11. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Rayne
I jolt awake, heart pounding, disoriented. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across my bedroom. It takes a moment for my foggy brain to catch up. I'm in my apartment, not the studio. Luna's warm weight presses against my legs, her furry body curled atop the sheet covering my naked form.
Frowning, I mutter to myself, "I could've sworn I locked that door..."
My eyes narrow as I study Luna. How did they get past her? She's a terror with strangers.
Reaching for my phone, I notice it's plugged in. A considerate touch that sends a chill down my spine. The time makes me groan, 6:17 AM.
"Shit," I hiss, sitting up abruptly. "I'm so behind."
Luna gives an indignant meow as she's jostled from her perch.
"Oh, stop being dramatic," I tell her, throwing off the sheets. "That's my job today."
As I stumble towards the shower, my mind races through my packed schedule. Edit the farewell breast shoot. Client pickup. Drinks with Kahlee. And somehow, I need to clean the studio after... everything.
The hot water does little to ease the tension in my shoulders. I can't shake the way my heart races at the memory of what happened. But I push it down, lock it away. I have a business to run.
"No days off for the self-employed," I remind my reflection as I get dressed, carefully choosing clothes that don't accentuate my curves.
In the kitchen, I grab a quick bite before dealing with Luna's dramatic pleas for breakfast.
"You'd think I never feed you," I mutter, pouring kibble into her bowl.
As she eats, I pause, my hand resting on the doorknob leading downstairs. My studio awaits, likely still bearing evidence of last night's unexpected events. I take a deep breath, steeling myself.
I descend the stairs, each step echoing in the silence. At the bottom, I pause, listening intently. The studio is eerily quiet, the music that was playing last night now silent. My heart rate quickens as I approach the larger bedroom set.
Stepping inside, I freeze, my eyes widening in disbelief. "What the..."
The room is immaculate. The bed is stripped bare, no trace of last night's activities visible. My clothes, which I distinctly remember being scattered on the floor, have vanished. The lights are all off, and the tripods are neatly packed away.
A wave of panic washes over me as I realize the cameras are missing. "No, no, no," I mutter, frantically searching the studio. After several frantic minutes, I spot them in my office lined up perfectly on my desk, exactly as I would have arranged them after a normal shoot.
My mind reels. How did they know? It can't be a coincidence, can it? The precision, the attention to detail – it's unsettling.
Sitting next to the cameras, the bundle of cash, complete with its shiny gold pin. It gleams as though mocking me, like ‘here is an extra something for letting us ruin you for other men’.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and unease. Focus, Rayne, you have work to do.
Grabbing my other keys from a drawer, I head towards the basement and connected parking garage. As I descend the second flight of stairs, the feeling of being watched fades away. This is the one area I know prying eyes can’t see or get into.
It doesn't take long to run my errand and I'm back in my studio again by 8 am. I work through moving the data from last night's shoot from the storage cards and into the large server I have for storing client images. I don't look at them, the memory of the night before is far too fresh to bring myself to look at them.
Instead, while the computer is processing the data, I start on editing a different set of images. The photoshoot from the other day, the one where they were saying farewell to her breasts. I take a moment to admire the set again and the beautiful purple lingerie. It's a guilty pleasure of mine that I love lingerie even though I don't wear it often. When I do, I feel sexy, but they don't make sexy lingerie that is ideal for the way I have to constantly move around when I'm photographing someone.
The shoot for this couple wasn't an erotic shoot and was a little more posed than candid, but the images still looked amazing. I spend several hours working through most of the selected images, until my eyes are strained from looking so closely at my computer screen. There are also so many tiny edits in a photoshoot–little stray strands of hair in the wrong place, random pieces of string from lingerie, a tag that's suddenly showing on the best images, temporary blemishes from nerves. I have lost count of the number of times I've had to edit out a hair band around a wrist that was forgotten.
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. The tedious work is necessary, but it takes a toll. My mind starts to wander, drifting back to the events of last night. The thrill, the rush, the mind blowing pleasure. A small smile tugs at my lips.
A notification chimes on my computer and I click on it, noticing I missed one from the previous morning as well. Both have my heart racing as I bring up the news articles about the new murder victims. There is still a frustrating lack of detail in both articles, but somehow the police have been able to contain the details of two more murders without anything being leaked to the press. The only new details I garner from the articles is that they are being investigated by two detectives who specialize in serial killers. It's the first time the words "serial killer" have been used and a shiver goes through me, my body tingling slightly. I'm beyond fascinated.
In the article from today, it simply says that when approached for comment, one of the detectives, a Detective Maddox, said they are completely focused on finding the person responsible.
Closing down the articles, I return to the editing, but my mind keeps drifting back to the murders. I take a break and head upstairs for lunch and Luna snuggles, though she seems highly offended that it's only me, causing me to frown at her again. Her behavior has been odd lately, and I can't shake the feeling that something is off.
After lunch I return to editing and get the gallery finished and the art and album ordered. I’ve just hit submit when there is a knock at the studio door, checking the time I see that I’ve timed it perfectly for my appointment.
I make my way to the door, smoothing down my dress and plastering on a warm, professional smile. As I open it, I'm greeted by Lacy Matthews' beaming face.
"Lacy! Come on in," I say, gesturing her inside.
She practically bounces through the doorway, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, Rayne! I can't tell you how excited I've been for this day!"
As I close the door behind her, Lacy turns and grasps my hands in hers. "The photoshoot was just... magical," she gushes, her eyes never leaving mine. "You made me feel so beautiful, so empowered. I've never experienced anything like it."
I smile, used to such effusive praise. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Lacy. That's exactly what I aim for with every client."
As we walk towards my client's sitting area where her album and wall art are waiting, I can't help but notice how Lacy's gaze seems to drink in every detail of the studio. It's almost as if she's replaying the photoshoot in her mind.
"You know," I say, trying to fill the silence, "most of my clients come in nervous, but leave feeling much more confident. It's really rewarding to see that transformation."
Lacy nods enthusiastically. "Oh, I can imagine! You have such a gift, Rayne. Such a special way of... capturing people."
There's something in her tone that makes me pause, but I push the feeling aside as we reach the seating. I pick up the boudoir album from the coffee table, its leather cover cool against my fingers.
"Ready to see the final product?" I ask, opening the album.
Lacy's eyes widen, and she leans in close as we begin to flip through the pages. "Oh my god," she breathes, her finger tracing one of the images. "You've made me look... perfect."
As we continue through the album, Lacy talks animatedly about each photo, pointing out details I hadn't even noticed.
"This one," she says, lingering on a particular shot, "it's like you saw right into my soul, Rayne. Like you really know me."
I laugh softly, ducking my head. "Well, that's part of my job – to capture the essence of my clients."
Lacy looks up at me, her eyes shining. "You certainly captured mine," she whispers.
I smile, feeling a mix of pride and unease at her intense gaze. Clearing my throat, I stand and move to the large, framed wall art I'd prepared.
"And for the pièce de résistance," I say, unveiling the piece with a flourish.
Lacy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears well up in her eyes as she stares at the enlarged image of herself, artfully posed and bathed in soft light.
"Oh, Rayne," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion.
I quickly grab a tissue from a nearby box, offering it to her. "Here you go," I say gently.
She takes it, dabbing at her eyes while fanning her face with her other hand. "I just... I look so sexy and beautiful," Lacy says, her words tumbling out. "Thank you, thank you so much."
I feel a warmth spread through my chest at her reaction.
Lacy suddenly straightens, composing herself. "Oh, I should get out of your hair," she stammers. "I'm sure you have a lot to do, and you don't need me gushing at you all evening."
I laugh. "Actually, I just have drinks with a friend tonight. Nothing too pressing."
Her smile falters for a moment, becoming strained. I wonder if I've said something wrong. Does she not socialize with friends? Or worse, does she not have any? I mentally kick myself for not considering that before mentioning my plans.
"That's nice," Lacy says, her voice tight. She moves forward suddenly, enveloping me in a hug. As one of the only women I’ve met who is taller than me, it’s a little strange to be surrounded by her. "Thank you again, Rayne. This means more to me than you know."
As she collects her things to leave, I can't shake the feeling of sadness that presses in at the thought she might not have anyone. Although I am glad she chose to do the photoshoot for herself. My professional mask slips for just a moment as I watch her go, trying to remember back to her photoshoot and if she spoke of having anyone in her life.
Shaking my head, I tidy up the sitting area, lock the studio door behind her and head upstairs. A client’s excitement and happiness is what I live for – helping people feel empowered and beautiful. Lacy felt that in a profound way, and to me that was a good thing.
It's nearly time to meet Kahlee for drinks so I grab my purse, pausing to scratch Luna behind the ears. She purrs contentedly, seemingly back to her usual friendly self after her earlier dramatics.
"Be good while I'm gone," I tell her with a wink. "No wild parties."