Opportunity Knocks

"Phew!" a woman exasperated, taking off the headpiece of an extraordinary costume they'd assembled as part of their latest artistic project, "I think it's ready."

They stepped away from the mirror they were just inspecting the costume in and put the headpiece down on a table, and as they did their mobile phone began to buzz and ring beside it. They didn't recognise the phone number, yet in her capacity as a make-up artist, it paid her to answer it, just in case it was an opportunity rather than a cold caller trying to sell them something. More often than not it was the latter, but you never knew.

She picked up the phone, pressed the green 'answer' icon, brushed her hair out of the way of her ear, and then held the phone up to it. "Hello?" the woman answered.

"Oh, hi," the voice on the phone replied, "Is that Zoe Page?"

"This is Miss Page speaking," she confirmed.

"Hi, Miss Page, I am a representative of Fernando Ángel Castellanos, and I am calling you because Señor Castellanos has expressed an admiration for your talent and would like to hire you to work on his latest project as chief make-up artist."

Miss Page's eyes lit up and her demeanour changed instantly. She was silent, her heart rate having risen rapidly, her throat now feeling suddenly dry, glad that she had opted to answer the call rather than assume it was someone trying to sell her something, and she put the phone to her chest for a few moments while she tried to regain her composure. Despite the caller not trying to sell her anything of sort she expected, she was sold already.

Fernando Ángel Castellanos was a visionary Spanish expressionist and esteemed and eccentric creator whose works were highly regarded in the industry and community, and Miss Page as a huge fan of his work. She had always wanted to work with him, and now, out of nowhere, the opportunity was being presented to her.

Taking the phone away from her heavily beating chest and back to her ear, Miss Page resumed the conversation. "Please," she continued, "Call me Zoe. I would be honoured to work with Señor Castellanos, I am flattered that he admires my work - I likewise am an admirer of his."

"Thank you," the representative replied, "We'd be delighted to have you on board. I shall send over the details of the project, location, and date to your e-mail address listed on your portfolio, along with some formalities for you to complete and return - is that your current e-mail address?"

"Yes," Zoe confirmed, "It is. Thank you, I shall look forward to your e-mail and to working with Señor Castellanos."

"Excellent, we'll send the details over to you shortly - thank you for your time, and we look forward to working with you. Goodbye."

"Thank you, and likewise! Goodbye," Zoe regarded, and then the call disconnected. She slowly put the phone back down on the table, and then her composure abandoned her. "Oh, my God..." she panted, fanning her face with her hand, "Castellanos admires me?! I need to sit down..."

"A pessimist is somebody who complains about the noise when opportunity knocks," is a quote attributed to Oscar Wilde, and Miss Page was many things, but a pessimist she was most certainly not, and it appeared as though she was going to reap the rewards of her optimism.

With her hands and almost her entire body trembling, Zoe wisely took a seat on an adjacent chair and took a few moments to regain her composure, and ended up sitting there for a few minutes, silent. Her mind was going haywire, her imagination racing at breakneck speed about not only getting to work with the venerated artist but also about what the project might entail. As luck would have it, she wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

As she stood back up after her mind had slowed back down to a manageable pace, her phone went off again, this time a notification - an e-mail notification. Miss Page glanced down at the illuminated screen, her heart in her mouth, in hope. "No," she thought, "Can't be - it's way too soon for it to be that."

Picking up the device, she swiped the notification to the right and entered her passcode, opening up an e-mail from a name she didn't recognise. Alas, after skimming over the subject and reading the first couple of sentences of the e-mail, it became apparent that it wasn't too soon after all. Zoe fell back down onto the stool again, not even looking at it and subconsciously knowing exactly where it was, and began to scour through every word and detail of the e-mail.

It was from the representative she spoke to on the phone only minutes ago, and it seemed as though they were as keen as she was. As she read through the e-mail and details given to her, Zoe learned that Señor Castellanos' latest work in progress was an erotic piece about human sexuality. Miss Page was an ambassador of sexual freedom and sexual expression, so working on a project with someone whom she was an admirer of about a subject she was passionate about would be a dream come true. The only problem was, while not a long time in the grand scheme of things, the date listed in the e-mail was two weeks away, and, right now, two weeks felt like an aeon.

Still, there was nothing she could do about that other than wait, so wait she did.

***

After the testing fortnight had taken its time to come and go, the day was finally upon the excited chief make-up artist. Zoe had packed up her car with her make-up equipment and set off slightly earlier than she likely needed to, wanting to make sure that she wasn't late but likewise not wanting to be too early. Besides, she had her own make-up to apply, hair to style, and clothes to don before she left, wanting to impress Señor Castellanos when she met him. Her outfit itself had been chosen after almost two weeks of careful consideration, opting for one of her favourite and cosiest dresses, one that was eye-catching and leggy enough to hopefully attract a positive response from her idol.

Both the traffic and the weather on this day could not have been more ideal, though perhaps that was to be expected as spring slowly ticked over into summer - but you never knew in England - and the almost overexcited make-up artist arrived at the location about 15 minutes earlier than the time listed in the e-mail she had received and read over time and time again. She parked up, checked her face in the visor mirror one final time, then gathered her belongings and made her way into the studio.

Spotting some crew members gathered around a coffee machine, Zoe walked up to them and introduced herself. "Hello!" she cheered, "I'm Zoe Page, the chief make-up artist."

"Ah, Zoe, you're here," one of them - a production member - greeted her, "You're needed in Tom's trailer."

"Already?" she queried, "Is Señor Castellanos about?". If she could, she wanted to meet one of her heroes and, effectively, her employer before she got to work.

"He is, but he's busy right now - you can see him later," the person replied, "We're running a bit behind, so the sooner make-up can be taken care of the better."

"Oh, okay," she said, keeping a cheery demeanour but feeling somewhat dejected on the inside about being ushered straight into work, but understood that she would get to meet him after the exhibition. Still, she was over the moon to be here, and meeting one of her inspirations would surely just be a matter of time. "Where's his trailer?"

"Just head out of that door there which will take you outside, and it'll be on your left - you can't miss it."

"Thanks," said Zoe, then she made her way toward and out of the door that was pointed out to her in search of Tom's trailer. "Tom?" she thought to herself, it only just now occurring to her that she didn't know who else was taking part in this project as much of the detail had been omitted in the e-mail she was sent, such was the secrecy surrounding it. Other than the general subject of the project, her role, the date, and the location, there wasn't much else to go on. No matter, because if they had also been hired by Señor Castellanos then they must be talented.

Pushing open the door and turning to her left, Zoe indeed didn't miss the trailer, though it was situated a little bit of a walk away from the building, which she assumed was for privacy reasons. So, she waltzed over toward the trailer, and as she got closer she heard the initially faint sound of music get louder with every step she took, and she thought she recognised it.

Reaching the door, Zoe leant her ear against it, and while the music was still muffled, she believed she could make out what it was, and gave raised her eyebrows approvingly. Though she was not here to listen to music, she had a job to do. So, she knocked on the door.

*Knock, knock*

She planted two quick but sufficient knocks on the door, and a couple of seconds later the music came to a stop. Footsteps could then be heard approaching the door, and then it opened.

"Hello," a man in a dressing gown addressed her, "Can I help you?"

"Are you Tom?" Zoe replied before she recognised him.

"Yes."

"Tom Grainger?!"

Zoe was briefly starstruck because Tom Grainger wasn't a nobody. He was a well-established name and performer in theatre and on broadway, and while he wasn't a household name like your TV and film actors were, those with an affinity for theatre and performance arts knew who he was. Zoe was one of those people and was rather fond of him and his work, so it was no surprise that someone of his calibre had been hired by Señor Castellanos too.

Snapping herself out of her starstruck daze, Zoe reassumed her professional demeanour. "Hi, Tom, I'm Zoe, the chief make-up artist."

"Zoe!" he smiled, "Please, come in."

Tom stood out of Zoe's way and she entered his trailer, then Tom closed the door behind her.

"Would you like me to take my shoes off?" she politely asked as she stepped in.

"Oh, I don't mind - it's totally up to you, whatever you're comfortable with," he warmly replied, and she opted to remove them for comfort.

"Were you listening to System of a Down?" she asked while stepping out of her shoes, helping break the proverbial ice between them and trying to garner a rapport with someone she had admittedly fangirled over and fancied in the past, not having previously known that her taste in music was shared by one of her icons.

"I was!" he gleamed, "They're one of my favourites! You have a good ear and good taste."

Zoe smiled happily. There were few things as unifying or divisive as music, but having a similar taste in music to someone else was one of the best ways to bond. However, as much as she'd love to just sit down and have a chat with Tom, she was here to work and had been told that time was of the essence, though building a rapport and degree of camaraderie with the person whose body you're going to be painting always made the task easier and more comfortable.

"I'm told some of the production is running a bit behind, so the sooner we can get make-up done the better. Shall we make a start?"

"By all means," Tom agreed.

Miss Page put her equipment down on the side and got herself ready, taking out the bits and pieces she would need, alongside a picture provided to her of the design Señor Castellanos had devised himself and wanted to be applied to his star performer which she would use for reference as they progressed.

She placed several items to one side, including the reference picture, and then explained that she was ready to begin.

Tom, standing about six feet away from Zoe, nonchalantly took his gown off and put it to one side, and Zoe was shocked by what she saw.

"Oh-" she gasped, her eyes wide, briefly staring at the man's crotch before she averted her gaze. "Erm- I didn't..." she stuttered, "Where's your underwear, or your codpiece?"

To Zoe's... bemusement? Horror? Delight? All of the above...? Tom was completely naked - cock, balls, and all.

"Oh, sorry," he apologised, "I thought you knew?"

Zoe's face had flushed red like the luscious hair on her head, and she hoped, at this moment, that her hair might cover her face and save her blushes.

Tom went on to explain that all the performers would be naked as the director's vision for the project is for it to be an authentic representation of human sexuality, and that meant not hiding or shying away from the human body. In her excitement, Zoe must have missed that detail in the e-mail brief she was given, or perhaps it had been omitted? She had read it through countless times and was sure there was no mention of it.

Nevertheless, she didn't disagree, it might just have been helpful to have been able to prepare herself for the sight of a naked man to be thrust upon her, not least when that naked man was Tom fucking Grainger, a man who may or may not have been involved in her sexual fantasies once or twice...

She acknowledged his comment and then he checked whether Zoe was okay to continue, which she assured him she was. "Shall we make a start?" she said, clearing her throat and regaining her composure.

Tom approached Zoe as she directed him where to stand, and then she got to work painting his body just how Señor Castellanos envisioned. The performers would be wearing decorative masks, however, the rest of their bodies would be painted, so Zoe made a start at his neck and worked her way down from there, opting to paint the front of his body first and get what was perhaps one of the more awkward parts out of the way sooner rather than later.

Awkward enough, however, was his broad chest, though she maintained her professional demeanour despite how fond she was of the chest and the man it belonged to, and before too long she had painted it from top to bottom and from side to side, moving swiftly on to a part of his body which wasn't all that less awkward - his abdomen. Tom did tremendously well to keep perfectly still for Zoe, helping her do her job to the best of her ability, as this wasn't his first rodeo, after all. Nonetheless, it not being his first rodeo didn't change the fact that it was his first rodeo without any underwear or a codpiece, though it spoke volumes of his professionalism that he was doing so well thus far.

Miss Page purposefully took her time on his abdomen, not only because the drawing she had been passed drawn by Señor Castellanos had quite some detail in this region, but to delay getting to the next part of her canvas. However, she acknowledged to herself that she was also simply delaying the inevitable and that the sooner she got there, the sooner it would be done. Some time passed by as Zoe expertly and painstakingly applied the specialised paint to the man's figure, making sure she replicated Señor Castellanos' design to perfection, and despite the production seemingly running behind they were still making good time.

She had painted down from his neck to the bottom of his torso, and she was just getting to the most awkward part - his groin. Zoe was a tremendously talented make-up artist, boasting quite the following on social media for her innovative and often out-of-this-world creations, and while this normally wouldn't be a problem, she felt a little out of her comfort zone. She'd painted men's bodies before, but at the very least they were wearing underwear or even a codpiece that would be painted over - but there were no such garments today and she'd never painted a wholly naked, exposed man and his, you know, penis before.

But it was just part of the job she reassured herself, a part of Señor Castellanos' vision - a vision she wanted to help bring to fruition. Zoe got down onto her knees so she could better apply the make-up to the man's lower half, and when she got down there it hit her how obscene the situation she found herself in was.

His flaccid cock was alarming close to her face, unprofessionally close, yet Zoe was a professional, and the proximity of a dick to her face shouldn't be an obstacle despite the naturally awkward nature of the situation. Besides, she wasn't new to having cock in such proximity to her face, and even closer in fact, though those were usually attached to her lovers and romantic partners. Yet, she was finding it an obstacle, and one that was very hard to overcome.

She carried on regardless, trying her utmost to focus on the task at hand, decorating the man's groin with colours and shades. Zoe's eyes stared at the area she was coating, though they occasionally shot a glance at Tom's cock before returning to where they were prior, the artist finding the natural distraction naturally distracting. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to overcome if Tom wasn't so handsome, if she hadn't been a fan of his, and if his cock wasn't so, well... appealing.

To make matters worse, it kept on twitching, moving and, eventually worse, growing, distracting her further, and she had to concentrate to not make any mistakes with the application of the make-up. After a few more seconds, it had grown even more, to a size and state not befitting the application of make-up, lest it be painted like a popsicle. Finding herself in the vicinity of his obscenity, aware that she'd be lying if she hadn't been here before in her fantasies, Zoe stopped what she was doing and cleared her throat before she said what she thought needed to be said.

"Ahem," she coughed, "I can't paint you properly when your..." she paused, "Cock... keeps moving and... changing size... I need it to be, you know, flaccid..." Zoe looked up at him. "Have you done this before?"

"Yes," he replied, "But just not totally naked before. I feel kinda shy... I'm sorry."

"You don't look shy," Zoe commented, gesturing at his member which wasn't shying away in the slightest. The man turned his head and looked away to blush. "If it's going to stay like that then we won't be able to continue," she said, explaining that the reference picture provided to her by Señor Castellanos didn't depict a man with an erect penis.

"Just... give me a minute," Tom said stepping aside to try and direct his blood flow to anywhere but where it was currently flowing en masse.

A minute passed by in uncomfortable silence, but Tom's cock was no less erect, no less hard.

"Well?" Zoe prompted, and then Tom turned back around to show her. "Oh, my goodness..." she gasped, looking at the even larger and harder state his cock was in before averting her eyes away abashedly. This was not how Zoe had anticipated meeting one of her icons and working for another would go.

While they had been making good time with the body painting, they didn't have all the time in the world, and if Tom's cock remained as though it had looked into Medusa's eyes for much longer then they'd be up shit creek without a paddle.

Miss Page wanted, nay, needed to do a good job, the best job she possibly could for Señor Castellanos in this opportunity of a lifetime, and she couldn't let something like this thwart her. She needed Tom and his cock to get flaccid again, and being the proponent of sexual liberty that she was, she knew the quickest and most effective way for that to happen. If needs be, she would take matters into her own hands, literally. Besides, she wouldn't mind getting her hands on the Tom Grainger...

"What are we going to do about that?" the make-up artist asked the turgid man, pointing at the source of their current predicament.

"It'll go, just wait," he tried to reason, not sure why his body was reacting the way it was.

"We've been waiting," Zoe reproached, "It doesn't look like it's going anywhere, and we can't wait much longer."