A Working Model
Ryo Angel
PG-13

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Seeking Nude Models

Body disfiguration wanted, no questions asked

Willing to accommodate time and shyness

Must be NATURAL blonde & blue-eyed

$25/hr + meal(s)

Approx. 20 hrs / week for 4 weeks

Mamoru (Ma-more-oo) Chiba

1835 Shellmound Cir.

Apt. # 8A

288-2383

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She clutched the flyer in her hand and stared at the impressive but gloomy apartment before her. Pulling at the dark pony tail behind her, she once again cursed the circumstances that brought her here. Flexing her hand, she sighed as a sharp shooting pain sparked. She looked down at the flyer again and sighed. It fits the bill. After all, beggars can't be choosers, and until her hand heals, she can't work. No work means no apartment, no food...no college.

"Tsukino no baka," she muttered to herself as she rang the buzzer.

"Who is it?" came a deep, low voice.

"It's Serena. I saw your flyer... about the nude model?"

The door unlocking was her only answer.

"Damn artists," she muttered under her breath as she walked through the door. Looking around, she searched for the elevator. "You have got to be kidding me," she groaned. A large sign stating, 'Elevator Out of Order,' was stretched across the two silver metallic doors. With a deep sigh, she started towards the closest stairway, thankful for once it was her hand that was injured and not her legs. By the time she finished her long trek up the stairs, she was wondering what she would do if she got rejected. "Impossible," she muttered, trying to convince herself, "I'm a beautiful girl... mostly. He's a hormone-driven male. It's practically a shoo-in... I hope."

Twisting a strand of ash brown hair, she stuffed the flyer into the back pocket of her pants. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, cursing the fates that brought her here once more.

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He was growling over his latest piece when he heard the faint knock at the door. Throwing a soft cloth over the wood block, he strode over to the door and yanked it open. In front of him stood a wisp of a girl with dark brown hair and hazelnut eyes.

"Not interested." He was about to slam the door closed when she pushed her hand against it. He caught her wince and opened it again.

"The flyer said blonde and blue-eyed," he clarified and was about to attempt to shut the door again when she shoved past him.

"I am blonde and blue-eyed," she muttered as she stood behind him.

He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath to reign in his temper. "Look, I specifically said natur –" He narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you have brown eyes?"

The eyes that greeted him were large and round and most of all, a clear glacier blue that reflected the emotion of the person glaring at him.

"Never heard of contacts?" she asked as she waved a small contact case in the air.

"And I suppose you can dye your hair," he answered sardonically.

"Henna," she replied. "I came from a small get-together with my family."

He caught the small inflection in her voice, but did not question it.

"I can prove it to you if you would let me use your bathroom for a second."

He had half the mind to tell her to strip if she wanted to prove anything, but something about the way she held herself made him want to be gentle.

"Come here," he demanded gruffly.

She stood her ground.

"Look, if your hair is dyed with henna, your roots would still be blonde," he said impatiently as he walked to her, scowling when she took a small step back.

Licking her lips, she stopped her retreat and frowned at him. She approached people, never the other way around. "Satisfied?" she asked after he parted hair after hair after hair.

"Where's your disfiguration?"

She took a soft breath and backed away from him, "Stomach and legs," she paused as she pulled up the sleeves of her arms, "and these." Spirals of dark jagged scars marred the otherwise smooth, tanned arms.

When she rolled up her sleeves, the demon from her past reared its ugly head and threatened to overwhelm her, but years of self discipline forced it back down. "Satisfied?" she asked again.

He looked as if he wanted to touch it, but his stony persona did not change. "When can you start?"

"Tonight."

He raised his eyebrows. "Need cash?"

"No questions asked."

Mamoru shrugged. "I'm busy tonight. You can start tomorrow night."

"Morning," she responded, quickly followed with, "I have late classes on Mondays."

"Afternoon," he countered, "I don't wake up until after 10."

"Okay, you're buying lunch."

That earned a pause from Mamoru which Serena was quick to jump at, "Your ad said meals were provided."

"I'll be cooking them."

Serena perked up, "Japanese?"

As if overexerted from the long conversation, Mamoru nodded.

"What style?"

He suddenly growled, "No questions asked applied to you as well." He walked over to the door, his hand resting on the knob, and snarled, "Tomorrow at 11. Be late once and you're fired," and pulled it open violently, "Good night,"

Serena stared at him a moment and then shrugged. "Tomorrow then." As she walked out she paused and said quietly, "Ja ne, Mamoru-san."

Only when she left and the door was closed did he reply in a soft voice, "Ja ne." Such a simple phrase and yet the memory it invoked in him brought back memories that he'd rather forget. After all, that's why he came to America - to escape his past. Or what was left of it. With a sigh, he started for the wood block, only now, a certain self-proclaimed blonde raced through his mind and when he pulled the sheet off his work in progress, he knew exactly what he wanted. Perhaps she could be his muse. A small smile graced the corner of his lips as he started detailing, perhaps...

AN: I know, I know, I haven't even updated on Sins of an Angel. Why aren't I updating that? Because my dear readers, I have no inspirations HINT HINT Thus, I write this. A short preview of what I hope to be my own story. It's totally AU with no reference to Sailor Moon. But I am using their names, so I thought I should put it here. If I shouldn't please let me know and I shall delete this.

Arigatou!

Edit: 01/05/07 - Thanks to Arielle for editing!