Page 73 of Milked

“You leave now, and it’s over for you and Casey.”

I flicked him off as I got dressed. “I’ll take care of Casey. You’re a fucking pervert, asshole. I don’t need to put up with this shit.”

Before I opened the door, I wiped my face so no one would see I’d been upset. Then I walked out with a massive amount of regret that my career was over, all because of that fucking asshole. His career was the one that should’ve ended, not mine.

When I closed the door behind me, I grabbed a water bottle from the table and drank some down.

Casey looked at me and smirked. “Wow, your face is red. He must have really worked you. Was it a good shoot?”

“Sure.”

Before he could say anything else, Casey was called back for his turn. My empty stomach turned acidic, and it roiled, knowing what Marc Laurent was about to do to Casey… had done to him.

“Casey, wait…”

He stopped and turned to face me, smiling. “Yeah?”

I blew out a breath and smiled back. “Nothing. Have a good shoot.”

When he headed to the studio, I told myself to just leave. I didn’t need to stay. My career was over, but maybe Casey still had a shot if I didn’t say anything. Maybe Marc had lied and manipulated me.

I wanted to be pissed at Casey for giving in, and even excited about it, but that photographer was manipulative as hell. He extorted me, but perhaps he manipulated Casey differently, with the promise of love and devotion, something that I’d recently learned he craved.

Then I recalled Casey’s words earlier about dating someone he was uncertain about. Could he have been referring to Marc Laurent? Jesus, fuck.

I paced the area with other models, waiting for their turn with the photographer. Did he try to fuck them, too? Did he touch them? Was it just Casey and me? I looked at each man to discern if they had fear, anger, or excitement in their eyes. If they felt any way about him, it was hidden from me.

If I let what happened go, then I was complicit in their sexual assaults. All of them. Their silence made them complicit in mine, but I also understood the fear. I had the privilege that if I lost my career, I would be okay. But many would not.

And destroying one photographer wouldn’t change the fact that so many professionals in this industry were handsy and bold as fuck, while some were as predatory as Marc Laurent.

Fuck it. If anyone had to put a stop to this shit show, it should be me, who had nothing to lose. Sure, I wanted to stay working as a model, but notthatmuch. I should’ve punched him in his smug face. If Casey needed a damn job, I was sure Father could find him one with all his connections. Hell, I’d give him some money to help his mom. He would forgive me down the road… I hoped.

I chugged back my water, tossed the bottle into the recycle bin, and stormed over to the door to the studio, my body trembling, not used to this sort of confrontation. I’d always been compliant when it came to this job.

The door was locked, so I found Marc’s assistant.

“Open the door to the studio.”

Her eyes were wide, and she shook her head. “I can’t. He’ll fire me! He explicitly told me under no circumstances am I to intrude on the photoshoot.”

“If you don’t, I’ll call the cops.”

She literally squeaked. “F-for what?”

“Do you know? Do you know what he does in there?”

She shook her head rapidly, but there were no lies in her eyes that I could see. “W-what does he do?”

“Keys or police will be here to bust it open. Then I suggest you find a new job.”

The woman quickly handed me her keys and showed me which one it was.

When I opened the door, I found Casey bent over the velvet couch that was used as a prop, with Marc-fucking-Laurent with his dick in Casey. What the fuck? I didn’t think he would take it as far as sex, but I should’ve known better.

I rushed over and pulled the man out of Casey. He fell to the ground on his ass and sneered. “Your career and his are fucking over.”

“So you fucking said.”

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