The Test Shoot

"Close enough."

"Yeah, Levi actually gave me a heads up about that in his e-mail. Is there anything that I missed, something that might stop me from telling him 'no' besides men being trash?"

"Yeah, no, obviously I'd bring a friend or two to back you up, but as far as I can see, there's nothing that legally discourages you from telling him to fuck off. But what it says exactly is, 'In the event of a request made by the photographer for the model to go beyond her responsibilities as expressed in this document, the model may request an informal renegotiation of terms in exchange for her consent.' So say he asks you to flash some sideboob in the middle of the shoot, and you kinda like him, but you're a little nervous. If you think some extra cash can make that nervousness go away, him asking that question opens the door to an immediate renegotiation of the contract."

Devika hummed, interested. It hadn't quite hit home for her until Sandip spelled it out.

"What I find really cool, though, is that if you do decide to be a shameful whore for this guy—" Devika laughed at his overstatement; their parents tended to get a little dramatic whenever the subject of casual sex came up, a source of endless amusement between each other ever since they were old enough to know what sex was. "—the contract says he still can't publish or even share those pictures without separate express written consent. He only retains publishing rights to what's covered in the initial agreement. He's giving you a lot of power here, Devi."

"So it's okay to sign?"

"If you like the guy, yeah. The only other thing I'd be aware of is that any pictures he takes will still be his property, regardless of if he's allowed to share them or not. So he could still show those pictures to any friends that come to his place, or just generally jack off to them until he dies of old age. These are things he'd be well within his rights to do. Also, if he does breach contract and spread those shots around, you can sue his ass and get paid for your trouble—I'll even come out and represent you, I believe California will let me do that—but because the Internet's gonna Internet, that wouldn't stop those pictures from spreading. So if he asks you to strip, think about that and ask yourself how comfortable you'd really be."

Devika thought of the noir picture with the redhead and decided that Sandip didn't need to know the answer to that.

There was something she needed to know from him, though. "Generally jacking off? I thought you guys either jacked off or you didn't." Sandip laughed on the other end. "You're telling me there are specific ways you guys jack off for special occasions? Like, you do it sideways or something if you're running late for work because that gets you off quicker?"

"Oh, Devi," said Sandip, still laughing, "let me tell you about 'The Stranger...'"

Long after she thanked Sandip ("I guess") and got off the phone with him, even having just learned that sometimes guys sit on their hands before rubbing one out, that picture was still at the front of her mind, leaving her as drenched as the rain on the window within. So Devika turned into a parking garage, driving up the winding ramp until she reached the empty roof, and double parked in a space near the wall.

She loaded up Levi's portfolio on her phone once more. Returned to the picture that vexed her.

She tilted her seat back, just a little. Just enough to bring her pelvis forward, so her right hand could slide down her stomach and comfortably breach the waistband of her shorts. She wasn't waiting for a numb hand for this one; her imagination would have to do, and as it turned out, Levi's photography was strong enough to carry it farther than it had ever been.

Her mind was corrupted with thoughts of the blonde surf hipster with a penchant for turning women into sex bombs, who picked her out of a crowded Venice Beach jogging path. Sure, he was a gentleman and tried to assure her that he wasn't interested in doing anything risqué with her, but the thought that she could, the idea that he might want to...

Devika studied the picture, tried to imagine herself in the same pose; laying on that bed, dressed only in hard shadows and rain-distorted street light. Levi hovering over her, capturing the sultry beauty under him. Was he a professional to the core? Or could the redhead see the lust in his eyes? Devika knew there had to be lust; everything he wanted to do to her was somehow expressed in that single picture.

How many shots did he take of this? How much did she writhe on the bed, letting that wet light dance across her body, before she landed on that pose? How much of herself did she show to him? What did they do when it inevitably became too much? She pictured them both on the bed, naked, him venting furiously into her while she gasped again and again in fulfillment, tossing her head back and stretching out her neck to the spotted glow from the rainy street, moaning, crying, screaming her bliss from the joyous, privileged, fun, brilliant, wonderful cock within her.

Sinking back into her seat in a sweaty and briefly satisfied heap, Devika saved the picture to her phone and reminded herself that Levi was a professional.

But maybe he doesn't always want to be, she thought.

Wouldn't it be more fun if he wasn't?

* * * * *

Devika was taken aback by Levi's house. When he said he lived in the Palisades, she expected to pull up to some kind of beautiful monstrosity, but this shack, dwarfed by a large building to the left and a tall, bushy alder tree in front, might have been even smaller than her apartment. "Right," she said to herself, slightly disappointed but far from distraught, "freelance photographer."

Devika approached the house wearing a casual tank top and leggings, signed contract in hand and gym bag slung over her shoulder. The door was already open—Levi texted her earlier to show herself in, which she did. Yep, it was far smaller than her apartment; Devika figured she could make it from the front door, through the living area, through the kitchen, and out the back in about 10 steps. Still, Levi did a lot to make it look cozy and inviting; there was a plush leather couch with a lounge across from the fireplace, a TV mounted above its mantle. The walls were painted a pleasant sky blue and mounted with all sorts of beach paraphernalia; a picture of the sunset over surf above the couch, a surfboard mounted in the hallway leading to the bedrooms, the phrase "Eddie would go" over the front door, which she heard about from a 30 For 30 documentary. Levi stood in the kitchen, behind the island counter, laying out food from the Mexican place down the street. "Hey, Devika!" he beamed. "Perfect timing! Just got in from Nelly's!" He pointed to the takeout dishes he unbagged: "Swordfish tacos here, chips and salsa here. Leave the bag on the couch, take any seat you'd like."

"Thanks," said Devika, unburdening herself of her bag. "Glad you still recognize me without my face."

"It's a hard face to forget," said Levi, "even without makeup."

Levi also texted Devika with a request to take off all her makeup before coming over, so he could start with a fresh canvas, so to speak. Devika was surprised at—and a little ashamed of—how uncomfortable she was going out without even a little lipstick on, but she understood the point. It helped even more that Levi was polite and real smooth about it.

Taking a seat at Levi's island, Devika grabbed a swordfish taco and bit into it. "Mmm," she moaned as she chewed up the taco and let it slide down into her once-more empty stomach, "this is so good."

"Yeah, Nelly's is one of the best Mexican joints on the beach," said Levi. "Having it down the street single-handedly justifies the rent for this place."

"There's a Caribbean place near me on Lincoln Boulevard, Golden Sunsets? The jerk wings are to die for. I'd eat there every day if I could afford it."

"I feel that," said Levi. "Hey, is it just you?"

"Is it just me...what?" asked Devika, before realizing that Levi was trying to look out the door. "Oh! You know what, I didn't think there was any reason to ruin anyone's Saturday with my bullshit." Half-true; it was more like she didn't want them to ruin her Saturday. "I just texted a few people your picture and this address; my friend Paul plans to show up with a bat if he doesn't hear from me by morning. He's like 220 pounds of muscle, so I'd leave the Rohypnol and meat hooks in the closet if I were you." This was very true; she may have been feeling herself (figuratively and literally) more than usual that day, but she hadn't gone crazy.

"Fair enough," laughed Levi. "But seriously, I really do appreciate the trust you're willing to put in me. It means a lot."

"Of course! You seem worth the gamble." Devika finished the taco in her hand. "So what's the plan? I washed and brought my jogging outfit since you obviously like how it looks on me..." Devika motioned to her gym bag; there was actually one other outfit in there, but Levi didn't need to know about it at that moment. "...but I'm happy to do whatever you wanted to do first."

Devika was about to bite into her next fish taco when she realized that Levi hadn't said anything. She looked over and found him deep in thought. He looked at his watch, whispered some calculations to himself, and finally said "You know what? Let's shoot the jogging outfit first. I wanna do it outside, while the sun's still high."

* * * * *

Levi's house had two bedrooms; he converted the spare one into a small portrait studio with a makeup station, a computer, and a clothing rack, with the dress Levi picked out for Devika—a red number that looked quite nice from the short glimpse she had—spaced away from the others. Levi invited Devika to change in this room, which she did, and now they were doing makeup. To Devika's surprise, "This is a lot of makeup for a jog."

"You would think," said Levi. "Actually, photographs capture a lack of makeup differently than the human eye, so it's not enough to just go natural; you have to create a whole 'natural' look. I actually learned that the hard way in college."

"Where'd you go?"

"San Francisco Art Institute."

"Really?"

Levi smiled. "You sound surprised."

"I mean, it shows in the work, definitely, I just...then again, if you're paying off student loans, then—"

"Ah," said Levi, acknowledging his surroundings.

"I don't mean any offense," insisted Devika. "I actually really like this place. It just caught me off guard, is all."

"Of course," assured Levi. "I'll say this: I'm not worried about student loans. Not really worried about my career, either; I'm still young, and I'm getting a reputation. And even though it's kind of a douchebag thing to say, I love what I do. I hope I die with a camera in my hand."

"What's douchey about loving your work?"

"Well," said Levi, "it's easy to say you love your work, isn't it?"

"Sure," said Devika. "It's easier to believe when your love comes through in that work."

Levi's hand faltered just a bit. Devika caught his face in the mirror, trying not to smile too hard. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said about me," he admitted. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," said Devika, warmly.

"Makes it all the harder to tell you what I'm about to tell you."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"We're doing this at Inspiration Point," he said. "It's only a 5-minute air-conditioned car ride from here, but it's 15 minutes on foot in the 90-degree heat. And one of us needs to have a nice sheen of sweat for this."

* * * * *

Modeling fucking sucked.

Seriously, Devika thought as she pushed her way up and down the winding road to Inspiration Point, Levi close by. What kind of asshole thought THIS was easy? Fucking having to run a mile...half a mile...actually a little less, and also she had just run two or so miles that morning without a problem—look, it was hot as balls outside, Levi was nice and cool in the Kia Soul creeping behind her, the sweat was saturating her eyebrows and dripping down her face, and still she had to keep running and it fucking sucked.

They made it, though. Inspiration Point offered a great view of the PCH, the Beach Club, and the Pacific Ocean beyond. So naturally, there was a gentle buzz of tourists dotting the area who had long since gotten the memo. It seemed a little counterproductive for even a quick photo shoot.

"Yeah," Levi admitted, looking at her through his lens as they both jogged up to the scenic spot. "The location is a bit of an afterthought; all I care about is that it doesn't look like shit and it's easy to get to. You're the subject, and you look great." Satisfied, he screwed his lens onto his camera. "Anyway, this won't be too complicated. You're just drinking some water and stretching yourself out. I'll call out any specific instructions."

"Got it."

"Just so you know, I might get a little loud," he added. "That won't be on you. That's just what happens when I get into a groove. So try not to get too discouraged if you hear me shouting. In fact, if I start barking at you, then you're probably doing great. All right?"

"Sure." Devika bounced on her toes, swinging her arms to and fro.

"Nervous?"

"A little, I guess." It was more than a little. She wanted to be awesome for him and was hoping the concept of "beginner's luck" applied to more than just gambling.

"Don't worry about it. You just ran all the way to Inspiration Point, you're a little winded, and you're ready for a break. What comes naturally?"

Devika grabbed her water bottle and took a sip, letting the cool water

ka-chik ka-chik "Tilt your head back a little more."

She tilted her head back, sucking down

ka-chik ka-chik "Little more."

She did so.

Levi circled around her, snapping, snapping, snapping away. "Push your chest out a little more, I want your neck craned nice and smooth."

She did so. Maybe? It felt weird.

"Good."

Only moments later did she realize there was supposed to be a subtle sexual significance to the way she was presenting herself. Which was fine; she just liked this guy and didn't want to look like a goon, which, well

"All right, put the water down for a minute."

She did. Should she be looking at the camera? Should she

"Do some cooldown stretches for me. Whatever comes naturally."

Well, she guessed, her legs were tired and a little sore, so she should start there. But he wanted sexy, right? So she should bend down, touch her toes, show off her ass?

ka-chik ka-chik ka-chik "Nice. Very good."

He wasn't shouting. Shouting was supposed to be good, right? I mean, it could be intimidating, so maybe it was okay that he wasn't shouting.

"All right, let's stretch out that core. Do like a sun salutation for me, show me that midriff."

She really wanted to know if he liked her ass. Then again, of course he wouldn't tell her because how the hell would one tell her that without sounding like

"Hey, are you alright?" Levi asked.

"Yeah, I'm, uh," Devika sighed, rolling her eyes a bit—Levi snapped a couple of pictures of that. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm what you were hoping for."

"Nah, you're fine! Really!"

"Are you sure? Because I feel like I'm all stiff and self-conscious."

"That's what happens when you're not used to being on camera." Levi put his camera down and approached Devika. "Look, in the movies, you ever hear somebody say to a model 'Oh, the camera loves you, you're a natural?' It's a line. The truth is, once there's a camera involved, anxiety is natural. Even if you're a very outgoing person, a camera adds so many other X-factors that it's easy to freeze and second-guess yourself. It's something you either get over or you don't."

"What if I don't?"

Levi shrugged. "Worst case scenario? I thank you for your time, pay you a hundred bucks, and after I send you the shots, you never hear from me again."

Devika cast her eyes downward. "That would be a real shame."

"Well, not for you," Levi said. "I think you're pretty awesome, so I figure that would only happen if I somehow pissed you off."

Devika perked up.

Levi snapped some pictures of her. "I'm...still shooting. Sorry. Force of habit."

"Not at all." Devika thought it was a very endearing habit.

"Okay, go back to stretching," he said. "And look, if you're nervous, let yourself feel nervous. Let me worry about how it looks. It's a test shoot. Maxim isn't expecting you to move magazines with your best 'fuck me' pout. We're just goofing off here, so hit my marks as best as you can, and let me worry about the rest. Cool?"

"Yeah," said Devika. "I think I can do that."

Levi raised his camera to keep shooting, but suddenly put it down. "Actually, check this out..." Levi reached into his camera bag and pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses. "Try these."

Devika slipped the aviators on; the world around her get a little darker.

"Oh yeah," said Levi, a little louder than usual. "Yeah, that is striking! Ties everything together."

That was closer to what Devika was hoping to hear. She laughed, validated, and Levi took multiple shots of it.

"Okay, go back to that sun salutation. But this time keep your back straight and clasp your hands together."

"That's not really a sun salutation," smirked Devika, doing as told all the same.

"That's because I'm not really smart." Levi snapped away. "Perfect. Perfect. Okay, now spread your arms for me."

* * * * *

Modeling fucking ruled.

At least, it ruled when you were shooting with a good photographer, someone who encouraged you to have fun and never judged you for your feelings. Someone you were excited to do right by, yet never made you feel bad for letting him down.

Oh, she almost certainly let Levi down on some level. That self-consciousness never really went away, and after a while Levi just stopped trying to put her in poses, settling for just having a conversation with her about where she came from ("Taylor, Michigan; when I first landed at LAX I think I lost three pounds just from thawing out."), what her family was like ("Very traditional, very conservative, but mostly respectful. Always loving."), and why she moved out here. Levi tried to be as forthcoming in turn—lived in LA all his life, loved the beach, supportive family, all things Devika could relate to in theory—but was quietly, apologetically evasive when it came to details.

Still, it was fun! Once Levi gave her permission to be nervous, she just rolled with it, finding a sort of ironic joy in trying to be sexy despite being caked in sweat and awkwardness. Eventually, the irony of it faded away, leaving only the joy; however goofy Devika felt in front of the camera, she soon started to feel actually sexy on top of that. It helped that Levi just couldn't stop taking pictures of her even when she wasn't in one of his setups; maybe she actually was a natural, in some weird way.

Devika went right into the shower after she got back to Levi's house, rinsing the sweat and grime from her run right off her body. The loofah and the Oil of Olay on one of the shelves told her that she was far from the first woman to use this shower—a small square enclosure with a frosted glass door, in a bathroom with tiled walls that were tinted to ugly southwestern hues. It wasn't really the first choice for a softcore porn shoot...

...yet that's exactly where Devika imagined herself, with the camera being manned by Levi, of course. Practice made perfect, right?

So what would he find sexy?

Push your chest out a little.

Of course; based on all the poses he called out that emphasized the top half of her body, Levi was probably a tit man. Devika pushed her chest out into the running water.