During the shoot my brain is all over the place. I can't focus. The little dog yips every time I go to fix the pose. Posing dogs is like trying to teach a Frisbee to walk.
"Regina, please reset the dog," I say, pressing my temples with my fingers. For a split second I imagine myself fanning a brides train and the happy couple smiling back at me. Then I look down at Mitsy who thinks biting constitutes talking. She nips at Regina as she repositions the dog by her master's hand.
The pose is perfect. I chose the white set and have the client laying face-down on satin sheets. She's propped up on one elbow slightly. The pose shows off her curves without being too revealing. It's the kind of pose that looks seductive. It works perfectly for her. Everything is white on white, with layered textures. Linens, lace, throws and silk pillows are strewn through the set. It's completely perfect. Even the little dog helps pull the shot together. His snow white fur adds just the right about softness, but the little beast won't sit still.
Regina picks up Mitsy. The little dog bares her tiny teeth and is very unhappy to be placed back on the bed. Regina runs off the set and I shoot. Working fast is new to me. Normally, I take all the time I need. When I think I have the shot, we move on. The final piece is going to be a high key black and white. Everything is pale from the client's skin to the dog's fur. She wears nothing but a white thong. Her implants make her look like she is twenty, even though those years of her life are at least a decade behind her. She holds the dog in her arms, its fur concealing helping conceal her breasts. The dog is happy in her arms and the owner looks straight back into the camera, staring at the lens. The finished product will be striking.
Later that night, Cole arrives and thumbs through the unprocessed shots with me. When he gets to the end of the shoot he stops and looks at the poses with the dog in her arms more carefully. He leans in close to the screen with me sitting in front of the computer.
He taps a pen to his lips, "Open it." I double click the image and it opens in an editing program. "Show me what you plan to do."
My hand moves on the tablet, clicking settings and altering the image to black and white. I adjust a few settings, run a few of Cole's actions to smooth her skin, and then pump up the contrast. "What do you think? The dog threw me for a loop. I didn't know what to do with it, and the stupid thing wouldn't sit still."
He leans over my shoulder, his gaze on the screen. He puts a hand on my shoulder. It feels warm and strong. His scent fills my head and I think back to last night, to laying in his bed and sleeping right next to him.
"I think this is amazing. I mean, people ask us to do and shoot all sorts of things, but this - damn Anna..." he strokes his chin, staring at the screen. "You even made the dog look sexy." He laughs and looks down at me.
I beam, "Thanks, Cole. That means a lot to me." The weight of his hand suddenly feels like something more. My skin tingles and I want him to touch me, to stroke my face with his hand. Cole watches me with that expression that I can't read.
He pats my shoulder before stepping away, "No problem. I knew you had a talent for this before I even met you. Some people just have it. You're one of them. You're lucky, Lamore."
"Yeah, well, not so much. Actually, me and luck are strangers. Maybe even enemies," I joke. I put things away for the night and shut down the editing program, the screen glows dimly before its light goes out as the computer powers down. I reach for the scattered pens and papers on my desk, and shove them into a drawer. "If I saw Luck on the subway, she'd probably mug me. Nothing lucky has ever happened to me."
Cole has that smirk on his face as he listens. He slides his hands into his pockets and tilts his head, "Oh, I don't know if I'd say that. Luck's the kind of thing most people notice in hindsight. It's hard to see it in the moment."
I stop what I'm doing and turn to look at him. He's oozing with boyish charm. Everything from the way he stands to the curve of his mouth makes my heart race. I shake my head, trying to evade his charms. Why am I tormenting myself by hanging around him?
"And at this moment, am I lucky? Is there something happening that I can't see?" I pull a folder to my chest and wait for him to answer.
"Maybe," he says, voice soft and sensual.
My eyebrow lifts. I stand there for a moment at a loss for what to say. I hug the folder tighter. His eyes drift toward my hands before he turns away, nodding his head toward the door. "Come on, Lamore. Dinner. Now."
I place the folder down and follow him out. As my hand flips off the lights, I wonder when I became so obedient and discover that I don't care. If it means being around Cole, and seeing him happy, I'll jump when he snaps his fingers. At least a little. It goes against every fiber of my being to let someone else be in charge, but with Cole, it feels comfortable.
