Clearly

Mel led me through a series of rooms that had such classical and fine beauty. This family has exquisite taste. The size of their mansion and estate flaunts the amount of money they have, but the inside is pretty simple and content for a family with their amount of money. It gives off a sort of homey and welcoming feeling, something that I truly wasn’t expecting. Then again, I didn’t expect the lady of the house to be as laid back and relaxed as Mel either. I expected her to be a high-strung woman who would kick me out on the spot if I accidentally stuttered or mispronounced a word.

We reached a large set of glass doors that led to a pool with a Jacuzzi tub, a water fall, and numerous other things. It would take a week for me to list all of the things that they have attached to that big, rectangular main pool, but it all seemed to be beautiful. Everything flowed together easily too. So, this is where they let their money shine through.

Mel turned to me, an apologetic look set upon her features as she turned the handle on the door. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It seems that Marcie has some of her friends over.”

I shook my head, as if to say, “no problem.” Whether her daughter has her friends accompanying her or not when I am working for her is not a decision up to me. It’s not something that is in my control and it never will be. I just have to suck it up and learn to deal with it. Not everything is perfect. Life never goes as planned.

We walked outside and I fiddled with the strap of my photography bag. It was thrown over my shoulder and across my chest, like a messenger bag.

“Girls!” Mel called out excitedly, scurrying towards them while she clapped her hands. Ah, she is such a nice, adorable, caring person.

Three blond heads simultaneously turned our way, causing me to fiddle with my strap nervously. They seemed like the average daughter of a rich person, a bit loose. They were perfect angels by day, the devils spawn at night. They can easily be described as the type people that I usually work to avoid.

They were freakishly skinny, almost unhealthily skinny. Their bodies were a tad bit orange as well. Most people wouldn’t notice this, but through photography I’ve developed a huge eye for detail and can pick out the subtle differences in the weirdest of colors. Why would they go fake tanning if they live in California of all places? Their blond hair was layered on their heads expertly, high-lighted in different shades. Their eyes were hidden behind overly large sunglasses, but it was still easy to tell that they were blatantly checking me out. They were wearing tight and tiny bikinis, so small that they looked like tiny pieces of triangular cloths attached to string that were just big enough to cover their most intimate of areas. Those aren’t supposed to be things that you flaunt, but things that you value, things that only a lover should have the fortune of seeing, touching, kissing. They have such blatant disrespect for their bodies.

How could people find people like them attractive?

How am I expected to be able to respect them?

I ran my eyes over their bodies, disgusted with each and every one of them. It’s so obvious that they go to extreme measures to enhance their bodies so that they become what they think is beautiful, even though it’s truly sickening. I mean, I’m gay, so I’m not normally attracted to women, but I can respect a beautiful woman. That’s what I like about men. They’re so much more understanding and they don’t go to extreme measures to change their body to what they think is perfect. Men are just so much more caring and sensual than women at times, way less superficial.

I stood in front of the women, Mel at my side. “Hey girls,” she said around a smile. The girls smiled back at her, waving their perfectly manicured fingers before going back to sipping their martini’s or tanning, I honestly didn’t really care. “This is Dalton Reeves. He’s nineteen years old and he’s going to be the photographer for Marcie’s sweet sixteen, so treat him nice,” she warned. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of him,” she called over her shoulder as she advanced towards the house.

I nodded my head awkwardly. “Hello,” I greeted.

“Hey,” they all said in unison, dragging out the end of the word in an obnoxious way.

The blond in the middle got up, readjusting her scanty bikini before walking over to me in obscenely high heels. One thing you have to respect women for, they can walk in shoes that make men cringe. She held out her hand, smiling at me. Her teeth were so white that they blinded me, making me squint my eyes. Is everything about this girl fake?

I reached my hand out and grasped hers firmly, shaking it up and down. I took the time to look at her up close. Her nose was slightly upturned, as if she stuck it in the air too much, and she had a few underlying pink high-lights in her hair. She seems like the type of girl who would scream if she broke a nail. “Hello,” I greeted, forcing a smile. I really don’t want to take this job but I can learn so much from this client and it could be what gets me out of my flat and into a true photography business.

“Hey, I’m Marcie,” she responded, cocking her hip to the side and ‘scratching’ her chest slightly, drawing attention to her overly voluptuous breasts. Girl, learn to respect yourself and put those puppies away before it is too late. And her voice, don’t get me started. It sort of sounds like nails slowly, menacingly scraping down a chalkboard. My mother always taught me to not judge people, but I couldn’t help it with Marcie. She was too stereotypical and was already rubbing me the wrong way.

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely, forcing another smile, one that she seemed to easily fall for.

She leaned her body closer to mine and I took a subtle step backwards. “You’re cute,” she stated, pulling her glasses down so that she could see me over the rims of her glasses, revealing her chocolate brown eyes. No, they weren’t pretty enough to be compared to chocolate. They swam with lust, stupidity, and audacity, giving me a sinking feeling. Her eyes were a muddy brown, a brown that I will quickly learn to despise.

“Thank you,” I said awkwardly, moving one hand to rub the back of my head as I continued to fiddle with the strap on my bag nervously. I could faintly hear hoots of agreement coming from her companions.

She placed a hand on my hip, right above my belt. “We should do something tonight,” she said flirtatiously. “You know, so we can get to know each other since you’ll be working for me, following my orders,” she said suggestively. If she’s stupid enough to think she can get me in bed, she is sadly mistaken. Even if I were into women, she would be at the bottom of my list of potential lovers.

I’ve only had one lover before, and although we are no longer together, I don’t regret giving him my virginity. We were in love and it fit the moment perfectly. It’s a beautiful memory. Hell, we would probably still be together if he didn’t have to move to Florida to take care of his dying grandmother. We still keep in contact and we are still good friends, something I’ll never regret, but we’ll never get back together. I just have to find that new love to be my other half.

“Listen, Marcie,” I said, trying to mask the disgust in my voice. I picked up her hand, placing it by her side softly. “I have a strict rule when I’m working and it is that I can’t date my clients.” That is a real rule of mine, but the main reason is that I am a homosexual. Not everyone is accepting of people like me, especially high class families that frown upon anyone that isn’t perfect. I prefer to keep my sexual orientation under the radar; after all, it is a pretty personal topic that doesn’t need to be known to the world.

“Well, it’s not like you’re working for me twenty-four seven. You’ll have some time off,” she urged. God, this girl never gives up, does she? She’s stubborn, like her mother, but her mother isn’t stubborn in a bad way like she is.

“I’ll only be around when I am working.” I told her honestly. “I have other clients as well.”

“Fine,” she huffed, rolling her eyes and walking over to her friends. “We’ve still got a chance,” she muttered under her breath. I doubt I was supposed to hear that last bit so I chose to ignore it, not wanting to imagine what she’s going to have in store for me.

I have a feeling that this is going to be my toughest client to date.