AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You really are new to photography, aren’t you?” I ask, hoping to generate casual conversation.
“I’ve done some nature photography, but this is my first endeavor in indoor work with a nude model.” He steps to the window to lower the shades.
“We already talked about that, Professor Santini. I’m going to be wearing briefs.” I sling my bag over my shoulder curtly, letting him know that this subject is not up for debate. “Where should I go to change?”
“Take your clothes off right here.” His bold stare feels like a dare, but he knows it doesn’t work that way.
“I’d rather get ready in the bathroom.”
After an exasperated sigh, he points. “Down the hall, to the left.”
Once in the bathroom, I admit that agreeing to this job was a crappy idea. Nonetheless, I pull off my jeans and sweatshirt and toe off my sneakers, and then stick everything in my duffel bag. When I’m wearing only my snug white boxer briefs, I pull on my robe, instinctively sticking my phone in its wide pocket, and I head back to the living room.
“To be honest, sir, I don’t do a lot of modeling for photography,” I admit. “Do you have anything in mind for poses? If not, I’ll look directly into the camera and play with face and body angles. And if you want, I can do some of the same poses I do for life drawing class.”
“How about we just let the session unfold?” Professor Santini seems impatient. “Take off your robe.” When he licks his lips, I shudder.
After pulling off the robe and tossing it onto the coffee table, I step lightly across the room to the cloth backdrop. “How should I start?”
“You should start by removing your briefs.”
“What I mean is, do you want to begin with upper body photos or full body shots?”
“Just stand on the damned backdrop, would you?” He glares at me.
I recognize his nasty demeanor—it’s eerily similar to how he treated me on the morning I arrived late to life drawing class. “Of course.” The room is warm, yet I still need to rub the scattering of goosebumps from my arms.
I step onto the edge of the white screen and pose. At first, I look directly into the camera, lifting and turning my head, and switching poses each time I hear a click. Professor Santini shakes his head and curses quietly—these poses are clearly not what he’s looking for. So, I shift my body about forty-five degrees to the right and use hand gestures to create some variety.
“This isn’t working.” He places his camera on the seat of a wingback chair. “I’m not accustomed to working with clothed models. I find those briefs extremely… distracting.”
“Sir, I never agreed to be naked for the photographs.” The pleading tone in my voice reminds me of Wendy when she’s begging to stay up past her bedtime.
“Your shorts are… obstructing the view of what I want to see.” He flashes a hopeful grin. “And have no fear, Tristan. I do not plan to publish these photos—they’re for my private use.”
That doesn’t make me feel much better. “Maybe I’m not the right model for this project.”
“I’ll increase your rate of pay.” His smile grows sly. “Money’s what it’s all about, right?”
“I’m sorry.” I take a step back. His refusal to stick to our agreement is making me skittish.
“Blast you!” Professor Santini lunges toward me. He grasps my upper arms, squeezes them so hard I yelp, and shakes me briskly. Then he seems to regain control. After pursing his lips and blowing a long breath right into my face, he changes his tune. “You’re right. Let’s set aside the photoshoot for now.”
I nod and twist from his grasp. When I reach for my robe, he again snatches my arm. “What I mean is, maybe today we should focus on pleasure instead of business.”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea, sir.” When he finally releases my arm, I grab my robe and retreat a few steps.
“You know what? I’ll fix you one of my special mimosas, and then we can relax and chat.” He leaves the room, heading to the kitchen to make me a drink. “Don’t go anywhere.”
As soon as he’s out of the room, I pull on my robe and rush to the bathroom where I left my bag of clothes and bus fare home.
Professor Santini is apparently one step ahead of me. He calls from the kitchen, “The bathroom door is locked. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to get in.”
“I w-want to put on m-my clothes,” I insist. Too bad my voice breaks twice.
“You can put them on after we share a few drinks.” The professor steps into the hallway and holds out a glass. “You are far too uptight, Tristan. Drink this—you’ll feel much better.”
Unsure of the best strategy to get out of here unmolested, I accept the drink from his hand. “Thank you, sir.” I concentrate my energy on not trembling.
“I do enjoy how you call me sir.” Again, Professor Santini licks his lips. “Very submissive.” He steps closer and pulls my robe open. “And enticing.”
I have no choice but to think on my feet. Out of sheer necessity, a flimsy plan forms in my mind. Next time he leaves the room, I’ll bolt for the door. And this is, sadly, the beginning and ending of my genius scheme.
I toss back my glass of champagne in a single swallow, noting a strong aftertaste of vodka—he clearly wants me drunk and agreeable. I then hold up the empty glass. “I’m gonna need another one of these.” I force a smile while fighting an urge to gag.
“Thirsty, are you?” Professor Santini lifts his bushy eyebrows. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Again, he disappears down the hall.
I waste no time in racing for the door. Wearing just a robe and briefs—robbed of my shoes and my pants and my pride—I shove through the front door, dash along the walkway, and out onto the wet street. And though I’m nearly naked, humiliation keeps me warm. I run down the busy street near the college, which is unfortunately on the opposite side of the city from my apartment.
People stare as I sprint along the sidewalk in the rain. I can’t stop to explain—I need to get as far from Professor Santini’s house as possible. Once I come to a more commercial area, I slip into an alley and press my back flat against the building’s brick wall. Ankle deep in a puddle and chilled to the bone, I pull out my cell phone and call the only one who can help me.
“Re-Remi…” It’s tough to catch my breath, as I’m winded from the sprint.
“Tristan?”
“Uh-huh. I… I need some help.”
“What can I do?” he asks without hesitation.
“Can you come pick me up? I’m… I’m in the alley beside College Soup and Sandwich Shop.” I’m shivering badly. Wet, frightened, embarrassed… and afraid.
“What are you doing in an alley? I thought you had a job today.”
“I did, but… but I’ll explain later. Can you come get me?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Five minutes, no more.”
“Stop in front of the alley, okay? I’ll watch for you.”
“Five minutes.”
* * *
