Ms. Christine

The day was perfect for a spring in South Carolina. As soon as I got this consultation appointment over with, I was going to pull out my camera and take a few pictures here in the park as the sun started to set. I could never miss such an opportunity to capture beauty in a photograph. I made a mental note to thank this Mr. Blackbourne person for suggesting meeting the models he managed in the park. It really got my creative juices going, and I had a good feeling this gig was going to be great.

I checked my little notebook and tried to decipher my own scribbling to remember the name of the contact of the guys I was to meet. Dakota Lee? That sounded right. I mildly wondered if that was his real name, or one he gave himself to fit into the modeling industry better. I could never tell with the people I worked with professionally.

I walked along the park path until I got to the picnic shelter Mr. Blackbourne told me his team would be at. Surprisingly, seven male bodies were already under it, chatting lively with each other or tapping into their phones. I had never known professional models to be punctual before, especially when they came in large groups. This job might turn out easier than I was predicting it to be.

"Mr. Dakota Lee?"

Seven faces turned to me simultaneously. My fingers itched for my camera already. These models were top of the line. If I wasn't a lesbian in a happy and committed relationship, I admitted I would have been drooling.

The one with black rim glasses dressed in pressed khakis and a polo buttoned up to his Adam's apple cleared his throat and came toward me with an offered hand. "Call me Kota. Ms. Christine, I take it?"

I nodded and shook his hand firmly. "That's right. I talked to your manager at the agency, but I don't know how familiar you are with this gig. Do we need to discuss the particulars?"

He shook his head and smiled warmly. "All of us," he reached behind him to indicate the other men behind him, "have already been briefed. There was just one point we wanted to make sure was understood by everyone involved to make sure we are all on the same page."

"Of course," I replied. "Let's sit while we get things ironed out, then I will want everyone lined up in the sun to see what we have to work with."

Kota and I settled down across from each other at a picnic table. I set up my notebook before me, ready for notes. I was fully aware the other models were hovering nearby, within earshot, and quiet enough to overhear the conversation. It was nice to know they were interested in what they were signing up to do. The models I have worked with before were so self-absorbed, they usually tended toward the obnoxious and actually made it really difficult to work. I appreciated this fresh breath of professionalism. These guys were very likely going to get high recommendations to my clients if this pace kept up.

Kota beckoned to one of the guys, and he obediently perched next to Kota. This one was lean with prominent collar bones sticking out from the undone top buttons of his silk shirt. He was going for a punk look with bright stud earrings peering out from under medium brown hair. Two blond locks fell from his forehead and tickled his cheeks. He had a genuinely happy smile.

"This is Gabriel Coleman, our stylist and makeup artist," Kota introduced to me. Gabriel shook my hand. "We would like to have him assist with costuming and to be responsible for our hair and makeup."

I would not complain about that. If I did not have to call up my own usual stylist or the makeup girl. That opened up a lot of money in the budget for this shoot. "I have no problems with that. I have a modest dressing room at my studio with the standard styling tools." I met Gabriel's gaze to address him directly. "Can you provide the makeup?"

Gabriel smiled and nodded. "Not a problem." His voice was deep and fit for a singer.

Kota nodded as if satisfied. "Is there anything else on the table we need to clear up?"

I scribbled in my notebook so I wouldn't forget Mr. Coleman's name. "I don't have anything pressing. Shall we get started on selecting which of you guys will be my victims?"

A couple of them snickered before Kota barked out a single syllable command. Every single one of them snapped to attention like soldiers. "Line up on the lawn by height. Face the sun." His tone was full of authority.

Color me impressed.

I stood before them with my back to the sun, studying their features and analyzing which would fit the bill for what my client wanted. Each of them had aspects and qualities the camera could capture beautifully, and they all varied from one another. They ranged from suave and delicately handsome to rugged and massively gorgeous male specimens. One was downright intimidatingly scary, and that was perfect for one set I had lined up. I was planning on only picking two from the gaggle of guys. I could change their appearances enough with different lighting, costumes, and makeup between sets. However, the decision as to which two was hard. I didn't think I could settle with a pair and not regret passing up the rest.

An idea came to me like the flash of a camera. "Every one of you, as of now, are available for the shoot dates?"

Kota, in the taller half of the line, answered, "Yes ma'am."

"Then let's keep it that way. Since you will be providing your own stylist, the budget opens up significantly. I'd like to reserve all seven of you, but have each of you do only one set each. I like what I'm seeing too much to say no to any of you."

"Any objections?" Kota asked to his fellow models. With silence as his answer, he followed up with, "All in agreement say 'aye!'"

Seven of them choruses in unison.

It was rare for the photographer to get their way in this industry. My mind's eye was already dreaming up the possibilities. "We had two dates open and we were going to settle on only one, whichever was the most convenient for the few who got lucky. I think we need to utilize both days now. Is that acceptable?

Kota nodded.

I clapped in glee. "Perfect! You! And you!" I pointed my finger at the tallest with the widest shoulders and the one with the biggest muscle definition that had reddish hair. "Bring jeans and cowboy boots. I don't think I have a pair that will fit you," I said while waggling eyebrows at the tall one. He smirked.

My finger found and isolated the one with waves of brown hair with slender hips disappearing into black slacks. "If you have one, bring your best fitting waist coat and slacks like those."

"You," I indicated the blonde one with beach waves, "and Gabriel. Bring your swimming trunks. Trunks, not Speedos." The blonde beamed and tried to hold back a giggle.

"Kota and you," I pointed to the remaining one, the most intimidating of the crowd clad in all black, "wear black leather." I made eye contact with Kota. "Can you work without glasses?"

He replied with another firm, "Yes ma'am," as a light red color tinged his cheeks.

"Now come here and tell me your names so I can write it down with whatever I just told you to bring."

The broke their formation and politely informed me of what I asked.

Kota stepped forward with his hand out again, and we shook once more to signify we had come to terms with our business. "Mr. Blackbourne will be in contact with you shortly to negotiate any changes in figures if necessary. You have his business card." I nodded to confirm.

"It was a pleasure meeting every single one of you. I look forward to working together in two weeks, gentlemen."