Jasmine
The sound of charcoal scraping across paper was the only thing breaking the silence.
The noise seemed louder than it should have been, echoing through the studio while I stood under the overhead lights, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was standing in the middle of a stranger’s workspace wearing far less than I was comfortable with.
My arms were rigid at my sides, my shoulders feeling locked in place. Every muscle in my body had been tense from the moment the session began.
He hadn’t said much since positioning me beneath the lights. There were no inappropriate comments, no smug reminders, and no attempts to make me uncomfortable.
The only sounds in the room were the scratch of charcoal against paper and the occasional creak of the wooden floor when he shift
