Page 23 of Picture Perfect

He thrust hard then, pulling me close to him, and his rhythm sped up temporarily before slowing and then he released. He made a sound of pleasure but held completely still, holding me at the hips like he had been until the moment of pure bliss and complete release had passed. Like me, I was sure he felt spent, so I didn’t move for a bit until I felt him pulling out.

I shuddered, feeling suddenly empty but tired and happy. I stood and stepped out of my panties, thinking it wouldn’t be appropriate to meet his family for the first time with my underwear likely smelling of sex. “I wonder if my mom would have a cow if we just took a nap and didn’t show up.”

Grinning, I walked over to my dresser, pulling open the drawer that held panties and bras. “Think of your mom’s awesome roast beef. You don’t want leftovers, do you?”

As he pulled the condom off his softened cock, he said, “Damn. You know right where to hit me, don’t you?”

I started laughing then, sliding a fresh pair of panties up my legs. The giddiness was immediately followed with a pang of guilt as I remembered my meeting with Greg earlier that day, thinking about a man’s heart and his stomach. God…I’d have to tell Shane soon, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Especially because he pulled me into another embrace and kissed me like the rest of the world was falling away.

* * *

I had that niggling obligation weighing heavily on my brain throughout the meal that night, but I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I’d been a little tense, knowing how possessive moms can be of their sons. My one super serious relationship near the end of my undergrad days had come to a screeching halt thanks to my boyfriend’s mother, so I knew meeting the matriarch of the family would be a make-or-break moment.

I passed, though. The jury seemed out throughout most of the meal, but I listened mostly to the lively conversation amongst the entire family, laughing at appropriate moments and answering small questions here and there. I could tell immediately that I’d won over his grandma and father, but his mom was hard to read. As we neared dessert, though, she asked me about my future plans. The thought instantly brought to mind what would be a year of sexual servitude, but I had to look beyond that. I told her about my college career, how I’d been a student for so long pursuing a PhD, and that was when I saw an eyebrow raise, followed by a matching tilt of one side of her mouth. She was impressed and then began asking me questions about my favorite authors.

She and I dominated the conversation after that point, and it was lively and animated. I think we wore the rest of the family out, but I offered to help with dishes and the two of us washed and rinsed while Shane dried.

And it hit me, how I could get used to all this.

How I was starting to feel something deeper…like, if I continued to see Shane, it would be so easy for me to fall in love with the guy—and with his family.

Now, though, I sat in his car feeling wistful, knowing I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep putting it off.

He didn’t even ask to walk me to my apartment. We had already moved to the stage where some things were just understood. And how the hell had that happened, considering we weren’t even at a place where I’d feel comfortable calling him boyfriend?

But I couldn’t question it. It had happened…and, as we scaled the stairs, I tried to figure out how I’d begin that damned conversation, one whose imminence was making my stomach roil. The heavenly roast beef and mashed potatoes were turning sour in my gut, and I knew I had to just get it over with.

Outside my door, as I slid the key in the lock, I said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

As we walked inside and I flipped the light switch, I saw it on his face. He was expecting something horrible, like I was going to tell him I was pregnant. It only lasted for a split second before he regained his composure, but I could still see it in his eyes. I asked, “Do you want some coffee?”

He shook his head. “No. This sounds serious. I want to hear what you need to say first.” In spite of his efforts to control himself, his brow was furrowed, causing a crease between his eyebrows.

His face mirrored how I felt inside. I would have rather spent this time talking about what was happening between us, that emotional, indescribable line we’d crossed over sometime tonight, where I was beginning to feel enamored of him, feel an attachment to him, something deeper.

Something semi-permanent.

But if I truly felt that way about him, I owed it to him to be completely honest…even if that meant we were over before we’d begun. I sucked down a deep, shaky breath, trying to figure out how to say what needed to come out. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, I focused on his shirt, finding my eyes drifting down farther as the words spilled out. “I talked to Greg. Because he knows how my pictures could hurt my career, he’s using them to extort…favors from me.” At the end, I just couldn’t say it. It was too ugly.

Too unreal.

“What do you mean?”

As painful as it seemed, I forced myself to make eye contact. A sigh escaped my lips, seeming to fortify what little courage I had. “I know I told you some of it…but I can’t remember how much. I’d never posed without a bra before—until the time you and I were first together. Even though it was out of the norm, I hadn’t thought much about it until I saw one of those photos on a book cover that was doing pretty well on Amazon. And then I realized if I could find it without trying, anyone could—and those pictures could damage my career before it even starts. As I prepare to defend my dissertation, I also need to begin a serious job hunt. I want to look at prestigious schools too, not confining myself to just what’s around here or something easy to get, based on my connections. And I don’t know how thoroughly those schools vet their candidates. I realize there are already a couple of photos out there that could ruin me, but I talked to Greg and begged him to stop selling the ones without the bra.”

I couldn’t read Shane’s expression, but he cocked a dark eyebrow over squinted eye. “That was when he asked for a hundred thousand?”

“Yes…and you know as well as I do that I don’t have that kind of money. And Greg knows it, too. He told me he’s making all kinds of cash off our photographs and so he couldn’t justify pulling them down. And I understand his point.” I swallowed again, wondering why my mouth was watering so much. “But I needed to make him understand mine. At first, I thought I’d just hope and pray those photos never surfaced, but then I realized that’s such a passive thing to do. I need to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen. So I thought about it for days, scheming, trying to think of the perfect solution. I came up with all kinds of options, like posing—with my bra on—for photos every week for free until I’d paid it off. Or asking him to take down the worst, most suggestive ones and chopping off our heads—at least above the lips—to make us less identifiable.”

“He didn’t take those offers, either?”

Shane sensed where this was going. I shook my head. “All I did was expose myself to his predatory nature. He knew then just how desperate I was. And he used it against me.” I looked down again but found myself closing my eyes, as if—like an ostrich—I could shield myself by not seeing. The pause was growing heavy and I knew Shane was going to start asking me questions if I didn’t just spit it out. “So he told me if I had sex with him for the entirety of a year, he’d give me the photographs and release them in writing.” No way was I going to tell him the ugliest part, the words Greg had said that continued to swarm around my brainpan, filling me with horror…the part where he’d said he would “take me in ways I could never imagine” and he’d do it until he was sick of me. I couldn’t even fathom what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. I knew he’d find a way to make me regret that decision every damn night until I was free.

As that fresh realization washed over me, I felt a piece of my soul die.

But I couldn’t let Shane know. I had to be strong. I had to let him know I was going to face this sentence with my head up and my chin out. It was only fair letting him know that I would no longer be available. And, really, did it matter? He was going to be gallivanting all over the country again soon enough. He’d forget about me, find a real model girlfriend, and settle down into the perfect life. Probably by the time I had those photographs and the release in hand and started packing my bags for whatever school would finally take me after waiting half a year to apply, I’d be a distant memory in Shane’s head.

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