I doubt that, but I’ll happily direct him. As I do, I can’t help but imagine him suspended from the ceiling, with rope criss-crossing all over his body. Gabe would take his natural beauty and make him even more stunning.
“Do you have a business card?” I ask when I’ve got all the shots I need of Blake in the bodystocking.
“Yeah, why?”
“Gabe, the guy I was just talking to, is always on the lookout for new models.”
The corners of Blake’s lips tug down a little. “That’s handy because I’m always on the lookout for paying gigs.”
“He pays well.”
Blake smiles, but it looks a little forced. “What type of modelling is it? I mainly do fashion work.”
“Gabe’s work is more artistic. I’ll let him explain, but trust me when I say you’d be perfect for it.”
Blake narrows his eyes slightly.
“It’s not nude work,” I assure him.
“Then I can’t wait to find out more.”
For the next few outfits, his flirtiness vanishes. I hadn’t meant to put him off—I’d been enjoying his behaviour—but I have all the same. He thinks Gabe and I are together and that my interest in him is purely professional. In fairness, it should be.
When we’re done, he gets changed and then comes out of the dressing room, holding a business card. He hands it to me, maintaining a respectful distance.
“It was nice working with you, Calvin.”
I pluck the card from his fingers. It’s plain but elegant. I stare at the words written in a gold flowing script, which reflects the light:
Blake Morris
Model
It also has his phone number.
I wave the card. “I’ll be sure to pass this on to Gabe.”
Blake looks away. “Tell him I’ll look forward to hearing from him. See ya.” He pivots on his heel and heads towards the main door.
“Blake…”
He stops and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.
“I hope to work with you again someday.” It’s not what I wanted to say, but at least we’re leaving things on a professional note.
He nods. “That would be great.”
And then he leaves. I stare at his business card. I have his number. Once the photos are delivered to UnMentionable, the job will be done, so I could call him then… I tuck the card into my back pocket and turn to Ivy.
“Why don’t you head home?”
“Are you staying?”
“For a while. I want to start going over the photos from today’s shoot.”
She turns her computer off and grabs her coat. “Don’t work too hard.”
She knows me too well.
