He paused, rubbing his jaw for a moment. “But there was a time, in the late 60s, when Big Sur was really known for naturalism. Living off the land, going back to a more primitive lifestyle.”
“But with drugs,” I said, and Calvin laughed again, nodding.
“Ye-es, I’d say LSD was pretty popular out here. And weed, like a lot of weed. But my grandfather would lead these artist retreats out here and they’d camp for days, sometimes a full week. There was nothing overtly special about it, but I know from reading his journals that these experiences out here were spectacular. Moving and mind-blowing, all of these now-famous writers swinging through Big Sur on their way to—and from—San Francisco. Trying out new pieces, experimenting. Sitting around a campfire and talking about life: the hippie movement, the JFK assassination. The seventies and what that decade would bring. It’s easy, under a canopy of trees like this to stare up at the stars and wonder about the meaning of your life.”
I had been leaning closer and closer to Cal, drawn in to the image he was painting. I wanted to be with those writers. I wanted beautiful words under a wild sky, sweet communion around a campfire.
My fingers itched, but not for my phone. I hadn’t brought my journal, but there was a poem there: Calvin, perched on this tree, remembering his dead grandfather. The sweep of his dark hair. His strong, aquiline nose. His mouth, forming around the word ‘canopy.’
“So…um, yeah, I guess that’s it,” he said, looking suddenly embarrassed. He looked up at me, shrugging. Josie and Ray had been standing right next to us the entire time, but Calvin was talking to me. Only to me.
“That’s beautiful, Calvin,” I said softly and he smiled, tentatively. “Also, I think that’s the most words you’ve said at once for the entire time we’ve been here.”
“Ah, well,” he said, smiling wider now, “You take an introvert into the wilderness and they usually open up.”
We sat in silence for a moment, taking in the trees. “It’s one thing I’ve always loved about the people who choose to live here,” he finally said. “It’s like reverse-suburbia, this desire to live in such a rural place. Not only rural, but completely chaotic, uncontrollable. The waves aren’t calm and the water is freezing. The trees are gigantic. There are no box stores or chain restaurants or movie theaters. You’re just…completely vulnerable.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Josie interrupted. “Lu, mija, I’ll need you in makeup ASAP. I’m thinking some body paint, Haight-Ashbury-style,” Josie said. She looked at Calvin, smiling. “Cal inspired me.”
“See? It informs the narrative,” Ray said, stalking off to fret over lighting.
“Happy to, uh, help,” Cal said, standing and brushing tree bark from his jeans. He reached down, offering his hand and I grabbed it without thinking. His warm palm closed over mine and I remembered his steel grip on my wrist yesterday—so much power in those fingers.
“Thanks,” I said, disentangling quickly. “And thanks for the story. I kind of wish I’d brought, like, a lot of fucking LSD for this shoot today.”
“It would definitely make things more interesting,” he laughed before turning away.
“Wait,” I said, and he turned back. “You’re staying, right?” I didn’t want him to go.
Plus, I still needed to thank him.
“For the shoot?” he asked, pointing to the slew of cameras. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned on it. Won’t I just get in the way?”
“It’ll be fun. And we’ll never find our way back without you,” Josie chimed in. “Just stay. Craft services has coffee and donuts.”
“And I’ll be walking around with my top off for a lot of it,” I said, propping a hand on my hip and winking outrageously.
Cal reddened before saying “Oh, well, okay then.” He walked back towards the log we’d been sitting on, removing a slender book from his back pocket.
“Always with the books with that guy,” I said, rolling my eyes at Josie.
“You’re such a flirt,” she teased, rolling open a rainbow palette of eye makeup.
“It’s part of my charm,” I said, leaning over to plant a big kiss on her cheek. “And you love me for it.”
◊
“Maravillosa, chica,” Josie said, standing back to assess her handi-work. She held a thin makeup brush in her hand, head tilted.
I made a silly face at her. “Gorgeous, hey?” I said. Joanna was putting the final touches on my hair: a giant floral crown of dark pink peonies.
“Ray, what do you think?” she asked.
I stood completely still, Ray to my left and a bevy of cameras to my right. I couldn’t speak when Josie was doing the body painting, so I had to listen to Taylor prattle on about his time with Brad Pitt, on the movie they’d just done together. If I heard Taylor say the words, “He’s just a chill dude, man. A chill, chill dude,” one more time, I was going to punch something.
Ray’s face came into my line of vision. “Perfect,” he said, nodding. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Listen, you’re probably going to carry this shoot again today.”
“Yep,” I said, stretching my neck, already aching from the weight of the flowers. “It’s all good. I’ll handle it.”
Reputation or not, I was known in the industry as a “one-and-done”-type of model. I usually nailed it the first time, every time.
I was just that fucking good.
Taylor, though, could throw off the whole day with his nerves…and our serious lack of chemistry. I swallowed, conscious of the cameras a few feet away.
“Let me snap a photo of you,” Josie said. “If we had internet, I’d have you all over my Instagram.”
I groaned. “Ugh, with the flowers and the trees and the body paint.”
“Mhmmm,” she said, indicating I should strike a pose. I did, and her smile told me it was a good one. “Looks like we’ll have to just make memories the old-fashioned way.”
“I fucking hate that,” I said, but when she showed me the photo I smiled. “Well…I do look cute.” I was in brown suede boots that laced up the backs of my legs, up over my knees to the middle of my thighs. A cream, sleeveless shift dress barely covered my ass. The dress had a deep v-neck, and I was bra-less. I felt kind of wild and Woodstock—flower crown and hippie boots and my boobs out and proud.
And the crown jewel? Josie had hand-painted an intricate pattern of flowers and tribal designs in gold and silver paint up the entirely of my right arm and across my chest. Delicate leaves fanned out from around my eyes.
“Wood-nymph Woodstock,” Ray declared, squeezing my shoulders and nodding over my head to his camera guys. “Just what Shay Miller wanted. Now let’s get this show on the road. We have about 4 hours of sunlight left and approximately one million outfit changes.”
I sighed, tossing my hair, trying to dredge up an iota of the excitement I used to feel. Josie words of concern rattled around, but I chalked it up to being tired.
“Where do you want me?” I asked.
◊
“Gorgeous, Lucia. Fucking gorgeous,” Ray said. “Keep that face, got it?” I gave a subtle nod that I’d heard, then went back to “the face.”
Taylor and I had moved through the first couple poses already—not too bad, considering Taylor was nervous. But we hadn’t had to face each other, or really interact off each other—we were both just working the camera separately.
I looked over at Calvin, perched maybe twenty feet away on a fallen log. Coffee in one hand, his book in the other. So far he hadn’t looked up once, not even when I’d walked right past him. I was surrounded by cameras but I just really wanted Calvin to look at me.
I didn’t know why. Except that he was alternately nervous around me, yet seemingly immune to my charms. It was weird.
“Next pose, guys,” Ray said. “Taylor, on the log, laying down.”
“Um, what?” Taylor asked.
“Laying down. Shay wants—” he flipped through his notes, “—he wants the scenes in the woods to be ‘e
rotic.’”
“What’s so fucking erotic about the woods?” I asked. I mentally prepared myself to dry-hump Taylor on a log in the middle of the wilderness, in front of dozens of near-strangers.
It was actually not the most awkward thing I’d ever done in a photo shoot.
I glanced back at Calvin, who was still immersed.
I’d changed outfits: the boots were still on, but now I wore short cut-offs, a long Indian-printed shawl and white bikini-top. The flower crown had been replaced with a high bun.
“Am I naked? Semi-naked?” I asked Ray, voice a little raised. I thought I saw Cal sway a bit.
“Maybe in a bit,” Ray said seriously, although I had been totally joking.
He came over and walked us through what he wanted—me, miming crawling towards, and on top of, Taylor. Some scenes of me licking and/or biting his bare chest. Alternately, Ray also wanted some sweet kisses—adoring looks.
“After this, it’s up against the tree,” Ray said.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
Ray shrugged. “Shay wants it. Like kind of this animalistic, carnal-fucking-in-the-woods type thing. All the sexy parts of Woodstock, but on steroids.” When I arched an eyebrow he said, “You heard it from Cal himself. Things used to get wild back here in the bohemian days. You don’t think a few people fucked against this tree?”
Cal looked up at that, hearing his name. “Um…what?” He asked.
“Fucking. Against trees,” Ray said, somewhat impatiently. “Don’t you think some of these camp parties used to get a little crazy?”
Calvin met my eyes. “Yeah. Um…I mean, I think Ray is probably right. You mix drugs, horny writers and the outdoors and I’m sure.” He swallowed, held my gaze. “I’m sure there was a lot of fucking.”
My blood heated under Cal’s appraisal. I caught his eyes wandering: my bare stomach, the almost-see-through bikini, my dark magenta lips.
“I can see it,” I said. “Yeah.” I tilted my head. “Thanks Cal.”
He nodded, before settling back down. And immediately going back to his book.
For an hour, I gave it my all. Erotic high fashion wasn’t hard—I’d done Maxim and Vogue. Cosmo and walked the Milan runway. But it was different: attempting to embody a soft-core vibe in a high-class way. Taylor had to basically just lay there while I crawled, licked, bit. I made my way up to his face…and immediately hit a roadblock.
“All right, kids. Time to turn on the romance,” Ray said.
Except Taylor and I could not pull off the romance. I mean, I thought I was probably doing okay, but Taylor’s face was wooden. Tired-looking. Every time I tried to kiss him, we’d almost headbutt each other.
I burst out laughing at one point, I couldn’t help it. I was straddling Taylor, his hands on my thighs, and every time I leaned in close he’d make this ‘kiss me’ face that was a blend of both constipated and confused. I didn’t know how he did it.
Ray came over, looking like a disappointed dad. “What’s going on with you two?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing,” I said immediately, but Taylor cleared his throat.
“I’m just tired,” he said. “We’ve been shooting for hours.”
“Um, one hour,” I said. “And it’s not that bad. You’ve basically just been laying down.”
“Taylor, I need you to work off Lucia. Look at her: she’s gorgeous. She’s like this sweet, fuckable, wood nymph you’ve stumbled upon in the forest. Tell yourself a story in your head. You know, get into it.”
Ray and Taylor kept chatting and I climbed off Taylor’s lap for a second. I swigged water, munched on a few almonds, my mind distracted. I looked at Calvin, who was now chatting amiably with Josie and Joanna. They were laughing at something he said.
I wondered what Cal would do if he’d stumbled upon me in the forest, looking like a sweet, but fuckable, wood nymph. Flowers in my hair, wrapped in some gauzy white fabric. Naked underneath. All wide-eyed and innocent. The few times I’d seen Cal’s guard fall, I’d glimpsed an inner sexuality that was more intense than his shy demeanor—or maybe that was just my imagination.
But I secretly thought he’d know what to do with me.
How to corrupt my innocence. Maybe against this tree.
“And now the tree part. You good, Lu?”
I half-choked on some water. “Um…oh yeah, Ray. Feeling great.”
Taylor looked a little pale, having just had his ass handed to him by Ray.
“Okay, then. Let’s get sexy in the woods.”
Josie and Joanna scurried over—touching up lipstick, fixing my hair. Josie took my shawl and the top.
“Time to get naked, I guess,” I said, my hands covering my breasts. I didn’t know why, I was never shy on these sets. But Cal had moved closer, was leaning up against a tree not fifteen feet away.
I stepped backwards until my skin hit the bark. It was rough, abrasive on the soft skin between my shoulder blades. Taylor followed, covering most of my body with his.
“Hands on her thigh, Taylor. We need to focus in on the boot.” I hitched my leg up, Taylor’s hand holding up my knee. The jean shorts slid higher. I arched my back, fingers trailing up his spine.
“Okay, don’t look at each other for…uh…” For the rest of the shoot, I thought. “For the time being. Taylor, you’re looking down at her body. Lu, you’re looking off to the right. Let’s play off that.”
I turned my neck, closed my eyes for a second.
And opened them to find Calvin staring right at me.
◊
CALVIN
I had finished my book and had nothing else to do.
That’s what I told myself, repeatedly, as I shamelessly watched Lucia and Taylor’s photo shoot. I’d spent most of the day ignoring her—or attempting to. At one point, I’d looked up to see her climbing over Taylor’s body, her ass in the air, her hands sliding down his stomach.
I’d been hard all day. She was painted and glowing and sexy-as-fuck. But I kept looking down, forcing myself to read. It was a worthless endeavor to torture myself. Plus, we’d had an actual conversation this morning and she hadn’t once mentioned the poem I’d left her.
Lucia was probably embarrassed for me—laughing with Josie about my silly crush, and out of sheer kindness she’d chosen not to mention it. I knew when to cut my losses—had done it with countless women, countless times.
I’ll just look for a second, I told myself. Then I’ll take a long, long…long walk through the woods until they’re done.
I leaned against a tree, hoping my erection wasn’t totally obvious, and fully took in the scene. I couldn’t see Lucia’s body, except for a sliver of her toned upper thighs, exposed between the tops of her boots and the frayed bottoms of her shorts. I wondered what it’d be like to fuck her in just those boots. I pictured the feel of the suede, her legs propped up on my shoulders.
The bottom of her shorts slid higher and I could just begin to see the curve of her ass. Ray gave her some directions and she tilted her head away, exposing her beautiful throat. She looked down and away, and then up, directly at me.
I held it—god help me—I held it. I didn’t think about how embarrassed I’d be later, or how I’d have to awkwardly apologize. I didn’t think about the dozens of women who’d turned me down over the years. I didn’t think about any of that, because I was operating on pure instinct.
I wanted Lucia Bell. And not in a “hey look at that hot model” kind of way. It wasn’t opportunity or an obsession with her fame. I just wanted her.
I recognized the purity of that desire in that moment, the way I pictured myself in Taylor’s position. He nuzzled his lips along the side of her neck and I pictured doing the same thing. Wondered what her skin would taste like beneath my tongue. Wanted to feel her shiver.
My fingers, gliding up her thighs and sliding under the frayed threads of those shorts—almost grazing the lips of her pussy.
But holding off.
Making her wait.
Lucia continued to hold my gaze as I let the images I’d locked up the past few days finally shake loose in my mind. It must have shown in the way I was looking at her, because there was something…exhibitionist…about her reaction to me. She bit her lip. Gripped Taylor’s hair. Licked his bicep. Raised her arms over her head and arched dramatically, almost exposing her breasts.
I swallowed a growl. There was not even a remote possibility that Lucia was doing this on purpose—she was just a fame-starved model, hungry for the attention of a socially inept loner.
But I didn’t care.
I turned on my heel and stalked off towards the woods—a trail I ran about once a week. I wished I had brought running shoes, needing the distraction of intense physical exertion, something to direct my body towards.
Instead, I knew what I was going off to do. As I put the shoot further and further behind me, I recreated the campsite in my mind. No people—no cameras. No Taylor, or makeup artists or hair stylists.
Just Lucia in those fucking suede boots…and nothing else. Her wild hair, the gold and silver body paint dancing up her skin. An outstretched finger, beckoning me closer. Her lips, moaning my name.
Almost a mile away, I found a quiet clearing and a large tree, which I leaned up against. Unzipped and took my cock in my hands, already groaning at the contact. I should have felt shameful, jerking off in the woods like a teenager. Instead, I liked it—liked that Lucia had driven me to such a carnal act in the middle of nowhere.
And Fantasy Lucia was relentless. I stroked my cock and shoved her back up against that tree. Lifted her in an instant, those suede-clad legs wrapping around my waist. No foreplay, not now: we were already too hungry for each other.
My hand moved faster and faster, my panting breath the only sound in the clearing. In my fantasy, I was fucking Lucia against that tree with a mindless fury, one hand slapped over her mouth to quiet her screams, my teeth bruising her neck. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t nice.
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