by Lila Lacroix
“Ah, Sophie, you are here, parfait. You’re right on time, come and meet Marie, she will be doing your hair and makeup.”
Jacques led me to one of the corner tables with a mirror set up where a woman with short, black hair and more piercings than I believed was possible to have on a human body smiled at me.
“Bonjour, Sophie. It is nice to meet you,” she said in an extremely strong French accent, motioning for me to sit down on the chair.
“I was thinking with someone with your hair, I would like to give it that look, how do you say, whispey, like you have been in the wind but not for too long.”
I thought I knew exactly what she meant, and I nodded enthusiastically.
“I would like that,” I replied, thinking it would look good with my hair. She grabbed a straightening iron to get started and I sat in the chair like an obedient child at the hairdressers.
“I will be over there, please Marie, tell me when you are finished with her so we can begin the shoot. It should not take you too long, Sophie is so beautiful I could take her right off the street and make her a star,” Jacques told us before leaving, and I blushed at his compliment.
Marie did her work quickly, and she was very, very good at it. She gave my hair that perfect just gotten out of bed look, then worked on my makeup.
“Jacques would like you to have ruby red lips, we will be going with something dark and dramatic for today’s shoot.”
“Excellent!” I replied, thrilled to be doing something like this. The last shoot I had only worn whatever makeup I put on myself, this time it seemed as though I was going to get something a lot more dramatic. I trusted Marie, and rightfully so. She gave me dark, smoky eyes and lips that looks like they came right out of the 40s or 50s. When she was finished, I was thrilled.
“Thank you Marie, this looks absolutely amazing!”
“You are welcome, it was my pleasure. Now, I must pack up or I will be late for my evening appointment.”
As Marie left I made my way towards the rack of clothes that were hanging, all of them expensive brand names that must have been for that night’s shoot.
“These are incredible,” I murmured to myself as I thumbed through the designs, trying to decide which one to wear first. “Do you have any idea what I should try on first?” I yelled across the room to Jacques, who suggested a mid thigh length skirt with a white blouse. I coupled them with a pair of really high stilettos and a purse that I thought made me look like the sexiest professional woman on the planet. I heard my phone buzz again from my purse on the table where Marie had done my makeup, but I ignored it. As far as I was concerned, Philippe didn’t matter right now.
“I think those would be good to start with,” he said, and when I saw them on me, I agreed. The clothes looked absolutely incredible, and I was so excited to get started as Marie left, saying goodbye to Jacques on her way out with her bag of makeup and hair stuff.
When I was dressed, I went over towards where Jacques had the backdrop set up. He had the camera in place as well, and he urged me to go stand in the middle of the backdrop, explaining to me some tricks of the trade as to how to make the photos look as good as possible.
Jaques immediately started clicking away, occasionally looking back through the photos he had already taken to make sure they were coming out fine.
“How do they look?” I asked, eager to see the final results in a few days.
“Excellent, they are a great start. You’re a natural in front of the camera, Sophie.”
As the shoot continued, I felt more and more like a princess. We moved away from the backdrop and back towards the stairs, where we had taken so many other incredible photos the other day.
“Good, Sophie. Now, before we get started over here, I would like you to take off the blouse.”
“What?” I asked, not sure that I had heard correctly.
“I want you to take off the blouse, and also your bra, so that you are topless for this set of photos.”
This was absolutely not what I had expected. I wasn’t comfortable with this, and I think Jacques could tell.
“But what is the matter Sophie? This is normal in photography, it is normal to take photos of a woman topless.”
“I’ve never done this before. I don’t think am very comfortable with it,” I replied, suddenly apprehensive about having done this shoot.
“Why not? All of the filles, the young women, it is what they are doing these days.”
“I haven’t done that though. I don’t really think I want to do this. Is there any other way, anything else we can do?”
All of a sudden, the kindly, older Jacques, the man who had rescued me in front of Notre Dame, shown me Paris like a true local, always treated me like a gentleman and who I thought was the perfect man, changed in front of my eyes. His smile disappeared and his eyes went dark.
“Sophie, I thought you were a woman, not a child. I had planned on doing this shoot, and I will do this shoot. Now, take off your shirt and bra.”
I had to fight to stop tears from forming in my eyes. Who was this man in front of me? I didn’t want to do this, I absolutely didn’t want to.
“Sophie, think of all of the money that I’ve spent on you. Think of all of the time that I’ve spent with you. Do you all think that was for nothing? Do you think that I’m a monster? I have always taken care of you, and you owe me. Now take off your blouse.”
I was scared, but I didn’t know how to say no. I wanted to more than anything, and again I could feel the tears coming, but I forced them back. Slowly, I reached up to the hem and undid the buttons of the blouse one by one. I could feel Jacques’ eyes on me as I undid them, slowly revealing the fabric of my bra, until finally I had no choice but to slip the shirt off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I looked at the ground, I didn’t dare look at Jacques at all. I was so ashamed of what I was doing, and yet I was still doing it. I didn’t know what else to do.
After all, was he right? He had spent tons of money on me, always taking me out. Was this something that I should have expected? Had I been leading him on? Was this some sort of cultural thing I didn’t understand? I just didn’t know. What I knew was that I felt like I wanted to crawl into a little ball, curl up on the floor and die.
“Now your bra, Sophie, please,” Jacques ordered, and like I was in a trance, I moved my hands up behind my back and unclipped my bra. I closed my eyes as I let it fall to the floor. I knew my breasts were exposed now, I knew Jacques was staring right at them. The cool air of the room hardened my nipples, and, completely humiliated, I stood motionless where I was until Jacques finally spoke.
“Good. Now go climb the stairs and pose for me.”
I did as he asked, my brain completely foggy. It was like I was trying to completely forget that I was here, that I was doing this. I just wanted this to end. I did what Jacques asked, as if on autopilot, as he continued to take photos of me.
This was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn’t believe it was happening. How did I get here? How did I get to the point where I was modelling topless for this man?
Oh God, I should have listened to Philippe. I should have listened when he told me to stay away from Jacques. He had been completely right, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it at all.
“Good girl, very good. You’re so sexy” Jacques murmured to me as he snapped away. I felt like throwing up every time he spoke to me.
I stayed silent, trying to do the absolute bare minimum to make this end as soon as possible.
“I want to go home,” I finally complained, after we’d been shooting for a while.
“Not yet, Sophie. We have not yet finished with the shoot.”
Tears began to sting my eyes.
“Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your makeup. Besides, what is the problem? Have I not always been a gentleman? This is what models do, it is completely normal. This is my reward for taking you out so much, I get to have these beautiful photos of you.”
A lump built in my throat as I forced the tears back. Again, I went back into my trance. I wanted it to end. I didn’t even think about what Jacques was going to do with the photos. I think I knew that if I thought about it too much I was going to break down and cry right here. I wasn’t going to be able to do this anymore. I didn’t know how I was managing to get through this, but I was scared to leave.
Every click of the shutter felt like Jacques was looking deeper and deeper inside of me. I felt so incredibly taken advantage of. Immediately I began to second guess myself. Should I have tried to run away as soon as he said yes? Should I have completely stopped seeing him right away?
But how was I supposed to know he was going to want this after he took me out a few times? Was it a cultural thing, something I didn’t understand, but that any French woman would think normal?
Somehow, I doubted it. Everything about this felt wrong. I wanted to go home. I wanted to curl up in my bed and go to sleep. I wanted to wake up and find out that none of this had happened, that it was all just a dream.
“These photos will look amazing Sophie, your nipples are magnificent.”
Jacques continued to talk to me throughout the shoot, mentioning my breasts, and every time he did so I shuddered inside. I just wanted this to end, why wouldn’t it end?
I don’t know how long it took to do the shoot. All I know is it felt like an eternity, when finally I got the courage to say no.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” I told Jacques, grabbing my bra from the ground where I had left it.
“Get back there, I haven’t finished yet,” Jacques ordered, but I shook my head.
“No, I’m done. I’m not doing this.”
Jacques made his way towards me. He was obviously angry, and the way he moved made me step back, holding my bra against me, covering me up. I hit the back wall, and I was trapped. Jacques continued to move towards me until he was only inches away. I closed my eyes. I could feel his breath on me, his hot, disgusting breath.
Suddenly his hand was in between my legs. I let out a scream, but his hand covered my mouth, drowning out the noise.
“If you ever, ever tell anyone about this, I’ll put the photos on the internet. Everyone will see what a little slut you are,” he whispered into my ear as his fingers found the fabric of my panties, moving around them and discovering the folds of my sex.
Tears streamed from my face now. Oh God, I couldn’t believe it. Jacques held me against the wall while he forced two of his fingers inside of me, sliding them in and out. I thought I was going to faint. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I felt so violated, so betrayed.
“Understand? Don’t tell anyone about this. Got it?”
I nodded, and he slid his fingers from me and let me go.
I ran to my clothes and purse, grabbed them, threw on my shirt and went out into the street.
Tears streamed down my face. I was crying, my makeup was completely smudged. I didn’t look back, I just went straight to my apartment. I immediately threw all of the clothes I was wearing into the trash. I didn’t want to see them again, ever. I then went into the shower and turned the water on as hot as I could stand and then some.
I sat down on the tiles and let the water stream over me, the heat burning my skin. I didn’t care, if anything I wanted my skin to burn off. I wanted to forget the memory of what had happened, I wanted to forget everything.
I sat in the shower until the water went cold. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t get the reminder of Jacques’ hands on me out of my head. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me, I was so completely repulsed, so disgusted, I couldn’t believe it.
Why had he done that to me? What the fuck? How had that happened? How did I let myself get into a situation like that?
I didn’t know what to think. My head was muddled with thoughts. Was this my fault? Did I lead Jacques on?
What did it matter, anyways? It had happened. Oh God, it had actually happened.
When I finally dragged myself out of the shower I crawled into bed and cried into my pillow, sobbing until I went to sleep, my slumber racked with nightmares that seemed to wake me up every ten minutes.
Chapter Fourteen
When I woke up the next day, the memories of the day before came flooding back to me.
I had another long shower, letting the water flow over me. Again, no matter what I did, I couldn’t get that disgusting feeling out of my head. I felt so dirty, so gross, and it wouldn’t go away.
Noelle called in the morning, and I ignored the phone. I didn’t want to see anyone at all. Why couldn’t I have listened to Philippe when he told me to stay away from Jacques? I had thought he was a gentleman, I had no idea he would end up being such a horrible person.
I spent most of the morning just staring into space, trying to forget. But I couldn’t forget. The memory of what happened to me was frozen in my brain. I couldn’t get away from it, no matter how hard I tried.
Around noon I got a phone call from Jacques. As soon as I saw his name on the screen bile built up in my mouth. I screamed and threw the phone across the room at the wall, where it hit with a thud before landing on the floor. I was crying again, the tears just wouldn’t stop coming. After a minute or two I got a hold of myself and went over to my phone. I deleted Jacques from my contacts. I was never going to speak to him again, ever.
Just then, I got a notification of a text. It was from Jacques. I opened it, and my face went white at the contents:
“Sophie, just letting you know I have the photos from our shoot last night. Remember, don’t tell anyone our little secret, or you know what happens.”
I dropped the phone, then picked it up and deleted the message. I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t enough that Jacques had done what he did, but on top of that, I was being blackmailed.
I felt a lump form in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. I was so overwhelmed with emotion, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like the room was spinning. I felt like I was going to throw up. My head hurt. I wanted to cry, but I had cried so much I had no more tears left. I was a mess. I didn’t know what to do. This was the worst thing on the planet.
Why had I ever come to France? Why had this happened to me? What did I do to deserve this? Should I go to the cops? I figured that was pointless. Between the language barrier and the fact that because of my visa I wouldn’t be able to stay in France for a trial, I didn’t think anything would be done to Jacques. Besides, if I went to the police, Jacques would put the photos on the internet. My life would be ruined. I could only imagine future employers Googling my name and finding those.
No, I couldn’t go to the police.
I didn’t know what to do. This was too much for me to handle.
Suddenly there was a knock on my door.
“Sophie? Sophie, are you back? Please be home Sophie, please answer the door.”
It was Philippe’s voice. Philippe. Philippe, who had warned me about Jacques, but I didn’t listen. I had been taken in by his charm.
“Sophie, if you’re there, please open the door. I’m worried about you.”
I don’t know why, but I got up and opened the door. I hadn’t felt like seeing anyone today. I didn’t know if I could handle it. But despite our fight the other day, there was still something about Philippe that made me trust him.
“Sophie, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Philippe asked as soon as he saw me.
“Nothing. I just had... a rough night.”
“Oh Sophie, dear Sophie, I know that’s not true. You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong, but please tell me you have someone to talk to.”
It was then, as Philippe said those words, those deep, dark eyes boring into mine with a concern I had never experienced from anyone in my life, that I realized I really had no one.
I couldn’t go to my family. I had no family, really. My mother was a drunk, I wasn’t even sure she’d remember she had a daughter if I called her
. Noelle and Claire were nice, but they weren’t super close friends. I’d only known them for a few months. Clara was my best friend, but she was thousands of miles away, and I wasn’t sure this was the sort of thing I could tell her.
I didn’t mean to, but when I realized there was no one on the planet I trusted more than Philippe I broke down. I completely collapsed, falling to my knees on the floor. Philippe was beside me instantly, closing the door and wrapping his arm around me. His touch was so soft, so caring, so completely different to that of Jacques the day before.
“I don’t. I don’t have anyone, Philippe. Oh God, I should have listened to you. I should have listened to you.”
“It’s ok, Sophie. It’s not your fault. It’s absolutely not your fault. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Philippe held me while I sat on the floor. I told him everything. I spilled my guts out. He didn’t interrupt once as I told him everything that happened after I had left him. How Jacques had called and said a spot had opened up. How I was mad at Philippe and ignored his calls and texts. How it all went downhill from there.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to describe exactly what Jacques had done to me at the end, when I had finally said I was leaving. My voice trailed off as I tried.
“It’s ok, Sophie. It’s ok. You’re here now, and you’re safe now, and that’s what’s important.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not safe. I told you. I told you about the photos. Please don’t tell anyone, he’ll put them on the internet if he finds out I told anyone.”
“You have my word Sophie. I’m sorry, I feel like this is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault at all Philippe. It’s mine, I should have listened to you.”
Philippe turned to face me. He looked me in the eye, holding my shoulders gently.
“Listen to me Sophie. No matter what happens, no matter what, please know that this wasn’t your fault. It absolutely wasn’t.”
I nodded.
We sat there in silence for a while. I leaned into Philippe’s chest. He was so strong, so comforting, it felt like Philippe would take care of me, no matter what happened.
