The Test Shoot

"So, uh, let me ask you something," said Levi, casually floating from one end of the set to another, snapping pictures at various angles. "You watch any movies?"

Devika let go of the dress, now pooled around her hips, and covered up her breasts. "Why?" she asked between giggles. "Am I about to re-enact a scene from Showgirls?"

Levi held up his right hand. "Honest-to-God innocent question," he swore.

"It's just a weird question to ask me when my boobs are out!"

"Just roll with me on this," said Levi. "There's a method here, I promise."

"Well...I don't really have a ton of time for myself because I apparently signed my life over to Umbrla when I took a job with them, but—"

"Wait, did you say Umbrla? That's the tech job you've got?" Devika nodded, and Levi cringed. "Ohhhhhmigodddd," he groaned. "You're going to have to convince me not to add an extra $50 to your rate because I feel SO sorry for you."

"You've heard stories, huh?"

"I've GOT stories," Levi said, crouching to her level to take more pictures. "I used to go to school with Tucker Handel, that little bitch."

Oh God, Devika thought. Tucker Handel didn't visit the peons regularly enough to be thought of as a direct threat. Still, she knew enough about him to want to know more, such as "Did he call himself the Head...nnn In Charge back then as well?"

"No, but—" Devika could see Levi's brain spasm through his fine eyes. "N...no, he...what?"

"That's what's on his business card," said Devika, sitting up, framing the words out with her hands. "Tucker Handel. HNIC, Umbrla."

Levi's face froze exactly the way it was, at the moment before he lost his innocence. Then his head started to shake in disbelief, only for him to mutter "Of course he would. Of course he would." Levi rose and began meandering around the room, camera hanging off his neck while he brushed his golden hair back.

"Full disclosure," said Devika, "he probably pronounces it with the gah, not the hard R. So, you know, totally not racist."

"Really?" Levi was laughing now, relaxing off of Devika's joke. "Because Tucker was totally racist when we went to school together," he continued, returning to set. "One time at school, day before Thanksgiving break, turkey was on the menu. I'm eating with Mari—who's half-black, half-Mexican, by the way—I'm working up some courage to try and say more than five words to her, see what she's got planned for the weekend." Levi shook his head and readied his camera before he practically spat out the punchline: "Tucker shoves himself into our table, starts playing with the turkey he gets, and says 'GOTTA SEPARATE THE WHITE MEAT FROM THE DARK, AM I RIGHT? HEH-HEH-HEH-HEH-HEH!'"

Devika's hand snapped to her mouth to cover her shocked, mortified laughter, and Levi snapped pictures of it. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like to apologize to you and every minority in the world for not punching him in the face right fucking there."

"I'm sure that would've made things so much different," Devika said, recovering her composure.

"I was shellshocked."

A pleasant breeze across her nipples from Levi passing close reminded her, oh yeah, this was a photo shoot, she was topless, and was working up to "naked." There was a slight rush of embarrassment, but it passed quickly; turned out Levi really did have a method.

"Anyway," said Levi, "fuck Umbrla, fuck Tucker Handel, and fuck white people."

"Even you?" Devika batted her eyelashes.

"Even me," chuckled Levi, blushing for a moment. "Yeah. Ready to lose the dress?"

Devika nodded; she hooked her thumbs into the dress bunched around her waist and slid it down her long legs.

"You get the metaphor I'm going for here," said Levi, "so once the dress is off, just kinda show me how you feel about it."

Her first instinct was to fling it away, but she couldn't; something about the satin texture caused her to stop and consider it. She laid her mostly naked body back down across the sofa, her large breasts splaying outwards to her sides, and unfurled the dress atop her, running her fingertips across its satin fabric. It really was a beautiful dress—she recalled when the shoot started that she worried about wrinkling it, and she looked it over remembering how well it fit her, how comfortable she was in it. How she should have felt proud to have worn it. How she could have felt proud if only someone (else) wanted to see her in it (and it wasn't so absurdly racist), and how proud she was to be seen in this whole other way, beyond the dress.

Well, as long as "This looks good, right?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," affirmed Levi, "it looks excellent!"

"You're sure I don't need to act out what's going through my head more? It's kind of this weird mix of wistfulness and acceptance and excitement..."

"Hm. I'm picking up the wistfulness, and that's enough for me, but let me...okay, roll onto your stomach, but keep holding the dress to your arms."

"You sure? I don't want to—"

"Ruin it? That's what dry cleaners are for. Let's give it a shot." Holding the dress to her arms, Devika did as told while Levi pulled out his phone. "This might go a little too far in the other direction, so let me play some music to bring it back."

A few taps of his screen later, a song started through the speaker of Levi's phone. The introduction of the song seemed familiar; gentle and glittery, laced with a hint of gloom.

"Your body's covering the dress," said Levi. "Move it up so that your head is resting on its middle." Devika did so, draping the top of the dress over the armrest. Pop-pop-pop! "Good, good."

A woman started singing in French, and that's when Devika recognized the song as "Saint Claude." "Christine and the Queens," Devika identified the band with an impish grin. "You fucking hipster!"

"Oh, I'm the hipster?" Pop-pop-pop! "You recognized the band in under a minute!"

More specifically, Devika recognized them from her last year of college, when her then-boyfriend, a film student, was explaining the finer points of the difference between "mood" and "tone" with his penis. But she didn't want to be that brazen. "I may or may not have a type," she cutely offered instead, her grin getting wider if anything.

Levi glanced downward, smiling. When he looked up, he sailed right past the question: "Push your ass up a bit," he said, and she followed, inwardly celebrating him not saying "hips." "No, too much, down a little," he corrected.

"Oh, sorry."

"No no, all in the game. A little more—a little less—perfect." Pop-pop-pop! "Just wanted to emphasize the curve a bit," he explained, putting down the camera and looking her over. "Though now that I think about it, this pose might look better without the panties and stockings. Is that cool?"

"Sure," said Devika. She moved to pull her arm out from underneath but stopped before it could be more than a twitch. She had an idea. A mean one. "Actually," she said, "I'm worried I'll lose this pose. Would you mind taking them off for me?"

A very loud pause. A very quiet "You're sure?"

"Yeah," said Devika. "It's fine, I trust you."

Levi nodded and approached Devika from behind. Christine of The Queens launched into the chorus for "Saint Claude", and Devika glanced back as far as she could without breaking her pose too much.

Unfortunately, she couldn't see him, but she could feel him, careful yet firm as he rolled her stocking off her right leg. She turned her head back and closed her eyes, relishing his fine fingertips over her firm flesh, running an unbreaking trail downwards from thigh to calf to foot that sent heat streaking up to her lips. He repeated with her other leg, so gentle and sweet yet with such control...

Then she felt him take hold of her panties and slide them over her rear, fully exposing her ass to him; she couldn't help but give him a slight wiggle that she hoped could halfway pass as a nervous twitch, just to keep him wondering. Soon the panties were off, Devika kicking each leg back a little as each foot was released from the lacy undergarment, and then she was as nature, smiling and nervous and free.

"Give me one second," said Levi, walking off the set and into his kitchen, behind his counter. Devika craned her head as high up and discreet as she could and saw him make some kind of adjustment below his waist. Before she could take too much pride in her effect on him, he called out, "So you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"Favorite movies?" Done with whatever funny thing he had to do, Levi went back to set and resumed snapping pictures. "I know you were saying you were a little too busy to watch them, but do you ever find time for any?"

"Well," said Devika, "it's a little basic for your tastes I'm sure, but I'm big into superhero movies."

"Marvel or DC?" There was a certain clipped urgency to Levi's voice, like he was trying to rush so he could be somewhere...or possibly relieve some private pressure. Discreet as she could manage, Devika glanced at his shorts and noticed a fairly vague but very large bulge around his crotch.

"Both," said Devika, "though I lean toward DC. Fewer movies to keep track of, more complicated and, I dunno, psychological."

She squeezed her thighs together, suppressing the urge to rub herself as she pictured the shirtless wannabe model from SFAI standing over her, eyes no longer black and lifeless but bright and wide as his mouth, gasping for air as he stroked himself furiously.

"You know, I'm pretty comfortable right now," said Devika, equally clipped now. "You don't have to make small talk. If you wanna just run to the bathroom..."

"Oh no—I mean, I do, but there's just one more pose and we're at the end of the hour anyway, so..."

"No, I'm just saying, if you need to go—"

"I can wait, it's fine."

"—then maybe I can help?"

It just came out; Devika was too horny because Levi was too horny and the dam just cracked, leaving the both of them in silent awe of the flood that was about to wash them away. Christine launched into the bridge of her song, the recording indifferent to the energy of the room yet fueling the atmosphere all the same.

"Sure," said Levi, before he could realize what that last word meant. "I-I mean, no, that's okay—"

"Mm-hmm." The arousal all over Levi's face was too obvious for even Devika to feel embarrassed.

"I mean, you're very beautiful—no, you're fucking amazing, I want to, but, um, I don't want you to regret anything?"

"No, I hear you."

"Like, 'Oh fuck, I slept with the guy who took naked pictures of me, he said he was a professional, now I...' Uh..."

"Feel like a cheap slut?" Devika had a wry smile on her face. She already felt like a cheap slut. It was actually kind of liberating.

"I..." Levi was clearly trying to walk it back but could only get one letter deep.

"Levi? You're very cute when you're neurotic, but let's just get that last pose." She said it with a light lilt that showed nary a trace of a hard feeling, which seemed to put Levi at ease.

"All right...dress on the floor, on your back." Devika did as told. "Arms up, over your head," Levi said, arranging the clothes in a specific setup, dress on one side, shoes on the other. "Relax. Feel the music."

Devika stretched herself out on the sofa, linking her hands together; for the first time, breasts and bush were exposed for Levi and his camera. Pop-pop-pop!

"Move your right hand over your...uh...your area." Devika looked at Levi, eyebrows raised in mischief; he was kneeling on the floor, flustered. Pop-pop-pop! "Sorry," he said, "I'm usually more casual about this, I swear." Presumably, he was taking his shots from a low angle that framed her and the couch between the dress and the shoes; divorced from this context, he looked like he was pleading to an irascible higher power.

"It's okay," said Devika, sliding her right hand down her body.

"Just let it kinda fall on there...that's it." Pop-pop-pop! The last few moments were a cool breeze of directions and flashes. "Head up." Pop-pop-pop! "Arch your right leg." Pop-pop-pop! "Okay, on your side, towards me. Keep covering up. Look at the TV." Pop-pop-pop! "Good! A little more wistful." Pop-pop-pop! "Okay, more detached, bored. You're doing great!" Pop-pop-pop! "Okay, on your other side..." Pop-pop-pop! "Flare your ass for me just a bit..." Pop-pop-pop! "...and I think we've got it!"

Devika turned back and sat up, beaming with pride that dulled only a bit when Levi tossed her a robe.

* * * * *

Cleanup took only a few minutes, but Devika was happy to help with whatever she could. Likewise, the portrait studio was just a few steps away, but Levi wanted to walk them with her all the same.

He said, "So I was thinking...dinner? Not tonight, but maybe Monday night, after my next shoot?"

"Mmm, you know, I would, but my work schedule is 8 to 8. It'd have to be a quick bite."

"Hey, that's fine. Maybe we can do something more formal next Saturday?"

"Working next Saturday."

"Damn," said Levi. "Night never ends for you, huh?"

"Nope." Devika leaned against the door to the studio. She sighed. "And I just remembered, I've got a check-in hang on Monday—no, sorry, performance review. That's what they call a performance review." She groaned, clutching her face with both hands. "This job is destroying me."

Now Levi was leaning against the bathroom door, looking up in disbelief, or maybe something else. He casually wiped his brow in thought; once again, it seemed like something was on his mind.

Before Devika could ask what it was, though, he went ahead and said it: "You know, you could probably do this for a living if you wanted."

"What, take my clothes off for strangers?"

"No—well, you could do that too, but I mean modeling. Full time. Not necessarily naked modeling, either."

Devika looked at Levi, half-expecting him to have a sarcastic grin on his face.

"I don't want to tell you it's a sure thing," said Levi, without a trace of jest. "Far from it. And I'm sure you'd have reservations. It's not the fame thing; very few people actually become famous as models, so I wouldn't be too concerned about that. But it's still competitive as hell, a lot of bad actors hanging around—Cat could probably tell you all about that—and there's a ton of racist bullshit too. Even if you get past that, it's a constant assault on your self-esteem. You keep worrying whether you're too fat or too thin or if your eyes are too close together or anything else. Maybe you already worry about these things, but try worrying about them when looking good is literally your job."

"Mmm, sounds fun." Devika cocked her head. "What are the downsides?"

Levi smilled. "The thing is...you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever shot. I'm not saying that because I'm trying to get laid. If you sent some of these pictures around, I'd bet money—like, change-your-life money—that you'd be repped within a month."

For all the teasing Devika had subjected poor Levi to, hearing that still took her aback. "Okay, Levi, I'm sure you think that's true because I've been flirting with you a little...well, a lot, and I appreciate what a good guy you are, but—"

"I'm a good guy who's been working with agencies and publications for five years," he interrupted. "I'm no Hugh Hefner, but I'm not some teenager with a crush, either. Look, you want me to be brutally honest? If you wanted to do this, it wouldn't kill you to invest in some acting classes so you can learn to emote, get a better sense of how you project to others, and knock some of the self-consciousness out of you."

"That's fair," said Devika, not meaning to laugh.

"Other than that? You photograph well, you're friendly, you're easy to work with...Who in their right mind wouldn't want to be in business with you?"

"Well, I, uh...God, I did not expect this today!"

"Well, me neither," said Levi. "And you know how self-conscious I can be. Tell you what: We don't need to hash this out right now. Think about it while I touch up these pictures over the next couple of weeks. I can give you what I have, or we can keep going and take some proper headshots, maybe even do a few other sets with you and give you a more varied portfolio to go out to agencies with."

"How much would that be?"

"Just a few hours of your time." Before Devika could protest, Levi headed her off. "Look, I could tell you that it's good karma for you to pay forward, or that I want to apologize for how my classmate's company treated you. I could even try to say that it's part of some convoluted revenge scheme against him so you can feel like this isn't too good to be true. But the truth is, I don't need your money, and I really like you, even if you are a ruthless tease." Again, Devika laughed. "So if this is what you want, then it's your lucky day."

"Well, I'm flattered, Levi," said Devika, shaking his hand. "Thank you! I'll think about it!"

"Whatever you decide," said Levi. "Okay, go ahead and get changed; I really have to hit the bathroom now."

Devika turned away and Levi slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. She opened the door of the studio and took her first step inside.

To get changed.

While Levi was in the bathroom with a hard-on.

Devika looked behind her. A nasty little movie played out in her head about what might be happening, what could yet happen just behind that door, and it was making her heart pound and her pussy sweat. She closed the door of the studio without entering. Tiptoed the two steps to the bathroom. Gently pushed her ear against the door, straining to hear anything that suggested he wasn't evacuating his bladder or bowels.

There was panting. It was faint but it was there, rapid and irregular, and nobody ever panted their way through a tough shit like that.

On the surface, it shouldn't have been a dilemma. Levi seemed to want to take any burgeoning relationship between the two of them slowly—which was admirable in a man—and having been on the wrong end of a couple of unwanted, aggressive advances in college (that thankfully didn't go anywhere too traumatic), Devika didn't want to put anyone through that.

Yet the advance she had in mind was so hot; she was dripping just thinking about it. And there was a sense that Levi didn't really want to take it slow, it was just a well-intentioned courtesy extended to the girl he literally picked up off the street. He said it himself: "I want to, but...I don't want you to regret anything."

The only thing she would have regretted was if she had damaged a possible friendship with an act of, well, wanton sluttery. But she never knew a guy who didn't want help from a woman he was clearly into when he was jerking off, and frankly, it was time to act before he finished up without her. She rapped her knuckles on the door three times, and before Levi could even have a chance to register the sound, she opened the door.

"SHIT," Levi screamed out, jumping in shock, nearly tripping on the shorts and underwear around his ankles, one hand around his boner and the other rushing to cover it up further. He'd been standing over the open toilet—his target, presumably. He's about to have a new one.

Devika slammed the door behind her and approached her photographer.

"I-I'm sorry," he said, "I should've waited until youmph—"

With her left hand, Devika grabbed Levi by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss, sucking his upper lip into her mouth and tracing it with her tongue.

He's sorry? thought Devika, too committed to back out. I'm the one sexually assaulting him.

The assault, legally speaking, didn't last long; after a second to adjust to the situation, Levi took Devika's head in hand and started slipping his tongue across her lip, so she opened up and started swapping proper spit with him.