Chapter Fifteen
Reid
“We’ve gotten creative with our posing so far without taking off too many clothes. Now I need you to tell me exactly what I’m trying to capture, and then we’re going to set it up. Where’s your camera stand?”
Hazel’s doe eyes stared up at me, her lips parted slightly, and a flush creeping up the side of her neck. It seemed someone enjoyed being bossed around. Which was good, because I wanted to be the one telling her what to do right now.
Not in real life, of course, because I was all about her newfound confidence in the last few months, but when we were alone working on her commissions, I had no problem taking the lead. At least until she decided it was her turn. I could be a good boy when I needed to be.
“Um, I, uh…” she stuttered, her cheeks bright pink. I fucking loved that she had a tell, and I had been fantasizing way too much lately about what she’d look like with nothing on and exactly where that flush would spread when I made her come.
Leaning back, I offered her my hand, helping her sit up on the couch. Her eyes widened when she looked at my shorts, and I had a feeling that my compression shorts weren’t doing too much to conceal my reaction to her.
“Can you…” She shooed me away, and I took a seat on the coffee table, leaning forward and bracing my forearms on my thighs.
“Spill. I’m not letting you back out on me now.”
But my courageous spitfire had suddenly clammed up again, refusing to open those gorgeous lips .
“Since you have decided to go silent on me, let’s see if I can guess.” Raising an eyebrow, I watched as she leaned back against the cushions, banding her arms around her knees in a defensive posture. I rubbed my hands together, grinning as I continued. “Earlier, you mentioned something about me keeping my hands to myself, and then I caught you watching…what you were watching. Does your commission have something to do with self-pleasure?”
“Maybe,” she mumbled, tugging on her lower lip with her teeth.
“And you also said that you didn’t even need me to be in the same room to catch the picture you needed. So that leads me to believe that at least one character is touching themselves while the other one is listening…or watching.”
A tiny nod was all the confirmation I got, but without her explicitly telling me, I was forced to imagine my own version of the scene she’d been commissioned to draw. And while the thought of watching something like that was really fucking tempting, I was going to let her lead on how she wanted to stage this.
“The real question is…do you want to fake this scenario, or do you really want to act it out?”
Her eyes widened, her delicate mouth opening, but the pink hints on her cheeks gave her away. “Like with you… And me…” she stuttered, hugging her arms tighter around her legs.
“That’s up to you. Since what you were watching seemed self-explanatory, I’m assuming the male character is touching himself. But you never told me what the female character’s role is while he’s doing it.”
Hazel’s curious eyes continued staring at me, and I could tell she was clearly still having issues talking to me about anything sexual without getting embarrassed, so I pushed the envelope a little.
“Here’s what I think we need to do. You help me set up your camera in your bedroom to capture the angle you need, and when I go home, I’ll do the same thing. Then you’re going to call me, and we’ll talk things through while we get the images you need.”
“And the things we’ll be talking through are…? ”
Scooting forward again, I pulled Hazel’s arms loose and leaned over her, bracing my hand on the back of the couch. “That’s up to you, but I’d be more than happy to tell you exactly how I think you should touch yourself. Because I might keep things covered for taking the pictures you need, but while I’m on the phone with you, I don’t think I can keep myself from taking things into my own hands while I imagine the sounds you make while you’re touching yourself.”
“You’re blurring the lines again, Reid.”
Standing up and holding my hand out toward her so we could get started, I said what had been on my mind for weeks. “Maybe there shouldn’t be any lines between us, Haz. Not anymore.”
An hour later, I was still waiting for Hazel to call me. After helping her set up her camera next to her bed and leaving her with a suggestive wink that’d made her blush again, I’d rushed home to duplicate the same setup.
While I waited, I’d worked on getting the side profile shots of myself she’d described, sheets pulled low on my hips. My fist was wrapped around the white material, grasping the erection I hadn’t been able to control while I pretended I was doing something a little more salacious.
You couldn’t really see any details, just my exposed hip at the edge of the sheet, but I hoped it was close enough that Hazel could fill in the rest of what she needed using her imagination. Or the memory of the man she’d been watching on her phone. Because she’d better not have been looking for more videos to watch when I would have gladly sent her one.
Now I was lying on my bed, my briefs pulled back on, staring at my phone like the desperate man I’d become around her. I was also waiting for a response to the last text message I’d sent her as Seven before I’d come over to the bar tonight to help Hudson put up some new shelves in the storeroom after last call.
Seven: What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but never told anyone about?
But she’d left my alter ego on read all evening as well while she was online looking up naughty videos.
I’d even been thinking about what to tell her once she finally answered me. I was trying to be more open with information about myself without giving too much away regarding my identity. She hadn’t asked again for more specifics on my job, but I’d revealed things—or wanted to reveal things—that I didn’t even share with Hudson.
And I wanted to tell her what I’d been thinking about more and more lately, because once my identity was revealed, I wanted to bring her on to help me. If she was still talking to me, that is.
Deciding to torture myself more, I navigated to my external file hosting service, clicking on the link I’d sent her from the time we’d spent together at the distillery. I knew it was stupid to look at them, because it’d just make me feel more frustrated, but I couldn’t help myself.
Before the images could load, a text came through, making my pulse skip and I closed out of the window.
Fourteen: Sorry, was distracted by something earlier and didn’t see this come through.
Yeah, I’m sure you were, dirty girl , was what I wanted to reply, knowing that she’d been looking at porn when I’d sent that message. But I behaved myself because Seven didn’t know what she’d been doing.
Seven: No worries, you’re here now. Anything I can help with? Need someone to talk things through?
Fourteen: No. It’s fine. Just a project that I was working on. A friend helped me get things figured out.
But had I? She hadn’t called me after I’d left, and she hadn’t sent a response to my email with the pictures I’d sent her. Maybe I had come on too strong.
Seven: You going to answer my question from earlier, or do you want me to go first?
Fourteen: Gasp. You mean you’ll share something with me, and I don’t have to drag it out of you?
Seven: I’ve given you answers about myself.
Fourteen: Begrudgingly. But sure, you go first. Although from what I know about you, I have a hard time believing you don’t go after what you want. I can’t see there being much you would want to do that you wouldn’t make happen.
Seven: Sometimes even assertive people have things they keep to themselves.
Fourteen: Like specific details about their jobs?
Seven: Touche. But this has to do with my job in a roundabout way.
Fourteen: I’m intrigued. Go ahead.
Seven: I’ve been thinking of holding workshops at my shop during summer break. For kids whose parents can’t afford to send them to summer camp.
Fourteen: What kind of workshops?
Obviously, I couldn’t tell her outright that I wanted to teach kids how to fine-tune their illustration skills and tell them what kinds of jobs they could use those skills for that didn’t require more than a high school diploma, because then she would have asked questions about what professional experience I had in that area. But I knew if anyone would understand the need to encourage kids to pursue artistic endeavors, she would. I also had a few other local business owners I thought might be good to partner with because I knew they had similar backgrounds to mine and applied their creative talents to practical businesses.
If it hadn’t been for my art teachers in high school, along with Hudson’s parents, seeing my artistic skills and encouraging me to find a way to use them without needing a college degree, I wouldn’t have become a tattoo artist. I’d probably be working in construction with my dad and uncle. Which wouldn’t have been nearly as fulfilling as the career and life I’d been able to build for myself over the last decade doing something I was passionate about.
Seven: Helping them learn how to do things with their hands. Actual skills they could develop without having to rely on going to college.
Fourteen: You didn’t go, did you?
Seven: No. Wasn’t in the cards for me. We didn’t have a lot of extra cash growing up, and I wasn’t the best student academically, so I found a way to harness my other skills.
Fourteen: And those skills would be?
Seven: Nice try. But I want to be a safe place these kids can come to where they don’t feel pressured to conform to what some guidance counselor thinks they should do. Not everyone is cut out for college, and there aren’t enough adults that encourage kids to go into other trades.
Fourteen: Carpenter? You like polishing your wood ?
I couldn’t hold in the smile because of our interactions earlier in the evening, but I wasn’t budging on keeping some things to myself.
Seven: Nope.
Fourteen: Plumber? You going to come snake my pipes?
Seven: While my snake would love to be introduced to your pipes, no.
Fourteen: Mechanic? You want to check my fluids?
Seven: Wow, you’re really giving this your all to figure it out. But, no. And last I checked, plumbers and mechanics don’t mark things for people. You’ll just have to be patient.
Fourteen: Fine. I’ll behave.
Seven: We both know that isn’t true.
Fourteen: I think you secretly like me feisty.
Seven: Not a secret.
Fourteen: Have you told anyone else about these workshops? I bet there are lots of people (me included) who would love to help you start some kind of summer program for kids like that.
Seven: No. It’s just an idea at this point.
Fourteen: You haven’t told anyone but me?!? What about your friends? I’m sure they’d help where they could if they knew how much you wanted to make this happen.
Seven: No. My best friend probably wouldn’t get it. He never had any doubts about his future like I did as a kid. His family was fully on board with what he wanted to do, and his parents helped him through school.
Which was something I never held against Hudson. He’d been tagging along to spend time at the bar—learning the ropes from his dad—since we were kids. Then, once he was old enough to work there, he’d jumped right in and never even considered doing something else with his life.
He’d also had parents who could afford to send him to college to hone his skills in restaurant management. So, while I’d taken the long route to making my dreams come true, he’d had a level of privilege I’d always been a little envious of. But his family had never judged me for taking a different route. His dad had even worked with me to develop a business plan when I’d been trying to get the loan to open my shop after I’d moved back to Sage Springs.
Fourteen: My parents were supportive like that too. They never tried to convince me to do anything else once I told them I wanted to be an illustrator. But it probably helped I had scholarships to subsidize school, and that my brother gave me a job when I graduated, so I didn’t have to be a starving artist while I figured things out.
Seven: My parents were supportive. I don’t want you to think they weren’t, and they helped where they could. But I know some kids aren’t so lucky.
Fourteen: And you want to be that person for them?
This was why I was falling so hard for her, because no matter who I was when we talked, she seemed to get it. Get me . And she didn’t judge.
Hudson meant well. He’d always been there when I needed him, and I never doubted for a second he had my back. But sometimes I felt like he used my recreational activities as a justification that I couldn’t take things seriously.
I knew he’d use the same lens to judge my feelings for Hazel. He wouldn’t look at the fact I adored her for who she was. Every part of her, even the ones she hid from her brother. He’d focus on how adamant I’d once been that I didn’t want to be in a committed relationship. But I’d always told him, if I found the right person, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I just hadn’t realized that the right person had been literally hiding under my nose for years. Only she hadn’t been ready yet. And neither had I.
But I was ready now. And there was a very real possibility she was going to hate me in a week when I walked into that reveal and told her I loved her. But I was still going to try.
Fourteen: To answer your question, I guess you could say I’m doing what I always wanted to do right now.
Seven: How so?
Fourteen: I’m creating art on my own terms.
Seven: With your commissions?
Fourteen: Yeah. I know my family wouldn’t understand what I’ve been doing. But I really enjoy it. Bringing these characters to life. I know I’m not writing the books, or planning the scenes, but I feel like I’m breathing life into these author’s creations.
Seven: I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re insanely talented. And even if you were drawing less racy things, I’d still think your determination was sexy as hell.
Fourteen: I know you can’t see it, but you’re making me blush.
Seven: I want to tell you to take a picture. Even though I know I shouldn’t and it’s breaking the rules, it’s killing me not to see it.
She didn’t respond right away, but I watched the little dots dancing on the screen with rapt attention until I had to put my phone down because I was having dangerous thoughts of using my keys to go back over there .
After ten minutes of staring at the television across the room that I wasn’t really watching, my phone pinged.
The image waiting for me almost made me blow my cover and follow through with my fleeting thoughts to throw everything out the window and confess who I really was to her tonight.
She was laying against her pillows, a hint of cleavage peeking above the neckline of her white tank top. Her red hair fanned out around her on the pillowcase and an enticing pink blush splashed her cheeks and traveled down the side of her neck. A peek of pink mesh panties, just barely visible at the bottom of the frame, made my arousal from earlier roar back to life.
Seven: You’re making it very difficult to be a good boy and stay away from you.
I probably should have phrased it differently, because I wasn’t supposed to know where she was, but she didn’t seem to pick up on that.
Fourteen: Maybe I want you to be a bad boy. But we've only got a week left. Do I get a picture now? Seems only fair that you reciprocate since I sent you one of me.
Seven: And I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop looking at it. I was right; you are a sexy little thing.
Fourteen: You can’t even see my entire face.
Seven: Not looking at your face right now.
Fourteen: You can’t be impressed by my tiny boobs.
Seven: Nope. You’re not doing that. You’re breathtaking. It’s literally taking all my self-control right now not to call the event coordinator and figure out how to get my hands on you before Valentine’s Day.
Fourteen: I like the idea of your hands on me. You going to send me a picture of them?
Fuck. I’d wanted to send a picture of them holding onto the one thing that was hiding under my sheets earlier, doing something similar to the video she’d been watching, but Seven would not be sending her dick pics, and neither would I.
Seven: Fine. I’ll send you a picture, but we both know this is breaking the rules, naughty girl.
Trying to decide what to include in the shot that wouldn’t give me away, I glanced around my room. The reflective visor on the motorcycle helmet sitting on the bench by my door gave me an idea. I hopped up and placed it on my dresser, framing the shot, so it captured what I wanted it to without being too obvious.
Fourteen: That’s a motorcycle helmet. You were supposed to send me a picture of you .
But clearly, she hadn’t realized I had technically sent her a picture of me. It was barely distinguishable in the small screen on my phone, but on the visor was the reflection of a shirtless man holding a phone.
Seven: Very good. Such a clever girl.
I was waiting for her to give me shit for not doing what she asked. But I wasn’t going to send her something revealing because I was afraid with my piercings and tattoos, she’d figure it out if I sent her a picture right now. I should have known my secretly naughty girl would still find a way to flirt with me despite my continued evasions.
Fourteen: I can imagine you whispering that in my ear in your deep sexy voice.
Seven: Good girl.
Fourteen: I want to hear you whisper that too. Hold on, brb. Gotta go change my panties. The thought of your voice is making them wet.
Seven: As long as you tell me what color they are before you take them off.
Fourteen: You’re naughty.
Seven: I think you are too. Or at least you want to be.
Fourteen: Light pink mesh, if you squint at the bottom of my picture, you can see them.
Seven: :growls:
Fourteen: So, does that mean you’re teaching me to ride once we meet?
Seven: Huh?
Fourteen: The helmet. You told me during our date that you ride. Are you still going to teach me?
Seven: Are you a good listener?
Fourteen: I promise to be good.
Seven: You’d have to listen carefully to my instructions. Maybe it’s safer if you ride with me first. I’d bet you’ll be a warm little backpack.
Fourteen: I’d happily ride you.
Seven: Somehow, I don’t think you’re referring to my bike.
Fourteen: Now who’s naughty?
Seven: You’re the one with their mind in the gutter. I’m just over here coming up with a lesson plan to teach you how to ride.
Fourteen: I’m more of a learn by doing kind of gal.
Seven: Then I guess I’d better be ready for you to do me.
Fourteen: Seven more days and you’d better be.
Seven: I thought the whole point of texting like this was to get to know each other better and not make everything physical.
Fourteen: Then you better get to know me quickly. Because if your body matches the voice that I hear in my bed at night, then you’d better clear your calendar.
Seven: What’s your favorite color again?
Fourteen: Not even going to acknowledge that I hear your voice in my head when I touch myself?
Seven: No, because I’m never going to make it through the next week if I do.
Fourteen: What color are your boxers?
Seven: Blue.
Fourteen: Then blue is my favorite color to see on the floor next to my bed.
Seven: Well, it’s now on the floor next to mine.
Fourteen: Does that mean you’re touching yourself?
Seven: It means I’m about to get in the shower.
Fourteen: So, you’re texting me naked?
Seven: There’s a good possibility.
Fourteen: Want me to join you?
Seven: Killing me…
Fourteen: Have fun in the shower. I know I will. My shower head has 12 settings.
Fuck. Well, now I knew what I’d be imagining while I stroked myself in the shower. Picturing what Hazel did with those 12 settings was going to have to tide me over until I could see it in person.
Seven: Goodnight, naughty girl.
Fourteen: :picture of a pair of light pink mesh panties on a gray bathroom rug:
Since she was going there, I didn’t see the harm in sending her another picture.
Seven: :picture of a pair of dark blue boxer briefs on a gray tile floor:
Fourteen: My dreams will be very sweet.
So would mine.
The night may not have turned out how I’d wanted it to, and I was insanely jealous that Hazel had initiated this kind of conversation with Seven and not me, but I’d shared something with her I hoped would make my case later. Even if it was unconventional, I had faith she’d see our conversations as Fourteen and Seven as a way to get to know each other. That wouldn’t have happened as Hazel and Reid.
The history that had driven her away from me in real life wasn’t there when she was talking to me as Seven. And while I was still holding some things back, there were other parts of myself I’d never revealed to anyone but her.
But that didn’t mean I was backing off in real life. Especially when I opened our text thread after my shower, a rough sketch of the poses we’d taken pictures of earlier filling the screen.
Reid: You never called me.
Hazel: I managed to take care of things myself.
And I tried to keep my mind off other things I knew she was taking care of by herself. Things I desperately wanted to be doing for her.
Reid: I see that. What’s next in the queue?
Her next text was a link to an mp3 file that I didn’t hesitate to download. As the scene she sent played out the speakers of my phone, I wasn’t sure I had the willpower to wait until tomorrow night to act this one out.