Dallas
I’m not sure what I was expecting the EPE headquarters to looks like. Hell, these shoots nearly border on porn. I mean, classy porn to say the least. Artistic porn. But I’m broke and this is what it has come to. I guess I was expecting a dump in the inner-city part of town, but that’s not where my GPS brought me. I park outside of a large home on the outskirts of the suburbs. Nothing surrounds this house other than a cal-de-sac and some open fields.
The house is in nice condition too. And it’s huge—like a middle-class, Desperate Housewives version of the Playboy Mansion.
Before I get out of the car, I look down at myself. I’m kind of dressed like a prick. I’ve just come from student teaching and my shirt is buttoned up to my collar and tucked into my slacks. I pull out my shirt and undo my tie, unbutton a few buttons, and take in a deep breath.
Why the hell am I so nervous? I mean, it’s not a big deal if I don’t get the job. It might be for the better. Applying was a stupid idea in the first place, even if Tricia’s right about it giving me a leg up in the industry. And what about respect from undergrads? The last thing I need is a bunch of freshman fuck-heads who think they can mess with me because they’ve seen me naked.
Mostly naked.
EPE is good at avoiding crotch shots. But still. This was a mistake.
Right when I’m about to start the engine back up, a cute blonde wearing glasses bounces out of the front door of the house. She spots me, waves, and runs over. She’s dressed in a tank top and cut-off shorts.
Normal enough.
She leans into my open window, holding out her hand. “You must be Dallas,” she says. “Well, obviously you’re Dallas. I’ve seen your photo. I’m Britain.”
This is Britain? I thought Britain might be some pseudonym for an old creepy forty-year-old man with a pot belly. But this girl looks like your average college student. Naturally pretty, but a bit too nerdy to be in a sorority. Kind of plain. Like she wouldn’t be into taking pictures of naked people.
“Err… hi,” I say. I pull my keys out of the ignition and step out of the car.
“Come on in. It’s okay, you look kind of scared.” She grins. “I hope you didn’t dress up for us.”
I tug on my collar. “I student teach.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“That’s right?”
“Uhh… yeah. I mean, I had to do my research. Umm… one of my friends is in your bio class.” She looks away from me and heads toward the door.
Great.
I follow her up the steps and into the house. The main room is vaulted and big, but classy. Much classier than I expected. It almost looks like a nice, middle-class family could live here. I mean, other than the framed posters of the half or mostly naked EPE models on the walls. I recognize all of them. I’m not an avid reader or anything. Tricia looks through my issues more than I do. But I’m a subscriber. Who on the East Park campus isn’t? We have the most successful independent erotic magazine out of any campus in the country.
Everyone’s going to be looking at pictures of me now.
I’ve done underwear modeling. It’s the same thing.
A girl stands in the corner of the room, crossing her arms. In the frame behind her is the promotional poster of her, like she planned it.
Rylan Willow. Holy shit, it’s Rylan Willow.
She looks much happier in her promo poster—and wearing a lot more—but it’s definitely her. Even though I’m not what you’d call EPE’s biggest fan, I never skip the Rylan spreads. And now she’s standing before me, arms crossed tight against her tits so that her cleavage spills perfect over that… one-piece thing. Whatever the hell she’s wearing that looks so damn good on her.
Maybe the exposure of this job will be worth it if I can shoot with her.
No. I can’t think like that. Not when Tricia’s trusting me so much with this.
Why the fuck does Rylan look so pissed at me?
“Dallas, this is one of our primary models, Rylan Willow.”
“I—am aware of that.” I’m aware of that? Knock off the professor façade—you fucking idiot. I hold out my hand but she doesn’t take it, so I shove it into my pocket. “Nice to meet you, Rylan.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Pleasure,” she drawls. She could’ve fooled me.
Britain leads me to the couch and lays all of the typical interview questions on me—how long I’ve been shooting for, what has been my favorite gig thus far, and what I do when I’m not in school or not modeling. She thinks it’s funny that it was Trisha’s idea to audition for EPE.
I catch myself glancing at Rylan, who has pulled a weird green drink from the kitchen fridge and is sipping it by the island, watching us.
“So, since you’ve informed me that you have a girlfriend, this might be a problem in terms of how far you’re willing to go for the shoots. I mean, I try—to the best of my ability—to stay classy enough to call this art, but you’ll still have to get intimate with the models.
Rylan sighs from the counter.
“I don’t have a problem with that.” When Britain raises her eyebrow skeptically, I add, “Really. The only thing I won’t be able to do is cock shots.”
Britain busts up laughing. “Okay. No cock shots. I can swing that.”
“No, seriously. Undergrads are going to see enough of me in this magazine as it is. I’m done with my teaching hours now—today was my last day—”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. But they’re still going to remember me.”
“Sounds like this one’s prone to humiliation,” says Rylan. “I don’t think he has the guts to take on the job, to be honest.”
What’s this chick’s deal?
“Don’t mind her.” Britain winks. “She’s just mad because you’re a part of her—”
“Brit! Shut the fuck up!”
Britain sighs. “We’ll let the camera decide how humiliated you are, shall we?” She glances at a closed door on the other end of the living room. “All we need now is the damn modelette.”
“Excuse me?”
“Delilah is the one you’ll be shooting with for the test. We’re only attempting to do male additions with her at first until we see the response.”
Delilah—that would make sense. She’s the edgiest model, from what I can remember.
“But we just finished a shoot where she was covered in chocolate syrup, and I guess she needs a few hours to recover with a shower and hair and makeup. God, I didn’t think it would take this long. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”
I shake my head at the same time another male model walks into the room from down the hall. He wears nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Nodding at me, he says, “’Sup, Bro.”
“Uhh… ‘Sup.”
“This is Adam, our first hired male model. Adam, where’s Delilah?”
Adam shrugs. “Last I saw her, she was just getting out of the shower.”
Britain sighs. “Great. Well, I don’t have all day. And I’m sure you don’t have all day.”
“I’m… really, I’m fine.”
“Hey Rylan, You’re up.”
I turn to look at Rylan. Her eyes are bugging out of her head as she clutches her empty glass in front of her. A look of horror.
So the hottest model of EPE hates me for no reason. I’m off to a good start.