Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
My face must be giving away my thoughts because Carlton says, “Mr. Carlisle chose the wardrobe for this ad shoot, so I think he has a very specific image of you in mind.” Then, he bends down by the rack where the bikini was hanging and picks up a box, opening it to reveal a pair of matching red heels. “He said you wear a size seven shoe?”
I stammer, my cheeks going red. “Yes, that’s right.”
Carlton smiles sunnily.
“Great, then the outfit’s ready. Normally, we’d have someone come do your makeup for the shoot as well, but Mr. Carlisle assured us you didn’t need that.”
I grin, and I can feel myself blushing even more. “Yes, he likes me with the natural look.”
Carl nods, but his smile looks just a wee bit forced. “Okay. Well, I’ll leave you to get dressed. Just come out when you’re ready and we’ll get started.”
Once he’s gone, I take a minute to wrap my mind around wearing this itty-bitty bikini. OMG, is Mason serious? Then again, I suppose G-Raw is a sexy energy drink, so it needs a sexy model.
Not wanting to hold the process up, I suck up my nerves and get changed into the scandalous bikini. Then I put the heels down on the floor and step into them. Once I have everything on, I approach the floor-length mirror next to the vanity and adjust the bits of fabric, making sure everything important is covered.
OMG, the woman looking back at me is insanely sexy. My curves are lush and full, and the triangles of the bikini top barely cover my nipples. The patch of cloth between my legs isn’t much better. It’s just a thin strip of fabric that outlines my nether lips before disappearing into the crack of my ass. Goodness, is this what Mason really wants?
But my boyfriend knows what I look like, so if this is what he picked out for me, then so be it. I put on a smile and wobble out to get to work on this shoot. Carlton and Cassandra are huddled together behind the cameras, and I see they’ve set up some faux palm trees and even a hammock as props. As soon as he sees me, Carlton’s eyes dance and he smiles wide.
“Mr. Carlisle was right. You look fantastic, Miss Richardson, and these photos are practically going to take themselves.”
I feel myself blushing, and smile happily. Cassandra smiles back too, but she’s stiff and has a snooty vibe about her that I do my best to ignore.
“Ah, yes,” she says in a smooth tone. “You look very styled, Miss Richardson.”
It isn’t exactly a compliment, but I just nod, determined to move forward. For the next hour, Carlton puts me in every pose possible and then some. At first, I feel awkward when he moves my arms and tells me to push my shoulders back so he can get a better shot with my breasts in all their lush glory. But Carlton is very professional, and soon I’m enjoying myself and even trying out a few poses of my own, which Carlton captures with his camera. Then he motions for me to sit on a large box, and I giggle.
“Like this?” I ask, spreading my legs while leaning forward. I know the camera must have a perfect view of my Double Ds, not to mention the shadowy vee between my thighs, and I position a can of G-Raw so that the viewer’s eyes are led to my sweetest spot. Maybe it’s too sexy, but Carlton merely holds up his camera and clicks away like a madman. After two or three hours, the photographer finally stops, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“I think we got everything we need,” Carlton says.
“Yes, that will be all,” Cassandra praises sibilantly. “Great work, Miss Richardson.”
I smile.
“Okay,” I nod. “I’ll go get changed out of this then.”
I head back to the dressing area and make quick work of the bikini before tossing on my street clothes. The shoot was surprisingly fun, but now, I’m ready to get out of here so that I can return to my painting. Of course, I’ll tell Mason how well everything went, but I don’t see myself as a bikini model in the future. It’s just too revealing, even though I’ve learned to love my curves.
Tossing my bag over a shoulder, I make my way to the door and crack it open, but then there are hushed voices. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear, but sound travels in this white box they call a studio.
“I don’t know what he was thinking. She’s huge for Christ’s sake, and not in a good way! Does he think these are actually going to sell? We can’t use these pictures. There isn’t enough photoshop in the world to make her look good in that bikini. Just trash it all,” Cassandra says with disgust.