“I’m sorry I’m late. I missed my bus—I hope we can still do something or do you have more appointments this afternoon?”
I couldn’t even understand what he said because he had on the same black skinny jeans, black army boots, and a plain black t-shirt under his open leather jacket. He probably noticed me eagerly eyeing him but I couldn’t help it. He looked absolutely delicious. But he either didn’t mind or didn’t care, because he waved a hand in front of me.
“Martin?” he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yeah,” I recovered, giving him a weak smile and beckoning him in. “It’s not a problem. You’re my only appointment.”
“Oh, great. That’s great. ‘Cause I really want to see what you’ve got.”
I beg your pardon? “What I’ve got…” I repeated, confused, but hoping…
He laughed. “The pictures. Did you look at them?”
Duh! You pervert. He’s talking about the photographs.
“Of course—yes, I did.” He followed me into the studio. “I think they’re really good but it’s up to you, of course. If they’re not what you want—” I opened the program. It opened on the most suggestive photo, the one that gave me immediate wood whenever I saw it. Of course.
“Wow,” he said, staring at the picture. “That’s really hot.”
I mumbled something under my breath but thank goodness he didn’t hear me. I scrolled back through the other shots, pausing at each one. I had chosen about twenty-five out of the hundred to show him. They were spectacular. He seemed to agree.
“Those are so great,” he said in a soft voice when I finished. “Can we do some more?”
I looked at him. He stared at me and I fancied I did see something this time, something that made my heart stop and my cock even harder. “Sure,” I said, looking into his brown eyes.
He backed up in front of me, holding my gaze and slowly removing his jacket. Suddenly the shy, apologetic young man was gone and this was much, much better. “Why don’t you take some shots of me on that chaise?” he said, gesturing towards it. His black t-shirt outlined the muscles of his chest and arms superbly. He smiled, but his gaze was scorching.
I didn’t say anything.
I walked over to the chaise and dragged it noisily over the floor until it sat before the blue background. I went directly to the tripod and began making adjustments. “Sit down,” I said shortly, trying to contain my excitement.
He sat down on the chaise and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. “Like this?”
I nodded and started shooting. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was staring at the camera with the most intense, heated look. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could control myself. But I wanted to try something. “Okay, now lean back against the side of it with your hands behind your head and put one foot on the seat.”
He smiled and did as directed. Jesus Christ, he looked hot. I could barely work the camera. He could see how agitated I was. And I’m sure my hard-on was pretty obvious. He let me take a few shots and then he said, very quietly, “Why don’t you come over here?”
I swallowed and froze, staring down at the camera. Then I looked up at him. He was still in position but he stared at me with a challenge in his gaze. My nervousness made me hesitate. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.
He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you want to do.” He leaned back even further, offering himself to me. “I’ve been hard for you since I got here yesterday.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
~ From Chapter Two of Exposure