she fought tooth and nail to earn respect from her peers, as she was often dismissed as a silly little rich girl. Now she controls the world’s most elite fashion magazine.
She probably should freak me out, but Rebecca and I have known each other for a few years now. When I was still doing odd shoots here and there, she was the one who found me work and called me up. I respected her from the beginning; as a result, she’s given me the same courtesy.
“Now that everyone’s here, let’s go over the week’s agenda. Tomorrow is the shoot for Talina Designs & Boutique. Talina is an up-and-coming designer. She has yet to be showcased in Bella, but after seeing her latest collection, I know it’s perfect for a multi-page spread.”
The meeting continues with Rebecca going over every single detail, never leaving anything to chance. She can be extremely exacting, but it’s one of the reasons she’s gotten where she has.
When her focus shifts to the other people in the room, though, I find myself thinking about Heather again: her hair flowing down her back, how her entire body flushed when she was riding my cock, how she tasted underneath my tongue. Usually my encounters with women are satisfying—quick and with no-strings attached—but I can’t get Heather out of my mind. I don’t just want to fuck her again, but I want to see her again. I want to rile her and ruffle her feathers and make her glare at me before I kiss her until she moans.
My cock hardens at the memories, and I force them away. I can’t be having a hard-on in a meeting, for Christ’s sake, no matter how hot Heather was. Rebecca already thinks I’m a horn dog who can’t keep it in his pants. If she found out I was almost late because I was screwing some woman I just met, she’d have my head.
The next morning, Rebecca picks me up in a company car and we drive to Talina Designs & Boutique. Behind us are several other vehicles transporting models and other crew members. When we arrive, I start unloading my camera bag, tripod, and other accessories when Rebecca gets a call and mouths to her assistant Catherine that she’ll be right in. Catherine is a tall, leggy redhead with the palest green eyes I’ve ever seen. I’ll admit, I tried to get into Catherine’s pants years ago, but she laughed in my face. Come to find out, she only has eyes for the ladies.
Catherine and I, plus the rest of the crew, head inside.
The first thing I see is a woman bent over, her ass up in the air. When she stands, her blond hair cascades down her shoulders and I know.
I know that body. I know that hair…
Holy fuck.
Heather.
I’m still disoriented at seeing her, wondering what the hell she’s doing there, when Catherine says, “Ms. Flint, let me introduce you to the man who will be taking the photographs of your designs today.”
Heather turns, and when she sees me, her eyes widen as she recognizes me. Her smile falters—but only for a split second. She then pastes on a smile that only I can see through.
“Ms. Samson, right? Please, call me Heather.” She shakes hands with Catherine before turning to me.
“Heather,” Catherine says, “This is Johnny, your photographer for the day.”
I hold out my hand, and for a second, I’m not sure Heather’s going to take it. She gazes at it like it’s a slimy toad. Finally, she shakes my hand, although she makes sure to dig her nails into my skin for good measure, as if to tel
l me, Don’t you dare say a word about yesterday.
“Johnny Johnson?”
I clear my throat. “Actually, my full name is Caleb Johnson. Johnny’s a nickname.”
She simply nods.
“And Talina? Is that…”
“Talina is my middle name,” she says sharply. “Anyway, your reputation precedes you, Mr. Johnson. I was excited at the idea of working with you.”
Was excited. But not excited anymore, obviously.
“Thank you. I’m happy to be working with you today.” It’s a stupid line, but it’s all I can think of right now.
Catherine glances between us. I think she senses some kind of tension, but she’s too polite to say anything. “Well, we’ll let you both get ready, and we’ll get started. Rebecca will be in shortly after she finishes a call.”
Catherine’s attention is snagged by one of the many assistants, and now Heather and I are alone. Well, as alone as two people can be in a store bustling with people readying for a photo shoot.
“You,” she growls out. Her eyes flash. “You didn’t know you were the photographer for this shoot? That you’d be working for me?”
“How could I? You only told me you were in retail. I had no idea you were linked to Talina Designs & Boutique. To me you were Heather, not Talina.”
She takes a huge breath, then her frown slowly disappears. She sighs. “Of course you didn’t. Just like I had no idea that Johnny Johnson, famous fashion photographer, was Caleb, the man I…” Her words fade off but she blushes wildly, telling me exactly what she’s thinking. And that she’s remembering exactly what we did to one another yesterday in that dressing room.
“Look, everything’s going to be fine. We’re both professionals. We can handle this. Right?”
For a second she looks doubtful, then she nods decisively. “Right.”
As she walks away, I repeat to myself: I’m a professional. This photo shoot is all about business. Just business. And even though I tell myself that, my gaze follows Heather’s every move.
And the thoughts in my head are anything but businesslike.
7
Heather
I’m so, so screwed.
Caleb—Johnny? I don’t even know what to call him—talks with Rebecca, and I have to force my gaze away from him time and again. I tell myself we didn’t do anything wrong. We were both consenting adults and like he said, we’re both professionals. What we did yesterday has nothing to do with what’s going to happen today.
I’d known that the famous “Johnny” was going to be my photographer, but I had no idea his real name was Caleb. I should’ve Googled him first, but who would’ve thought we’d end up on the same flight together? It’s like some horrible nightmare that I just want to wake up from, because the man I had sex with after meeting on a plane is the same man who can very well make or break one of the biggest opportunities of my career.
“Hey Heather, can you come look at this?” My assistant Tanya, a short, curvy brunette, waves at me. Tanya and I have worked together for over three years now, and she’s become my most trusted employee in that period of time.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“So, I know we wanted the pleats to go in this direction, but I’m thinking that on this model, they would look better like this.” Tanya shows me what she means. “You see?”
I circle the model, who’s quiet as we mess around with the dress. The model knows she’s only there to showcase the design, which I appreciate. The models who complain about the temperature or a dress being uncomfortable or who whine about the hair stylist taking too long? Those models are ones I have no patience for.
I circle the model once again, and I nod. “I think you’re right. Pin it the other way for now. Once we look at the photos, we can decide if we should change it back or not.”
Tanya goes to work, and I walk around to inspect the rest of the models. As Rebecca and I had agreed, we have six today, and they’ll be wearing up to three looks for the photographs. Not all of the designs will end up in the magazine, but it’s better to have too many photos to choose from than not enough. Going up to a model who’s almost a head taller than me, I tug on her sleeve to make sure it falls correctly. Another model’s hair isn’t what I wanted—too curly—and I send her back to the stylist with instructions on what I’m looking for.
Another model sits in a chair, looking morose. When I ask her what’s wrong, she sighs and says her boyfriend told her last night he wanted to take a break. I promptly tell her she’s too good for him, and that she shouldn’t let him ruin her day. She gives me a wan smile; I hope she’s up to modeling today, regardless.
Catherine strides up to me. “We’d like to get started,” she says in her no-nonsense voice. Her red hair gleams in the light, an intense flame that makes me wonder how I’d look as a redhead. In just a short time, Catherine and her crew have created a backdrop for half of the store, and it looks like a forest: greens and browns and various earthy colors, and the models look like nymphs, with both my delicate designs and similarly delicate makeup and hair. It’s all very pretty, and looking at it, I can’t help but feel pride.
“What outfits would you like to begin with?”
I can’t help but reply, “Does Johnny not have a preference?”
Caleb clearly hears my remark, and he raises an eyebrow at me. I just raise one back.
“You’re the designer,” he says. “I’m here to photograph your vision above all else, so if you have a preference…”
His tone is quiet and reassuring—professional—and I feel my tension easing out of me. “Thank you.” I wave to two models and indicate they should go first.
“Places, everyone,” Caleb calls. He fiddles with his camera, and takes a few shots of the first two models.
“I want this shoot to be natural, delicate, pretty,” I say. “Nothing too outrageous, no poses that take away from the clothes themselves.”
The models nod, and I’m happy to see that they’re professionals and understand my vague directions. Caleb begins taking photos, the click of the shutter the only sound in the store for a few moments, and I’m almost bouncing with excitement.
Caleb doesn’t say anything to me; I’m fine with that. He seems to be in a zone completely his own, and I can’t help but respect that. He gently repositions one of the models, getting closer and then shooting from further away.
Before I even realize it, he’s finished the first set of photos. Rebecca and Catherine stand off to the side, not saying anything, but seemingly trusting that Caleb knows what he’s doing. I’ve seen Caleb’s work before, and I know “Johnny’s” one of the best in the business.
As I watch Caleb work, those damn memories from yesterday come flooding back, despite my vow to keep the thoughts at bay during the photo shoot. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about sex, and Caleb, and sex with Caleb as I’m doing one of the biggest photo shoots of my career, but I can’t help it. The sex was amazing—and I never think that about sex. Sex is either good or bad. Sometimes it’s really good. But sex with Caleb changed me. Now I’ll always use that as a basis of comparison.
I shake away the memories. I have to concentrate. I can’t be off in a corner daydreaming like a lovestruck teenager. That doesn’t stop me from thinking about how he kissed me, how his hands trailed down my body, how he pulled my panties off and put his mouth on me.
I shiver.
As if Caleb can read my mind, he glances at me over his shoulder and gives what I can only describe as a smoldering look. I can’t look away. My cheeks flush, and he smirks. Returning to his work, he then proceeds to ignore me completely.
“He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?” Tanya walks up to me, a tape measure draped around her neck. “I still can’t believe we got him to be our photographer.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe it either.”
Tanya doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her looking at me.
“What?”
“Nothing. It just seemed like y
ou and Johnny already knew each other. He keeps looking at you.”
My body thrums. I can’t get excited by Tanya’s words, but I do anyway. “We met briefly yesterday on the plane here.”
“Oh, really?”
I glare at her. “Yes, oh really. We sat next to each other, but that’s it.”
Liar liar liar!
“And you didn’t think to mention that to me?”
I shrug. “I didn’t realize at the time he was our photographer. It wasn’t a big deal.” Now I’m lying through my teeth, and I’m sure Tanya can see right through the façade.
“Well, you need to tell me all about it when we’re done here. I can’t imagine nothing happened. He’s legendary in the fashion world—for multiple reasons.”
I snort. “Yeah, he’s legendary all right.”
Tanya and I fall into silence and watch Caleb and Rebecca look through the photos on his laptop. I’m a little miffed that they’re looking at them without me, so I make sure to make my presence known when I approach them.
“Oh Heather, there you are. Johnny always wants to make sure the photo shoot is going in the right direction before continuing. What do you think of these photos?” Rebecca points at the computer screen.
I focus on the photos instead of on the intoxicating scent of Caleb right next to me. The photos are gorgeous, and just how I wanted them to look. I point at one on the far left. “I love this one.”
Rebecca agrees, but Caleb doesn’t say anything.
“These photos are my favorites,” I say, pointing at two other photos. “They perfectly capture the image I wanted for this collection.”
Caleb makes a sound. When I look at him questioningly, he shrugs. “They’re nice enough,” he admits, “but kind of boring.”
I’m bristling with indignation, but Rebecca speaks before I do. “What do you mean?”
“They aren’t breaking any barriers. They’re pretty, but that’s it. To be honest,” he says as he meets my gaze, “we can do way better than this.”
