"Gabriel?" I asked once my rear was situated in the dressing room chair and a comb was applied to my hair.
"Yeah?"
"Was that a dog collar hanging from Kota's hand when we passed him downstairs?"
Gabriel snickered, making him pause in his strokes through my hair. "Yeah. It was."
"Max doesn't wear collars like that, does he?" I scanned my numerous memories of the golden retriever, trying to recall just what the dog wore around his neck to indicate he was owned and domesticated by the Lee family. I was fairly certain it was a wide strip of hunter green nylon and not the thick, black strap of leather with spikes in even intervals along its length dangling from Kota's fingers.
"Nope!" Gabriel let the P pop dramatically. His reflection showed a wicked grin upon his lips. "Kota is so far out of his element, it's comical. I wish we could be down there right now to watch him sweat this out."
"What do you mean?" I asked as I eyed his black glasses folded neatly and sitting upon the top of the dressing table among the various brushes, compacts, and palettes of colors. He had to be wearing his contacts again.
"Our dear Leader is playing Sub today."
"Sub?" Apparently, I had a lot more to learn on this mission. The terminology was still going straight over my head.
The comb slapped against Gabriel's thigh as he huffed. "God damn shit, Sang. You're too innocent. And now I have to be the one to spoil it." He started sectioning my hair and held one portion straight up toward the ceiling. He continued to answer me as he ran the comb the opposite direction than intended, from the middle of the strands toward the roots. "Sub is short for submissive. It's a BDSM term, usually paired with its opposite, Dominant. What those mean is that the Dom-"
"Mr. Coleman!" Mr. Blackbourne's commanding tone interrupted the explanation. I jumped in my seat, startled. He stood at the top the stairs and entered. "Now is not the time nor the place for such lessons. Please let Miss Sorenson keep what innocence she has until the end of the job before you go corrupting her."
I knew what BDSM stood for and had a vague idea as to what it entailed, and to think Gabriel was about to share some of its intricacies with me made my skin flush pink once more.
Mr. Blackbourne entered the dressing area and strode over to the lighted table Gabriel and I were at, grabbing the bottle of baby oil. He made eye contact with me through the mirror. "If you are interested in such topics, Miss Sorenson, I can make arrangements to acquaint you with the lifestyle at a later time." I could not read the expression on his face, but his eyes were twinkling silver through his glasses.
"Mr. B!" Gabriel gasped. "You're not propositioning her, are you?"
My violin teacher cleared his throat and adjusted the knot of his tie, almost like a tic showing his was uncomfortable with something. "No. I am merely ensuring any of her curiosity she may have will be led down a safe path."
"Mmhmm. Be glad I like you, Mr. B, or I'd totally call bullshit on you." Gabriel continued to comb more sections of my hair the wrong direction, making my hair look like a nest. "No baby oil for Kota, by the way. He was already powdered up. His order is for matte."
Mr. Blackbourne nudged his glasses further up his nose after he readjusted the quarter full bottle of oil in his grip. "Indeed. I'm holding onto this for Miss Sorenson." He nodded quickly to both me and Gabriel before turning and heading back down the stairs. I caught a glimpse of the millimeter smile grace one side of his lips before he pivoted out of view.
"Don't ever tease your hair like this yourself," Gabriel instructed me. "It's one of the quickest ways to destroy your hair."
"Oh," I whispered, my thoughts more on just how much Mr. Blackbourne knew about alternative lifestyles, and whether he would be the one to provide the synopsis. Was it really a lifestyle, or could it be pursued as merely a hobby? Was I curious to begin with?
Speaking of curiosity…
"Gabriel?"
"Hm?" He was smoothing my hair over what he had teased, making my head look three times bigger than it was.
"North has a tattoo on his chest, doesn't he?" I recalled he had gotten the ink pressed into his skin the morning after our night at the North Shore, but I hadn't discovered it until a month or so later. He had done it to preserve a discolored bruise I had given him with a rather passionate bite, but I could not recall seeing any trace of it when I dabbed baby powder onto him.
Gabriel chuckled and his reflection beamed. "You noticed, huh?"
"More like I didn't notice a thing, Meanie. What happened to it?"
He adjusted a few more locks of my hair before reaching to grab the hair spray. Before releasing the cloud of chemicals at me, he pointed the nozzle to some equipment set up on a crate next to the vanity. It looked like a silver pen with extra bits coming off it and a hose leading from the side toward a little motor. "Airbrush. I'd say I did a pretty damned good job of covering it up too." He unleased the hairspray on me, and I coughed on the sticky fumes.
"I had completely forgotten he had one until just now," I said once I caught my breath again. Gabriel picked up on the implied compliment, and his crystal blue eyes gleamed with pride.
The next several minutes were devoted to eye makeup alone. I sat incredibly still with my eyes closed as Gabriel lightly brushed and dabbed over my eyelids. Once he allowed me to look, the mirror showed a beautiful smoky, sultry look. "I thought you said I wasn't allowed to wear smoky eyes," I said to him as I rotated my head back and forth to check it out from various angles. When he and I first started practicing applying makeup to my face, Gabriel forbade me from using what he called 'smoky eyes' because it was not for me, and it would attract trouble. If he did not allow me to wear it then, why was he applying it now? "I'm not allowed to tease my hair, but you just did that too. Why are you doing things I can't?"
"Yeah, I know what I said, Trouble. Don't try to make me eat my words, because it won't work." A bigger and fluffier brush swept over my cheeks with a shade of pale pink for blush. "This is for a commission to fulfill someone's order, and it's only happening once. With your hair, once should be okay without damaging it beyond repair. With your makeup and the bikini, you can't wear it outside of here because the attention you'll attract will be bad. You don't want the male population of Ashley Waters looking at you like hungry, rabid dogs, do you?"
I shook my head in the short time Gabriel withdrew the brush from my skin to reach for lip color. I got enough unsavory attention in school from passed notes alone. North still confiscated them from me, and I was too happy to let him do it.
"Right now, you're pretending to be someone else. What happens here won't come back to haunt you later. Making a habit of all this stuff, though, is a no-no. It's all about application to the situation." He smeared his lips together in front of my face and motioned for me to mimic him to spread the lip color evenly. "Go ahead and put on these shoes, Trouble, then we can go down and watch Kota finish up."
He handed me a pair of black ankle boots ornamented with a small silver chain and a little cross charm. The most remarkable feature were the spiked heels that stood what seemed to be six straight inches up. I would be standing solely on my toes. Having worn mostly sandals and tennis shoes throughout my life, these looked like they would kill me. If I could keep my balance long enough, I was sure a kick to someone else would kill them.
"Meanie? I think I'll put these on downstairs, if you don't mind." There was no way I could survive stairs in these Death Heels from Hell, and I prayed my time in front of the camera would consist of mostly sitting and none of Luke's ninja flipping.
Gabriel escorted me down the stairs with one hand around my waist and the shoes dangling from the other.
Ms. Christine was laying on her belly on top of some scaffolding erected over Kota. Kota was laying on his back on the floor. He wore a white collared button up with a black vest, both undone and open to reveal his bare chest. His legs stuck out onto the concrete flooring glad in a pair of black leather pants similar to what North was wearing earlier. His feet were bare.
"Luke. Take that feather by his nose and rotate it 45-degrees counterclockwise, will you? Ms. Christine requested.
The blonde held a clear zip lock bag half full of black feathers. It stayed in his grip as he stepped onto the white backdrop and crouched by Kota's head, reaching over to adjust the one feather of a dozen placed around on the male model.
"Good. Now get another one and cover up his nipple like we're censoring him for PBS." Everyone chuckled except for Mr. Blackbourne, who was holding onto one end of the scaffold to provide extra stabilization.
"No, not both of them. Just… yeah. That one. Perfect." As soon as Luke cleared, the camera started clicking again.
Gabriel ushered me to sit on a stool before finding a crate and moving it to the floor in front of me. "I know you're capable of doing this yourself, Sang, but let me do this for you?" he asked as he sat on the crate and carefully lifted my bare foot with his hands like he was picking up a baby bird that fell out of its nest. His crystal blue eyes looked up to me, pleading as he set my foot on his lap, "Please?"
I had no idea what he was asking to do for me, but I trusted him. My smile was warm and encouraging, showing me acceptance of his gesture. "Go ahead, Gabriel."
Reaching down beside him, he picked up one of the ankle boots and pulled down the zipper on the side. Opening it up with one hand, he guided my foot to it. He slipped the boot on, and I had to wiggle my toes to fully insert myself into it. I felt like Cinderella when she was finally discovered and being fitted into the glass slipper. The pointy heel dug into Gabriel's jeans, but he either didn't notice or didn't mind. The zipper was pulled up the inside of my ankle, and my foot was sealed in.
Gingerly, he lifted the foot and placed it on the floor to replace it with my other and into his lap to repeat the process. While Gabriel tending to me was a normal dynamic in my life by that point, it all seemed to be a part of his job. It was work to make me presentable, even if he did enjoy it at times. When it came to clothing, he usually trusted me to get it on by myself, only needing to dictate what I wore. His hands were involved directly with my hair or the rare instances I needed makeup.
But this? Putting these shoes on my feet himself? This was different. I couldn't feel anything particularly wrong with it, but it was intimate. I did not want anyone else putting shoes on my like this. Sure, the other guys frequently slipped off my sandals, and Dr. Green had my feet in his lap whenever he could to rub my toe. None of that compared to the attention Gabriel was giving me right then.
This was going to be out "thing" to share just between him and me. That, and the possessive-lickey thing, I guess.
A/N: Awkward spot to stop at, I know. But I wanted to throw all ye birdies a bone and let everyone know why there has been a lack of updates. The FB community housing the displaced birds from the Academy forum created an event known as "Update Day," where we writers have been challenged to publish ten thousand words among our works on April 19th of 2015. I have been hoarding my updates to meet that quota.
Alas! I have exceeded the quota at this point and am posting the overflow early! –happy dances, trips, and faceplants onto Ms. Christine's white backdrop-
Ow.
Anyways… -regains composure- …the rest of A Photo Is Worth A Thousand Blushes will arrive on the 19th. The last chapter(s) and the epilogue will magically appear then. I don't think it'll add to up 10k words with this story, but it'll be nice nonetheless (the majority of my words are devoted to Paper Crane). I like the ideology of quality over quantity anyway.
While we wait for the fateful day, give me some new humorous ideas to torture… I mean… expose the GB team to! My imagination starves for musings. Feeeeeeeed meeeeeeee…
