Kara
Print ads are a breeze, even if they’re not quite as cool and pleasant as the breezes blowing in from the Pacific today.
It’s just me and Fred, the photographer for this session. He claps after every new barrage of shots he takes. Then he watches the photos appear on his monitor.
“Okay, Kara, I’d like to try one more outfit. What do you think about that?”
I rest my hand under my chin, tilt my head slightly and look up the sky.
“Hmm.”
“Are you thinking about it, Kara?”
“Oh, I’m thinking about it.”
“And what are you thinking about it?”
“Hmm. I’m thinking...fuck no.”
Fred drops the light meter he’s holding like I just fucking electrified it with my answer.
“Okay, we’ve probably got enough. Good work today.” Fred’s trying to hide the sadness in his voice. He’s really into promotional materials, I suppose.
“You get any good shots, Fred?”
Even after the not-so-hard work of a Protein Plus photo shoot, Chase’s voice is like music to my ears.
“Yeah, we’ve got enough for today.” Fred still doesn’t sound convinced.
“You get to work in fucking Hawaii, Fred. On the beach. Give it a rest.”
Eric’s voice is also music to my ears—a different genre, but I still like how it sounds.
“Thanks. I keep forgetting.” Fred has all his shit packed up in no time flat, knowing it’s time to leave me alone on the beach with my men.
“New swimsuit?” Eric’s eyes are glued to my powder blue halter top bikini.
“One of many. This entire wardrobe is mine.” My eyes go wide, and I throw an evil laugh into the island air. “Mine!”
“I’m glad you’re getting some fringe benefits from this gig,” Chase states with a smirk, walking to me with a highball glass full of beautiful orange magic.
“Fuck yes!”
“Are you saying fuck yes to the fringe benefits?” Chase questions, his sexy smile growing wider.
“If you bringing me my new favorite cocktail is a fringe benefit, then, fuck yes.”
Chase smoothly slips the glass into my hands. “Sure, that can be one.”
I hold the glass tightly with both hands as I meet Chase’s lips in a post-photo shoot kiss in the ocean air.
I enjoy the first sip of my Mai Tai just before Eric reaches me for another dynamite fucking kiss against the backdrop of a motherfucking Hawaiian sunset.
And then, to ensure that yet another perfect moment lasts just a little bit longer, I wrap my lips around the cocktail straw and take in a nice, long draw of rum-based paradise.
“You’re really enjoying that fucking fringe benefit.” Eric’s got his own stunning, teasing smile on his face. “Now I know why you turned down all those top-paying commercial modeling gigs in New York and Hollywood—no Mai Tais included.”
“True, but I’m also not driving to fucking Hollywood. Have you seen the traffic on the 101? I’ll take a flight halfway across the ocean any goddamn day.”
“But Milan’s too far?” Chase joins in on the action.
“It’s too far, and it’s no Hawaii,” I answer, getting a bit more serious.
“For what that runway modeling contract offered, you could’ve retired afterwards and probably bought Oprah’s house in Maui.” Eric sidles next to me and slips his arm around my shoulders as he speaks.
On my other side, Chase nimbly drapes his arm around my back.
“Oh, they weren’t offering Oprah money. That would be a different story.”
We all start ambling sedately along the sand, staying close to the gently crashing ocean waves.
“It would probably be a different story for anyone,” ponders Chase. “Even for us.”
“I do not fucking think so,” Eric blazes back at him. “We don’t need any other kind of money. We’ve got the perfect thing right where we are now.”
I agree, but I don’t even need to say it. We’ve got the perfect thing going for us, right here on this beach, and in Hawaii.
Thinking about that, I take another sip of my Mai Tai.
“And this drink is the only thing that can improve on perfection.” Okay, I do say that one out loud. “Well, maybe except for a couple of other things.”
And hell yes, I said that out loud, too. Eric and Chase look at one another.
They know exactly what I’m talking about, but I can tell from their little smiles that they’re going to play it coy and have some fun. Hey, we’re enjoying perfection, and there’s no fucking rush.
“A couple of other things that are better than a Mai Tai?” Chase is hamming it up big time, like I’ve never seen him before. And I fucking love it.
“What things could those be?” Eric’s playing right along, and my amusement’s turning into other feelings—like the feeling of starting to get fucking wet at the thought of those two magnificent cocks that are already oh so close to me, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
“Like other drinks, maybe?” continues Chase.
“I think you may be onto something,” I reply.
“But...what other drinks could those be? Something popular around here maybe, something that suits Hawaii, one would think.” Chase is drawing this out, but I know where it’s leading, and I’m going to get wetter than the fucking ocean before we get there.
“Like a Sex on the Beach, perhaps?” asks Eric.
“Oh, maybe.” Yeah, I’m just trying not to drool on the sand. “That could be it.”
“It does suit Hawaii,” Chase imparts, “but would it, as Kara puts it, improve on perfection?”
“I’ll field that one,” I offer. “Yes. Yes, it would. But it’s already perfect. I mean right here, right now, Hawaii, modeling for Protein Plus—I wouldn’t trade this for Hollywood, New York, Milan, Oprah money or anything else in the fucking world.”
I let that sink in as we stroll quietly along the beach, the sunset painting the sky in front of us.
After a few lovely minutes, Eric speaks up.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think anybody could do a better job than you’re doing with it.”
“Anyone, huh?” I inquire.
“No one could do what you do,” Chase asserts, “just like nobody could do what Holly-Anne does.”
That’s the right thing to say, especially since Holly-Anne’s going to be one of my bridesmaids in three days.
You read that right. I’m fucking marrying these guys—both of them.
In three days.
Yeah, I can hardly fucking believe it either.
We’re doing it here in Hawaii, in a small ceremony right here on this beach that I’m walking on with my fiancée and my other fiancée. No, it won’t be a legal marriage, but we can still have a ceremony.
“And just like no one can do what Miss Japan or Miss Ireland does.” That’s also the right thing for Chase to say, since they’re also my bridesmaids.
“Speaking of perfection, they’re all working out fucking perfect for Protein Plus.” Eric’s genuinely happy with the decision to bring them aboard as models.
“I know it’s working out perfect for them, too,” I say, “because as far as modeling goes, this is the way to do it—thousands of fucking miles from the horrid, stressful bullshit that comes with it anywhere else.”
“That’s another reason I’m glad there’s still a Protein Plus. It’s a good thing we finally smoothed out that goddamn formula so women aren’t going batshit for us anymore.”
“That’s all well and good for them,” I said with a mischievous grin. “But it must be too late for me because, baby, I’m batshit. I’m as batshit for you both as ever.”
“You know, I could go for that drink now,” Chase declares. “Sex on the Beach, maybe.”
“I like where your head’s at,” Eric agrees. “Thoughts, Kara?”
The air’s getting cooler as the sun sets, but I’m suddenly starting to get really fucking hot.
It’s probably from anticipating Sex on the Beach...you know, the drink.
“That sounds splendi―”
My fucking phone, tucked deep inside my canvas tote with my swimsuits for the photo shoot, starts beeping.
“One minute—then I want to hear more about this sex on the beach idea,” I announce, breaking away from Chase and Eric’s arms.
As much as I wanted to spend every minute with them, I knew I need to take the call, since it might be one of my bridesmaids.
I carefully put down my drink and trot away from the ocean, leaving Eric and Chase to talk about whatever they talk about if I’m not around.
By the time I get far away enough for some privacy, my phone’s no longer doing its beeping thing. I still need to check it. I mean, I trotted all the way out here.
I dig out my phone, expecting to see a text from Holly-Anne with some question about the ceremony. Instead, I’m greeted with one of my old modeling photos, just like the ones all over my fucking dressing room at the pageant.
It takes a moment to realize what the hell happened, that someone texted me the photo. I also realize that there’s a message attached to it.
It’s from Evian, because of course it fucking is.
Hi, Kara, I’m sorry to bother you, but a client of mine is expanding a plus-size brand and launching a new campaign. They would like to use this photo, with your permission of course.
There’s nothing malicious there—it’s all business. I look at the photo, which was not something I expected to look at today, or ever again.
That’s me in the photo, though. Granted, it’s not the happiest me there is, nor the happiest time in my life. But it’s me there, and if that photo didn’t exist, and that time in my life never happened, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.
And, as we’ve established, right here, right now is pretty fucking great—perfect, in fact.
Permission granted.
I send the text and drop my phone back into my tote where it belongs. Chase and Eric sense when I’m walking back towards them, stopping their conversation to watch me.
It’s perfect. But, apart from a Mai Tai, I know of at least one way to improve on perfection—sex on the beach.
And no, I’m not talking about the fucking drink.