Одри Карлан - February (Calendar Girl #2)

***

After breakfast, Alec led me back down to the lower level workspace. “So you own both floors then?” I asked while following him through the workspace. Surprisingly enough, there were only a couple people milling about and it was eight in the morning. Maybe they didn’t work a standard eight to five job.

“Yes, this is my work space; the other, as you know, is my home. I like to be close to my home. Sometimes I work well into the night and morning. When I want to end my day, I don’t want to have to drive across town to do it. This way I’m just a short elevator ride up.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. Where is everyone?” I slumped into the chair he pushed out in front of me. Before us, about ten feet away, was a brightly lit area and two blank canvases hanging on the wall. One was about six feet wide by four feet tall. The other was a good six feet tall and four feet wide. So basically the same size only one was horizontal the other vertical.

“Creative day. I don’t need much assistance today. Only you, my camera and paint, all of which I have in front of me.”

“Cool,” I looked around. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“We’ll start with test shots. I’ll need you to stand in front of the horizontal painting.” He helped me to stand then scooped me up and walked me over to another chair that had been placed in front of the wall. On the floor under my twisted ankle was a pillow. He stood me next to the chair so I was using the back of it to bear weight on that side of my body. “The pillow is in case you need to place your foot down. I don’t want you placing it on hard concrete and further injuring it. This should help, oui ?”

I smiled wide. “Yes, thank you, Alec. Just do whatever you need to do. I’m fine, perfectly comfortable,” I assured him.

He moved around the space and over to a tripod then adjusted the lights. “Okay, now remove your t-shirt. Leave the undergarment on, for now, I only need to see the angles and shapes of your shoulders, arms, neck, sides, of your upper body.”

Taking a deep breath I bit down on my lip then lifted my shirt and flung it aside. “Okay, Frenchie, but it’s gonna cost you,” I warned.

“I’m well aware of the expense,” he said behind his camera. The second I removed my shirt the camera started clicking.

I stood stock still in my black lace bra. It covered me completely, no more skin showing than a bikini top would, but still, I was nervous. Over the years I’d done a bit of acting and hoped to do more but never really spent any time modeling. Never thought I had the body for it.

“ Impressionnant ,” Alec mumbled in French. That one sounded like a compliment, so I kept quiet and let him do his thing. “You’re doing fine,” he said.

A breath of air left me in a huff. “How is that possible? I’m not doing anything but standing here.”

“With your beauty, it’s enough. Besides, these are test shots for positioning, lighting, and such.” After a few more clicks he came over to me. “Are you tired of standing?”

“A little,” I said, because I was. It was harder than it looked to balance on one foot even if I had a chair to use.

We took a break, and he brought me some water and a blanket. I used the blanket to shield my nakedness. Then he had me back up, only this time, he had me throw my head over and ruffle my hair then bring it back up. I did this a couple times until he felt it was just so. I thought it was just messy and ratty, but he seemed to want the ratty, wild hair.

“Your colors are perfection, ma jolie .” He walked over to a table, and brought over a paint brush and a small can of paint. The paint was cherry red. “This is going to feel strange but I’m going to apply this paint to your lips. It is not toxic.”

“Sure, whatever you gotta do. It’s your dime.”

He shook his head and chuckled. I smiled but then made a poufy-lipped face while he delicately painted my lips. It glistened brightly and seemed to have a plastic-like quality to it. When he was done, he fluffed my hair a few more times and walked back to his camera.”

“Now, Mia, think of something sad. Something that hurts your heart…very bad. Maybe even think of something you are missing, oui ?”

I didn’t want to mess up my lips so I just looked off into the distance and thought of Wes. What was he doing right now? Who was he with? Did he miss me? What if he was standing half naked in front of someone else? Those thoughts were too tortured, and I tried to change gears. Only God knows why, but I thought of my dad. I hadn’t seen him in a month. He was still in a coma without his daughter sitting by his side. That thought hit me straight in the heart.

“Mia!” Alec said sharply and I turned my head so fast I blinked. A lone tear slipped down my cheek. The camera clicked. “Got it,” he said softly. I whisked away the remaining tears that were on the cusp of falling.

“We done?” My voice cracked when he handed me a wet cloth.

“For this part of the project, yes, we are done. You may wash off the paint and have a rest. I’ll get your shirt.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling a little flustered and a lot emotional.

Once we finished and I was dressed, we sat side by side and looked out one of the rickety windows down to the Seattle street below. A light rain was pelting against the asphalt, and people rushed around to avoid getting soaked.

“What is this picture we’re working on now?”

“You mean, what is the name of the piece?”

I nodded but stayed silent looking out over the wet street.

“No Love For Me.”

Of course. It should be my fucking theme song. “I’m ready to get back to work.”

Alec led me over to the canvas once more. No words were spoken when I removed my shirt, fluffed my hair and got into position.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“What’s next?” I asked with a renewed focus.

“We find you love of course.”

Chapter 3

Day three of being with Alec brought me back into the loft. Last night, we returned from a long day of shooting stills in what felt like a million subtly different poses. We’d even skipped lunch; apparently, when the muse strikes, one takes advantage. Objectively, when a woman removes the top half of her clothes and you’re a hetero male, it’s not too far a leap to think the muse is going to go haywire. All men are pigs in one way or another. This one just happened to be masquerading as a hot artist guy Frenchman.

Gotta admit though, it was totally working for me. I was dying to get my hands on him. Anywhere. His hair, especially his hair. Long waves of russet and gold that fell perfectly to his shoulders. Tall, muscled frame with a narrow waist had me salivating for the second day in a row. Unfortunately for me, Alec was a workaholic to the extreme. After we finished in the loft and came back to his loft, we ate pizza for dinner, and he was off to the loft to work on the image he’d done that day. Didn’t even come home before I went to bed alone…again. It irked me that he hadn’t so much as tried anything other than that single kiss. I was primed and ready to take the next step. I needed to rip off the Band-Aid so to speak. To stop thinking about Wes and the surfboard keychain that held the key to his front door and his heart.

Today, Alec wasn’t waiting for me in the kitchen. Once I’d butt-scooched down the stairs, I’d expected to find him up and making me breakfast like yesterday. Not so. What I did find was a note in his slanted male penmanship sitting by the coffee pot. It said:

Ma jolie

,

Meet me at downstairs when you’re ready. There is much to do.

~A