A Few Days Later
"Okay, b londie, tilt your head a bit more to the side. That’s it. Abs tight. Smile. Don’t smile. Good. Good."
I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Most wives and girlfriends would be furious that their former stripper husband was posing with a lingerie-clad female model for a book cover. But with Wes, the whole thing was beyond funny. Especially since Wes had no idea what he was doing and every move he made just frustrated the photographer. At least Wes looked good in just a pair of black briefs.
Pam elbowed me in the side. "Your laughing isn't helping," she said through gritted teeth.
"Sorry, sorry." I took in a deep breath, trying to keep my laughter under control.
"You would think that a stripper could work it in front of the camera," Pam whispered.
I shrugged. "Maybe he's nervous."
"So is my author." Pam nodded in the direction of the girl who was standing next to the photographer and kept pointing at the female model and asking questions. Each time she got into a new pose the author would put her hands on her temple, shake her red ponytail , and the photographer would roll his eyes.
We were getting nowhere fast.
"You know what the problem is?" The author looked at the photographer and he stopped shooting. "There is absolutely no sexual tension between them. They are supposed to have this passionate office affair and I’m not feeling anything with these two."
"What if you tried a few shots with him and his wife instead?" Pam yelled.
I blinked hard as everyone turned their gaze to me. My body definitely heated up to a million degrees as the photographer and the author sized me up from head to toe.
"Well, she's not exactly who I had in mind when I wrote the female character ..."
"At this point, I’m willing to try anything," the photographer said.
"Hear that, Val?" Pam smacked my butt. "Let’s get you into some lingerie."
"No time." The photographer waved his hand. "Just strip down to your bra and panties and we'll work with what we've got. ”
"Uh, you do realize I’m not a skinny chick, right?"
The photographer raised his thick eyebrows. "And you realize that I don't play for your team and could really give two shits as long as it gets us a good photo?"
"Fine, " I groaned and shucked off my skirt, kicking it at Pam. At least I shaved that morning and wore a matching black lace bra and panties. The perks of the newlywed stage, I guess.
"Is this seriously happening right now? Like for real?" The female model stood there with her arms out to the side and her mouth gaping open.
I undid the last button of my blouse, slid it off, and handed it to her. "I think it just did."
She narrowed her eyes and moved her mouth to say something but the photographer spoke first. "Take a few minutes, Melly."
"Fine," she huffed, throwing my shirt down on the ground before she stomped off.
The photographer waved his hand. “Come on, I don’t have all day. I’ve got another shoot right after this one.”
“I don’t strip down that quick,” I yelled.
He turned his head, looked me up and down, and nodded. “The tank top and panties works. Let’s go with that look and try it. Go pose with blondie number one.”
“Okay. I can do that.” I tentatively took a few steps until I was standing next to Wes in front of a brick wall and then turned to look at the photographer. “So, uh, by pose what do you mean?”
He sighed. “Let’s start with something simple. Look into his eyes, embrace each other. Act like we’re not here and have a moment. I’ll just keep clicking and you do what feels natural. If that doesn’t work we’ll work on a new position.”
“Okay ... ” I turned slowly toward Wes, who grinned from ear-to-ear.
“Relax,” he whispered.
“Easier said than done with a bunch of people looking at us,” I grumbled
He put his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest , and pressed his forehead to mine. “It’s like you said that night at the
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