Male Model

A note of importance for this story; I'm not Ahab.

Rather, I'm an old 'friend' of his: Zachariah, a man who has it all. I'm 6'2", blonde, with impeccable bone structure, an unparalleled fashion sense, and a small legion of women who lust after me— I mean, I'm a male model after all!

Now, however much I love tooting my own horn, allow me to begin regaling you with a humiliating tale of mine… the first time I modeled in a 'compromising' state. Listen, I hate this story but I get the feeling it's what you're inclined to hear.

All those cameras, all that cruel laughter, the way she grabbed me, cripes, don't get me started…

Oh yeah, the story!

Ahem. Well, it all started four months after my college graduation…

"Zachariah, you're up next." Says the woman sitting behind the counter, calling me up after nearly an hour spent waiting.

Fixing my hair reflexively, I stand up, then stride my way across the assignment room; although there's a colony of butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I look as put-together as a prince.

Accepting the parcel from the brunette, I scan my next gig; my eyes almost pop out of their sockets, and I break composure to ask-tell her, "This can't be right!"

"I know!" She smiles, checking me out even as sweat beads form on my handsome face, "It's an amazing opportunity— you should consider yourself lucky as a new model."

Pointing to the folder's front, and blushing like I'd just raised my hand in class only to give the wrong answer, I reiterate to the brown-haired woman, "But I can't do this assignment!"

I look back at the document in disbelief— there's no way my agency expects me to do this!