Cherry Lips

Beautiful Garbage

‘Come on, come on, come on,’ I thought as I watched the lights on the elevator buttons light up, taking me higher into the building I was doing my shoot at. I was already late by ten minutes and the slow elevator wasn’t helping. If I weren’t in heels I would have ran up the stairs, but I wanted to look good for that day.

Ding! I inwardly jumped for joy as the elevator reached my stop and I quickly pushed my way out. It was a tough business, getting out of elevators with business men in the mornings that is. I didn’t know why in god’s name they decided to schedule a shoot in an office building. It was bad enough I was nervous, but adding on old, horny men staring you up and down like a piece of meat made it worse.

I walked as quickly I could towards the room where I was to be doing the shoot. Hopefully the model was good looking enough and liked people like me. I wasn’t always the way I was now. I grew up as a normal boy. Hard to believe, I know. I wasn’t Millie until I moved out of the house with Damien. I was the able to be Millie before all of that I was just Miles.

Growing up wasn’t so bad either. I always had Damien at my side supporting me. I couldn’t picture growing up without him. He accepted both sides of me, both the garbage and the beautiful. Miles was the garbage that no boy who fancied boys would ever want to look at, glance at, even glared at. Miles was simply garbage. Millie was beautiful. Looked upon and fawned upon by many. The attention is what made me want to keep going out as Millie and not Miles. I was finally beautiful.

I’d never really kept a boyfriend when I started becoming beautiful. I kind of just skipped from one to the other. Anyone who would give me the romantic attention I wanted would have me in a heartbeat. A relationship used to sound nice until I started getting looked at by loads of guys. Most had already figured out I wasn’t really a woman, but I had to be wary of those who didn’t figure it out. Nothing was worse than getting your ass kicked by a homophobe who you were just about to sleep with. It was honestly the most horrible thing to experience. It had happened to me twice. If it weren’t for cell phones and Damien, I wouldn’t be around after the first beating.

Damien saved me that first night since the person I was about to sleep with decided we would go to my apartment. I was slightly tipsy, so I gave in. We made it back to my apartment, bumping into things in a lustful dance towards my bed. When we got to the bed and the guy lifted the bottom of my dress I was automatically hit in the face. It wasn’t exactly pleasant having to be hit and kicked to the point of almost passing out. Luckily I screamed loud enough that Damien woke up in his room. He rushed to mine and got the guy off of me. Then I watched through tired, beaten eyes, Damien beating the shit out of the guy and hearing him throw the douche out of the house.

Damien nursed me back to health essentially after that and began to constantly worry for me. His worrying became worse after the second beating by another man. Though I still couldn’t quit my habits because I knew one of my flings would be the real thing one day. Besides that, I always had Damien as my protector. He was my best friend for life. Being much taller and stronger, he could beat anyone up for me. That’s what made me such an amazing friend. He’d always fight for me.

Yet while I was off having my flings, I couldn’t help but notice how Damien never had flings or talked about liking someone or wanting to meet someone. It made me sad to see him lonely like that. He was a good looking guy. He had the dark hair, and dark eyes with a strong build and a heart of gold. As strong as he was, he could be such a teddy bear. I was surprised he didn’t have a special someone in his life.

I walked into the room where I was doing the photo shoot to be met with my model for the day and my assistant, Rita. “Sorry I’m late,” I said, closing the door in hopes of excusing myself, “Can’t run in heels. I’d kill myself. By the way I’ll be your photographer for today! You can call me Millie.”

The model was a tall man, medium build, dark hair with light eyes. He was different than the other models I’ve seen. He didn’t look overly feminine or to manly. He was in the middle, kind of like Damien. The model was smiling at me as well. I couldn’t help, but smile back.

Rita, my assistant began busying herself with setting up all of my camera gear. She would set while I got to know the model a bit to see how they would work. Then I would go and fine tune my camera to my liking.

I approached my model with my best walk. I stopped walking and looked up into eyes. They were a lighter green, maybe with some blue. Tropical would be the fitting for their color. “Now what would your name be?”

He smiled. “The name’s Nixon,” he said, with a beautiful southern drawl. This only added to how good looking he was. “Why so late Miss Mille?”

“Like I said, a girl can’t run in heels, much less in the big city. I’ve noticed your accent, where are you from?” I asked him, batting my eyelashes.

“Born and raised in good ol’ Georgia,” he replied. “Now you don’t sound like everyone else around in the city, yet you do. Where are you from Miss Millie?”

“I’m from New Jersey so not too far. So tell me Nixon what do you want to get don at today’s shoot?” I was absolutely melting in front of the man. Nixon seemed simply heavenly. A country gentleman and a looker, that’s what we call a rare combo.

“Take some pictures that will make mama proud. She has at least one photo from every shoot I do back home in Georgia. Being her only son, she didn’t want to let me go so having current photos of me around makes her feel like I’m still at home,” he told me.

I could just listen in awe. Now Nixon had three amazing aspects to him, he was attractive, a country gentleman with a lovely accent, and cared about his mother. “You seem like such a sweetheart Nixon,” I said honestly.

He smiled and blushed a bit. “I’ve been told that before, but not by such a pretty girl.” This caused me to blush.

“You’re just too cute, ain’t ya? Let’s get started!”

A few hours later the shoot was finished and everything was cleaned up. Rita left as soon as the last photo was taken. She always hurried off like that when she saw I was with a model I was interested in. It gave me time to speak with them.

Nixon was finishing up on helping me clean up. He said he didn’t want me to do all of the work. This man couldn’t get any more perfect. He really couldn’t.

I walked over to him and grabbed the last bag he had just finished packing. “Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to help me out,” I spoke.

“It was no problem. Mama taught me to always help a lady out, whether it be in the kitchen washing dishes or just packing bags,” Nixon said.

“Well I guess this is where we say goodbye.” I grabbed my bags and began heading for the door. I was stopped by a warm hard gently grasping my arm.

“Miss Millie at least let help you carry your bags down. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t and maybe just maybe I could get your number too. It’s not every day you meet such a fine lady like yourself. Well only if you’d like me to have your number that is,” Nixon said, nervousness evident in his voice.

I turned around and smiled. “Alright you can help with my bags. And since you’ve such a doll to me all day long, you can have my number as well. Maybe one day we can go out and you can tell me about Georgia. I’ve never really been down south. Only driven through it on my way to Florida. Though I do remember it was the first state I saw a waterfall in,” I told him. I really did want to hear about Georgia. It always seemed like such a nice place to be.

Nixon took my bags and we went downstairs. He gave me my bags back after him insisting he’d carry them back to my place, but I told next time he could do that. I eventually gave him my number and a kiss on the cheek for being such a sweetie. Boy, did he turn red. He said he would call as well. Now all I had to do was wait.
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