Kara
I go into work on Monday feeling like a billion bucks.
Considering the net worth of the sperm shakes I’ve been chugging all weekend, it’s hardly a surprise.
“Swiped another of Gilded Lily’s models on Friday,” I brag as I smack the file down on my boss’ desk. “That’s, what? Eleven this month?”
“Twelve, actually,” Mr. Ackerman says with a smile. “You’re on a roll, Kara. There’s nothing I like more than watching you put Evian Sprague and her shitty little agency in their place.”
Mr. Ackerman was my saving grace once Evian dumped me. I’d been modeling since I was a preteen, so I never went to college or anything. The fashion world is all I’ve ever known, and I didn’t know what I was going to do when Gilded Lily tossed me out the door and onto my fat ass.
But Mr. Ackerman was there to help me get back on my feet.
He offered me a job scouting for Wild Rose, Gilded Lily’s biggest competitor. And better yet, he offered me a chance for a little revenge on Evian. How could I turn that down?
“Actually, boss, I’ve been thinking about that,” I begin. I take a deep breath—because considering what I’m about to ask him, I’m gonna need it. “I’ve got another former Gilded Lily model that I want you to sign.”
“Oh? I’m always happy to steal that bitch Evian’s thunder. You’ve got my attention.” Mr. Ackerman leans back in his desk chair, kicking his cowboy boots up on his desk and twirling his mustache.
If he wasn’t a former male model himself, he wouldn’t be able to get away with it—and truth be told, it’s not my favorite look on a dude. But I guess when you own your own company, you can dress however you like.
I’m just fucking glad that Chase and Eric don’t dress like that.
Chase and Eric. I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind since our last bang sesh, and I’m already salivating at the thought of another one. They’ve put the idea in my head that I might still have a career in modeling—not just signing models, but being one.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this industry, it’s not to listen to the business opinions of dudes that you’re fucking. Ryan warned me away from leaving Gilded Lily a thousand times while we were dating—and as soon as Evian dumped me, so did he.
I need a second opinion, and maybe I’ll get a second chance to boot.
“She’s smart and classy,” I begin, planting my ass on the corner of Mr. Ackerman’s desk. It’s still sore from all the working out I’ve been doing—and I haven’t even been to Power Plus yet today. “She already knows the business inside and out, and I think she’s a great investment.”
“Go on,” Mr. Ackerman says, leaning in. His mustache is twirled to new fucking heights now, and the more confident I am, the more interested he seems.
“It’s me, boss,” I admit, staring him down and holding my chin high. “I want a contract with Wild Rose. You already know I can woo clients until they’re eating out of the palm of my hand. I’ve got a killer walk. I’ll need new head shots, but my social media has been blowing up lately, and you know that I’ll work my ass off for you if you’ll just—”
“Kara, Kara, Kara,” Mr. Ackerman says, shaking his head. “I’m going to stop you right there. Now, of course, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous…”
“Then what’s the catch?”
He chuckles, and my heart drops into my stomach.
I wore my favorite heels for this, dammit, and he’s fucking laughing at me?
“The industry has changed since you were last in it, baby,” he informs me. “It’s sweet that you’re game for trying—Lord knows we need women with an appetite for success around here. But this isn’t the same scene it was two years ago. Clients don’t just want skinny anymore—they want Kim Kardashians, honey. Not Kate Mosses.”
I slide off his desk and put my hands on my hips. “I can be a Kim Kardashian.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t want to be,” he says, shaking his head again. “You know I only want the best for you, Kara, but you’re too thin for plus-size now, and you’re just not…”
He outlines the shape of a woman in the air with his hands: big tits, tiny waist, and an ass so big you could eat dinner off of it.
“That can’t be all that the clients want,” I say, feeling my temper bubbling up and threatening to burst. “You know I can do it, boss. There’s not a girl on our roster who knows the game better or who will work harder—”
“No, there’s not,” Mr. Ackerman admits. “But the fact of the matter is, Kara, women of your age—”
And that’s where this conversation ends.
Right fucking there.
“Women of my age?” I repeat, picking up the file of the model I just signed for him and tossing it in his face. “You just put your goddamn cowboy boot in your fucked up, lopsided mouth, buddy.”
“Kara, I’m sorry, honey, but—”
“Nope,” I say, grabbing my purse. “If you’re going to apologize for anything, honey, it had best be an apology to all of woman-kind for that ugly-ass mustache. I quit.”
“Can’t we talk about this?” he calls out after me.
I try to think of something clever to say back and can’t.
I’ve already run out of insults, and it’d just be looping back to call his cowboy boots stupid again.
“See you around,” I say as I slam the door in his face. “Probably sooner than you think.”
I don’t even clean out my desk. There’s not anything there that I’m going to need.
I’ve got a set of workout clothes and my gym shoes in the bottom of my purse, and I’ve got two hot men waiting at the gym for me.
And Chase and Eric? They’re going to be fucking thrilled for a visit from a woman of my fucking age.
“Kara,” Chase calls out, jogging over to me as I come stomping through Power Plus’ front doors. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
I consider telling him the truth—that I just failed to get my modeling contract back despite having lost all the fucking weight that got me booted to begin with. I consider telling him that my boss—ex-boss—just called me too old to model, or that I’m unemployed now with no fucking prospects for the future.
I even consider telling him how much I fucking hate Kim Kardashian and her perfect ass right now.
But then Chase pulls me against his hard, sweaty chest, and I breathe in his smell.
Just like that, it all melts away, and all I can do is laugh.
“Nothing,” I say, feeling the relief washing over me. I have a hot dude kissing my forehead and a pair of big, burly arms wrapped around my slender body. I mean, what else could a girl want? “Nothing at all.”
“Really? ’Cause I’m not a fuckin’ genius or anything, Kara, but you looked pretty pissed when you came through the door…” He pulls back, scrutinizing my face. “Is this one of those things where you say nothing’s wrong, but I’m supposed to magically know how to fix it without you telling me what it is? Because if so…”
“No.” I laugh. “Nothing like that. I’m just…is Eric around?”
“Present,” Eric says, jogging over.
These fucking men. Always fucking jogging. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them walk anywhere for the whole time I’ve known them. They’re so full of energy, and so ripped, and so fucking hot and—
“Do you guys have any Protein Plus merch around? Size small, if you’ve got it.”
Eric nods, ducking back behind the check-in desk and coming back with a cute little T-shirt…and a thong.
“Really?” I ask, holding the G-string up and giggling.
Eric just shrugs. “A man can hope. What do you need merch for, though? You haven’t been sharing those protein shakes with your friends, have you?”
“Oh my god, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been hoarding them like a dragon with liquid gold.”
“Then what’s up?” Chase asks.
Christ, he’s cute when he’s like this. He’s like a puppy that knows it’s time to go on a walk—he knows that I have something exciting to tell him, and he can hardly wait to hear it.
Eric looks like he already knows what I’m going to say, but that fucking figures. At least he has the decency to let me say it anyway.
“I’m your girl,” I say, grinning. “I want to do the pageant and model for Protein Plus.”
They don’t even give me a chance to see their reactions. Chase just picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, and Eric smacks my ass as they carry me up the stairs.
“I knew it, man,” Chase is saying. “I fucking knew she would.”
“Couldn’t resist us, huh?” Eric asks as Chase deposits me in the upstairs office.
“Don’t look so cocky.” I giggle. “You guys were my second choice.”
“Yeah, but your first choice wouldn’t have been as good at getting you out of your clothes as we are,” Eric says, just as I feel Chase pull down the zipper of my cute little pencil skirt. Eric makes quick work of my blouse as the skirt slides to the floor.
“Good point,” I say, pulling the Protein Plus T-shirt on over my head. There’s something about it that just feels right.
Fuck modeling for Wild Rose—this is exactly where I belong. I don’t know why I was fighting it so hard in the first place. Chase and Eric have been supportive of me in ways that neither of my old bosses ever could be, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ve made the right choice.
“And the thong,” Chase insists, pulling down my lacy boy shorts before I can even argue.
“Okay, okay.” I giggle, stepping into the thong. Surprisingly enough, that feels right, too. Maybe because of all the squats I’ve been doing lately—or maybe just because with Chase and Eric around, I feel good in pretty much everything.
“Damn,” Eric says, nodding approvingly. “You look fucking hot with our logo on your body.”
“Hot enough for a pic?” I ask, fishing my cell phone out of my purse.
They crowd around me, stooping a little because they’re so fucking tall, as Chase snaps a selfie of all three of us.
I post it to my social media before I can talk myself out of it, with a caption announcing my big news.
“2 months until Miss Sexy USA pageant here in L.A.! Love my sexy sponsors, <3 Protein Plus!”
Even as the pic uploads, I can see Eric and Chase eyeing my body in an incredibly unprofessional fashion.
“We ought to celebrate, you know,” Chase says, grabbing my ass.
“Oh, my,” I coo as Eric presses his hips against mine. “Whatever did you have in mind?”
Looks like a woman of my age is getting lucky tonight.