Image Is Everything

Chapter Two

Brian looked across the desk at the man seated there. He had spent the last two hours in negotiations with Mark Phillips, the designer of the currently hottest new men's wear line in the country. They had talked and talked and gone round and round. They were no closer to settling the deal than they had been when they started.

Mark wanted to find a new fresh face to represent his line of clothing. But he also wanted a double barreled campaign. He wanted Brian too.

Brian had modeled all through his twenties, making a good living and traveling the world. He was even the face of Armani for a couple of years. When they dropped him three years ago for a younger model, he had seen the writing on the wall. It was time to get out of the modeling end of the business and move behind the camera, something that had always interested him.

He had continued to model for two years after Armani replaced him. He was still a popular runway and print model then, but there were no more big offers like the Armani contract. While he modeled he watched the photographers carefully, asked pertinent questions and lined up contacts that he would need in the future. Two years ago he had opened this small studio in Pittsburgh. At first he only worked there part time, still taking modeling jobs to supplement his income until he became established. That had gradually happened. He no longer modeled and he commanded a hefty fee as a fashion photographer. In fact he was seriously thinking about moving his whole business to New York. He was ready to play with the big boys.

"Brian," Mark said. "Brian, where were you?"

Brian looked a little sheepish realizing that he had zoned out, thinking about his move to New York instead of paying attention to his client. "I'm not interested," he said.

"But you'd be perfect. You still look great."

"I don't model anymore."

"But I want a more mature person to represent my clothes. I think the contrast between you and the new young face would be striking. If we can find the right face…"

"Calling me mature will hardly win you points," Brian said pissed by Mark's supposed compliment. "I'm not interested."

"Brian, be reasonable. I'll pay you extremely well."

"You will pay me extremely well … for the photos I take," Brian said with an edge to his voice.

"Just think about it, please," Mark begged.

Brian shrugged. He had had enough of this nonsense. There was no fucking way he was going to be the mature one in the photo shoot with some young kid. That was exactly why he had given up modeling before he had to stoop to that kind of thing. He would always remain young and beautiful in the public's eye, the way he wanted to be remembered, if he never had any more photos taken of him.

"In the meantime scout out some likely prospects for the young model," Mark said standing and getting ready to leave.

"I'll see what I can find."

"And think about doing the shoot. It could be great."

"Right," Brian said as he closed the door behind the fashion designer. He had no intention of giving it another thought.

It was quarter to five. He wondered if this Justin Taylor who was supposed to be coming to pick his brain would be on time. He better be. Brian had no intention of waiting around for him. He had better things to do with his time.

He went into the dark room and pulled down all the photos he had developed the night before. He flipped through the pile drawing out eight that were really excellent. He couldn't fault Guy on the look he portrayed. He had a perfect image for someone of his age and style. He was an excellent model. If he was a little younger he might have presented Guy to Mark Phillips as the potential face of his clothes. It didn't matter anyway, because Guy had said he'd never work with Brian again. Brian chuckled. He knew damn well that if the right offer was made Guy would be only too happy to work with him.

He carried the photos out to his desk. He would go through them more carefully later. He laid the eight he had selected on top of the pile. It was five o'clock and there was no sign of this wannabe model. Justin Taylor had just lost his window of opportunity.

Brian straightened everything on his desk and stood up. He glanced around the studio making sure he had everything set up for the shoot tomorrow morning. He heard the front door open as he did his final check.

"Excuse me," that soft voice from the phone said.

Brian turned and felt a palpable jolt as his eyes surveyed a ravishing hunk of blond boy ass. This was definitely worth the few extra minutes the kid had held him up. He could hardly wait to get those ugly cargo pants down off that luscious ass.

Brian felt Justin's eyes rake up and down his body. The young man had obviously felt something too. Justin's eyes fell on Brian's crotch and lingered for just a tad too long.

"See something you like?" Brian asked his tongue in his cheek and a glimmer of lust in his eye.

"Um … um … are you Brian Kinney?" he stammered.

"That would be me," Brian said using his best suggestive leer.

"I'm …" Justin cleared his throat. "I'm Justin Taylor."

"So, Justin Taylor, what can I do for you?" Brian asked mentally running the list of all the things he could do to this fresh piece of meat.

"As I told you on the message I left," Justin began trying to eschew his best professional manner, "I've been told that I might make a good model. I was wondering if you could give me your opinion on that."

Brian looked him up and down. Justin squirmed a bit under the scrutiny. "You're a bit short for a model, but you have a nice lean body that would look good in certain clothes. What the fuck do you wear pants like that for?" Brian couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I beg your pardon," Justin said offended by Brian's manner.

"Those fucking ugly cargo pants do nothing to accentuate that bubble butt you have. It should be highlighted as your best feature."

Justin felt the blush cover his face and pass down his neck and across his chest. Jesus, this guy didn't mince words. "You think my ass is my best feature?" Justin asked deciding that he could be as bold as Brian.

Brian nodded. "However, it can also be a problem in certain kinds of trousers … if they're not fitted properly."

"Oh."

Brian smirked. This kid had no idea what he was doing or what he was getting into. However, Brian would be glad to teach him, teach him about a lot of things. He felt his cock stir at the thought.

"What makes you think you can be a model?" Brian asked.

"I'm not sure I can," Justin admitted. "My friend, Daphne, says I'm not exactly a troll. She's the one who told me to contact you."

"And Daphne is a fashion guru?"

"Not exactly," Justin chuckled, "but she likes to read fashion magazines. She thinks I could look as good as a lot of those guys if I had the right photographer." Justin smiled at Brian.

This kid was good. Brian felt the room light up when that smile beamed out at him. Jesus, if he could capture that on film. He suddenly felt warm all over. Was it the great idea that was forming in his brain? Was it radiation from that sunshine smile? Was it the overwhelming desire to throw this blond on the couch he had set up for tomorrow's shoot and fuck him senseless? Or was it all of the above?

Brian felt his trousers constrict as his cock had grown suddenly hard. He turned quickly and went behind the desk. He straightened his pants as he sat down hoping this blond nymph wouldn't notice what he was doing. He indicated the chair recently vacated by Mark Phillips and Justin sat down abruptly in it, adjusting his own hard on.

They each cleared their throat and started talking at the same time. The effect they had on each other was surprising to each of them.

"Would you be willing for me to take a few shots of you right now?" Brian asked.

"Now? Do you really think I could be a model?" Justin asked with a look of surprise on his face.

"You have a certain look," Brian said carefully, not wanting to get Justin's hopes up too much. "Sometimes that can be captured on film; sometimes it's an illusion that never translates onto photographs."

"If you think I'm worth the time, sure!"

Brian thought he was definitely worth the time. "Could we do it right now? I don't have to be anywhere for an hour and then we'll know one way or another."

"Sure!" Justin responded enthusiastically. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go sit on that couch. Relax a bit. I'll get my camera and lights ready," Brian instructed.

He loaded a roll of film into his favorite camera and fired up the lights. Justin blinked at the intensity of them. Brian started clicking pictures.

"Don't you want me to do anything?" Justin asked.

"Put your feet up and lie back."

Justin obliged. Brian shot some more pictures feeling his cock responding as well as his camera.

"Smile." Justin did. "Your best one," Brian requested.

Justin giggled and then suddenly there was that sunshine smile that he had seen before. Brian snapped as quickly as he could until the smile began to fade. Suddenly he stopped and looked critically at the young man.

"Did I do something wrong?" Justin asked.

"No … no," Brian said. "I may have to adjust what I said earlier."

"What do you mean?" Justin asked with a frown.

"I think that smile may be your best feature."

That comment brought on another dazzling smile and Brian captured a few more versions of it on his film.

"I only have a few frames left. How about you stand over there?"

"Sure." Justin moved to the indicated spot.

Brian adjusted his lights and with a few simple directions that Justin followed easily he finished off the roll of film.

"Is that it?" Justin asked.

"That's it."

"When … um … when might you know whether I look good on film?"

"I know right now. You look good in any way, shape or form," Brian thought. "I can develop them right now if you want to wait?"

"I'm meeting my boyfriend at seven," Justin said looking at his watch. It was after six-thirty. "I better go."

"This kid has a boyfriend," Brian thought. "Minor complication." He had felt the heat between them. Aloud he said, "Why don't you come back tomorrow afternoon about the same time. I should have the prints ready and we can discuss how they look."

"That would be great, Mr. Kinney," Justin gushed.

"Call me Brian. My father was Mr. Kinney."

"Sure, Brian. I really appreciate this," Justin said sincerely extending his hand. "Thank you for your time … and talent."

"You're welcome, Justin," Brian replied shaking the proffered hand. They both felt the little jolt of electricity as flesh touched flesh for the first time. Brian stifled the groan that suddenly rose up in his throat. He wanted this man, this boy. And he would have him.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the same time," Justin said as he headed for the door. "And thanks again."

"Any time," Brian found himself saying as the door closed behind the blond. The groan he had been suppressing escaped and he adjusted his trousers once more.

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