Page 52 of Dirty Pucker

“That’s not even close to how that conversation went,” I grumble.

“Surprisingly I haven’t had to use much magic at all.” She looks at me. “Underneath that grumpy exterior, Del is a total sweetheart.”

Sam chuckles. “Maybe for you.”

Luc Jean Pierre walks up to us.

“Gentlemen! Lovely Ingrid! I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should start the shoot now,” Luc Jean says, his French accent thick.

Sam tells me to break a leg before walking out of the studio.

Ingrid steps up to me, her soft, blue gaze focused as she reaches up and smooths out my hair. She’s standing so close to me that her boobs are grazing my chest. I breathe and get a lungful of her perfume, which smells like flowers and grapefruit. Fuck, it’s intoxicating.

When she’s standing this close to me, I can feel the heat from her body and it’s making me hot all over…

I hold my breath and do long division in my head to keep from popping a boner.

She steps back and smiles. “You’re good to go.”

I mumble a “thanks” and follow Luc Jean to where he wants me to stand, against a brick wall.

“This will be a magnificent contrast. So beautiful. The hard lines of the brick, the hard lines of your body. Just perfection.” He gestures wildly with his hands.

He runs me through the positions he wants me to pose in, then asks if I’m okay with it.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Ingrid turns to me. “Have fun.”

She starts to walk out of the studio, but just then Luc Jean gasps and shouts, “Wait!”

We both look at him. He stands there, eyes wide, staring in awe at nothing in particular.

“I just had the most brilliant idea!” He turns to Ingrid. “Lovely Ingrid, how would you like to be part of Del’s photoshoot?”

She lets out a surprised laugh. “What do you mean?”

He closes his eyes and leans his head back while pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just had the most incredible vision.”

He stays like that for five seconds while everyone in the studio quietly stares at him. I glance at Ingrid and quietly mouth, “What the hell?” She shrugs.

Luc Jean opens his eyes and holds up his hands like he’s framing a painting. “Janet Jackson. The cover ofRolling Stone. The year was 1993, I believe.”

Luc Jean’s assistant nods like he understands completely. I frown, utterly confused. That was two years before I was born, so I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Luc Jean and his assistant speak quickly in French. His assistant grabs his phone and taps his finger on the screen. A second later, he holds it up to me.

There’s a young and gorgeous Janet Jackson posing topless while some random guy stands behind her, cupping her boobs.

I blink at the image. That’s pretty hot.

“That is our inspiration for your shoot, Del.” Luc Jean looks at me. “Del, you will be Janet. And Lovely Ingrid.” He walks up to Ingrid and scoops her hands in his. “You will be the hands. You will cup his chest and it will be…”

He closes his eyes and hums like he’s savoring a bite of food.

“Magnifique,” he whispers.

I look at Ingrid. Her blue eyes are saucers and her mouth is open in shock.

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