Page 2 of Pose for Me

"Knox Bishop," he replies smoothly.

"Thank you, Knox. I have you down for Friday at 5 p.m. I assume you know where my studio is located?"

“Yes, we do.”

“Looking forward to meeting you and your partner then,” I say, a smile in my voice.

"So are we, Rayne," he says, his voice lingering for just a beat before the call clicks off.

When I hang up, a brief wave of confusion hits me—wondering how he knew my name—until I remember my website has it right at the top. Chuckling at my own forgetfulness, I refocus on the upload, feeling a spark of anticipation at the thought of Friday’s session.

As the upload finishes, I linger on the screen a moment longer, watching the bar fill and then disappear as the files are sent off to the couple. There's a satisfying sense of closure in finalizing a project like this—knowing I’ve helped someone capture an intimate, joyous moment that might help them through a difficult time. With one last look at the closed email confirmation, I power down the computer, the soft light winking out and leaving the room in complete darkness.

I stand, stretching slightly to ease the day’s tension from my shoulders, and move through the darkened studio to the stairwell. It’s completely silent in here, save for the faint hum of the fan still whirring on my desk. The blinds are all drawn, thick and heavy, ensuring no wandering eyes can peer inside; that boundary between my professional space and the outside world has always been essential. Still, as I approach the stairs, a small sound—a slight scrape, maybe?—makes me pause.

The noise prickles at my awareness, unexpected in the stillness. I strain to hear, standing motionless, my gaze flicking toward the windows even though I know no one could possibly see in. In the quiet, a chill curls its way up my spine, making me hyper-aware of the silence around me. After a few tense seconds, the noise doesn’t repeat, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Exhaling slowly, I shake off the momentary tension and step forward, dismissing the sound as likely a trick of settling wood or the echo of someone moving outside.

At the foot of the stairs, I place my hand on the rail, feeling the familiar smoothness of it beneath my palm, and begin the climb up to my apartment. The old warehouse has served me well, its converted layout providing a perfect separation between my workspace below and my living area above. Each step up feels like shedding the day’s intensity, a transition from the bold, evocative images I create to the solitude and simplicity of home.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I glance back once more, half-expecting to catch a flicker of movement in the shadows below. But there’s nothing. Just the comforting quiet of my studio, now tucked away for the night.

Opening the door, I step through and into my living area, breathing in the calm that washes over me. The apartment’s open layout stretches before me, a bright, welcoming contrast to the moody darkness of the studio below. High ceilings and wide windows amplify the sense of space, and even now, under the warm glow of ceiling lights, the apartment feels expansive. During the day, sunlight streams in generously, casting patterns on the imitation concrete floors, but now the softer light lends a gentle ambiance that invites me to unwind.

The exposed brick walls and steel beams show the building’s original industrial character, but I’ve softened it with touches of color and warmth. A cream-colored sectional dominates one corner, piled with an assortment of pillows in jewel tones—emerald, ruby, and sapphire. A fluffy rug sprawls across the floor, its deep, teal color adding a cozy splash against the neutral tones. Here and there, potted plants bring a touch of green to the room, their leaves lush and healthy thanks to the natural light they drink up daily.

As I walk deeper into the space, a familiar presence slips around my ankles with a gentle purr. "There you are, Luna," I say softly, crouching to greet her. She responds with a delighted arch of her back, rubbing her face against my hand, her dark fur soft under my fingers. Luna’s large amber eyes blink up at me, expectant, reminding me it’s her dinner time. Her petite form follows me eagerly to the kitchen, her soft paws padding silently as she weaves around me, occasionally brushing against my legs as if to make sure I haven’t forgotten her.

Once I reach the kitchen, I scoop her food into a bowl, watching her dive in with enthusiasm. Her gentle, contented purring is a sound I never tire of—it’s grounding, a reminder of the small comforts in life. I reach for the cookie jar as Luna eats, selecting a chocolate chip cookie and biting into it, savoring its soft, buttery sweetness as I lean against the counter. The kitchen is small but functional, with a sleek black countertop and open shelving that holds neatly organized dishes and an assortment of spices and teas. A bowl of fresh fruit sits on the counter.

I think about putting on a movie, settling onto the couch, and letting myself unwind in front of a screen. The thought is tempting, an easy way to zone out after such a charged day, but a deep exhaustion is already dragging down my limbs, a weighty reminder of the intense session I had earlier. It's the kind of tiredness that only sets in after an especially emotional or physically demanding shoot, and I know from experience that sitting down now would make it nearly impossible to get back up.

The ache in my arms reminds me of the day’s work, a dull throb settling into my muscles from hours of lifting and positioning my camera equipment. Photography is physically demanding, and though I’m used to it, today’s shoot has left me sorer than usual. I have an early morning tomorrow, too, and the promise of a hot shower sounds more restorative than the flickering lights of a screen.

I make my way down the hallway to the bathroom, flipping on the light to reveal the sanctuary I’ve created there. Warm-toned tiles and a few candles give it a spa-like feel, and I waste no time turning on the shower, letting the steam fill the room.

Under the hot spray, I let the water work its way over my tired muscles, easing the tension that’s built up across my shoulders and back. I linger longer than I normally would, indulging in the sensation as the heat seeps into my skin, soothing every knot and ache. My eyes drift closed, and I let the day slip away, focusing solely on the rhythmic sound of water hitting tile.

When I finally step out, I feel a satisfying sense of relief, like I’ve shed the day’s weight along with the steam lingering in the air. I towel off, change into my favorite worn-in pajamas—a soft cotton tee and flannel shorts—and make my way to the small drawer beside the bed where I keep my pain relievers. The soreness has lessened, but I know this will help me relax fully, allowing for a deep, restful sleep.

Pulling back the covers, I sink into bed, feeling the cool sheets against my skin. The mattress molds around me, familiar and comforting, and Luna, finished with her dinner, hops up beside me, curling into a ball near my feet. I reach down to give her one last scratch behind the ears, smiling as her purring grows faint, her contentment seeping into my own sense of calm.

As my eyelids grow heavy, my mind briefly drifts to the week’s schedule but the thoughts quickly slip away. The pain reliever begins to take effect, leaving me in a gentle haze, and soon, I’m completely enveloped in the soothing quiet of sleep.

Chapter 2

Knox

Ibrieflytakeinthe space, it’s dark but I’m used to the dark. I thrive in the dark. There is enough light filtering through the few small high windows that I can see. It’s an elegant photography studio, but that doesn’t come as a surprise, already feeling familiar with her after watching her for months.

I linger by her desk, letting my gaze drift over the details scattered across her workspace. It’s neat but lived-in, with a few stray papers and bills resting on top, almost like an open invitation for prying eyes. With a gloved hand, I carefully nudge a few aside, spotting a large planner lying open to the current week. It’s immediately clear she keeps her schedule meticulously by hand—every entry inked in her delicate handwriting. My name is there, newly added for Friday. The sight of it stirs something in me, a quiet thrill at being woven into her plans, even if she doesn’t fully realize what she’s invited in.

Her scent lingers faintly in the air around her desk, something soft and calming. Lavender. The subtle fragrance wraps around me, unexpectedly warm, like the comfort of falling asleep in a well-worn blanket. I take a steady breath, drawing it in as though I could hold onto this fleeting moment. But I’m not here to linger; I know her routine well by now, and she will be in bed after the day she’s had.

At the base of the staircase, I pause, listening carefully. Silence. Just as I expected. I tread lightly, each step up purposeful and soundless, one hand gliding along the railing where her fingers had traced only an hour earlier. The intimacy of the small gesture sharpens my focus, but when I reach the door to her apartment, I pause once more, listening for any sign of movement inside. Nothing. Slowly, I turn the handle, slipping inside and shutting the door soundlessly behind me.

My entrance doesn’t go unnoticed, however. A small, cautious sound draws my attention to the floor. The cat is watching me, its amber eyes narrowed with curiosity but not alarm. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a small bundle I’d prepared earlier, a little cloth pouch filled with fresh catnip. The cat’s gaze is fixed on it immediately, its attention rapt as I place the pouch on the floor. That should keep it occupied, at least for the time I need tonight.

I had learnt the hard way, several times, that unless I brought some sort of offering—otherwise called a bribe—for the little feline guardian, then I wasn't getting past her razor sharp claws.

---