Eventually, despite my reservations, I decided I would go. After all, I hadn’t spoken about it with Noelle and Claire, who were both almost certainly horribly hungover, but I knew if I had they would be all over me to do it. Getting professional photos done was basically the dream of every girl my age. And it wasn’t like it was going to be with a complete stranger. Jacques was going to take my photo. Jacques, who had shown me things in Paris that I could have never imagined existed. Jacques, who was always so polite, kind and thoughtful. Jacques, who was a famous photographer known around the world in fashion circles. Yes, I was going to do this.
I arrived at his studio at five to three. I knocked on the door, and Jacques himself answered.
“Ah, Sophie, fantastique, I hope you are ready for this!” he exclaimed, motioning for me to enter. I had the address from his business card, but I had never been here before.
It was basically a converted old warehouse. At least, that’s what I assumed. The ceilings were super high, the walls old brick that had obviously been painted numerous times in the past, but the paint had long since worn off in places, so the brick was patched with various colors symbolizing the different eras through which this building had lived over the years.
Light streamed in through high windows near the ceiling and from soft lamps hanging from the ceiling. The floor was restored hardwood, probably the original, and all in all the whole place had a very charming feel to it.
The main studio section was at the far end of the room. There were backdrops and fold out tables with a few computers set up, a tripod with a camera on top and a whole bunch of boxes with film, camera bodies, lenses, that sort of thing. Wires passed across the room everywhere.
“Please, choose some clothes, and feel free to change in the room over there,” Jacques told me, motioning to a rack to my left and a makeshift fitting room. I went over to the rack and immediately recognized the labels from their advertisements in magazines, although I’d never seen any of these brands in real life.
“Wow, Jacques, are these really...” I started, trailing off.
“Yes, of course Sophie. They are gifts from companies I work for, and I use them for when I do my own work, such as today. I do hope they are your size, I chose everything that I found that looked like it would fit you.”
Despite my initial reservations about this, I was beginning to feel like a princess. An absolute princess. I chose an outfit to start with, a beautiful, flowing black Chanel dress. When I came out of the dressing room, I felt incredibly self conscious given how expensive the dress I wore must have been, but also confident at the same time. This dress felt expensive, it felt like it fit me perfectly. I slipped on a pair of black stilettos to go with the dress, which were about half a size too big for me, but oh well. Close enough.
“Sophie, you look amazing!” Jacques exclaimed when I came out. I smiled shyly. I felt amazing. I felt beautiful, more beautiful than ever before.
“Thanks... I wasn’t sure I was going to be up to doing something like this, it’s so unlike me, you know, but I wanted to try.”
“I will make sure you will not regret it. In fact, with this dress, this style, I will not shoot you by the backdrop. Please, Sophie, go to the stairs over in the corner.”
I looked to where Jacques indicated and noticed the stairs mentioned. I didn’t even realize that this place must have had a second floor. It was enormous! It was no surprise to me that Jacques was a very successful photographer, but I still didn’t expect him to have a space like this, it must have cost a fortune.
I gingerly climbed up a few steps, and Jacques grabbed his camera.
“Amazing. Amazing. You’re a natural at this. Now I want you to move your arm slightly to the left.”
I did as he asked and smiled. “Good. Now move your head towards me just slightly.”
“Lean over the railing, and look up, like you’re trying to spot someone. Let your hair drop towards me.”
“Drop down and look in between the bars of the railing, holding one on either side of your face.”
For hours we went on like this. It actually felt really nice to be the complete and total center of attention like this. It was just the two of us, Jacques telling me exactly what to do, exactly how to look.
I changed outfits and we moved to different parts of the warehouse from time to time. I briefly wondered what time it was, but in reality I didn’t actually care. I would have stayed here until the middle of the night doing this. I couldn’t believe I had actually been a bit wary of going through with this.
Our last set before we took a break had me in a peasant skirt and blouse, with an old style bucket, mop, broom and clothes as props. I sat on the floor of the warehouse, pretending to be cleaning, while Jacques directed my poses.
I was starting to get tired, and I couldn’t imagine how Jacques felt. After all, he had been moving around, taking pictures, directing me, he must have been exhausted. I could see in his face that this was his passion though. Photography, taking pictures obviously made him happier than anything else. It was written all over him.
Finally, Jacques motioned for me to get up.
“Why do we not take a break? I will be right back.”
Jacques went upstairs for a minute and came back with some water bottles and some snacks. I realized I was actually pretty hungry, so I nibbled on the goodies.
“I have a question Jacques. Why did you invite me here today? What are these pictures for?”
“They are for you, my dear. I had the day off, and I thought to myself that with your past you must never have had so much as a family portrait. You are easily beautiful enough to model, and so I thought I would give you the opportunity. I will edit the photos and give them to you.”
I was so touched, I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you,” I finally whispered, and I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes. This was such a sweet gift. Jacques had just given me not only the gift of these photos, but the gift of knowing I was just like all the other girls my age taking selfies in the bathroom mirror. I could be like them, feeling like a princess as I got dressed up and modeled.
“Do you want to keep going?” Jacques asked, and I nodded.
“If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. There are still so many outfits for you to try!”
I changed into something more modern, a nice blouse with the top few buttons undone and some denim shorts. I paired them with some flats I found.
“Beautiful. Go up against the wall, I will bring the flash over.”
Jacques photographed me for a while. The longer it went on, the hotter I got, the flash constantly going off in my face. The slightest sheen of sweat began to form on my skin and I was getting tired.
We went on for a few hours again, and by the end of it I could tell that Jacques was almost as exhausted as I was. He moved me into the position he wanted, his hands gentle as they molded my body to his exacting standards.
I knew as he continued that the photos would look amazing.
“Just another short set in this pose, and then we finish for the night, you think that is a good idea?”
“Yes, I’m getting quite tired. That sounds good,” I replied, smiling. Jacques took the last few photos, then moved in front of me as I leaned against the wall, my head back, my eyes closed. When I felt him in front of me, I opened my eyes.
Without warning, without knowing what had happened, Jacque’s lips were on mine. He was kissing me! I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to pull away, but I was pressed up against the wall. Finally, I squirmed and pushed him away.
“Forgive me Sophie, I am so sorry,” Jacques told me, a look of guilt on his face. “I do not know what happened to me, I have never done anything like this before. I’m so sorry. You’re just so beautiful, I couldn’t resist. Oh goodness, I am the worst friend.”
“No, no, Jacques, you’re not a bad friend. Not at all. It’s just... I’ve sworn off dating men for a while,” I told him w
ith a small smile. It wasn’t entirely true. After all, I’d been making out with Philippe less than twenty four hours ago.
“I completely understand. I should not have done it. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry. You’re such an amazing model Sophie, I cannot wait to see how these photos turn out.”
I welcomed the change of topic.
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes, oh yes. If only you had come to the city when you were a young teenager, perhaps a career in modeling would have been in your future. Now the world will never see your beautiful face as frequently as it should.”
“I’m sure it’s all in the skill of the photographer.”
“No, absolutely not. I mean it, you are beautiful. I may bring out the beauty in my photos, but I cannot invent beauty from nothing. Yours is real.”
I was starting to blush from the compliments. It was so nice of Jacques, who must have photographed hundreds, if not thousands of models in his lifetime, to say something like that.
“Now Sophie, I have to ask you to leave me here, so that I may edit the photos. I promise you, I will send you the photos when I am finished. Do you have a courriel?”
“Email address? Oh, yes, of course,” I replied. I wrote it down on the piece of paper and handed it to him. Our hands grazed as he took it from me, but I didn’t pull away immediately. I felt bad about my reaction to the kiss. After all, was it really that bad? Sure, it had none of the fiery intensity that I had with Philippe, but Jacques was a really nice guy.
“Thank you Sophie, for doing this with me today. I have enjoyed it very much,” Jacques told me at the door.
“I have as well, thanks Jacques,” I replied, smiling as I left. As I walked to the Metro station to get back to my apartment, my phone binged in my purse. I dug it out and checked the message. It was from Philippe. My heart began to race as I read the words. Really, body? He’s not even here, this is just a text from him. Why are you reacting this way to just a text? I read the words on the screen:
“Sophie, shall we go to the Louvre tomorrow? I have class until 1, but am free after if you are.”
I texted back, telling him I had class until 2:30, and we organized to meet outside my classroom at 2:35.
As I rode the train back I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. How had I gotten here? I had left San Francisco to forget a guy, I had sworn to myself that I wasn’t going to get involved with guys. And yet I’d kissed two different ones within 24 hours. This wasn’t how this trip was supposed to go. I was a meticulous planner. I planned my life out ahead. This adventure was about as spontaneous as I’d ever gotten, and it involved applying months in advance of my actual moving date. I was the sort of person who planned my relationships out as well. And yet now, I found myself tangled up with two different guys, and no idea where I was going with either.
Chapter Ten
I did know where I was going short term with Philippe anyway: the Louvre. I loved this museum. I was ashamed to realize that hadn’t been back in a while, not since I visited a few times on those first couple of weeks I had in France before classes ha started. I was so busy with schoolwork and my new social life that I found I didn’t have the time to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon in the Greek section, admiring the statues and their perfection of the human body. It was a terrible excuse and I knew it, and as I waited for Philippe outside my classroom the next day, I was incredibly excited. Both to see the art that I’d fallen in love with and to see the man that made every inch of my body flutter.
As I saw him coming towards me down the hallway, instantly my heart beat faster. He wore semi-fitted jeans, which both showed off the muscles of his legs but still looked casual. His black pea coat was fitted perfectly, and it was evident that below the coat lay a body of perfect proportions. His black hair and eyes matched his coat perfectly, and as he came up to me, smiling (oh God, the tingles that ran through me when I saw those dimples!), I felt like I was going to faint.
“Hello, Sophie. It is good to see you again,” Philippe greeted me, leaning in and kissing me softly on the cheek. My face instantly turned red, the same shade as my lips which his had just touched. Oh God, I’d only been with him for a few minutes and he’d already touched me! My hormones were driving me crazy. I had to get control of myself, or we wouldn’t even make it to the Metro before I’d dragged him into an empty room and ripped his clothes off. Just the thought of it sent pangs of pleasure radiating through my body from my sex. “Shall we go?” he offered, extending his arm, and I slipped my own through his.
There were layers of fabric separating us, but I still felt a small spark as I slipped my arm through Philippe’s and he led me down the hallway and outside.
Rather than waiting at the main entrance, Philippe led me through some underground shopping mall of some kind where there was another entrance, with an absolutely tiny line. Rather than waiting an hour to get into the museum we were through security in five minutes, and we had our tickets in ten. That was the advantage of local knowledge, I supposed.
“Where did you want to start?” Philippe asked, motioning to the various entrances. This museum was so big that there were three completely different entrances, taking one to various parts of the museum.
“The Greek statues,” I replied without hesitation. They were my favorite part of the museum by far. Philippe struck a pose.
“There you go. Human perfection,” he grinned as he flexed his muscles under his jacket.
“No, no, it’s all wrong,” I teased. “You’re still wearing clothes!”
“Well, I can correct that pretty easily,” Philippe teased, his voice getting even lower, and I bit my lower lip as I smiled. I was actually flirting!
“If you try it here we’ll get arrested, we need to find somewhere more private for that!”
I tugged at Phillipe’s arms until, laughing, he finally dropped back into a normal pose. Then, I dragged him towards the entrance.
“I love the Greek section, classical Greek statues are my favorite pieces of art,” I told him.
“A woman nearly after my own heart,” Philippe replied. “My personal favorite part of this museum is the collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts. In another life, perhaps I would have become an archaeologist. Unfortunately, my love of keeping people alive was greater than my love for rediscovering the already dead.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What is it that you study?”
“Medicine. I’m studying to become a doctor, or more specifically, a neurologist. The way the human brain functions absolutely fascinates me and has since I was a child.”
I knew Philippe was a graduate student, but I had no idea that he was studying to become a doctor.
“That’s incredible!” I replied. “I don’t know about France, but in America you have to be ridiculously intelligent to be able to get into a medical program.”
Philippe laughed.
“Unfortunately the way you phrased that makes it impossible for me to be modest, since if I told you any old idiot can get into medical school in France I’d be lying. But, I worked really hard as well, and it’s not like I’m Einstein or anything. What about you? What is it that you’re studying here in France?”
“Marketing.” I used to be so proud of telling people that I was a business student, but somehow next to this promising young doctor it seemed stupid.
“You and my sister would get along then, she also studied marketing at university.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, you’re a lot like her in many ways. You remind me a lot of Stephanie.”
Just then, we arrived at the entrance to the classical Greek statues. The classical era was hands-down my favorite of all of the Greek time periods when it came to art. In the classical era, the Greeks moved towards a much more lifelike form, displaying the complete perfection of the human body through their art. Many of the statues were of mythological figures, mainly the gods we have all heard of such as Athena, but it also marked t
he start of when they began to sculpt real people. The technical skill involved in the sculptures was absolutely amazing. It took my breath away every time I looked at them, and I knew that in many cases the statues would have been painted back in ancient Greece, and decorated with jewelry to make them look even more lifelike than they already were.
We stood in front of the giant statue of Athena that marked the entrance to this section. Philippe and I stared at it, both of us lost in thought as we appreciated the beauty and history that this statue invoked. Finally, Philippe broke the silence.
“With this statue of this size, can you imagine the absolute power that it must have had over people who came up to it back then, all adorned in jewelry, painted to be so lifelike with her shield held in front of her? It must have been so awe-inspiring.”
I gazed up at Philippe. He hadn’t been lying about knowing about art, since I’d just had the same thought. As he moved through the museum exhibits, we shared our passion. I knew more about this particular topic than he did, and I explained to him facts about the time. That he wasn’t aware of, such as the fact that the classical period was the first in which sculptors were appreciated for their work, and given credit for it rather than the works of earlier where it’s rarely, if ever known who sculpted them.
When we reached the Venus de Milo, at the end of the hallway filled with the most beautiful classical Greek statues, she took my breath away like she did every time I set eyes upon her. Even here in the museum, with dozens of other people crowded around, taking pictures, pointing, I felt like Philippe and I were the only people in the room. I found myself grabbing his hand, taking it in mine almost automatically, feeling the now familiar ripples of pleasure running through me as our skin touched. Venus was so beautiful, I always looked upon her as almost the perfect statue to represent the classical Greek era.
“Do you know where her arms were supposed to be?” Philippe asked, and I nodded.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 144
