Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

“But then the girls are going to be outshined by his greatness and be all butthurt.”

“Guys, guys! Settle down!” I cry, trying to get everyone’s attention back.

“Britain!” I turn to Delilah, whose expression is grave. “Does Evan know?”

I convey her the look, the one that tells her Evan doesn’t know, and that’s when Delilah says, “Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck.”

Evan

My ass is sore from sitting in one of those dreadful library chairs for five hours. My eyes are sticking to my eyelids. All I want to do is fall onto my lumpy twin-sized bed and shut my eyes.

But I don’t.

Instead, I order two hot chocolates from an on-campus coffee shop and make my way back to Perkins Hall. I don’t go to my room, but knock on the one across from my own.

Miles opens the door, looking just as delirious as I feel. He rubs at his eyes and grins. “I definitely was not expecting it to be you.”

“Who were you expecting?” I ask slyly. “Some sexy creative writer you met in your feminist theory class?”

He points a finger at me. “No, but only because I have yet to meet a sexy creative writer.”

“I’m sure biologists are more frumpy.”

“Guess again,” he says, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. I sit on his bed, handing him a hot chocolate. “Your room is as dull and empty as mine. That’s surprising.”

He shrugs. “After a while of dorm rooms, you don’t really care enough. Or have time to go and buy stuff…”

“And decorate,” I finish. “The curse of a grad student.” I take a sip of my soy hot chocolate. It’s perfect.

“So, what’s the occasion?” he asks. “Hot chocolate at ten at night—should I be looking forward to this from now on?”

“I’ve had a long day, and the studying has only begun,” I say. “So this is about as close as I can get to taking you up on that date.”

His eyes brighten. “Well then, if I can consider this a date, then I am one lucky guy.

I grin stupidly and cheers him, taking another gulp of hot chocolate.

“You know, we can always utilize the minimal space there is between us,” he tells me. “I have to finish an entire Faulkner novel by tomorrow, so I’m going to be up all night anyway. You want to study over here? I hear homework dates are the best.”

My stomach twists involuntarily. Yes, I know from experience that homework dates are the best. The wound of homework dates might be too fresh to return to. Been there, done that. Didn’t end too pleasantly.

But Miles looks so hopeful, so excited. Like I’ll break his heart if I say no.

“Okay, okay,” I say, giving in. “Let me go grab my books.”

“Sweet!” he says, grabbing his beat up novel from the windowsill.

As I head back to my room to grab my books, I get a text from Britain:

I don’t care if you have to pull an all-nighter to catch up with homework, but we’re having a party at the manor on Saturday. You’ve got to come, no excuses.

I text her back: Okay, but you owe me.

Britain: It will be worth it, trust me.

* * *

Studying with Miles actually helps me get caught up enough so I can go to Britain’s party on Saturday.

And when I say party, I use the term loosely.

I walk into the manor half-expecting the models to have met a billion Boston locals by now and for the house to be jam-packed, but the truth is, none of them have met a soul. I guess Britain wasn’t exaggerating when she said that all of them have been working to the bone.

The girl looks drained. “You’ve missed out on some of the best shoots.”

Adam hands me a glass of wine as we all sit in the parlor, and I thank him with a smile. There’s nothing between me and Adam anymore, well, nothing except for the raw lust that exists when posing naked with someone. I’m sure if I ever had to shoot with Adam, I’d be wildly turned on again.

But that’s just part of the job.

“Tell me all about them,” I say in earnest.

The models are alone tonight. The Veda staff took the day off, and the AA assistants are at some all-expenses-paid company dinner in town.

Good to know that we’re not part of the company.

But it’s nice here. Mellower than I thought it would be, but nice none-the-less. All of the models are lounging around the parlor, drinking red wine and gin and diet tonic. They fill me in on what I’ve missed.

“Well,” says Jaime, “first thing that happened after you left was that Britain had us shoot in this kinky-as-fuck cage.” Jaime winks at Britain, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t roll your eyes at me, missy. You loved that shoot.”

Britain shrugs. “What can I say? It turned out great.” Her face falls. “Well, that one turned out great.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well, first A.J. cuddles up to me by saying that, at the end of the day, I will always have the power in terms of what I photograph and what ends up in the launch issue.”

“And he lied, obviously,” I say, taking a fat gulp of wine. I’m about ready to feel a buzz.

“Obviously,” Britain sneers. “He told me to shoot actual penetration.”

I almost spit cabernet all over Britain’s face. Instead, I hold it back and it goes up my nose. When I’m done choking and wiping the tears from my eyes, I cough out, “You’re joking me.”

“I wish I was,” she says smoothly, downing the rest of her wine in one gulp.

“So, what did you do?”

“What do you think? I tried it. I tried on the two models who I knew would be the most comfortable having sex for the camera.”

“Up top!” Adam says, holding up his hand. He and Delilah high-five.

I shake my head, turning back to Britain. “And?”

“And it turned out… well, raunchy, cheesy, and pornographic. I hated the images. A.J., on the other hand, loved them. He loved them so much that he openly reveled in his own brilliance over the phone to me, and told me that this has to be the direction we take the magazine in.”

My mouth drops open. “What a dickwad!”

“Right?” Britain cries, pouring herself another whopping glass of wine from the bottle on the end table.

“That’s because A.J. appreciated my O-face and you don’t,” Adam says.

“It’s nothing to be proud of,” Britain counters. “A girl’s orgasm is an achievement. A guy’s is an accident.”

“But what if we all say no?” I ask. “I mean, no offense to all you handsome gentlemen sitting in this room, but I’ll give up my advance before I screw my way to stardom for A.J.”

“I can do my best so you guys don’t actually have to fuck, as long as it looks like you’re fucking and the image is taboo enough to get a rise out of him.”

“Well, that’s just great.” I follow Britain’s lead and down my wine too.

“But how are we going to do it?” says a soft voice in the corner. I turn to look, and it’s the new girl, Chloe. She sits on the floor in a pastel cotton dress, her back up against a china cabinet. I don’t think I could ever in my life imagine a sweet-looking girl like Chloe in a raunchy photo shoot. “Get comfortable with each other, I mean. I have to admit, that cage shoot was really hard for me.”

“That’s what he said,” Jessica coughs.

“Oh, snap!” says Jaime.

“So you’re not comfortable faux-fucking is what you’re trying to say,” Britain says, eliciting giggles from most of the models.

Chloe blushes. “I guess not.”

Britain turns to me. “How’d you get comfortable, Evan?”

As I gape at her, Patrick says, “Her name’s Evan? I thought her name was Rylan.”

Adam slaps him upside the head.

“Uhh… I had a huge crush on my partner?” I say. My insecurities are coming out a little, but I know it could be a lot worse. I think I’m getting over him.

I think I’m finally getting over him.

Britain waves her hand in dismissal. “Eh, that’s not going to work. We can’t force attraction like that.”

“Says who?” asks Jessica. She’s lounging on the couch, Patrick’s head in her lap. Suddenly, she sits up straight, like she just thought of something. “Why don’t we just work on getting comfortable with each other in our time off? Like now?”

Britain throws her hands up. “I don’t want to be watching an orgy, okay?”

“Not an orgy, God,” Jessica continues. “Let’s like, make a game out of it. We’ll have all of us start out from a different end of the house and turn off all the lights. Then we’ll make our way to the other end of the house. If we bump into anyone …” she shrugs. “We have to make out with them.”

There are a few gasps and a couple hums of intrigue. Britain’s eyes narrow, as though she is thinking about it.

“There are two catches,” Jessica says. “The first is that, even if you run into someone of the same sex, you have to kiss them.”

The only models that look around uncomfortably are Chloe and Patrick.

“Second catch is that, Britain, you have to play.”

Britain goes white. I crack up, clapping my hands together. As Britain shakes her head back and forth quickly, I say, “Come on Britain, you heard the rules.”

“Yeah, Brit,” says Delilah.

“Yeah, Brit,” says Jaime coolly.

Her eyes flicker toward Jaime, and she gets paler. Come on, Brit. Don’t show him embarrassment.

“Let’s take a few shots to get this party started?” Adam suggests, and everyone’s down.

“Just so I’m clear,” Ella points to Adam and Delilah, “are you two on again or off? I don’t want to feel guilty…”