Touch Me, Daddy

4 - Mariselle.

"This is not going to work."

The blonde wardrobe lady who's been hired to specially take care of my dressing looked from the skimpy lace bra she's holding to my face, and back to the bra. She laughs.

"Come on. You haven't even tried it on yet."

"I know what I'm saying," I persist. I'm a busty girl, always have been.

She exhales, dropping the bra on the chair and coming over to place her hands on my shoulders. "Trust me on this. It would fit, okay? Is this your first time doing this?"

I shook my head. Is she being serious right now?

"No."

"Then relax and let me do my job."

I keep shut after that, and she pulls the bra on. Not up to thirty seconds later, one of the seams started to tear.

I bite back a smile as she comes over again, livid as f**k. I don't get what her deal is, so I just keep quiet as she takes a needle and thread and begins to sew it into me. I'm standing in the middle of the room in a pair of sheer black panties as the lace bra is being fixed.

Looking up, I see a group of models enter the room, all dressed in lingerie as well. I'm sure some women would be embarrassed by being so much bigger than the other girls, but I got over that a long time ago. I love my body and all my curves. They may not look appealing to some people, but I think I'm beautiful. I just wish I could find underwear and clothes that reflect that without having to have them altered.

"God, did you see him flexing his fists? I bet he's so aggressive in bed."

"I think he's probably playing for the other team. He didn't even notice me."

I look over to where two of the models have sat down at the vanity in front of me to touch up their hair and make-up.

"Who?" I ask, not caring if they know I was listening. I'm a friendly person in general, and if I'm on a shoot with other girls, I try to make conversation.

One of the girls looks at me from her mirror and talks while she curls her hair. "Who else? Cello f*****g Sturm."

I squint, confused, then it clicks. "Oh, the marketing guy?"

She raises an eyebrow at me as though I've lost my mind and whirls around in her chair. "Don't be timid. Cello owns half of the companies in LA, but I guess he's getting into lingerie now, too."

The other girl giggles and turns around to look at me. Leaning back in her chair, she says. "He's got a stick up his ass about something. He didn't seem happy to be here."

"Looks like I'm gonna have to shake him out of his bad mood with all of this," I joke, shaking my booty a little. The first girl laughs dryly, looking at me from head to toe with so much disdain on her face.

"I doubt he'd even touch you with a ten-foot pole."

"Lacey!" the second girl protests. "That's not nice."

"Truth hurts."

My cheeks flame up in embarrassment, but I laugh it off awkwardly. It's not the first time I'm getting such mean comments, especially from colleagues. I won't let it bring me down.

"Stay put," the wardrobe lady sewing up my bra grunts.

"Sorry," I apologize and try to stay still.

I don't try to make small talk with the girls after that and just focus on why I came here. This is my favorite part of modelling. I like wearing clothes and taking pictures, but if I'm honest, half the clothes I wear never fit right, and it's always a lot of work to make them look good. I can never slide something on and pose like the thinner girls. And I'm really trying to enjoy modeling while I can because I don't have much time left in it. This industry is ever-changing, and the closer I get to twenty-five, the fewer calls for jobs I get. I've got some money saved up, but it's not enough to do what I really want to. Starting my own clothing line has been my dream ever since I was a young girl and couldn't find the clothes I wanted in my size. But it's an expensive dream, and unfortunately, the plus-size modeling world isn't booming like I'd hoped. Maybe when I get back to Florida, I can look for a job. I have a degree in fashion design. Maybe I can find someone to hire me.

"Okay, Mariselle. We're ready for you."

Harry, my contact person for Sweet Treats, comes back and informs me. I check over my hair and make-up one last time, then walk out into the studio, ready to work.

The space is big, and the photo shoot is set up at the end of the room. An expansive, wrought-iron bed sits in the middle of the floor. The bed is piled with over-sized, fluffy, white pillows and a white down comforter. It looks cozy, and I'm sure the black lingerie will look sexy against the white backdrop.

"Hi, Mariselle. I'm Jermelle, your photographer today. I'll be assisting my boss, Bosco. He's not here yet, but he's given us the mandate to start without him..."

Jermelle is a young guy with dark hair just past his ears and pretty blue eyes. I shake his hand, and I like him immediately. His smile is kind, and he makes me feel at ease as he explains what he envisions for today's shoot. It also helps that his eyes don't roam. Some male photographers can make you feel uncomfortable, but I don't think this one is even playing for my team.

"So I'd like to see you on the bed, surrounded by the pillows and blankets. Maybe have you over the edge to get all the angles of the lingerie. I've been thinking we could even tie you to the bed for a portion of it, just to push the boundaries a bit."

I hear an audible growl off to the side, but the lights are so bright that I can't see beyond them. It's nothing but black shadows behind the lights, so I ignore it and go back to listening to Jermelle.

"The feel today is classic pinup, so the pictures will be softened a bit after they're taken. I just want to add a little punch to the innocent poses by throwing in some b**m. Do you think you'd be okay with that?"

The sound of something crashing against a wall has us both turning our heads. But when it's followed by silence, I turn back to Jermelle to see what he does.

He just takes a deep breath like he's annoyed but just shakes his head, turning back to me. "Okay. So let's get you on the bed."

I go over and climb up, getting in the center. The bed is soft and so are the pillows piled around me, and it makes me smile.

"Perfect. I love the smile. Let me have you up on your knees in the middle. Legs spread and arms above your head."

I hear another loud crash as I get into position, and I look to Jermelle, wondering what the hell is going on. Maybe there's another shoot next door or something and they're being really loud. After a second, Harry comes over and whispers something in Jermelle's ear. He says something back to her, and they exchange words for a few moments. Finally, after what looks like a heated discussion, he nods.

He walks over to the side of the bed as Harry scurries away.

"Looks like we're going to have a closed photo shoot, and we're going to have to adjust some of the poses. If you don't mind, one of the owners has decided to call the shots, but I want to make sure you're comfortable with that first. I realize this is a bit unusual."

The fact that he's checking with me to make sure it's okay makes me like Jermelle even more. Normally the relationship between the model and the photographer is the thing that makes great pictures. Someone coming between us and dictating how everything goes down might not be something either of us wants. But Sweet Treats is paying me to be here, so it's not really up to me who calls the shots. If I ever feel uncomfortable, I can walk and knowing that makes me okay with letting someone else handle things.

"I'm willing to try it if you are," I say, giving him the reins.

He winks at me and gives me a smile. "Let's go for it."

Jermelle walks over to the side as a man approaches, and I feel a little weak in the knees. Good thing I'm sitting down. A dark-haired giant of a man comes forward, his eyes locked on mine. His hands are clenched in fists at his side, but he doesn't look angry. No, this man looks hungry.

Suddenly I'm aware that I'm half-naked and on a bed.

Instinctively, I lick my lips, pause, then ask. "Who...who are you?"