Marigold as Harry's model.

Marigold felt her breath catch on her chest. She held both arms over her bosom, doing what she could to preserve what was left of her modesty, and waited with bated breath to see what this horrible man Harry had to say.

"Be my model," Harry said, a wide, toothy grin stretching across his sweaty face.

Marigold blinked. "What?" she said. "What does that even mean?"

Harry had hooked her again. Now he just needed to reel in the fish.

"C'mon, hun," he said, his voice somehow sounding like golden honey. "You've been having fun, haven't you? And you're enjoying having your picture taken." This was always the way to get girls like this. Get a little mean with them-- make 'em afraid of the consequences. But then give them the sugar, the gifts, whatever made them feel good and feel safe. Sometimes it was ****, but Harry could tell that all a girl like Marigold needed was some compliments and a chance to let loose. She was like a beautiful shiny spring that had been kept coiled for way, way too long.

Marigold still couldn't believe what had happened. Her face was still so hot from what Harry had sprayed all across it. She knew that he had betrayed her. She knew he had used her. He had seen her naked, put that... thing inside her! So why now was he pretending to be so nice?

"If you do whatever I tell you to, and let me take your pretty pictures, I promise they'll just be for me." Harry smiled. "Pinky swear."