Page 20 of Thigh Highs
He shrugs, avoiding my eye. “I mean, I have to look good in all myselfies.”
“It’s like being a douchebag is just a reflex for you,” I sigh. “I almost can’t even blame you forit.”
He starts unzipping the bag and pulls out a few lenses. As I watch, it occurs to me that even though we’ve now got a camera and someone who knows how to use it, our problems are far fromsolved.
“So do you have a C cup model hiding in that bag?” I ask him. “Because if not, we’re stillscrewed.”
“You must be at least a C cup,” he responds, not looking up from thelenses.
I’m about to ask what that has to do with anything when the realization of what he’s suggestinghits.
Oh hellno.
I let out a mocking laugh. “Very funny, Penn. Very funny indeed. But really, what do you suggest we do about amodel?”
“As far as I can tell, we’ve only got one option. So suit up,Dominguez.”
He picks up one of the lacy bras from the desk and tosses it at me. I catch it with one hand and stand there, still holding it up in the air with my mouth hangingopen.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Imanage.
“Yep,” he answers, popping thep. “This is the absolute last chance we have to get the photos done on time, and I don’t think a woman willing to model some underwear for us is going to come striding into the room anytime soon. If we want to qualify for the showcase, we need to get thisdone.”
His tone is all business, and maybe it’s just the fact that he’s showing some concern for the showcase instead of making jokes about me stripping down for him, but I actually stop to considerit.
“It would be too unprofessional,” I say. “How is anyone going to take me seriously as an advertiser if they’re staring at a blown up image of me in thighhighs?”
“We can redo them for the showcase,” Aaron suggests, screwing a lens onto his camera. “We just need something to submit for our projectgrade.”
He glances towards the windows and then checks the time, giving a slight frown. The light has already turned the ideal golden colour, and if we stall any longer we’ll missit.
I run my hands over the black fabric of the bra I’m holding. I saw it on a mannequin in the window of the lingerie store and knew that I wasn’t going to leave without it. It’s one of the pieces I was intending to keep after the shoot and I’ve been dying to try iton.
“If I see even the suggestion of a smirk on your face,” I tell Aaron, “or hear just thehintof some kind of euphemism, you will not leave this roomuninjured.”
“I’ll be a complete professional,” he tells me, with a smile that seems anything but. “You have myword.”
I grab the rest of the outfit off the desk and point towards the door. “Now get out of here while Ichange.”
