"Need help with that?" the wardrobe lady asks as I come off the podium towards her. The next model is called upon as I'm being helped out of my bra, my mind a clouded mess. I can't even think straight. My hands are shaking. So are my legs.
Jesus f*****g Christ!
I have no clue what the hell just happened out there. Who the hell is this Cello guy? And why the hell does he have such a rippling effect on my body like this? On my soul? I blow out a breath, trying to stay put. Trying to stay shaken. The wardrobe lady notices my discomfort but says nothing. I can't help but appreciate how professional and kind she's being currently.
"Jittery?" she finally breaks her silence with a chuckle. "He has that effect on the ladies. It's normal."
Jealousy courses through my body. After Jermelle told m
