was about as ridiculous as running in fear from an ant wandering on my picnic blanket.
“Hey, Beth.” Elise held out her hands. “She’s brand new, remember?” Elise stood, checking herself out in the mirror.
“Right.” Beth drew in a deep breath. “Sorry, it gets kind of chaotic around here. What’s your name, doll?”
“Aphrodite,” I managed.
That raised some eyebrows, but the women continued working.
“I’m Beth.” The woman pointed the brush at herself, then at the woman on my other side. “Sarah. And that’s Elise.”
“They do amazing work,” Elise said with a smile. “But . . . maybe they can take a second to walk you through what they’re doing?” She gave the women a look, holding their gazes until they nodded. “Great.” She smiled. “It’s easy to forget how overwhelming it is to be new, but we’ve all been there. Now, Jane’s in ‘C, right?” She glanced at the makeup artist.
“Yeah,” Sarah replied.
“She’s very good.” Elise stood still as her assistant pulled off her robe and quickly wrapped the demigoddess into a thick, terry towel. “Very professional. But things are kind of chaotic this morning. So when you go out there, she’ll have a quick chat with you about what she expects. If you have any objections to being touched, or if there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, say so from the start. She’s very respectful.”
“Um, thanks?” I eyed the demigoddess in suspicion.
“You kind of looked terrified.” Elise shrugged in response to my unasked question. “You might want to work on that. Good luck.” She followed one of the assistants out of the room.
“Ready for wardrobe?” a woman with a clipboard demanded, pushing a rack of clothes into the tiny room.
Beth and Sarah did make the effort to talk me through a whirlwind of clothing changes until they deemed me styled and dressed to super-perfection. I wore a pair of jeans and a white camisole top with a plunging neckline. Clipboard-woman rattled off a series of instructions as she led me into the conference room, then nudged me toward Adonis while another set of random humans set to work checking the lighting.
I stumbled, and a shirtless Adonis, wearing very tight low-riding jeans, grabbed me, holding me steady. “Stand closer to me.” He slipped an arm around my waist.
“Touch or no touch?” the fashion editor demanded.
“What?” I blinked, trying to get my bearings. We stood in front of a white screen, all the light focused on us. Darkness swallowed the rest of the room. People wearing black shirts milled about on the periphery with an air of organized chaos as they chatted into earpieces.
The man groaned. “She really is new.”
“Touch is faster,” Adonis explained. “They put you in the poses they want, but some models aren’t comfortable with that, so they only get verbal instructions.”
“Uh . . .” I didn’t like the idea of being moved around like a puppet.
“It’s a lot faster, and we’re already behind schedule,” Adonis grumbled.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“All right, let’s get some test shots,” another woman wearing an earpiece called.
“Isn’t this for a clothing line?” I remembered seeing the brand’s stores at the mall covered in black and white photography and blasting loud music. “Shouldn’t we be wearing some?”
Adonis lifted me into the air and spun me around. “Laugh,” he instructed. When I complied, he added, “They find the more their models wear, the less they sell.” Adonis sat me down, and hooked his thumbs through my belt loops, pulling me closer to him. “The pay sucks, but the exposure’s great.”
“Clearly.” I stepped back, giving Adonis an appraising look. He and Poseidon could compete for the title of least-dressed.
Adonis burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he called to the photographer, before resuming his serious expression.
The photographer flashed him a smile before launching into another
“Hey, Beth.” Elise held out her hands. “She’s brand new, remember?” Elise stood, checking herself out in the mirror.
“Right.” Beth drew in a deep breath. “Sorry, it gets kind of chaotic around here. What’s your name, doll?”
“Aphrodite,” I managed.
That raised some eyebrows, but the women continued working.
“I’m Beth.” The woman pointed the brush at herself, then at the woman on my other side. “Sarah. And that’s Elise.”
“They do amazing work,” Elise said with a smile. “But . . . maybe they can take a second to walk you through what they’re doing?” She gave the women a look, holding their gazes until they nodded. “Great.” She smiled. “It’s easy to forget how overwhelming it is to be new, but we’ve all been there. Now, Jane’s in ‘C, right?” She glanced at the makeup artist.
“Yeah,” Sarah replied.
“She’s very good.” Elise stood still as her assistant pulled off her robe and quickly wrapped the demigoddess into a thick, terry towel. “Very professional. But things are kind of chaotic this morning. So when you go out there, she’ll have a quick chat with you about what she expects. If you have any objections to being touched, or if there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, say so from the start. She’s very respectful.”
“Um, thanks?” I eyed the demigoddess in suspicion.
“You kind of looked terrified.” Elise shrugged in response to my unasked question. “You might want to work on that. Good luck.” She followed one of the assistants out of the room.
“Ready for wardrobe?” a woman with a clipboard demanded, pushing a rack of clothes into the tiny room.
Beth and Sarah did make the effort to talk me through a whirlwind of clothing changes until they deemed me styled and dressed to super-perfection. I wore a pair of jeans and a white camisole top with a plunging neckline. Clipboard-woman rattled off a series of instructions as she led me into the conference room, then nudged me toward Adonis while another set of random humans set to work checking the lighting.
I stumbled, and a shirtless Adonis, wearing very tight low-riding jeans, grabbed me, holding me steady. “Stand closer to me.” He slipped an arm around my waist.
“Touch or no touch?” the fashion editor demanded.
“What?” I blinked, trying to get my bearings. We stood in front of a white screen, all the light focused on us. Darkness swallowed the rest of the room. People wearing black shirts milled about on the periphery with an air of organized chaos as they chatted into earpieces.
The man groaned. “She really is new.”
“Touch is faster,” Adonis explained. “They put you in the poses they want, but some models aren’t comfortable with that, so they only get verbal instructions.”
“Uh . . .” I didn’t like the idea of being moved around like a puppet.
“It’s a lot faster, and we’re already behind schedule,” Adonis grumbled.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“All right, let’s get some test shots,” another woman wearing an earpiece called.
“Isn’t this for a clothing line?” I remembered seeing the brand’s stores at the mall covered in black and white photography and blasting loud music. “Shouldn’t we be wearing some?”
Adonis lifted me into the air and spun me around. “Laugh,” he instructed. When I complied, he added, “They find the more their models wear, the less they sell.” Adonis sat me down, and hooked his thumbs through my belt loops, pulling me closer to him. “The pay sucks, but the exposure’s great.”
“Clearly.” I stepped back, giving Adonis an appraising look. He and Poseidon could compete for the title of least-dressed.
Adonis burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he called to the photographer, before resuming his serious expression.
The photographer flashed him a smile before launching into another
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