Did I Make The Cut? Ch. 01

"Stop drooling will you." Jessica whispered to my ear.

"Why didn't you remind me about this yesterday? Or you could have at least told me over the phone." I am totally embarrassed with the fact that models were earlier than me, no they weren't just early, I was late. I could see Charlotte killing me right now.

"I did remind you about this yesterday, apparently you were not paying attention."

"And why do we need to have this go-see as early as this? We could have moved it after lunch."

"Too late for that now, they are here. I already prepared the other office upstairs. Go do your thing." Jessica said this while she was pulling me upstairs.

"Do... Do my thing?"I am about to have a major nervous breakdown at the moment. I think I am going to fall in a faint while doing this. Hot guys make me feel very uncomfortable you know.

"Yeah your thing. You were the one who sits in with Charlotte during go-sees, and the last time she entrusted me with this task, she ended up on shrieking at me how she wanted to hire someone who looked like Noah Mills, not someone from Noah's ark." I sort of smiled with the last part of her sentence, as I remembered how she ended up hiring an overly hairy baboon instead of a top model.

"Niclas, she obviously does not trust me with this stuff after that incident, so it's up to you darling. And just a reminder, avoid hiring anyone who seemed to have any resemblance to something you'll find inside Noah's ark, or Charlotte will be pissed."

"Jessica just get the hell out of here, let's get this started already, we can't make those male models wait all day." Models are always on the go, from one go-see to another, and I silently cursed myself for causing delay to their busy schedules.

Let the go-sees begin.

*******************

The door swerved open, the first male model with a long blonde hair that falls on to his shoulders moves into the office, introduces himself, shakes my hand and hands me his portfolio. I browsed through his photographs, placed his portfolio over the table and stood up to let him try some of our designs, then took some Polaroid shots of him. Christian was there to assist too. Damn the first model looks good, he had those pretty blue eyes with long lashes that seem to stare me intently every time I spoke to him. Thin pinkish lips he habitually bites and licks with his tongue before opening his mouth to talk. And when he took off his shirt to try one of our polo shirts, revealing a smooth torso with an abs to die for, I had to stop myself from salivating. I know I was not supposed to lust for these models, because this is work-related, and I swear to God that I tried my best not to think of sinful thoughts about them, but my dick wasn't listening. It wanted to GO right out of my pants for the hot male models parading in and out of the room to SEE. As the first male model bid goodbye, I sighed to myself that there is no way I can hire him for he is too pretty for Charlotte's taste.

The second guy came in and when I looked up to greet him I immediately knew that I also can't hire him, he had too many tattoos all over his arms. It wasn't a bad thing, honestly I find the guy's ink suited his look appealingly. Besides lately there are more and more fashion designers who use models like Cole Mohr (and the infamous "AprilMayJune" tattoo across his chest) and Josh Beech with tattoos all over their bodies for print ads and runways. But Charlotte is disgusted with tattoos, she hated it, often called it as vandalism and cannot stand it when somebody calls it as art. "Art is found hanging on the walls of a museum, not on somebody's skin." she would say. As I watch the second male model leave I told myself that he was not unattractive, but too ruggedly handsome for Charlotte's taste.

The third male model was classically handsome, just like Ben Hill, but I had to turn him down too because his look, according to Charlotte, is two springs ago. I have watched her do this many times already that I already knew what she wants and what she is looking for in a model.

The fourth was okay but too thin, he could actually fit on the clothes made for ladies to wear. I find it amusing that anorexic male models also existed.

The fifth was overly muscular, the types you would see grace the runways of Versace or Dolce and Gabbana, but Charlotte wanted cut and lean, not a gym instructor.

The sixth was a dark haired Brazilian named Adriano. He came in wearing a red v-neck shirt that showed a little hint of chest hair and a pair of very tight denim pants. I would label this guy as hot, as hot as Evandro Soldati, Edilson Nascimento, Arthur Sales, Marlon Texeira and all the Brazilian male models out there. Even Christian who obviously seemed to be eyeing the Brazilian model in a different way would surely agree with my verdict. But definitely for Charlotte this Hispanic hunk would get a not.

The seventh guy who came in was a seventeen year old blonde, reminded me of River Viiperi with his charming looks and drool worthy body. Seventeen is actually a good age to start if you would like to pursue a career in modeling, but still I could not hire him. Why? Because my boss is crazy. She said she does not want to hire "minors".

Male model number eight was black. No, Charlotte is not racist. She would even hire Tyson Beckford or David Agbodgi if she wanted to. But she was not interested in hiring a black model at the moment.

Model number nine was a ginger head with a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks. Charlotte would not mind his freckles, but the new collection is mostly made of different shades of green. He will surely look like a six foot Leprechaun from Ireland.

Model number ten has bad skin and model number eleven has bad breath. It's not like he is going to model for a brand of toothpaste or mouthwash (and he can really use one), but who would want to work with a model who you could not even hold a conversation with because of the terrible smell coming from his mouth?

Model numbers twelve, thirteen and fourteen went out of the room and still I had not yet hired anyone for that damn catalog. Christian excused himself and went out of the room to use the bathroom. I was ready to give up already, I leaned back on the chair, thrown my head back and covered my face with my hands when someone opened the door and went inside the room. I thought it was Jessica and was about to say a stupid yet funny comment about how the day went, when I was suddenly interrupted and startled by a voice coming from a guy. Just when I thought the day was over, male model number fifteen appears. I stood up to greet him and gripped his hand with a handshake when I noticed that he was looking at me strangely while studying my face. I tried to pull my hand away from his tight grip but he wouldn't let go.

"Niclas?" he asked me. Still holding my right hand.

"Yeah... do I know you?" I had no clue who this guy was but he definitely looks familiar. He is definitely not one of my ex-lovers, definitely not a fuck buddy because I never had one. Is he a brother of a friend? Or a boyfriend of a friend? If then, which one of my friends is it? My train of thoughts was interrupted when he spoke again.

"It's me Lancelot. Lancelot Simpson." he smiled at me. A smile that lighted up his face and brought sparkles in his eyes.

LANCELOT MARTIN SIMPSON. No freaking way. The last time I saw him was six years ago, during our high school graduation. And after that, I really did not care whether I would see him again. We were never close, I did not even consider him one of my friends back then to be honest, but since we have a few friends in common, most of the time we find ourselves hanging out together.

"Lancelot! Oh wow, it has been a long time. How are you?"

"I am doing great. I didn't know you work here." He was still beaming that smile that could make girls and gay guys weak in the knees.

"I didn't know you model. That's why you were here right?" I asked him then I realized that he was still holding my hand. "Can I have my hand back?"

He must not have noticed it because he suddenly lets go of my hand and murmured an apology while his face was turning into different shades of red. I smiled at the thought that suddenly this guy in front of me was shy and blushing. "How cute" I thought to myself.

Lancelot was this basketball jock who was cool enough to be seen hanging out with any type of student at school. Today he would hang out with his basketball team mates and the next day he will be seen spending time with a geek from his Chemistry class. Then the next day you would see him joking around with Drama Club kids and then the next with the girls from the school cheering squad. He was very friendly, okay too friendly and borderline flirty. He had every guy in school wanting his company. He had every girl wet and drooling. He had every gay guy lusting and with a massive hard on. But no, I was not one of them. I never wanted his attention. He can strut his six feet four inches of muscled gorgeousness and awesomeness all over the campus for all I care. It's not that I don't find his silky light brown hair, bushy eye brows, piercing stare, olive skin, soft and sensuous lips and the goatee that adorned his chin unattractive, it's just that I don't want to want what half of the school population wants. It was like a trend, and I despise trends. Disregard trends, according to Carson Kressley's Ten Fashion Commandments.

"Yes I am here for the go-see. Here's my portfolio." He handed his portfolio over tome and went on to browse through each and every single photograph of him in it. I was pretty much impressed by his portfolio, not only he had good looks, not only he was naturally photogenic, but he can model. He looks like the Brazilian model Rafael Verga, only he had blue eyes. As I turned to the last part, I was shocked to see a nude photo of Lancelot seating on a wooden chair, with a look on the face that I could not distinguish whether if it was of pain or pleasure, exposing everything, I mean everything he has got. Lancelot is packed. His dick might be flaccid on the picture but it was huge.

"Like what you see?" Lancelot was giving me again that smile that can light up the whole room. That smile never had an effect on me before when we were still in high school, but for some reason, it now has.

"Uhm, no... I mean, you are very photogenic. And I like that. I mean that's what I want. I mean what we want."I just did not stutter. What the hell is wrong with me? I then started to feel uneasy around his presence.

"So... does that mean I got the job?" he looked down on his shoes, looked back up again then winked at me. Or was it just my mind playing tricks on me?

"Wait, you still need to try some of our clothes on then take a picture of you after."

"Then I'll get the job?"He was teasing me and enjoying every moment of it.

I shrugged at his question and walked towards to the pile of clothes hanging from the rack. I pulled out a long sleeved, French cuffed button down shirt in bright orange with cut out details in the front. (I know the color is ridiculous and I have no idea why we are selling this piece of garment in that color) and an olive green cords to go with it. I handed it to him and Lancelot gave me a weird look before taking it from me and out the door to change. I know I am a fashion designer so stop scowling at me for giving the guy hideous and mismatched clothes. I don't know why but for some reason I was determined to make him look like a carrot. And when he returned to the room, he indeed looked like a carrot, one handsome carrot that I'd gladly munch away.

"I look like a carrot."

"I know." I gently pushed him towards the white wall behind him and took pictures of him.