First Shot

The next day, she arrived at his address. A modest brick building in a creative district—no doorman, no flashy sign. She knocked, heart pounding. He opened the door, brightening at the sight of her. She apologized for being late, claiming a "work shift." In truth, she'd left her dancing job early, telling the manager she felt ill. All to ensure she made the shoot.

Mike's living room had been rearranged into a makeshift studio: a backdrop pinned to one wall, a ring light on a stand, reflectors leaning in the corner. Photographs of cityscapes dotted the walls, tacked up for inspiration. He handed her a portfolio album, describing each shot. She nodded, softly praising his technique, letting wonder fill her voice. He glowed under her approval.

"All right," he said eventually, "I have a few casual outfits you could try. Just to see how you move in front of the camera." He rummaged in a spare clothes rack. "This black slip might fit. You're about my…ex's size," he added sheepishly.

Tanya, eyes sharp, noted the mention of an ex but didn't probe. "Thank you," she said, stepping into a curtained-off corner. The slip was slightly loose but accentuated her curves. She emerged with false uncertainty, letting him see the timid tilt of her head.

The test shoot soared. She posed lightly, letting her natural dancer's grace flow. He shot frame after frame, occasionally voicing admiration. "You're unbelievably photogenic," he said, almost breathless at times. She mustered a shy grin. It was all too easy—he was enthralled.

Afterwards, they sat on his worn couch, reviewing the images on his laptop. Tanya made quiet exclamations of delight. "I… I never thought I could look like that," she lied in a modest tone. Inside, she exulted: the camera adored her, just as every man's stare did on stage.

Mike nodded. "I'll send these to a few connections. There's an agency called Maddy Reyes that might love you."

Her heart raced. "That's… that's incredible." Her voice wavered, conjuring an emotional glimmer. "I don't know how to repay you."

He pressed a hand over hers. "Don't worry about repaying me. I believe in real talent." The sincerity in his eyes almost disarmed her.

Days rolled into weeks. She returned daily for more shoots. Mike introduced her to styling tips, posture, expressions. Evenings, she sometimes lingered, ordering cheap takeout together. She discovered he was from a comfortable background, his parents paying for private photography school. She probed gently about old girlfriends, gleaning he'd had heartbreak but never cynicism. A softness in him tested her own convictions—maybe trusting someone wasn't so bad.

One night, she got drenched in a sudden downpour en route to his place. Dripping wet, she arrived at his door. Without hesitation, he offered her a spare T-shirt, set a warm towel around her shoulders. Their eyes locked. She let a trembling vulnerability color her voice. "My…my apartment is so far. Do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

He swallowed. "Not at all. You can take my room; I'll crash on the couch."

She studied him quietly. What man with such opportunity would so readily give up the bedroom, not expecting anything? She was used to men demanding her body as payment. This contrast tugged at her. She murmured, "Thank you," and a part of her almost meant it.

The next morning, agency calls began flooding in. Maddy Reyes, enthralled by the test shots, insisted on meeting Tanya. Nervous, she followed Mike into Maddy's sleek office. Maddy was statuesque, with steel-blue eyes and a reputation for launching global careers. She circled Tanya once, lips pursed thoughtfully.

"Walk for me," Maddy ordered. Tanya complied, pacing across the floor in simple heels, letting her posture exude runway confidence. Maddy's expression lit. "Excellent lines. We can refine them, but there's raw magic here," she said. "We'll start you with a perfume campaign next week."

A swirl of relief and excitement left Tanya speechless. She turned to Mike, eyes shining. He grinned, brimming with pride, as if the success belonged to them both. In that moment, her heart thrummed with a flicker of genuine affection. He's so… good, she admitted to herself.

Magazine covers followed. Billboards featuring her face popped up around Aurora's busiest intersections. She adopted a new presence online, slowly unveiling a persona that mingled exotic mystique with approachable charm. The city adored her. Mike, as her self-styled manager, negotiated shoots, hammered out contract details. Their synergy felt unstoppable. She discovered that falling into bed with him was surprisingly easy—gentle, sweet, a kind of warmth she'd never tasted before.

During those nights, she'd watch his sleeping form under the low lamp glow, feeling the strangest pang. He trusted her wholeheartedly, a trust she'd rarely encountered in men. She'd stroke his cheek, pondering a life spent truly loving him. Could this be real? Then a memory of dark clubs and locked closets shattered that fragile thought: I must never be that helpless child again.

Success soared. Tanya's face plastered half the city's digital screens. At a swanky after-party, she sipped champagne, radiant in a silver gown, while brand reps and small-time celebrities sang her praises. Mike hovered close, watchful, ensuring no unscrupulous manager cornered her. She found herself leaning on his shoulder, whispering jokes about an awkward commercial shoot. They laughed freely, kisses tasting of sweet champagne and possibility.

But the illusions threatened to crack whenever talk of "Mike's next discovery" arose. Certain stylists praised Mike's "eye for new models," and Tanya's chest constricted with irrational jealousy. She disguised it behind coy smiles, but the seed of paranoia sprouted. Could he repeat this miracle with some other, younger girl? The city was vast and hungry, and she dreaded losing her newly claimed throne.

One evening, as she slipped on a satiny red robe post-shoot, her phone vibrated with a message from a leading brand's rep: "We'd love you as our ambassador, but not if you keep that same manager. We want to attach you to a bigger agency." She stared at the text, exhaling sharply. She approached Mike, reading his warm eyes. He was sorting photos, telling her, "This new collection might be huge for you. They want you to shoot next week." She forced a bright nod, but her mind circled the brand's ultimatum.

Silently, she orchestrated behind-the-scenes deals, aligning with a top-tier management firm. She didn't mention it to Mike. She just let him believe everything was fine. The swirling conflict inside her grew daily, torn between guilt and the ruthless whisper that said, Cut him off or risk your empire.