Chapter 38: Model!

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Her expression changed immediately. "Two hundred for a days' work?"

….

"Not for a day's work," I added, then continued hurriedly as her enthusiasm seemed to drain.

"For two hours, or three hours tops." It was actually a bit more than what I was going to pay for today's model, but still well below what an agency would charge.

"A hundred dollars an hour," she murmured, shocked.

"A hundred that IRS has no idea about its existence," I said.

She looked conflicted, and for a moment, I was sure that she was about to accept, but then she spoke once more. "No, I can't," she said, though the conflict was obvious in her tone.

"You can put on a wig, some make-up, and a bit of careful digital retouching later, I can make sure that no one could identify you," I added, trying to break the most likely cause of her unwillingness.

Luckily, there was actually a wig in today's set, because the company was obsessive about the hair color of their model.

"Really, no one?" she murmured, making me smile inwardly with the satisfaction of a perfect hit.

"Sure, let me prove you," I said, turned back and started walking. She followed me and soon we were in the basement.

"It looks nice," she said, her attention grabbed by the changes.

"I did my best," I added even as I reached for the clothes pack that was sent by the company, pulling the wig out.

For once, their cheapness was helpful for my needs. They were quite peculiar about the hair color they wanted their clothes matched with, but they were not willing to pay enough to actually find a model that had that color naturally or as a die.

"Why don't you put that on and walk just in front of the screen, so I could prove just how different I can make you."

She said nothing, but followed my directions nevertheless, which was the important face.

Soon, she was cycling through a few basic poses based on my commands. "Good instincts," I said, impressed.

She was quite easy to work with, despite the fact that it was the first time she was posing professionally.

Not only was she able to follow the commands correctly after a few tries, she also didn't have the undeserved ego of the failed models I usually worked with, wasting half of the shoot with their pointless opinions and bickering.

"Now let's see just how different we can make you without destroying your beauty," I added, leaving a big blush on her face. A bit of flattery was never amiss.

I worked on the computer silently for a couple of minutes, mostly applying predefined filters and some broad strokes, prioritizing speed over the quality since it was not a final product but just a conceptual sample.

"It's so beautiful and foreign," she murmured when I showed her the picture.

"Just foreign," I said, and her expression started to sour until I uttered my next words.

"You are already beautiful, we just changed a few details." And just like I expected, she blushed once more, surprising me with the vulnerability she was showing towards even the simplest components.

She must have stayed away from the dating scene for a while to take care of her stepdaughters, or the fact that she had daughters scared a lot of guys, like I expected to share the home with a few brats instead of hot twenty-somethings.

"So, are you ready to start?"

"I don't know…" she murmured yet again, but this time, I could see that I was close to victory.

"You know, if they like the poses, there is no reason for us to not to work together for the other shootings as well. I'm sure that the extra revenue of a thousand wouldn't hurt."

"A thousand a month?" she repeated in surprise. "Do you think I can earn that much?"

"I don't see a reason not to, you are young, beautiful, and skilled," I repeated. "Why don't you go and try the clothes on the pack. And as an added perk, I'm sure that I could convince the company to gift them to you, including the make-up set they added to keep the color."

"Really," she said with a clear enthusiasm, making me realize that I should have started on that. Women and clothes, I would never understand it.

Ironic, considering what I was making my living off. She picked the clothes and went upstairs, ignoring the small section I separated as a makeshift dressing room.

I turned my attention to the set as I waited for her arrival, conducting one last check on the equipment.

I wanted everything to be ready before she came back. More time I spent trying to fix things, the more time she would have to change her mind, and I didn't want that to happen. I needed this job to be completed without a hitch.

I raised my gaze as I heard the door open, only to see my landlady dressed in a nice dress, a bit tighter than it should be owing to her generous bosom and voluptuous bottom, but it worked even better like that.

I was sure the company wouldn't have any problem. I certainly didn't have any.

"It looks perfect," I said.

"Really," she said, doubt clear on her words, but nevertheless climbing down the stairs. "Don't you think it's a bit too tight?"

"Nope," I answered without skipping a beat. "It's just perfect. Now, stand in the middle, and give me a relaxed pose." She complied. "Now raise your hand a bit, and give me a bright smile…"

The next half an hour passed in a similar vein until I was able to gather an appropriate amount of decent pictures, a nice surprise.

Even with the best estimation, I was expecting it to last more than an hour for the first set, owing to her lack of experience, but that she adapted much better than I had hoped to.

She wasn't suddenly a top-tier model, but her ability to emote and pose was more than enough for the third rate website I was working for.

More importantly, she followed my every command without any delay.

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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