He stood by the corner, hugging a bag of films and lenses as he watched me posing shot after shot. I couldn't look away. He had the most arresting eyes. [Those swirling depths of brown]. He'd always stand by the side, watching the photo session silently with the most penetrating gaze.
"Christian! Can you please concentrate!" Ruben Anders, my photographer, chided. I mumbled an apology, only to be answered with a heavy sigh. "I don't think you're up for the shot right now, Chris. Take a break. We'll get back in thirty."
I blushed and nodded, very well aware of his disappointment in my distraction the entire day. I got off the set, watching him walk up to Ruben, assisting him with the equipments.
[Him.] It was just a few days ago that I was able to put a name to that beautiful face. [Him; Jesse Anders,] the son of the famous photographer Ruben Anders. They didn't look anything like father and son. Whilst Ruben had auburn hair, Jesse had light blonde. While Ruben's eyes were green, his were hazel brown. His face was the most delicate that I'd ever seen, with a build that leaves on-lookers breathless with desire: not too muscular, not too skinny. Standing at 6'1", he was lean and supple, just right.
I flopped onto the sofa with an arm over my eyes as I continued to obsess over that face. Oh, yes. Jesse Anders had me twisted around his little finger the moment our eyes met. Ruben had always been my principal photographer; my face wasn't plastered across billboards, but I was good enough to have a steady income and to have Ruben photographing me. He had always felt that he can bring out my potential, and he liked our rapport on set. I was partly because of him that my career was growing into the positives. Ruben was set on me not long after I started out, but it was only till now that I know of his son.
I felt the sinking of the cushion of the loveseat and I glanced over to find Jesse sitting there. I blushed.
"Mr. Anders thought I might help get you out of your funk," he said simply. He had no idea he was the cause of my "funk".
He handed me a bottle of water and stared at me intently.
"Well?"
I was puzzled. "What?"
He growled impatiently. "Will you at least concentrate? God, I wonder why my father... I mean, Mr Anders bothers with you!"
"I..." I avoided his angry gaze. "I- I- er... I'm sorry." I stuttered stupidly. Jesse Anders hates me with a passion. As much as I lust after him, his reaction towards me shot the total opposite direction. He never calls me by my name: it's always "hey", "you over there" and "kid", though he was just a year my senior.
"Anyway, just... Just straighten things that are bothering you out. I want to get off set on time."
Ah, a date. With Miss Wonderful, Danielle Perkins, his model girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, just because he has a date and wouldn't want to be late for it, it didn't mean that he wasn't dedicated to his work. He heard over the grapevine that his photography skills were top-notch, as expected of the son of Ruben Anders. He started his photography career, following his father's footsteps while in high school as a part-time. His devotion to his job was second to no one else. Well, maybe to his father, who's well over his "hot-and-heavy-dating" phase.
I got back on set, doing my best to bring out all that I've got. [To show him.] Although I know it would not be anything significant to him. Knowing that he was watching me as his father snapped pictures of me was compelling enough.
This continued for months. I wanted nothing more than to be close to him. I'd settle for friendship with him, if that meant anything. He was friendly towards everyone else except for me. My attraction towards him increased day by day, as I jacked off to him night after night, imagining how his hands will feel against my skin, how he would sound like in bed, how will it be like inside him or him inside me. Watching Danielle Perkins with him wasn't helping my situation. I would always see them kissing, laughing, or just kidding around flirtatiously during breaks and feel my heart wrench.
Jesse, on the other hand, though still evident of his apparent dislike of me, showed up at every shot and watched me with intense interest, the only time when the disdain faded in his eyes. He was getting me so twisted up. The way he watched me; oh, that raises my body temperature. It was like he was trying to fuck me with his eyes alone, and that fuelled my need to be at my best and better all the time. Oh, those gorgeous bedroom eyes.
One day, I was on set with some other models, Vick Jimson and Natalie Cramer, for boutique line, VYX. The shots went smoothly, Ruben appraised all of us for the exceptional performance. We were in synch with each other, and responded to the camera's every need. The crew decided to grab dinner together randomly and of course, Jesse and Miss Wonderful went as well. I sat as far as possible, not wanting to witness the display of affection between them. Not to mention the frequent knowing glances from Danielle.
Since Vick and I hit it off from the start, we decided to sit together through dinner. We talked a lot and got to know each other more, and I found myself wondering why we hadn't been friends from the beginning. He was so easy to talk to, only the more-than-often hints that he was hitting on me. Not so infrequently, I glanced over to see Jesse looking my way with that smoldering look of disinterest and something else. We joked and chatted with the other members at the table until Vick suggested we go for a drink after the dinner.
"Sure, I'd love to. Shall I get Natalie and the others as well?"
Vick smiled and threw me this come-hither look and purred, "I meant just the two of us."
Oh. Crap. I was about to reject when something inside stopped me. A voice in my head nagged, [What are you? Stupid? You're going to pine forever over a straight man? Look at them!] I turned to see Jesse with his arm over Danielle's shoulder, the both of them giggling like ditzy schoolgirls. [You're gonna hang yourself over that?] I swallowed.
"Sure," I croaked, mustering a weak smile at Vick.
After the dinner, Jesse and Miss Wonderful said that they were going for some "couple time" while the rest decided to retire for the day. Vick and I headed for the club for drinks.
We talked some more, and drank much more. Good thing there was a break tomorrow. We joked, we laughed like we were old-time buddies, but Vick still threw signs at me: from the bedroom-eye looks to the touches on my thighs. We finally got smashed enough when he popped the question. Would I go home with him? I was out of touch with reality. Instead of Vick's baby blue eyes, all I could think of was those hazel brown eyes staring into mine. I giggled drunkenly as I saw Jesse in Vick's place, sitting oh-so-close, touching his lips to mine. I pressed into his lips hard, imagining myself kissing Jesse.
"Oh, yes, I want to take you home..." I slurred in my state of delirium. Oh yea, I am a happy drunk, only so rarely that I was a depressed drunk. We both held onto each other for balance as we staggered towards my apartment.
We planted deep, sloppy kisses on each other on the way up the elevator, groping and tugging at each other's clothes as we stumbled along the corridor towards my door. We were in the middle of face sucking when a pair of arms pulled us apart. I fell on the floor as I heard another loud "thud", which I assumed was Vick.
In my drunken haze, I thought I saw Jesse grasping me. I laughed. Damn, I must be so smashed. I laughed some more and the laughter slowly turned to tears. I must be so hooked that I'm hallucinating Jesse. God, I want him so bad. Jesse enveloped me into an embrace and cooed soothingly, asking for my key. He opened the door and led me into my room, which I assumed I directed him to. He removed my clothes save for my boxers and tucked me under the covers. The last thing I saw was Jesse's face closing in and planting a tender kiss on my brow. I must be dreaming.
On the next session, Jesse acted as if nothing had happened, and I wasn't certain myself of the events that night. I was determined to behave normally if he says nothing of it. Vick was as confused as I was, saying that he got too smashed to remember anything that happened that night. Hell, he didn't even remember if we fucked. He only remembered woken up by a cabby telling him that he was home.
I formulated stories in my head, so desperately wanting what my memory presented to me to be true, but knowing better. I convinced myself that Vick and I got too drunk that we didn't go any further than the proposition. Vick somehow just got onto a cab to go home while I stumbled my way back, imagining Jesse with me in my wishful desire for just that to happen.
A few weeks passed, and my agent later told me that I'd been signed for a shot for some big shot company for their new line of clothes and was requested for the snowy background of the early winter to suit the theme.
Like that, I was brought away from Jesse for a week from the shooting. To my dismay, when I got back, Jesse was nowhere to be seen for days. Oh, nice, that just added to the cold I caught from the outdoor shots in the cold, an aching heart.
I returned for the shots for my other projects as per normal, ignoring the aggravating cold, in hope to at least catch a glance of Jesse. It didn't help bumping into Danielle in the corridors of the studio every so often to see her scowling at me, even hissing, as she walked past.
