by A. m Madden
“Sounds hot,” she retorted. “He’s not out of your league. I’ll coach you. You need this, Cass. He’s obviously into you. If any one of us needs a hot, writhing, raw, hip-pounding affair…” She lifted one perfectly sculpted brow with a smirk and pointed at me. “It’s you.”
My friend was right. I did need all that. I needed a distraction, an obsession, an adventure. Maybe the restlessness I felt was because of Dante. After meeting him last week, an antsy feeling consumed me. Maybe it had nothing to do with my routine or not feeling a zing with Thomas. Maybe… getting one little taste of a man who could both infuriate me and make my blood simmer with desire, while wanting to tell him off with my next breath, was what caused the restlessness.
“Anyway, back to what I was going to tell you.” On instinct, or maybe it was habitual, I straightened my spine and crossed my legs at the ankles. “What you don’t know about me is how I was raised.”
“Amish?” Vanessa quipped.
“Seriously?” I let out a long breath. “No, I’m not Amish. Do you want to hear this or not?”
Vanessa casually tucked her feet under her legs. “Yes, I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“Thank you. You could say my family is very rigid. My father is the chief of cardiology and on the hospital’s board. My mother doesn’t work, per se, but she’s very involved with the historical society and co-chairs several philanthropic events. Growing up, it was all about acting the right way, knowing when to speak and when not to. Like many girls, I was enrolled in a finishing school.” I couldn’t keep from rolling my eyes at my statement. It sounded so pretentious… because it was.
Vanessa’s head tipped to the side. “Did you have one of those coming-out parties?” She laughed, but I nodded. “No way. Really? How is it that we don’t know this about you? We’ve known each other for years, Cass.”
How? Because I hated everything about it. “It wasn’t something that came up in idle conversation… or ever. What should I have said? My parents are stuffy and hate the fact that I’m a teacher? Or worse yet, that I wasn’t married to a doctor, living in a home surrounded by a white picket fence? No, some things are better left unsaid.”
“So you can successfully walk across a room with a book balanced on your head. What does this have to do with sex?” Her eyes widened. “You have had sex before, right?”
“God, yes!” I rubbed my temples, warding off my impending headache. “Focus, V. You’ve seen Dante. What if we do get together? He’s the opposite of everything I know.”
Vanessa blinked long and slow, as though she were trying to garner patience. “Sweetie, you’re a grown woman. You can’t be worried about your family’s opinion on who you want to fuck.” A victorious smile meant that she misinterpreted my silence as conceding to her words.
Yes, she was right… regardless, yes, I could worry about that. “This is difficult to explain. I’m their only daughter… their princess. Picture this… it’s the Fourth of July. We’re at my parents’ estate.”
“Estate?”
“Again, focus, V.”
“Sorry, continue.”
“Anyway, we’re at my parents’ home, in the backyard for their annual barbeque. The elite of the elite are there. My mother is donning one of her designer sundresses, my father looks like he should be on the golf course, and their friends are sipping expensive wine on the flagstone patio around their large pool. Enter Dante. His board shorts are resting low on his hips, revealing his vee. His sunglasses make him look uber mysterious. His hair isn’t neat as a pin. Instead, it looks like he just had sex.” I crossed my legs in the other direction at the thought of that. “Then he peels off his shirt and the sun gleams, catching his nipple piercing…”
“Damn, that’s hot.” Exasperated, I let out a sigh. Not because she was wrong, but for the opposite. “I’m sorry, but again, you’re an adult. I think there’s something else besides your uptight childhood. Spill it.”
I needed to come clean with what was really bothering me, even if it made me sound insecure, because, quite frankly, I was. “What if Dante is used to a woman who is a bit more experienced? One who’s uninhibited? One who’s a bit reckless. I’m not that woman, V. Yes, I know how to have fun, and I do my best to let loose, but you’ve seen my past boyfriends.” Sadness filled my eyes. “If we got together, and I fell for him… I mean really fell for him, and he got bored, then what? Going to Alessandro’s was a taste of what he liked. What if I can’t keep up?” Defeated, I shook my head. “I guess I’m scared.”
Vanessa pulled me into a hug. “You’re not a stuffy, uptight stiff from Connecticut. You’re a fun-loving, sweet, sexy woman who can recite Emily Post. Deep down, there’s an inner vixen in there. You just need the right man to pull it out of you… or put it in.”
She pulled back and winked at me. We both started laughing, but I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.
Chapter 7
Dante
The beige lace cups of her bra left nothing to the imagination, and neither did her matching thong. “Lie back,” I instructed, waiting as she seductively positioned herself. She bent one long leg at the knee and the other lay flat on the mattress. A small strip of the lace revealed itself between her thighs. A sheath of silky ebony hair hung behind her, creating a backdrop to her come fuck me look. “On your elbows.” She did as I asked before pinning me with a heated gaze, one that said she wanted me.
Click. Click. Click.
I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my lips. That right there was the money shot, that look you couldn’t fake. Over the years, I’d learned through experience that those who wanted in my pants were better subjects to photograph… and that included some of the men.
After snapping a dozen or so shots while she stripped me bare with her eyes, I slid to the right and said, “Smile, Camilla.” An electric smile lit her face, prompting me to capture it on film for all of eternity.
This wasn’t the first time I’d photographed her. It seemed apropos for her to be my first client in New York City. The woman had been relentless in pursuing me. When her call came, my first instinct was to suggest outdoor shots. Subconsciously, Camilla was probably the main reason I second-guessed using my spare bedroom as a studio.
The purpose of today’s session was to supplement her portfolio with full body shots to help her break into the commercial lingerie/swimsuit industries. Easy money for me. When I wasn’t traveling, private sessions with models were the bread and butter of my income. Taking baby shots or engagement portraits weren’t my thing.
As hot as Camilla was on the outside, her vindictiveness had been a major turn-off. I’d seen the way she’d backstabbed her colleagues on several occasions. But as much as I couldn’t stand her personality, she’d never know that. I prided myself on professionalism, never crossing any lines that could be misconstrued.
“Good job. Let’s get into that bikini now, and then we’ll be done.”
She slid off the bed and sauntered over to where I adjusted the lighting. With no shame, she ignored the modesty screen in the corner and unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor. “Do you think we should take any nudes?” she asked, and I had to suppress the eye roll that wanted to come naturally. Even before I could respond, off came the thong, leaving her as naked as the day she was born.
Desperation never seemed to be something they shied away from, especially if it helped get them what they wanted… me… which had never happened during my professional career. I used the term they to represent a small group of young, up-and-coming models who had no clue what it meant to have integrity.
It was a demanding class of beauties whose careers came easily, without a need to sell themselves. They were spoiled brats, a small, elite group of women who had been noticed as they sipped designer coffee at the park or sauntered through a fashion mall while giggling with friends. Camilla was probably the worst of them all. If given the choice, I always preferred to photograph the more mature set of models, in the
ir late twenties to early thirties—models who knew how to be humble, appreciative, and, most of all, professional.
“That’s up to you, but to be honest, I don’t think you need them for next week’s appointment.”
I could see the wheels turning as she said, “You’re right. If something arises, I’ll schedule another shoot.” She moved even closer to stand directly in front of me. I still hadn’t looked at her as she continued to stand there naked, and no doubt it was pissing her off. Naked women affected me as much as they did a gynecologist. When you’ve seen as many breasts and waxed pussies as I have over the years, it was normal to become a bit desensitized toward them.
A visual of a fully dressed Cassie came to mind, and if she were standing right beside naked Camilla at that moment, strangely enough my body would have responded to Cassie more. I knew that because there’d been a few times since meeting her when the thought of what she’d look like naked in my bed caused my cock to swell.
I wasn’t dead. Sure, over the years there’d been plenty of women who caught my attention with their hot little bodies and cunning smiles. But once I got to know them, the desire would dim. One woman managed to keep me wanting to come back for more, until the day she broke up with me.
“I’ll check my calendar when I get home,” Camilla went on to say when I still hadn’t acknowledged her pathetic attempt to rile me up.
“Sounds good,” I lied. “Would you like anything to drink before we finish up?”
“A chilled Pellegrino with a slice of lemon would be great, thank you.” God forbid they subjected themselves to tap water.
“Coming right up.” As I reached the door, I said over my shoulder, “Go ahead and get that bikini on. I have another client in a few hours, and I don’t want to rush these shots.”
Her silence meant she got the hint to move things along and stop trying to seduce me. The truth was, I didn’t have another client that afternoon, so the sooner Camilla’s session ended, the sooner I could get her out of my apartment.
Robotically, I edited the photos of Camilla on my laptop. That had been typical of the private sessions I conducted. These models were perfection, and except for a shadow or the occasional red-eye, not much touching-up was needed.
By three p.m., I became antsy. Something had been nagging at me over the past few days, or, to be more specific, someone. Since our date, I thought of Cassie more times than I should have. I tried to rationalize my atypical behavior, concluding she was the shiny new toy in a new city. But as quickly as that conclusion came to mind, I’d dismiss it. It was more than an infatuation toward a beautiful woman who intrigued me. But why it was more remained the question.
I wasn’t the type of man who needed to talk to someone when something bothered me. In my profession, between all the traveling and the people I met, it was hard to have good friends. There were a few buddies I remained in touch with from college and my early days as a photographer. Really, the only person I ever opened up to was Luca.
With Luca on a business trip / vacation this week, I was left to my own devices for solving my dilemma. That could be dangerous. I tended to be impulsive and impatient, which was what caused me to pick up my cell and text her.
Whatcha doin’?
I had no idea where she’d be in the middle of a Friday. I believed schools in the city didn’t start until next week. At least that was why Luca took Sabrina and her son, Mikey, with him to California. Did teachers have to report sooner? Not expecting a response, I resumed staring at photos of Camilla on my screen with a bored sigh.
Deciding to take a break, I popped open a beer in my kitchen and heard my phone ding with a new text. My feet may have carried me back to my desk a bit too quickly for my liking. Fucking feet.
I was just leaving my classroom. What are you doin’?
That impulse I couldn’t control had me typing back, thinking of you. My dignity had me erasing it. And then my fingers ignored my dignity by retyping those three damning words and hitting send.
The dancing dots appeared as I waited. When her reply came back, I chuckled at her humor.
Why is that? Did your driver hit another unsuspecting blonde’s car?
For the record, you did the hitting. I was going to get some fresh air. Want to meet me at the park in the East Village?
I asked, purposely choosing a busy park near where she lived.
It took a full five minutes for her to reply… and her response was a simple
Sure.
Cassie
This time, the excuse I gave Thomas wasn’t a lie… well, maybe the meeting-a-friend part was. Could I consider Dante a friend? Since I didn’t look at my other male friends like I wanted to eat them for lunch, probably not.
After Dante’s text, I stopped home for a quick freshen-up. Keeping on the jeans I wore to school, a quick switch from a T-shirt and flip-flops to a frilly summer blouse and sandals helped emphasize my curves. I left my hair up in a ponytail and added a swipe of lipstick to help me look a bit more put together.
Fifteen minutes later, I made my way toward the park, where I spent a lot of time either reading under a shady tree or watching my students play extracurricular sports.
My heart pounded over meeting Dante. I hadn’t handled the kiss at my door very well and didn’t trust my traitorous body not to betray me. The way Dante blatantly studied me made it impossible to hide that I’d been affected by him. No matter how much I pretended to act cool, pebbling nipples, dilating eyes, a sheen of sweat, and failing to control my breathing all said otherwise.
A few times during the short walk, I’d needed to talk myself off the ledge. We were meeting in a public place, during daylight, among hordes of people. There was nothing to be nervous about, right?
Yeah, right, I thought as I spotted Dante, sitting on a bench at the park entrance. The sexiest scruff covered his jaw and framed his mouth. With his dark-brown hair flopping over to the side, he dragged his thumb over his bottom lip while his chocolate-brown eyes bore straight through me as I approached. The closer I got, the easier it was to see a pale-blue T-shirt molding over his body in the same way as the one he’d worn to Vanessa’s party.
Once he stood, I saw the professional camera he held in one hand, and my stomach flipped. I hated being photographed. As if he heard my thought, he lifted the camera and began snapping over and over with each step I took.
“Stop,” I complained, one hand covering my face. “People are staring.”
“Let them stare,” he said with a chuckle from behind the camera.
“It’s not funny, Dante.” I went to swat him, but he jumped out of my reach. His smile was as radiant as the afternoon sun. Of course, I heard the shutter click one more time before he lowered his camera. Smart-ass.
Like a cobra striking its prey, he chastely kissed my cheek, catching me off guard. “I didn’t mean to annoy you right off the bat. I planned on giving myself at least ten minutes before that happened.”
“Ha ha, you’re a funny guy.”
Sporting a devious smirk, he glanced at the small screen on the back of the camera. “I have no idea why you don’t like being photographed. The lens loves you… look.” Dante flipped the camera around to show me, but I turned my head—mostly so he wouldn’t see me blush at his compliment. “Really? Wow, you’re not even going to look at it? I must admit, you didn’t strike me as the shy type.”
Cautiously turning back to face him, I quipped, “Being shy around people and being camera shy are two completely different things.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Maybe it’s because you can’t argue with the camera. All the evidence is in vivid color.” I let out a deep sigh, but before I could argue, he placed his hand on my arm. “Fine, no more pictures. How about a walk?”
“Sure.” Aside from the general park noise, sounds of the city, and my sandals smacking against the paved path, it felt too quiet. Should I start the conversation? He was the one who asked me here. My arms swung at my sides, while on
e of his held the camera and the other brushed against mine with every other step. Linking our fingers would be so easy, yet it didn’t happen.
Every so often, he’d lift his camera and take a picture. It wasn’t people he focused on, but instead ordinary things that I would never give a passing glance. The last one he took was of a pigeon pecking at a food wrapper someone left behind. Where he saw the beauty in that was beyond me.
A shrill whistle from a soccer game caught our attention. Dante veered off path and toward the small field, where orange cones created goals on each end and kids were scattered between them.
When a little boy bent down and picked up the ball before dropping it at his feet to kick it, Dante groaned. “They can’t do that.”
Déjà vu hit as I remembered the day Luca accompanied me to my students’ soccer game. “You sound like your brother.” I scanned the kids playing, wondering if any were current or past students of mine since they looked the right age. Granted, this was the park where my class generally played, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if they were.
Dante kept his eyes on the game and every so often he’d flinch or cringe. “Who taught these kids how to play? They need new coaches. It’s a disgrace.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s go before you have an anxiety attack. I swear, if Mikey never hit Luca in the head with a ball the day we watched a game together, we would have been kicked out of the park because of his ranting.”
Dante looked at me. “You can’t get kicked out of a public park for wanting kids to know how to properly play the best sport on Earth.”
