Chapter 2

A smile popped on my face as I read the mail from my client, approving my request to increase the charge rate for the next set of clothes. He had been as happy as me when he saw the outcome of the session with Nicole, strongly suggesting me to continue working with her. At that point, I decided to take a risk, and informed him that it was something I couldn't afford with the current agreement, that I worked with her despite losing money on the deal, because I had promised him a deadline, and my usual model had bailed.

I wasn't expecting him to casually double the payment for the next job, as well as adding a decent bonus to the set I had just delivered to compensate for my loss, but it was by no means unwelcome. I still needed to convince Nicole for another shoot, of course, but that was a challenge easy to clear.

I stood up, my body stiff from sitting in front of the computer for hours. I considered going out for a walk, but a sudden grumble from my stomach interrupted my thoughts, reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything apart from half a bagel for breakfast. A problem, considering that I hadn't bothered to go out shopping.

The solution was simple, I realized. Why don't I ask my new landlady for some food? It wasn't absurd considering our closeness earlier today. With that in mind, I walked upstairs to the ground floor.

Nicole was already downstairs, on the dinner table, accompanied by an unfamiliar young woman. "Hey, Nicole," I said as I walked towards the dining table. "Would it be a bother if I got a bite with you guys."

For a moment, no one spoke, and I used that to examine the girl that was accompanying Nicole. She was a young, either nineteen or twenty, with a lithe figure, and a thin, but beautiful face. However, only due to my experience working as a fashion photographer allowed me to see her beauty. Her make-up was nonexistent, and her hair was clean but not well-cared. She spoke before Nicole could utter a word, busy with blushing instead. "Hey, you must be our new tenant," she said, a curious expression on her face as she carefully examined me.

"That's correct," I said with a slight nod. "My name is Stephen."

"Katie," she answered as she shook my hand.

"My pleasure," I answered as I pulled a chair without bothering to wait for Nicole's approval, because even a glance was enough to show she was in no state to answer, her abashment thick enough to seal her lips. She was lucky that Katie's attention was fully on me, allowing Nicole's condition to pass unnoticed. Nicole stood up wordless and walked towards the kitchen.

I considered going to the kitchen after her, curious about how she would react to be in the same room alone, but Katie acted faster. "So, Stephen, tell me a bit about yourself. Are you a serial killer?"

"Katie!" Nicole shouted from inside, her shyness forgotten for a moment.

"Sorry mom," Katie answered with a laugh. "But it's best to learn such things early."

"My apologies Stephen," Nicole said, still in the kitchen. "Unfortunately, Katie's mouth lacks a control chip."

"Mom! Don't give up my secrets," Katie said between giggles.

"No worries, Nicole, it's not a bother," I shouted before turning towards Katie. "There's not much to tell about me," I explained. "I just graduated from visual arts, and currently trying to set up my own studio." I smiled wryly and continued with a whisper that I was sure Nicole wouldn't be able to hear. "And unfortunately, I don't show where the bodies are buried until the third date."

A sudden blush invaded her face, showing me that for all of her blusterous manner, she was unused to flirting. My tenancy was getting more and more interesting. But before she could answer, Nicole stepped out of the kitchen, a plate in her hand.

"Thank you, Nicole," I said, my mouth watering as the smell reached my nose. "That looks amazing."

"It's no bother," Nicole said, her composure back in place other than a slight blush, one I only noticed because I had been looking for it.

"So, Stephen, tell me a bit about being a photographer. Is it exciting."

"It is really amazing, especially when you have the creative freedom to reflect your imagination rather than taking stale old angles that your boss asks. Fortunately, I'm working for an unsophisticated client, which leaves me free to express my vision, however I see fit."

A smile appeared on Katie's face, one that tried to reflect confidence, but it was easy to see she was trying to put a front to hide her earlier abashment. "So, how it's, working with all that beautiful models."

"It varies," I said in a neutral tone. "Most of the time, you don't even register it, but sometimes, you work with some amazing talents that's a true pleasure to work with." I let my gaze slid to Nicole, meeting her eyes in a fleeting moment. "Let's take my last model, for example. She was a true delight to work with. Smart, beautiful, obedient, and very sexy. I just wish that all of my models were as good as her."

"Oh, she sounds impressive," Katie said, not noticing Nicole's face sliding towards a deep vermillion. "Anyway, could you tell me about some of the interesting things that happened during the shoots."

With that, the discussion moved to some of the more interesting mishaps I had during my limited career in photography, while taking occasional bites from my meal. Then, suddenly, Katie checked her watch. "I need to finish and submit my homework," she said in a panicked tone, and without waiting from an answer, dashed out of the table, leaving me alone with Nicole.

"It was a delicious meal," I said, enjoying her expression as the control she managed to collect over her composure dispersed after we were left alone. "You're an amazing cook as well as being an incredible model."

It took several seconds for her to compose herself, something that aroused a different type of appetite in me. There was something incredibly alluring on seeing such a self-possessed and confident woman falling into pieces with just a few well-placed compliments. "Stephen…" she started, her tone reproachful, no doubt about to inform me about the inappropriateness of my comments.

It was a discussion I had no intention of having, so I simply changed the topic. "By the way, the company is very happy with the final pictures. They strongly insist that I establish a working relationship with my new model."

"Really," she asked in astonishment, her earlier reticence forgotten on the sideway.

"It's not a topic that I would joke around. They are really enthusiastic about continuing to work with you." Before I could continue, however, the doorbell rang.

"Let me get it," she said and jumped from her seat, leaving me cursing whoever picked the time to disturb our conversation in such an inconvenient manner, providing her with the opportunity to gather her wits. I was confident that I could eventually convince her, by promising to increase her pay if all else fails, but it was not something I wanted to do. Not that it was a bother to pay a bit more was a chore, the latest raise had left me very well compensated, but the less we talked about the money, the better.

She came back to the room a few minutes later, carrying a large packet in her hands. "That came for you," she said.

I lost all my negative feelings as soon as I saw the package. My self-appointed mission just got a lot easier. "How lucky, your next set of clothing is already here," I said, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was yet to agree for anything.

I stood up before she could process my words. She reached towards me, her intention was to pass the package, but I grabbed her hand instead. "Come down, let's took a few test shots," I said, even as I started walking towards the basement, with her in tow. I hadn't had to put any strength to my pull, she just trekked next to me. No comment, no resistance, silent even after we arrived at my makeshift studio.

"Why don't you go and change for one of the swimsuits, so we can take a few test poses," I said.

"Swimsuits," she repeated, her voice sounding like she was being strangled.

"Yes, swimsuits," I repeated, turning my gaze on her. "It's not a problem, right?" It was obvious that it was, but she was having trouble talking about it. "Why don't you open the package and check them behind the screen. We can always cancel them if you're not feeling comfortable." I had no intention of canceling, but the swimsuits were pretty conservative, so I doubted she would bail out. Not when doing so would sacrifice a considerable payout.

"Okay," she murmured and walked behind the screen. I could hear her pulling the package open, followed by a low-key sound of fabric ruffling, signifying that she was changing her clothes. Meanwhile, I focused on setting up the set, waiting for her to step out.

Several minutes later, I was still waiting for her to step out, trying to hold myself from calling her out, knowing that it would be much easier in the long term that if she could defeat her shyness herself.

I turned towards the screen when I heard the screen shuffling, just in time to catch her stepping into the opening, struggling to abort the whistle of appreciation that forced my lips. I knew that her body was exquisite, as the last dress we shot was not exactly conservative, but seeing her in a swimsuit was differently alluring, even if the said swimsuit was a conservative one piece.

"Ready," I asked, and received a nod in response. With that, I have ordered her into several simple poses, allowing her initial panic to drain under the rain of flashes. It was a delight, watching her doubt getting erased a bit more every time she bathed under the blink of light. Soon, after making sure that she was in the appropriate mood, I called her to stop.

"What happened? Did I do a mistake?" she asked with a panicked expression.

"No, Nicole. You were perfect," I answered as I walked closer to her. "I just need to fix the back of the suit." I was already behind her as the last words formed in my mouth, depriving her of the opportunity to do it herself. I brought my fingers where the suit met with her silken skin and dragged softly. A tremble passed through her skin, but she gave no other outward reaction about its effect. I did another pass, this time pushing the top of my finger inside the suit, dragging softly until my finger grazed the side of her breast.

I would have liked nothing more than to continue, sinking my fingers in her firm globes, but unfortunately, that was not viable for the time being. Instead, I returned to my camera and continued the shoot. "That's good enough for a practice shot," I said, concluding the night's effort. "But everything was perfect. Will you be available if we do the next session nine in the morning?"

"It's better if we do it after 11," she countered. I raised my eyebrow in question, and the explanation followed a few seconds later. "Nancy's writing group meets around noon, so she leaves the house at 11."

I nodded approvingly, preferring to be alone in the house as well. It raised some really interesting possibilities.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

I was planning rest after Nicole left, but the sleep proved elusive, assisted by the dryness of my mouth. In another display of lack of forethought, I didn't have any water in the room, forcing me to leave my warm bed for a short trek to the kitchen.

I wasn't expecting to come across anyone that late, which was why it was surprising to see Nancy, whom I met only briefly in very interesting circumstances, was sitting in front of the TV, reaching towards the remote panickedly.

There was only one obvious reason for someone to change the channel in such an obvious display of panic when it was past midnight and they were the only person in the room. Her face, its redness obvious even with the flickering light of TV, was another clue to reinforce that conclusion. A smile tried to break out, but my efforts to suppress it had been nominally successful. "Good evening," I said before walking towards the kitchen, giving her time to gather herself.

I returned to the living room after filling a large glass with water. She was still in front of the TV, and her face was still burning red. There was a black and white movie running on the screen, a poor attempt to convince me that she had been watching a classical movie all along.

I could have said nothing and leave her alone, but where was the fun in that. Instead, I stood in front of her, ready for a handshake. "We haven't properly met yet. I'm Stephen," I said.

"Nancy," she answered, her voice cracking, not helped by being reminded our first meeting, where she was clad in her underwear.

"A pleasure to meet," I said, and sat next to her without asking permission. "It seems like an interesting movie. What's it about?"

"It is … a classic movie…" she said, trying to come up with something, but falling short of being convincing.

"How interesting…" I drawled before turning my attention to the screen, giving her a minute to collect herself. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a writer," she answered in a tone that was utterly familiar. I had several friends that introduced themselves in the same manner, shaky and without conviction. Their shared traits were their lack of success, no magazine print, no short story on the web with any traction… Nothing. And another shared trait they had, they all hated people asking whether they had anything published because it reminded them of their lack of success. The same question she expected, her shoulders fallen in shame.

"Interesting," I answered instead. "A tough road for the newcomers. You must be very brave, able to take such a huge risk for your artistic vision." and just like that, her face brightened like the sun. The statement was a total overreach, of course, it was hardly brave when you had the option to live with your parents, but I wasn't an idiot, so that detail got glossed over. Still, it explained why Nicole was desperate enough to get a tenant. It must be tough, trying to pay for your adult daughter as a widower. "Which genre are you writing in?"

"Mostly science fiction, but what I'm trying to do…" she said, launching an hour-long explanation into her project, with all of its nuances and details, even as I struggled to keep my mouth open, her earlier reticence long forgotten. Despite all my exhaustion, I didn't cut her off, instead of listening to her explanation with an appropriate level of feigned interest, welcoming the opportunity to build a rapport with her.

Her explanation stretched well after the movie ended, forcing me to cut her off. "That is really interesting," I said, cutting her explanation about the difference between the sociological impact of hyperspace and wormholes, and consequent importance for her novel. "However, I need to catch some sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow."

She looked disappointed until she checked the clock, realizing she was holding me hostage for the last one and half hours, and her expression switched with abashment. "I'm so sorry! Sometimes, I lose myself when explaining-" she continued, only to be cut once more.

"Honestly, it's not a bother. I would have cut you off if I wasn't interested in what you were telling. But we can continue the discussion another time." I smirked. "It's not like it'll be hard to meet, right?"

"True," she said, followed by a nervous laugh. "Anyway, have a good sleep." She turned off the TV and walked upstairs. Unfortunately, she was wearing loose pajamas, so I was denied of another beautiful view.

Still, the first day at my new residence went much better than I had expected. I couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring.