Darby
I press my back into the wall as soon as I ask the question and will myself to shut the hell up. I'm not an oversharer. I can read social cues. I know when to speak and when to listen.
But there's something about being locked in here—as nice a fitting room as it is—that is jumbling all of that up and making my mouth looser than a leaky faucet.
I have to admit, it's nice to be able to be free and honest with someone who seems to listen without judging.
The truth is, I do feel bad about the sorry state of things with my family, and I do walk around with a certain degree of shame for liking older guys.
Sky naturally doesn't, and as much as he encourages me to not to, I just can't seem to shake it.
He wants a Daddy is the first thing people think, and I know this to be true because it's often the first thing people say.
I don't want a Daddy. My attraction to older guys isn't about that. It's a deep pull, an allure, a connection I'm seeking that tugs at the very core of who I am.
Or they think I must have a terrible father, or it's some unprocessed trauma coming out in a sexual way, or I had a crush on my high school PE teacher.
All of those things may be true to some extent, but none of them offer the full, true explanation of where my thing for older guys comes from. I just like what I like. But I'd also never not be with a guy who isn't older.
I want someone who's kind. Reliable. Emotionally mature and available. Communicates well. Is confident without being cocky. Those are the most important things. Age is simply the cherry on top.
And if he happens to take the lead and be a little dominant in the bedroom? Then that's the cherry on top of the cherry on top.
But damn—did I have to hit Kip with my sexual preferences so up front like that?
"Are you still there?" I ask when a decent chunk of time lapses.
"Yeah, I'm here," Kip's deep voice reassures me. "I'm just thinking."
There's a shift in his tone that makes me think my question about his modeling career may have unintentionally struck a nerve.
"You don't have to tell me. I was just curious. We can talk about something else," I hedge as an uneasy feeling curdles in the pit of my stomach. "For example, we can attempt to diagnose how someone with such a hot speaking voice sings so badly."
I hear a light chuckle. "What I'm about to tell you isn't something I normally talk about, but since you've been so strong and brave, I'm inspired to take a leaf out of your book."
A warm feeling spreads through my chest, as if that's something to be proud of.
"Male modeling was a cutthroat industry," he begins. "In some ways, more so than female modeling because the opportunities for men were so much smaller and harder to come by back then. We were all battling for scraps. I was fortunate in that I had a very early 2000s look."
"Which for people who might be too young to know what that is, was…?"
"Right. Yeah. Of course… Do you remember Abercrombie and Fitch?"
"Is that a country band?"
He doesn't chuckle this time; he laughs. A full deep-throttle laugh that makes my stomach swoop.
"Oh boy. Let me try that again. Hmm…"
I wonder if he's tapping his chin right now.
I wonder how he's sitting.
I wonder what he's wearing.
I wonder what the hell he looks like. At least finding out what he looked like twenty years ago might help a bit with that.
"A popular look back then was tall, lean, and athletic. Think swimmer physique rather than bodybuilder bulk. It was all-American preppy with sharp jawlines, high cheekbones, and either clean-shaven or very light stubble."
I blink a few times. "You looked like that?"
"I did."
I hear him shuffling. Maybe he's changing how he's sitting? The wooden floor isn't exactly comfortable. I wonder why he hasn’t grabbed a chair. In a sign of solidarity, I get off the leather lounge and sit on the ground facing the door.
"I encountered photographers, agents, men, usually older men, who wielded a lot of power and influence in the industry. They were willing to help me grow my career…for a price."
"Oh."
"I think you can guess where this is heading."
I clench my fists. "I think so, yeah."
A few beats pass before he speaks again. "I was never forced to have sex with anyone. But there was definitely an expectation for me to do things in exchange for career advancement. Which I did. And which I felt horrible about."
He sighs heavily. "People have two choices when faced with something bad: they can deal with it, or they can numb themselves.
I was young and ill-equipped to deal with what I was experiencing, so I started drinking and doing drugs.
It was fun and games for a while…until it wasn't. One night, I was with a photographer in his hotel room.
The most powerful photographer in the industry at that time.
He kept asking me to do something I wasn't comfortable with. "
I hug my knees, somehow knowing to brace myself for something dark to come.
"He said watersports were a major fetish for him, and he wanted to piss on me.
I kept saying no and, somehow, managed to finish having sex and getting him off without having to do that.
I thought that was it, I'd dodged a bullet and was in the clear.
He got most of what he wanted, and I'd scored a hot jeans campaign.
I got up and started getting dressed when he snuck up behind me, shoved me so hard I fell to the ground, and started urinating all over me. "
"Oh my god."
"It was the worst moment of my life. Truly rock bottom.
I must've blocked parts of that night from my subconscious because, for the life of me, I can't remember getting out of there.
Or how I got back to my apartment. All I remember is sitting under the shower once I was safely back home, bawling my eyes out. "
I don't even know what to say.
"That was a turning point for me. I quit modeling. I got sober. And with the contacts I'd made and the money I'd saved, I was able to put a downpayment on a small bungalow in LA, and I secured two silent investors in this place."
"Wow, Kip. I'm so glad you were able to rebuild your life the way you have."
"Me, too. It wasn't easy, but I'm one of the lucky ones.
I know a lot of models—male and female—who have been through so much worse than what I went through.
My sobriety has been an on-off journey. I'm fully sober now, not California sober like I tried to be.
Some people can make that work, but I'm not one of them.
I love what I do for a living. I own my own home, and last year, I paid out my investors, so this store is all mine, too.
No one can ever take anything away from me. "
"Wow," I say again because I am in awe of this man.
He called me strong and brave, but he's the strong and brave one for not only getting out of that horrible situation, but creating a great new life for himself.
My brows pinch in a frown. "I'm sorry I called you sexy."
"Excuse me?"
"Before. I called you sexy. After what you've told me, I feel bad. I didn't mean to objectify you. I take it back."
"You do?"
"Yep. It's officially retracted off the record. It never happened."
"Oh…"
"What?"
"That's too bad."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I may not look like an Abercrombie and Fitch model anymore, but, Darby?"
I crane my neck closer to the door. "Yeah?"
"I think I'm still pretty damn sexy."