Derrick began loading his camera, the new model hiding in the changing room, stretching out the time. Less time ment less frames, and this gentleman, that was the word Layla had used, was of a certain age. The easy translation was that he was old.
He was staying up all night in his studio for a geriatric model.
Derrick sighed, rolling his neck. He still hadn't recovered from the incident with Mia. He had spilled his heart out, at least the best he could, and she had shown him the door. It wasn't a situation he was familiar with, and it was one he never wanted to feel again.
"Derrick?" A smooth, deep voice sounded over Derrick's shoulder. "I'm ready."
Derrick turned and found himself looking at one of the most handsome men he had ever seen. The model was tall, with wide shoulders, a strong jaw and eyes that seemed to glitter under the stage lights.
"Are you okay?" The man, Jackson spoke again, then he laughed. It was deep, throaty, rich.
"Yes. Um, just step over towards the background. It's just simple headshots." He was shocked that Jackson's very presence was causing him to stutter. He had never had that happen before.
Jackson did as he was told, although Derrick was shocked as the model unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side. Jackson's chest was built, with a little smattering of still black chest hair. He was the Brawny man before the Brawny man got sensitive.
"You might want to close your mouth. You're drooling." Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not living up to your reputation Derrick."
"I'm sorry." He laughed, shaking his head. "It's been a long week. Month. It's been exhausting, okay."
"So I've heard." Jackson struck his first pose.
Derrick began to shoot, his eyes glued to his latest subject. Half of him was enjoying the moment, but the other half wanted to get the hell out of that studio, and away from that... man.
The shoot continued for another twenty minutes before Jackson decided he needed a break. The heat from the lights was wearing him out. It was also creating a nice, shiny layer of sweat on his skin.
Derrick through him a towel.
"You're good for..." Derrick tried to choose his words wisely.
"For an old man?" Jackson began patting down his chest. "You can say it. I don't mind. I'm old. Well, I'm old for a model, right?"
Derrick just shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He walked forward, checking Jackson's light, but the model wasn't having it.
Jackson walked back towards the sitting area, his arm brushing against Derrick's chest. There was a spark, a heat, something that Derrick had never really felt before, and wasn't sure he wanted to feel it again.
He knew that Jackson had felt it as well, just from the way he looked back at him, a coy smile on his lips.
Derrick wasn't sure what was happening, but he was sure that this was not something he was ready for. Not yet.
"I think I've got enough for now." Derrick pulled his eyes off of Jackson. "If they want more we'll grab some later in the week, okay?"
"Alright." Jackson grabbed his shirt, passing by Derrick on his way out of the studio. As he passed he leaned in, getting close to Derrick's ear. "You're not the first straight man I've turned on, and you won't be the last."
Derrick stood there, alone, shocked. Things were getting weirder by the minute, and he was getting ready to just give up, give in, and go along for the ride.
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