AUTHOR'S NOTE
This is story is written expressly for Anonymous, who occasionally points out how 'stupid' my romance story characters are for making 'bad decisions' as they struggle to protect their family, friends, or loved ones.
I don't agree that only stupid women endanger themselves to protect their child, or that it's the foolish man who stands tall in the face of danger to safeguard the woman he loves... and I don't believe it's ridiculous to think a man should keep his word despite adversity, but for any who do, here's a story where the main character makes the safe choice.
I expect Anonymous will have high praise for the hero of this story...
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I was walking down Younge Street, wearing jeans, a snug, short sleeved, knit shirt that showed off my chest and arms, and comfortable sneakers. After the dreariness of a typical Canadian winter, Toronto was amazing in late spring, and I was enjoying the weather as I made my way to David Tremblay Photography for another photo shoot.
David Tremblay was well known in romance publishing circles, and it was widely acknowledged that his covers sold books... a lot of books. I'd lost count of how many book covers I'd graced, but it was probably in the many hundreds. It didn't matter what I wore on the street, it was what I wore, or didn't wear, in front of the camera that mattered. Dave provided all the costumes, backdrops, and props for the shoot, so all I had to do was show up.
Dave knew me and knew I understood what he was looking for, so I was his go to guy unless the publisher wanted something specific that I couldn't provide. As a 190 cm, blond haired, amateur body builder, I wouldn't make a very convincing Asian, for example.
Modeling wasn't what I wanted to do. I'd been trying for the past ten years to break into film, wanting to follow in the footsteps of Ryan Reynolds, Dan Aykroyd, and Ryan Gosling, but so far, a few low budget television commercials were the closest I'd come. I'd had offers to star in a series of movies five or six years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties, but I wasn't going to torpedo my potential career by shooting porn videos. I wanted to work in the film industry... but not that film industry. I did some unpaid acting with a local theater company, and fellow cast members told me I had talent, and I thought I had the looks, so it was frustrating as hell being unable to realize my dream, but I was confident that if I stayed the course, I'd eventually get my break.
To make ends meet until I was a big-name actor, I worked as a trainer in a gym, modeled men's products, and posed for Dave's covers. Of my three gigs, Dave's paid the best, was the most fun to do, and the fringe benefits were often amazing. I made a couple hundred for each three- or four-hour shoot, plus I got to play dress up and pretend I was everything from an astronaut to a zoologist.
Even better was when I had a costar. The women were, without exception, amazingly sexy. We started out fully costumed, but by the time the shutter of Dave's camera fell silent, we were often in a state of near undress and were hanging all over each other. I always got an erection, and as the shoot was winding down, we were usually grinding our hips together and the sexual tension was very, very, real.
It didn't happen every time, but often me and my costar left the studio and went to my place or hers to burn off the tension we'd created in front of the camera. When the action got really heated, and the sex was pouring off us in waves, Dave would sometimes offer to shoot us in such a way that we could sell the photos to a gentleman's magazine, but we'd never taken him up on his offer.
When I entered the studio, Dave was evaluating one of his amazing backdrops. The backdrops were five meters long, three meters high, and were projected onto the back of a screen. I'd seen some of the covers he'd shot using the backgrounds, and if I hadn't been there, I'd swear I'd been photographed on location somewhere. Today's backdrop was of expansive plains with majestic mountains and a few horses in the background. He must have thousands of the things because it was rare for me to see one twice, and because it was so easy to change, it was normal for us to shoot in front of two or three different backdrops in a single session. The most amazing part was nearly all his backdrops were created from photos Dave had taken himself.
Based on the backdrop, if I had to guess, today I was going to be a cowboy or a rancher, and if the small rustic house in the corner was any clue, the story wasn't set any time in the past hundred years.
"Hey, Greg," Dave said as I paused beside him to admire the backdrop.
"Dave."
"How're you feeling today?"
"Pretty good. You?"
"The same. Go on up. Addi's waiting on you."
I walked up to the second floor of the studio where Dave's wife, Addison, was waiting to make sure my hair, makeup, and costume made me look my best. As I entered the room, a raven-haired beauty I'd never seen before was already in one of the three chairs. I smiled. It looked like I was going to have a costar today, and like all my costars, she was stunning. She smiled at me as I glanced at the clothes laid out for us, the attire confirming what I'd guessed downstairs.
I settled into the second of the three chairs. Makeup should be quick today. The last time I was here, I'd first been painted red, and then after the shoot was complete, I'd showered before I was painted blue for the next shoot. Between the makeup and the double shoots, it'd been a long day, but at least the pay had been doubled as well.
Darcy and I chatted as Addi worked on us, swapping stories and talking about nothing while getting to know each other a little. It was the first time we'd worked together, and talking helped to get us loose and comfortable around each other before we were in front of the camera in a tight and sexy clench.
It took about an hour for Addi to apply our makeup, style our hair, and adjust the fit of our costumes. I had to wear a wig to get my hair long enough, and she'd stippled my cheeks and chin to give me a bit of a beard, but then we were ready to shoot.
