Emma had a reason for acting this way, but her gut was louder than her brain, pushing her to do sothing. She sat at a café, waiting for her friend, the sll of coffee and chatter filling the air. Her foot tapped fast as she stared at her phone. Finally, she typed a quick ssage: "If you don’t text back by 5 p.m., I’m coming to find you!" She hit send and huffed.
Why did she care so much? She just wanted one little reply from this person who kept buzzing in her head. "Ugh, I thought I’d let this go," she grumbled, twisting her hair. Emma wasn’t the type to sit still. "If that’s how it is, I’ll deal with it," she’d say—and she always did. That’s why she boldly tried out to be an underwear model and rocked the photoshoot. Now, it ant if she didn’t hear back by 5 p.m., she’d storm the studio herself.
She grinned a little. "Ha, I’d love to see that place again," she said quietly, imagining the lights and busy crew. Her phone said 12:40 p.m.—tons of ti left. Secretly, she kind of hoped they’d ignore her, just so she could show up and stir things up.
....
Across town, he dragged himself through his door, wiped out. Last night had been crazy—one he didn’t see coming. It started with a last-minute call from Kelly, pulling him into a wild night that lasted way too long. He’d planned to finish quick and crash at ho, but nope. Instead, he went from a cheap motel to school that morning, then finally ho as the sky turned orange. "Man," he sighed, kicking off his shoes. "I gotta get it together," he told himself, rubbing his face.
Yesterday was supposed to go perfectly. He’d been at the studio, keeping it cool, when he saw Emma’s wet underwear from the shoot. It didn’t faze him—he stayed chill, did his job, and got out. But when he left, he couldn’t look her in the eye. His face got hot as he walked away fast. Later, alone, that image stuck with him—strong and real—and it lit sothing up inside. That’s when he called Kelly, needing to shake it off.
Now, flopped on his couch, he grabbed his gaming headset to unwind. Pop! A bright flash hit, and suddenly, he wasn’t ho. His ears caught the noise first—loud and lively—before his eyes figured it out. "Here, take another drink!" soone yelled, friendly and close. He looked up—his boss, the mall owner, smiling big. The guy wore a sharp t-shirt and shiny chains, holding out a glass.
"What’s going on?" he asked, blinking.
"Hey there!" his boss laughed. Clink! Their glasses bumped with a happy sound.
He looked around—wood tables, sizzling at, the smoky sll of a barbecue spot. Just him and his boss, chilling with juicy grilled beef and a few empty bottles. "Tough month, right?" his boss said, swirling his drink. "But if next month’s big launch goes well, you’re getting extra cash. Sound good?"
"Yeah, aweso! Thanks!" he said, smiling wide.
"Haha! That’s why I like you—you’re so cool, like kids say now."
He wasn’t sure "cool" was still a kid word, but he went with it, checking things out. Three bottles already? He pulled out his phone—6:05 p.m. Drinking in the afternoon with the boss. "Nice," he mumbled, head spinning a bit.
"Gonna run to the bathroom," he said, standing up.
"Sure, be quick!" his boss waved.
In the hall, he checked his phone again. A text popped up—Emma-Model 33. His heart jumped. "Whoa, what’s this?" He opened it and saw tons of unread ssages—15 from Emma, plus more from nas like "Model" or "Work." He laughed quietly. "Am I actually killing it right now?"
He read Emma’s texts. They started three days ago—"Can I send a pic?"—then got annoyed—"Why aren’t you answering?"—and ended with her big warning: "If I don’t hear back by 5 p.m., I’m at the studio." He stopped. It was 6:15 now. Was she there?
Kelly’s voice from last night rang in his ears: "Let’s talk more, okay?" He hadn’t texted her back either, but all these ssages felt like a win. His gut kicked in—sa vibe he had on his last big job, one he nailed fast. He had to see Emma tonight. It felt right.
"She’s really coming to the studio?" he whispered, picturing her bursting in, all energy and guts. He needed to get there. Now.
Back at the table, he didn’t ss around. "Boss, I gotta go."
"Huh? Why?" His boss frowned, tipsy and annoyed.
"Work stuff," he said fast. "The photos—if I don’t send them tonight, we’re in trouble. It’s urgent."
His boss groaned. "Fine, go."
He bolted out the door, heart pounding, the studio pulling him like a magnet.
"Alright, Yeah, sorry about it. Get ho safe, alright?"
I gave a quick, sharp bow, my head dipping low, then shoved myself up from the chair. Walking out of that restaurant without even a peek over my shoulder felt damn good—like I’d just dropped a heavy load off my back. The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, but then it slamd : I had no freaking idea where the studio was.
"Uh... crap."
Panic jolted through for a split second, my heart thumping hard. I shook it off and dug into my pocket, yanking out my phone.
There had to be sothing in here—a hint, a text, anything. My fingers swiped fast until I hit my chat with Emma. Boom—there it was, the studio address she’d tossed out days ago. I jamd it into my map app, no hesitation.
"Nice one."
I smirked, staring at the screen. The studio was in a building just one block down the street.
"Perfect."
My feet kicked into gear, moving quick and sure. The night felt alive now—crisp air brushing my cheeks, streetlights buzzing overhead. It was actually kind of nice.
Made total sense, too—why wouldn’t they pick a spot this close to the office for a company dinner? Knowing the studio was so near lted the tension in my shoulders.
Deep down, I had this gut feeling she’d be there with Emma. The quest—whatever weird ga we were playing—had to have started right here.
Step, step.
I could already see it: eting Emma, her big eyes flickering with that shy spark. Things had been solid lately.
Ever since that wild day, she’d been blowing up my phone—texts all the ti—and she even dragged herself out to the studio once.
That’s a hell of a trek from her school. If I played this right today, I might finally wrap up this quest thing.
Problem was, I couldn’t figure out how to get her all shy and flustered again like last ti. No way I could just stroll in and say, "Hey, Emma, strip down for so underwear pics again."
"...Wait, would that actually work?"
The thought popped up out of nowhere, crazy and dirty, but it stuck. I grinned to myself.
She’d been all into it last ti—snapping those solo shots, her cheeks pink, her breath fast. That’s what got her texting after, right? And now, fate or whatever was dragging us both back to the studio.
"Damn, I’m a genius."
I laughed under my breath, giving myself a ntal high-five as my legs moved faster. Before I knew it, I was at the building, pushing through the lobby and hopping into the elevator. The soft hum of it climbing floors filled my ears, my pulse picking up.
Ding-dong.
The doors slid open, and I stepped out onto the studio’s floor. Right there was a door—plain, a little beat-up, not quite familiar, but this was my spot. Weird vibe, though.
"Hmm."
I pushed it open slow. Inside, the shoe rack sat like always, scuffed and cluttered. Past that, a sliding door waited—the one that led to the shooting room.
Swish.
"Why’s this thing already open...?"
"Hmm..."
Creak.
I took one step inside, and a sound hit like a punch—a woman’s moan, low and hot, spilling out loud and clear. I dropped low fast, heart slamming against my ribs. The sliding door ahead was cracked open just enough, letting that sound leak through.
"Ha... oh..."
There it was again—sharp, needy, a shaky breath behind it. My skin prickled as I crept closer, staying low, and peeked through the gap.
"Oh, damn."
My jaw dropped. There was Emma—my Emma—spread out on that sa bed from her last shoot. Her shirt was shoved up, one hand sliding under her waistband, the other gripping the sheets. Her head was tipped back, lips parted, letting out those little gasps as her fingers worked fast. Wetness glistened on her thighs, her body trembling with every move.
I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face.
"Amazing."
All that stressing about how to make this happen? Pointless. She’d already lit the fuse—hotter and wilder than I’d ever pictured.
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