“Owen.”
He laughs and raises his head. With the sketchbook held above Will’s face, he flips to a different page. “Oh, didn’t mean to show you that one.”
“Wait, let me see.” Will takes the sketchbook, speechless as he sees the profile of his face. “It’s beautiful. Imean, the drawing is.”
“And your face.”
He wonders if he really looks as good as he does in this drawing. He knows he’s handsome, but that was what had caught Joel’s attention in the first place and why Ray wanted him to be used by his business partners.
“Can you be my model for the day?” Owen asks. “Well, for the afternoon.”
“How do you want me?”
“That’s a very dangerous question. I want you to stay lying like you are. Bring back your left arm above your head. Place your right hand on your chest. Spread your fingers… nice. And this should be a bit lower.” He holds Will’s pants and pulls them down to reveal the top part of his cock as it’s caged inside the fabric.
“You’re going to keep it there?” Will asks.
“Yes. Do you mind? It’s for art.”
Will sighs. “Sure. For art.”
*
The sky turns from pale blue to faint orange, and the air turns slightly colder, but Will doesn’t mind since Owen seems so focused on his work.
“Can you tilt your head a bit to look at me?”
Will does, the side of his face resting on his arm, which is above his head.
Owen sighs. “You’re making it difficult for me to stay professional, but it’s not like you can help it.”
“You don’t have to stay professional at all times.”
“Hmm, that’s true. I mean, a less serious artist would ask his model to lick his arm. Slowly.”
“Is that so?” Holding Owen’s gaze, Will sticks out his tongue and slowly licks his arm. His cock has been on good behavior for the last twenty minutes, but now it’s back to causing havoc in Will’s jeans, pressing painfully in an attempt to break free.
Owen opens his mouth, then sharply turns toward the road. “Do you hear that?”
Will concentrates until he hears it too. People. He sits up and turns around. Through the trees, he can faintly see figures approaching, and it seems that they are carrying things. He hurries to pull up his pants and grab his shirt. He finishes dressing just in time to see people emerging from the line of trees, holding what seems like recording equipment.
“What the hell?” Owen asks. “Are they filming a movie here?”
Some of the people notice them, and one of them, a man with a gray and pointy mustache, comes over. “Sorry to get in your way, but we were looking for a spot to shoot this last scene of the day, and this one’s perfect.”
“You’re shooting a moviehere?” Will asks.
“Most of it was shot in L.A., but we have a few scenestaking place in more rural areas, and Missouri is dirt cheap. Anyway, don’t let us bother you.”
As he walks away, Owen turns to Will. “That’s so exciting.” He lowers his voice to say, “Not as exciting as what I was about to do to you, but still. Can we stay to watch?”
“Sure.”
Owen slides over to sit next to Will, their shoulders touching. They watch the crew setting up the equipment, half of which Will has never seen before.
“You could have been a movie star,” Owen says.
“Me? I don’t think so.”
