We set up the last shot, ditching the hat in exchange for turning my head away from the camera. This time I set up the framing and tripod to accentuate my slinky dress and heels. The dress was bright red, full of curves. The pose with the cocktail on the deck overlooking sunset had only showed my shoulders and straps. This one was a full-length shot.
The bar was candle-lit, the roaring fire going, and there was just enough light to barely pull this off. It was dark and sexy and luxurious.
I struck my pose, and Sam snapped away, giving me gentle directions while I held a martini glass. I kept reminding myself to relax my shoulders, fix my posture, suck in my tummy, all the little things a model knows to do to make the photo better.
Ion had been much better at this than me. But I was learning.
“What is this?” Alex’s voice rang out through the hall. I’d been so focused I hadn’t noticed the distant chatter of the guests approaching from the lot.
Without moving, I called out to him, “Hang on, we’re almost done. Right, Sam?”
“Yeah. Maybe…look down a bit more?”
I tilted my head, and after a pause, she called it. I broke my pose, checked the shots, and thanked her again.
“No worries. It’s good timing, I’ll get back to the kitchen now.”
That left me and Alex alone. The rest of the guests must have been dropping their gear off, freshening up for dinner.
“What were you doing?”
I looked Alex up and down, his fist gripped the strap of his binos, turning the knuckles white. In the growing darkness, I couldn’t make out the brown of his irises.
“Sam was helping me take photos.”
“For what?”
I shrugged while packing up my things, setting my lenses carefully in the backpack.
“Let me guess, Ion got you doing your own Instagram thing now?”
That gave me pause. It was partially true—I did have my own Instagram account now that I used it to promote my travels and my sponsored trips like this one. But it was also anonymous—hence the large hats and head-turning.
Alex had been so derisive of Ion’s Instagram account. Which, yes, I did understand that for most people, an Instagram account is a rather frivolous thing. But Alex didn’t know the behind the scenes of it; he’d never bothered to ask or think about what went into Ion’s social media and how much it impacted his career.
Or the thought of who was behind the lens, taking those pictures. Ion’s Instagram account, and his career, had been languishing when I took over for him. And look where his career had climbed.
“Yes, it’s for Instagram,” I said, imbuing my voice with as much haughtiness as I could. “So what?”
Alex said nothing, but the tick in his jaw gave him away. And I couldn’t help it. “My followers are going tolovethat shot. I mean, it just screamsOut of Africameets James Bond heroine. Just look at this dress.” I waved my hand down my body, looking down at myself. When I looked up, Alex had followed my instructions precisely. His gaze traveled down my legs to the tips of my toes. I watched in silence as they roamed back up, intense, as if looking through the dress and seeing the thong I’d packed just for this session.
No panty lines here.
When his eyes locked on mine, I shuddered. This was a very dangerous look, and I was angry with him. I zipped up the backpack with force and slung it over my shoulder. “Now if you’ll pardon me, I need to go clean up and change for dinner.”
I passed him in a huff, and the click-click of my heels was followed by the soft squeak of Alex’s sneakers.
“Where are you going?” I turned around, and Alex came to an abrupt stop.
“To clean up,” he said, lifting both arms from his side and dropping them back down. “I was the one who got dirty today out in the wild. You’d be right at home for cocktails right now.” He arched an eyebrow at me.
“Fine.” I turned before I rolled my eyes and continued out of the main building. The way back to the tent was a boardwalk, and I carefully placed my steps on the boards so as to not hook a heel between the slats.
I was very aware of Alex behind me, thrumming with impatience. We finally made it to the tent, where the flaps were down and the lanterns lit, giving the room a soft glow. It was nearly dark now, and the temperature was dropping. I needed to change into something much warmer.
“Why are you doing the Instagram thing?” Alex asked, leaning against the bed rather than making use of the facilities to get ready for dinner.
“It’s fun, and I enjoy it. Is that so wrong?” I challenged.
