5
“Then I want the models to gyrate their hips and give a little raunch . . .” The designer swirls his massive hips around in a disgusting move that makes me wince.
I rub my hand over the back of my neck.
“Dude . . .” Bo shakes his head. “Not sexy. Not to anyone.”
We arrived in Milan two days ago, and since then, it’s been a massive exercise in patience. The designer, T-Bone—like the steak, which is exactly how he introduced himself—has been trying, to say the least.
“Mr. T-Bone. You want to sell this line to women all over the world. Career women, stay-at-home moms, women in their twenties . . .”
“Of all shapes and sizes. Yes. Women should be celebrated!” The guy’s voice is gratingly high for such a rotund man. Almost feminine. If I didn’t see him eyeing the women like his next meal, I’d have pegged him as swinging the other way. He’s as short as he is wide, with pale-white skin, a double chin, and receding hair.
For some reason, though, his designs are speaking to women everywhere, making T-Bone one of the top new designers of the year. I will admit, the lingerie is incredibly inventive and considerate of a woman’s shape. There’re tucks, ruffles, bows, and ruches in all the right places to make every body look spectacular. It’s the things he wants the women to do when they’re on the runway that have Bo and me up in arms.
“I agree. All women should feel good about themselves. Especially in the bedroom with their man. However, the average woman—hell, any woman—is not going to want to stop at the end of a runway, swirl her hips, turn around, and bend over, giving the audience a view of her lady bits.”
T-Bone cringes, flails his hands wildly in the air, and slams them down at his side. “And why the hell not!”
I do my damned best not to roll my eyes and bite out how insufferable his requests are.
Bo jumps in when he notices I’m having a hard time expressing what I need to say without losing my cool.
He loops an arm around the man’s shoulders and walks him over to one of the soccer moms, Marta, who’s holding her arms across her scantily covered breasts.
“Marta, how do you feel in the lingerie you’re wearing?”
She kicks a shoulder up toward her ear, then looks to the side. “A little uncertain. I’m pretty exposed under all these lights.”
T-Bone frowns. “You do not feel beautiful? You look absolutely fuckable.”
The comment causes Marta to hug herself even more awkwardly.
Bo lets out a long sigh. “Marta, honey, would you feel more comfortable if the lights were low and you were being viewed in candlelight?”
Her eyes light up, and she nods quickly.
“And how about a sexy robe? Perhaps one of the shimmering ones you can slip off at the end of a runway for a quick peekaboo under flashing lights instead of the lights holding bright and steady on your form?”
“Oh my, that sounds lovely. I think I could walk in front of an audience then.”
Bo grins widely and walks to the next woman. She’s in a cutout bra camisole, which is completely see-through at the nipples and flows down in shimmery multicolored fabric over the belly, hiding any tummy problems. A pair of boy shorts, which are see-through at the ass with matching multicolored fabric over the pubic bone, finishes the outfit. This lavender piece basically shows the parts of a woman she often likes about herself while hiding some of the problem areas for certain women. Especially those with looser skin around the middle who have had children.
“Bianca, is it?”
The woman nods with her arm over her breasts, hiding her nipples. She’s biting into her lip so much the damn thing is now swollen. I can clearly see she’s terrified.
“How do you feel in what you’re wearing, Bianca?”
She swallows and looks at the floor, her eyes glassy. “Exposed.”
“Do you like the way your chest and bum look in the outfit, darlin’?”
Bianca shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“You look absolutely stunning. Though I imagine you’re used to wearing this kind of thing in front of your husband and only him?”
She nods, and a tear falls down her face.
“Why are you doing this, sweetheart?” Bo’s tone is soothing. He has an uncanny ability in calming women. Part of why he has so many chicklets.
“Because we need the money, and this pays a lot.” Bianca’s voice shudders and slips away after her admission.
T-Bone gasps. “You’re not doing my show because you feel empowered sexually?” His tone is horrified. Apparently he’s starting to see he’s doing the exact opposite of what he set out to do, which is empower women, not demean them.
Bianca shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.
“What if you were led out on stage by your husband, who would be wearing a pair of matching men’s pajamas, and he gives you a sultry kiss at the end of the runway?” I suggest.
Her entire face lights up. “That would be so fun! We could do it together!” She beams with sudden excitement.
“Men’s matching pajamas. Genius!” T-Bone says.
He looks down the line at the women in various stages of undress, a thoughtful expression marring his features.
“How many of you would like to walk the runway with your partner?” I ask.
All the women with partners raise their hands.
“How many of you would like the stage lights set lower?”
This time, every hand goes up.
T-Bone walks up and down the line, looking at his lingerie and the models he’s chosen. None of them have ever modeled before, which is another task Bo and I have this week. These are real women. Skinny, average, above average in weight, all the way to plus-size. They come from all walks of life. Mothers. Teachers. College students. Waitresses. All hand chosen by friends and family of the designer and through word of mouth. Now that they’re all here, it’s clear this idea needs to be fleshed out even more. These women were frightened to walk a runway wearing sexy lingerie, but after speaking to several of them, the consensus is they couldn’t pass up the payout.
I clap T-Bone on the back. “I’ve got some ideas on how we can still use your lingerie and your concept of making the women feel beautiful and empowered in it, if you’re open to hearing it?”
T-Bone rubs at his double chin. “If it sticks with my vision, absolutely.”
“Since a lot of your lingerie glows in the dark, what about a show where the lights flicker on and off at different intervals? While the women walk down the long runway, they would be spotlighted at random. At each spotlight, they could reveal a bit more skin. For example, the first spotlight could center on their bare legs and the bottom of the item they’re wearing. As they walk, the glow-in-the-dark features will light up until the next spotlight, which could highlight the women’s upper bodies, and so on.”
T-Bone nods. “Mm-hmm, yes, I see that.”
“Some of the women in the more revealing outfits could walk down with their partners, where you can have a simple pair of men’s pajamas, underwear, or robes to match the women’s outfits. Two designs appealing to the average woman. And believe me, women like to match their men any chance they get. It would also resonate with women getting married or having an anniversary, etc.”
“Yes, yes, I can envision it so clearly. It will be done. I can design a few unique, simple items for a man in no time.”
He moves over to a drafting table in his workroom and starts sketching, ignoring the lot of us while doing so.
“I think that’s enough for now,” I say. “I have more ideas, but let’s start there and let him work. Ladies? You ready to get into your street clothes and work on the art of walking a runway?”
A bunch of snickers and giggles are heard throughout the room.
“Go get changed and meet us out in the back of the warehouse. We’ll practice outside.”
The women file out, seeming happier than when we arrived. I chance a glance at T-Bone, but he’s lost in his work, flicking from sketching something to picking up a fabric swatch and laying it next to something he sketched.
“Come on, brother. I believe catwalks are your department.”
Bo cocks an eyebrow. “My mother being a designer doesn’t make me an expert on modeling.”
“Don’t lie. I know your history. You were walking a runway before you could run. Besides, I believe you’ve bedded enough models to make you a certifiable expert.”
He grins wickedly. “Now that is no lie.”
I chuckle and hook an arm over his shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
“You’re kidding!” Skyler scoffs. “He wanted them to prance around in next to nothing and make lewd movements on the runway? Did you remind him these women are not porn stars?”
I chuckle. “Baby, I know. It was rather disgusting, but he honestly thought he was empowering them by setting them free to express their sexuality.”
“Nuh-uh, no way. He was demeaning them in the worst way. Making them objects. Ugh.” She sighs.
“I know, but Bo and I have got him back on the right path. His team is already working on some matching looks for some of the women’s partners, as well as adding robes and things to make a woman feel more flirty and comfortable in the bedroom.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m flirting with the idea of having standing mirrors put on the stage.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well, in my experience, when a woman likes the way she looks, she checks herself out in her mirror. Makes sure every angle looks perfect. I think when you see yourself looking good, you have more confidence and feel sexier.”
“This is true. I definitely check the mirror a ton of times before committing to whatever I’m going to wear for the day.”
“And I imagine you do the same when you put on lingerie?” It’s a leading question, and I can’t wait to hear her answer.
Her voice changes into the sultry lilt I love. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases.
I groan. “Seriously, women do that, right?”
She giggles softly. “Yeah, honey, we do. We always want to look and feel our best, so of course we check out how we look in the mirror, especially when we put on lingerie.”
“Excellent. Then I think I’m going to add mirrors to the side of the runway. Not only would it allow the audience and cameras to capture different angles of the designs, it would serve the women in seeing how magical they look under the low, flickering lights.”
“It’s a great idea, Parker. I wish I could see it for myself.”
“Come out,” I say instantly without thinking.
She groans. “I wish I could, honey, but I have to work. The long weekend was the last one for a little while. We have to get these scenes right, and we have some difficult ones coming up.”
“Oh? What types of scenes?”
“Parker . . . ,” she says in warning.
I grind my teeth until I can feel a muscle ticking in my jaw. “Sexual ones.”
“You know it’s my job, honey. Out of anyone I know, you are the person I’d hope could understand that there are parts of being an actress that put me in precarious and often uncomfortable positions . . .”
“Like it’s uncomfortable to kiss and rub your sexy-as-fuck body all over his,” I snarl rather immaturely.
“So, we’re going there?” Her tone is accusing.
“I don’t like it. Knowing another man is kissing you, tasting your lips, your skin. Touching your body.”
Images of me doing those very things flash through my mind, and I press my head farther back into the pillow. I’m trying to get ahold of myself when the phone line goes dead.
She hung up on me.
What the fuck!
Tingles of dread and aggravation slither up my spine and out my limbs. Until my phone rings showing a FaceTime request from Peaches.
I click the button, and her gorgeous face comes into view.
“I thought it better we have this discussion face-to-face.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, taking in her kind chocolate-brown eyes and pretty pink lips. Her face is devoid of makeup and still unearthly beautiful. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid and immature.”
She nods. “Yes, but it was real and honest. Parker, I want you to always feel comfortable telling me the truth. If this is going to work between us, we have to promise to be honest with one another in all things. I’ve had too many people let me down. I can’t be worrying about such things with you.”
“Sky, baby, I’ll never let you down. Not intentionally. And I’m sorry I’m a jealous jerk.”
She grins. “Maybe I’ll start calling you JJ when you’re acting out of hand.”
I chuckle. “Could work as a reminder.”
A crisis averted. Yet the clawing of the green-eyed monster is real.
“Are you going to be okay, knowing what I have to do in my job? It’s not ever going to change. I can promise you, while I take the roles and characters very seriously, it’s all pretend. I’m not kissing Rick or any costar and thinking of how it might feel. I’m constantly in my head ensuring the angle of the kiss is good for the camera, my body placement will look ideal on the big screen, and I’m covering parts I don’t want an audience to see. Besides, it’s very clinical.”
“Really?” I guess, in my head, I assumed they were pretending to kiss and fuck and have it be caught on camera.
“Yes really, silly.” She chuckles, no further admonishment in her tone. “There’s no less than ten to twelve people on set, with the lighting crew, cameras, director, and makeup, and all the while we’re attempting to make the scene look real. As though we’re genuinely the characters, in love or lust, or whatever it may be at that stage in the movie. A lot of times we shoot all of the sexy scenes at the end when we have more chemistry, so it usually starts to grate on both of our nerves.”
“Wow. I hadn’t really considered how much went into a scene.”
“I promise, it’s a lot. Then as the day goes on, your costar starts to stink from being sprayed with mist and makeup and working to hold his arms just right. So halfway through I’m smelling stinky man funk and worse . . .”
My girl has me laughing, and I want to know more. “What?” I chuckle, enjoying her face screwing up into an expression of distaste as she makes a little gagging noise.
“Rick loves onions. On everything.” She shivers, and I bust out laughing hard. “You laugh now, but try open-mouth kissing someone whose breath constantly smells and tastes like secondhand, chewed-up onions! It’s super nasty.”
“You’re kidding.” I continue laughing into my fist while staring at my beautiful woman.
“I wish I were.”
“Baby, give the man a freakin’ Tic Tac!” I laugh some more.
She smiles wide. “I couldn’t do that! It would be rude, and I have to work with him.”
“Better making him uncomfortable than having to suck face with a raw onion.”
Her face twists into a grimace. “Blech. You’re reminding me I have another scene coming up. I have to go into makeup, and then we’re shooting some super-fast action shot where, at the end, he grabs me and kisses me.” She frowns. “I don’t want to taste onions. I don’t even like onions!”
“Aw, I’m sorry, Peaches. Remember what I said . . . offer the man a mint!”
She sits up and moves her arms around in front of her. The way she’s got the camera of the phone leaning against something, I can’t see what she’s doing exactly.
“Eureka!” She pulls out a small blue plastic case. “Listerine strips, baby!”
I chuckle. “Perfect. Now take one right before the scene and offer him one. If he tries to decline, tell him if he wants to kiss you as the scene requires, he needs to man up.”
She pouts. “I don’t want to do it, but I can’t live with onion-face kisses anymore.”
I grin. “At least I know my role in your world as best kisser is safe.”
“Who said you were the best kisser?”
I’m pretty sure my face pales before she bursts out in laughter. “Just kidding, pretty boy. You’re a mighty fine kisser.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
“How’s about you come and visit me soon, so I don’t have to?” She bites her lip, seeming as if she’s afraid to mention what I promised.
“Actually, I have Wendy routing my trip home after the fashion show on Saturday. Should arrive late Sunday night.”
“Really?” Her face lights up with her megawatt smile, which reminds me my girlfriend is Skyler freakin’ Paige. Dream girl. Most sought-after actress in Hollywood. And she’s all mine.
I feel my chest puffing up with pride at making her happy, especially since the reason she’s happy is as simple as her wanting to see me.
“Yeah, baby. I want to see how you work, watch you in action. Then I want to take you back to your penthouse and ravish you oh, say, one, two, twenty times.”
“I’d like that.” Her cheeks pink up prettily, and I hope she’s imagining us together.
“Then you shall have it. Though Peaches, I gotta go. It’s late here, and I have to teach a bunch of women who’ve never modeled before how to walk a runway.”
Skyler frowns. “Honey, do you even know how to do that?”
I shake my head. “No, but Bogart does, and he’s lead tomorrow. I’m there to offer up the best positions for camera angles and what will make them look and feel sexy in garments they wouldn’t normally wear except in the privacy of their bedroom.”
“You do have a knack for making a woman feel sexy. That’s for sure.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
She rolls her eyes. “I thought you had to go to bed?”
“I thought you had makeup to put on.”
She purses her lips together. “Maybe I want to make sure my man goes to bed happy and thinking of me?”
“Yeah?” I focus a lust-filled gaze on my dream girl.
She licks her lips and bites down on the bottom one.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be there right now, sucking on that lip.
“Yeah. What would make you happiest right now?”
“You offering a little FaceTime play, Peaches?”
She glances at something off camera. “I’ve got about twenty more minutes if you want to use them wisely.”
“Perfect fuckin’ woman,” I murmur.
“Honey . . . I’m not . . .”
She starts to deny her perfection, but I cut her off at the quick.
“Skyler, take your top off and show me your tits.”
A huge grin crosses her face, and she cocks a brow but pulls off her top, unclicks her bra, and all I see are sweet, pink-tipped breasts. My mouth waters at the sight, and I groan.
“You’ve proved it. Perfect.” I slide my hand down and under my boxer briefs, taking a firm hold of my raging erection.
“What else do you want to see?” Her tone is whisper soft and needy.
“All of you. Peaches, I want all of you.”