A Photo Is Worth A Thousand Blushes

1 - The Deal

Ms. Christine

The day was perfect for a spring in South Carolina. As soon as I got this consultation appointment over with, I was going to pull out my camera and take a few pictures here in the park as the sun started to set. I could never miss such an opportunity to capture beauty in a photograph. I made a mental note to thank this Mr. Blackbourne person for suggesting meeting the models he managed in the park. It really got my creative juices going, and I had a good feeling this gig was going to be great.

I checked my little notebook and tried to decipher my own scribbling to remember the name of the contact of the guys I was to meet. Dakota Lee? That sounded right. I mildly wondered if that was his real name, or one he gave himself to fit into the modeling industry better. I could never tell with the people I worked with professionally.

I walked along the park path until I got to the picnic shelter Mr. Blackbourne told me his team would be at. Surprisingly, seven male bodies were already under it, chatting lively with each other or tapping into their phones. I had never known professional models to be punctual before, especially when they came in large groups. This job might turn out easier than I was predicting it to be.

"Mr. Dakota Lee?"

Seven faces turned to me simultaneously. My fingers itched for my camera already. These models were top of the line. If I wasn't a lesbian in a happy and committed relationship, I admitted I would have been drooling.

The one with black rim glasses dressed in pressed khakis and a polo buttoned up to his Adam's apple cleared his throat and came toward me with an offered hand. "Call me Kota. Ms. Christine, I take it?"

I nodded and shook his hand firmly. "That's right. I talked to your manager at the agency, but I don't know how familiar you are with this gig. Do we need to discuss the particulars?"

He shook his head and smiled warmly. "All of us," he reached behind him to indicate the other men behind him, "have already been briefed. There was just one point we wanted to make sure was understood by everyone involved to make sure we are all on the same page."

"Of course," I replied. "Let's sit while we get things ironed out, then I will want everyone lined up in the sun to see what we have to work with."

Kota and I settled down across from each other at a picnic table. I set up my notebook before me, ready for notes. I was fully aware the other models were hovering nearby, within earshot, and quiet enough to overhear the conversation. It was nice to know they were interested in what they were signing up to do. The models I have worked with before were so self-absorbed, they usually tended toward the obnoxious and actually made it really difficult to work. I appreciated this fresh breath of professionalism. These guys were very likely going to get high recommendations to my clients if this pace kept up.

Kota beckoned to one of the guys, and he obediently perched next to Kota. This one was lean with prominent collar bones sticking out from the undone top buttons of his silk shirt. He was going for a punk look with bright stud earrings peering out from under medium brown hair. Two blond locks fell from his forehead and tickled his cheeks. He had a genuinely happy smile.

"This is Gabriel Coleman, our stylist and makeup artist," Kota introduced to me.  Gabriel shook my hand. "We would like to have him assist with costuming and to be responsible for our hair and makeup."