Habits

The girl sitting in the chair was fidgety. I hate fidgety people. It makes it much worse when trying to apply makeup to perfection. I growled lowly in my throat and she sat still for only a moment while I finished.

"There," I huffed and sent her on her way to the shoot. Being a makeup artist isn't the easiest, especially when most of my jobs were for porn shoots. A few were for magazines or commercials, but not the majority in the scheme of things. 

I was one of the only makeup artists who didn't have a room to myself because hetero and femme didn't do anything for me. So, my booth was out where some of the shoots were done. I didn't mind. I usually brought my iPod or something to do and drown the noises out.

"Uric," my boss called after Carrie left for her shoot. I looked up at him, waiting. He didn't speak for several seconds, waiting until he was mere feet away from me.

"Would you mind showing my son, Bobby, around?" My eyes flickered to the man boy standing beside him and stayed. He pulled a bit nervously at his fitted v-neck. A light red tint dusted his cheeks under my scrutiny.

"Hello." It didn't surprise me that my voice reeked of confidence. I guess I was just comfortable in my jean shorts and plain teeshirt with my red nails.

"Hi," he managed squeaked out. I swallowed slightly when his eyes flickered over my body. I wished I'd worn something slightly more normal instead of the jean shorts and flip flops, for once, after his scrutiny.

"I'll leave you to it then," my boss said and left us alone.

"So, why are you here?" I hated the high pitch of my voice, wishing for the hundredth time that it was normal.

"My father thinks I need to grow up. He thinks I'm a nerd, which I am, but he hates it," he rambled.

"Oh, well. Here is one of the sets," I motioned to where they were doing a shoot. It didn't bother me to look on. It no longer held the curiosity it once had. "Over there is the changing room the makeup room as well."

"Wait," he said, grabbing my arm. "Why aren't you in there?"

"There isn't enough room," I shrugged. "And, this doesn't particularly interest me, obviously." An understanding look crossed his face.

"I, for one, think it's amazing." At first, I thought he was talking about the shoot, but he was so innocent!

But, I saw his gaze on me with  twinkling  eyes. How old is he and what happened to the nerd side?

"How old are you?" I asked with a slightly snobbish tone.

"Fifteen," he mumbled, confidence gone and looking at his shoes.

"And your dad let you in here?" What parent does that? One with issues, I guess.

"He wants to fix me."

"Oh," I said. I understood that. I showed him around the rest of the set, avoiding one area, which he noticed and talked, asking questions and getting to know one another.

"What's in there?" I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"If your father's trying to fix you,  I doubt he wants you in there," I said, speaking like he was a five year old. 

"Don't speak to me like I'm a five year old," he replied indignantly.

"Why not? I am seven years older than you," I smirked. His eyes widened at that before returning to normal.

"We're going in there," he mumbled and grabbed my wrist, dragging me in there.

I immediately shut my eyes at the sounds from the ongoing set.

"Oh my god," Bobby breathed. My eyes snapped open and I saw what he meant. The shoot was a bit... kinky.

One obviously submissive man was on his knees naked, hands tied behind his back, surround by three men with their erections out and waiting. My pants tightened just by looking at the ongoing scene. Bobby and I stood there, frozen, as they carried out the scene.

I snapped out of my daze when they finished. I turned to drag Bobby out of the room. I stopped and almost laughed.

Bobby's mouth was slightly open, a dazed look in his eyes and his cheeks flushed. I scanned his delectable body and found a wet spot in his pants.

"Bobby?" I asked with laughter in my voice. His head whipped around to face me, eyes wide. "I think there are some pants and boxers out by my booth." He blushed ten shades of scarlet.

"Do you shave?" he blurted out as we walked back to where the clothes were stored. "Your legs, I mean."

"Yeah," I said after a slight hesitation. "I do." He nodded and changed.

"So," he started a bit nervous. "How did you end up here?"

"I went to a cosmetology school but didn't like the internships I did at various places. Your father found me working... on the street." I looked away, ashamed for the first time of my old life.

"O-oh," he said sullenly. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. 

"You must be good, then," he said with a smirk. My head snapped up in shock. Did he really just say that?"

"W-what?" I asked in a muted voice.

"You heard me," he said, the confidence leaking from his voice. I stared at the bipolar boy in front of me. 

"Bobby?" he sighed and looked over at his father.

"I'll see you later?" he asked hopefully. You could easily tell what he meant, as did I.

"Bobby, we shouldn't do this," I said as my only warning.

"I know. But that doesn't mean we can't."