This story takes a while to reach its climax. Stay patient and give me your feedback.
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Randal marveled at his good fortune as he watched her apply the vanilla brown sugar scented lotion to her long tan legs. Alison Prentice was their hometown's catch. She was the valedictorian of their class, the cheerleading squad's captain and had won two state championships as an all-state pitcher for her fast-pitch softball team. She always floated above the rest of the population, especially the kids in the trenches—those that drank, partied, and generally caused trouble for their small town parents. Alison was damn near perfect, and that didn't even account for her beauty. Randal accounted for it now.
Alison sat tall on their bed, wearing a matching silk bra and underwear with a bright orange and red flower pattern. Her blonde hair, straightened since graduation, hung forward over her collarbones. They seemed like arrows pointing down to her firm breasts which jiggled slightly as she raised her legs and rubbed the lotion into her tan skin. She stood, extending her 5'9" frame to full length, and then turned. Randal loved to look at her perfect ass. He imagined how the silk would feel while rubbing it. Alison always dressed sexier than normal when she was going to a shoot.
When accounting for his good fortune, Randal recognized it was a miracle he was even with Alison. Randal wasn't a jock. He excelled in academics and the arts. Considering he had arrived at their high school at the end of their junior year, he was hardly popular. He became very popular however, when he and Alison started dating when they both starred in the school's spring musical.
They quickly became the closest of friends as well as young lovers. Despite many academic opportunities, the two planned on moving to the coast together. Randal would write screenplays while Alison pursued her acting and modeling dreams. It seemed, though, that only Alison was getting any work. She had even appeared in a commercial that aired regionally.
It would be easy for Randal to be bitter about her early success, but he wasn't. The fact was he loved her. He loved her beauty, of course. He loved her intelligence and ability to raise the intellectual stakes of a conversation. Most of all, he loved that, despite her intelligence, she possessed an innocent naiveté that reflected her small town upbringing.
Their move rocked the small town they were from, but it mostly hurt their parents who better understood the perils of a cruel world and the value of the opportunities they were giving up. In addition, the fact the unmarried couple would be living together suggested a scandalous future lifestyle. Much to Randal's chagrin, that lifestyle never materialized. The two had been virgins the summer night they consummated their agreement to leave town together. Randal expected their sexual experiments to evolve to match his teenage fantasies, but Alison never did. Sex was a chore she seemed to endure once a week, sometimes once every two weeks. Alison's body was built for speed; she just never broke the speed limit. Randal, only nineteen and a year into their west coast experiment, didn't want to push the good fortune that he often took account of. Alison was his trophy and he was happy to keep it on the proverbial mantle in fear that he might take it down and break it.
Now, his trophy was bending over to pull up the jeans she had just stepped into. Randal wanted to investigate. He caught Alison as she pulled the pair of tight-fitting jeans over her hips and fastened the button.
"Sexy! Where you heading?" he asked despite knowing the answer.
Alison's face grew flush and then she smiled brightly and answered, "Are you spying on me peeping tom? I'm going to a job uptown. Just a catalog shoot."
"Cool. Anybody I know?" he asked. He had met a few of the photographers that the agency used when he visited some of Alison's shoots.
"No. I don't even know him, but the agency says he's good." she replied.
"You going to be home for dinner?" he asked.
"Should just be a couple of hours. You never know though. Go ahead and eat if it gets late," she replied as she collected her keys and purse.
"Alright. It sucks though. I finally got a night off and you have to work. Sucks to be me I guess," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Alison seemed to slow down for a second. She melted him with a smile and said, "You know I want to be home too baby. Look, I'll make it up to you when I get home. Promise."
"Great. I can't wait," he responded with a smile. In his head he sarcastically thought, "Yay! Another night of kissing and cuddling!"
She kissed him goodbye and walked out of the apartment.
As the door closed, Randal made a decision. He knew that Alison had been working hard and had lost some weight recently. He didn't want her to miss a meal. He would surprise her by picking her up at the shoot location and then take her to their favorite restaurant. He seemed satisfied with his decision until he realized that he didn't know where the shoot was.
Randal rushed to the apartment window and watched as Alison climbed onto a bus. He noted its number and ran out of the apartment. He intended to follow the bus and find out where the shoot was and wait for it to end. He climbed into the car and in two minutes, found the bus and began following it.
After a short drive, the bus stopped outside a trendy area, with high end shops on both sides of the street. Alison got off the bus and walked down a narrow walkway between two buildings. Randal felt lucky when he found a nearby parking spot. He got out of his car and casually started in the direction she walked, ensuring he kept his distance to maintain the element of surprise.
About fifty feet in front of him, he saw Alison walk into what looked like a refurbished warehouse. He had been to a number of shoots, but never to this studio and never in this part of the city. He advanced toward the building to get a closer look but then stopped. He was never jealous by his calculations and fully accepted that his girlfriend was a model and actress that went to places and had pictures of her beautiful face and body taken. "I'll just wait in the car until she returns to the bus stop," he thought and turned around.
The strange location, though, made him pause again. He couldn't help himself. He walked back to the glass doors of the building. On the glass it read "Tony Cortez". Once again, Randal stopped and asked himself what he was doing. "This is crazy dude," he told himself. Randal just could not shake off his curiosity. He looked through the glass doors and noticed that a long, brick-walled hallway was behind it. On the hallway's left were large doors that he assumed led into a studio area. At the end of the hall was a steel staircase that led up to a steel platform that stood in front of another door twenty feet above the others.
Randal looked to his left and right. He squinted hard, not understanding why he absolutely had to enter the building and trying to convince himself to just leave. His curiosity, and for the first time Randal admitted a bit of jealousy, caused him to walk through the glass doors. When he did, he could smell the remnants of Alison's Chanel. He quietly, but quickly walked to the steel staircase and climbed them in two seconds flat hardly making a noise. At the top of the stairs, he grabbed the knob to the wooden door and winced as he pulled the door open. Surprisingly, it didn't make a sound. A rush of cool air hit him in the face as he inhaled deeply and steeled himself against the possibility of getting caught following his Alison.
He was pleasantly surprised to find himself looking down onto an open floor. In front of him and going around one side of the upper portion of the large room was a loft that allowed anyone to see all the action twenty feet below. Surprising himself with his seemingly reckless disregard towards getting busted, Randal entered the large room and stepped into the loft area. He felt lucky that the owner, he presumed the photographer "Tony Cortez", had wrapped tapestry-like patterns intermittently from the rails lining the loft. Randal planned on using these to position himself. He was spying on his girlfriend. He finally admitted it to himself and was disappointed that he couldn't overcome his strange suspicion.
A male voice said, "So you've only been modeling for a few months. You must have a lot of promise for Melinda to send you to me. You've heard of me yes?" the voice said with an accent that hinted of a Hispanic background.
Randal heard Alison's voice respond embarrassingly, "Actually no. I'm really sorry."
"It's okay. Probably better that way. The last thing I need is you nervous. In fact, have a drink. Take your pick from the bar to loosen yourself up." the voice suggested.
"I'm only nineteen Mr. Cortez. Besides, I only drink water. Better for the skin." Alison responded. Randal let out an internal sigh. "Good girl!" he thought.
"Well, as you like. Did the agency explain the account?" he asked.
"No." Alison replied.
The man began to raise his voice slightly, seeming to curse someone in Spanish. He then took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Okay. Well, then you'll have to follow my instructions to the letter. You understand?" the voice said.
