Chapter Twenty-One

Maeve

I must ask Loncey what moisturiser they use. Because their skin is so smooth. And I should find out what products they use in their locs, so I can tell Arabella. Because they smell good. Really good. I am going to need the biggest debrief with Arabella after this shitshow of a day. Fuck, I may need to start therapy again to help me process it and the shitty, shitty way that man made me feel.

Prude.

How fucking dare he?

Shite, now I'm thinking about him again. And I was trying to distract myself. I really was, focusing on Loncey's silky-smooth skin which is the creamiest of browns, and inhaling the slightly sweet scent that is coming off their locs, but that comment, that one little five-letter word really got under my skin. My skin that is now ever so exposed.

Yes, my breasts are being covered successfully by Loncey's broad body, but I'm still naked. My nipples are still hard against Loncey's skin, cold thanks to the AC being on full blast. All it would take is them to lean forward and scratch at their lower leg or for them to bend over in a spontaneous sneeze and I would be completely exposed to the small crowd of people facing us.

And yet I don't think they'd do that. I feel like Loncey would do everything and anything they possibly could to help me stay covered up, to help me keep my dignity.

I don't think they can move very much right now anyway as I'm practically hanging off their upper body. Jim has insisted I drape my arms over their shoulders and hold onto their body like, "you fucking love him, sorry, them." As my hands grip the firm curves of Loncey's ribs and abs, my fingers grazing over definite indents of muscle and bone, I feel discomfort threaten to take over. It makes me want to withdraw my hands and shake out my limbs. It makes me want to scratch at my own body like I'm covered in a rash. Makes me want to run away to my hotel room so I can take a hot, hot shower and wash away all this irrational irritation at being forced to touch someone else's naked body, a naked body that, despite its silky-smooth skin and warmth to the touch and also delicious smell, still reminds me of other bodies, other bodies that have…

I squeeze my eyes shut and mentally write the email I will probably have to send to my therapist tonight to see if she has time to fit me in tomorrow. I'm so busy writing it in my head I miss when the clicking of Jim's camera stops.

"Okay, let's try the other pose I want," he says, coming close and lifting an arm to move Loncey.

Shit, no. Don't move them. Don't…

They don't move. They are yanked, but they don't move an inch. They stay where they are, their back against my front, and although I've loosened my hold, I'm still lodged close enough to them that my skin is still grazing theirs.

"Give us a minute," Loncey says to Jim, who tuts loudly and walks away swearing.

"Maeve, can you get your towel?" Loncey leans their head back so only I can hear.

I look down at the towel at my feet. "Yeah, okay," I say and I quickly reach down and pick it up.

"Is it on?" they ask.

"Yeah," I reply once it's wrapped around my body.

"I'm going to move now."

"Okay," I say, and they do. Standing up and turning to me, they offer me a big smile. It's so big and so surprising and so kind that I can't help but smile back.

Fucker. I'm not supposed to be enjoying this. This Jim Fucking Harlow can have all my fake smiles but he doesn't get my real smiles.

But the camera shutter is not clicking, and Jim is still chatting away with his staff.

"So," Loncey says, and that snaps my eyes back to theirs. "I think he wants your back to the camera now. And I'll stand in front of you and again, I'll stand close enough that nobody will see anything. And I'll stay close the whole time."

Part of me wants to roll my eyes and berate them for being a bit OTT with this protector role they seem to want to adopt, but a bigger part of me is too busy letting out a long exhale of relief. Because they really are helping me. They're making it easy for me to do this stupid topless shoot without actually being topless in front of anyone.

"Okay," I say, simply, and I move to stand in front of them.

I look up into their eyes as I take a few small steps and get close enough that the material of my towel brushes against their warm skin and my hand is wedged between us, holding it up.

"Jesus fucking Christ, get closer. You're supposed to look like you just fucked each other's brains out not like you're afraid you're going to get nits from the other."

"This fucking asshole is so close to getting on my last nerve," Loncey says under their breath, still holding my eye contact. They're only a few inches taller than me and I like it. Why, I'm not really sure, but I do.

"I don't think he's a very nice man," I say simply. "And where I come from, we still believe not very nice men go to hell."

Loncey grins at that. "You don't believe in horoscopes but you believe in heaven and hell?"

I shrug. "You can take the girl out of Catholic Ireland but you can't take the Catholic out of the Irish girl?"

"When you've fucking finished nattering, I'd like to wrap this before the end of the fucking year!" Jim's voice snaps but neither of us looks his way.

"Ready?" Loncey asks, their hazel eyes fixed on me.

I nod and they move a little bit closer. At the same time I drop the towel and press my body against theirs. We're so close now that holding eye contact is impossible and for some inexplicable reason I find myself missing it.

"Hands on her fucking waist, please. I would say she doesn't bite, but who fucking knows."

"Such a fucking cunt," I mumble so only Loncey can hear.

"A big fucking cunt," they agree.

"And now you need to toss those golden locks over your shoulder, sweetheart, and give me a fucking dazzling smile, please," Jim orders and even though I'm not facing him I can tell from his voice that he's getting closer.

"Fucking arsehole," I mutter before doing as he asks.

"A big gaping asshole," Loncey adds. "And not the good kind either."

"Alright, let's ditch the fucking smiles for a sultry pout," Jim demands. "Act all smug like you're the cat who just ate his, sorry, their cream."

I retch in my mouth.

"My cream isn't that bad." Loncey squeezes my waist as they tease and I find myself giggling, like they've just tickled me or said the funniest thing, neither of which is true.

"Seriously, pout!" Jim barks again. "And can you grip her waist a bit lower?"

"Do you… do you mind?" Loncey asks.

"It's fine," I say and I'm surprised by how much air is in my voice.

Their fingers move slowly, going lower and lower, closer to the waistband of the boxers I'm wearing. I wait for that restless clawing feeling to resurface. For my impatience and annoyance to peak again, but they don't. I'm not calm exactly. I'm still tense in my body, only too aware of how my breasts are squashed against Loncey's chest and how their fingertips are digging into the curves of my hips, but I'm not as violently uncomfortable as I was earlier.

"That's it," Jim says and his camera starts to click. "That's fucking it."

"He's finally happy," I mumble, barely breaking the pout he wants.

"Okay, I need to see more flesh," he says before Loncey can reply. "Hair tucked over your shoulder so I can see the whole of your back. And some fucking side boob would be nice too."

"Well, it was nice while it fecking lasted," I comment.

We separate slightly so I can gather my hair and tuck it over my shoulder, letting it fall between Loncey and me. My breasts are visible now and I glance at Loncey quickly, expecting them to be looking in the same direction, at my exposed body, but they're staring straight ahead, a stoic expression on their face.

"Okay, now look back and give us that smug fucking smile again," Jim demands and I turn my head. I pull in a deep breath before I smile. The extra space between my chest and Loncey means a cool breeze, again likely from the air conditioning, rushes over my body and I feel my nipples harden. Jesus, I hope they don't notice.

"Get closer to her again," Jim shouts. "Hold her tight to you, one hand up a bit."

Loncey moves their hands and I can't tell who moves first or if we both do but we're pressed up against each other again. The hard points of my nipples and waves of my hair squashed up against their firm flesh.

Click, click, click. Jim's camera starts up again and over my shoulder, I watch him dance around taking photos of us from various angles.

I feel Loncey pull back from me and that makes me turn my head towards them.

"I'm sorry, Maeve," they say and I look up at them, unsure what they're talking about.

"Closer, closer," Jim is barking and I follow his orders, pressing more of my body against Loncey. We're so close again now I can't look up and see their face.

And that's when I feel it. Or rather, I feel them. I look down and although I can't see much – our bodies are really pressed together now – I see enough. And I feel much more. A hard ridge. A solid warmth. A part of Loncey.

"Really," they say in little more than a whisper, their mouth close to the top of my head and their breath warming my hairline, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say quickly. I'm still figuring out how I feel about them getting a hard-on, but I already know I don't want them feeling bad about it.

"We can stop," they say, and I feel their eyes on me, but I'm still looking to the side, hearing the clicks of Jim's camera behind me. "If you're uncomfortable."

"No," I say. "I'm not uncomfortable."

Which isn't completely true. Of course, I'm a bit uncomfortable. I'm standing in a cold air-conditioned room surrounded by strangers with my tits hanging out. And now I can feel an erect penis brushing up against the top of my hip. I don't like penises much, especially erect ones.

But weirdly, perversely perhaps and definitely frustratingly, I do like the idea of Loncey being turned on by this.

"Didn't have you down as being all about the boobs," I say in a gritted whisper, unsure why I'm making a crass joke about this, but I'm relieved I do when I feel Loncey's body shake a little with laughter.

"I'm not. I don't normally have this… reaction when I'm in a room with such a sleazy jackass either. I'm talking about Jim, not you, by the way."

"Gotcha," I say with a smile. "It's the organic cotton, isn't it? There's just something about sustainable fabrics that gets you going."

Another shake of light laughter. "You got me."

"Okay, too much smiling." Jim tuts loudly. "Try to look a bit moodier. People want a broody man modelling their pants, not someone with the giggles."

"They're not a man!" I bark at the same time Loncey shouts, "I'm not a man!"

*****

"Fucking hell, love. Try and look like you're enjoying yourself!" Jim shouts at the young woman who has taken my place. She introduced herself as Milky Mia, a plus-size MyFans creator from Australia whose body reveals exactly why she's got that name. Even I am struggling to keep my eyes off her huge breasts which are impressively contained inside a bra that matches the design of the one I was wearing. No matter how shitty their choice of photographer, I can't fault the underwear brand itself for not being inclusive and comfortable. I actually kept on the knickers and bra they gave me and I'm wearing them now under my clothes as I sit and wait for Loncey to get dressed and emerge from the cubicle.

They walk out a few moments later, but not before I hear Milky Mia's Australian accent belt out, "Who does this cunting dickhead think he is?" after Jim tells her to make her nipples hard.

I stand to greet Loncey. "You're still here?" they say, seeming surprised.

"I'm still here," I say because I don't really have a good explanation for why I waited through their solo shoot and why even after that's long over, I'm still here.

Actually, that's a lie.

"I wanted to say thank you," I say.

They raise an eyebrow.

"For being… so… so supportive," I stumble over my words. Why is this so hard? Maybe I just shouldn't bother. I'm about to take it back and just mumble a quick goodbye so I can escape to my hotel room but then Loncey leans closer and I can smell them again. It's a scent that has the sweetness of whatever products they use on their hair and body, like candy floss and sugar cookies fresh out of the oven, but there's something else, something woody and homely, like pine and a fire burning in a next-door room.

"Are you talking about my erection?" they say in a low voice.

And I laugh. I open up my mouth, throw my head back and I laugh.

"Shut the fuck up back there!" Jim's harsh voice snaps my head up and my mouth closed. I look up into Loncey's eyes and expect to see them giggling with me, but they're looking right at me. Their brown eyes wide, searching, and their lips slightly parted.

"What?" I ask, putting a hand to my face. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

They shake their head. "No, Maeve. You're perfect. Just perfect."

When heat rushes to my neck and face, I look away, down at my bag which I move to pick up.

"Well, I just thought it the decent thing to say thank you, considering how much of a misogynistic prick he was being," I say in a low voice, but apparently not low enough.

"Seriously, quiet! Or get out!" Jim barks.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Loncey says and they grip my arm. "I don't know about you but I've had enough of that sexist asswad to last me a lifetime."

"Yeah, that cunt can choke on a cactus, as far as I'm concerned," I say and that makes Loncey laugh, and then cup a hand over their mouth to stifle the giggles.

Chuckling with them, I grab my bag and go willingly as they lead me out of the room.