Drew’s snow white hair, his slightly heavyset frame and scent of cigars and aftershave were bringing back bad memories to Mark, ones he sooner forget. “You are one handsome stud, Mark. My staff is hovering over the sales data to see when this hits, how fast our fan base on the social networks rise, and of course, hoping that it turns into cash.” “Yes. Of course.” Mark crossed his arms, feeling naked and vulnerable. His father had looked at him lasciviously as well, and Mark was not fond of it, not in the least. “Come, come! I’m keeping you from the work you are paid to do!” Drew touched Mark’s bare shoulder and Mark nearly winced and jerked away. He bit his cheek and tried to move quickly to avoid the contact. The photographer beckoned Mark closer. “Mr Richfield. Just stand near the front fender. I’ll move you all around the car and then have you sit inside it.” “Call me Mark. Please.” Mark only knew one ‘Mr Richfield’ and it wasn’t him. “Have you boys met?” Drew asked, again staring at Mark’s chest, then his crotch. “No. Sorry.” Mark tried not to be distracted and reached out his hand. “Mark, this is Armand.” “So nice to work with you, Mark.” Armand shook Mark’s hand. “I’m a huge fan.” “Thank you.” Mark glanced at Drew and noticed his gaze shift to the far side of this large studio, one that was big enough to fit several automobiles. There were other men in suits there. Mark recognized them from the meeting he and Steve attended to get this precious account. An account Harold Parsons wanted very much. Wanted enough to persuade Mark, and his agent, Arnold Newhouse, to cut a deal. A deal which included Mark as if he were property to trade. Mark tried to give Armand his attention. “Yes. Right. Shall we?” Mark walked to the passenger’s side fender and leaned against it. “Don’t cross your arms, Mark,” Armand said sweetly, “Rest one hand on the car and relax the other.” Trying to keep the distractions out of his sight, Mark focused on Armand and his camera lens. “Smile. Not too wide. But show teeth.” Armand began his photo session, directing Mark on what to do, act like, and where to pose. Mark fell into work mode and relaxed, thinking of the coming weekend with Jack and Adam and hopefully being bound to a bed for his men. Danielle raced in between shots, fussing with Mark’s hair, dusting the shine on his face and chest while another assistant attended the car, wiping off Mark’s fingerprints. Mark did a series of shots around the exterior of the vehicle. Then Armand asked him to sit behind the wheel. The men in suits moved closer. Mark opened the door to the sleek sports car and as he sat he noticed the seat was pulled way back. He peeked through the passenger’s side to Armand asking, “Should I move this up?” “No. Turn towards me.” Though he was confused, Mark did. “All the way. Place one leg on the seat.” “Like this?” Mark bent his right leg and put his shoe on the leather upholstery. “Yes.” Armand knelt inside the car and took pictures, looking at his tiny digital monitor as he did. “Spread your legs.” Mark peered down. “You joking?” “No. Move your thighs apart.” “Bleedin’ hell.” Mark tensed his jaw. He rested against the driver’s door and opened his legs. “One arm on the head rest, the other on the steering wheel.” Mark obeyed. “Lean your head against the headrest too.” Again Mark complied. Armand looked behind him at the staff of stuffy executives, as if he may be under some pressure from them to get what they wanted. And Mark didn’t even want to guess what that was. “Look,” Armand spoke softly inside the car to Mark. “Can you get a slight erection?” “What?” Mark blinked and felt his face heat up. “Just a little one so it shows through the pants.” “What the bloody hell do I have to be excited about sitting inside a car?” “Um. You’re about to get your dick sucked? I don’t know.” Armand glanced behind him. “Look, I didn’t make the decision.” “And what am I supposed to do to get excited? Wank off?” Mark tried to control his temper. “Um.” Armand gave another nervous look behind him again. “Dude, believe me. It’s not my idea.” “Bloody hell!” Mark glared at the men in back of Armand. “I’m supposed to get hard on demand? On a photo shoot for a car company?” “You, uh, want me to find you a gay magazine?” Drew poked his head into the car from over Armand’s shoulder. “Is there a problem?” “Yes!” Mark snarled. “No.”Armand shook his head, trying to make light of the situation. “I can’t get a bleedin’ erection in this car!” Mark shifted his legs closed. “We have a prop.” Drew stood straight and Mark could see him waving to someone. “A prop?” Mark was about to explode. A huge rubber dildo was handed to him by an assistant. “You expect me to shove that down my bleedin’ pants?” Mark fumed. “Uh, yes?” Armand gave another timid look in back of him. “That’s not in my contract! I won’t do it!” A piece of paper was shoved into the car from behind Armand. Armand appeared pinched. Mark snatched it and found an area of his contract highlighted. With his mouth gaping open, Mark read a small amount of text, page five, section eight, paragraph ‘a’- ‘Model shall take all directions from photographer and his employer to create a sexually dynamic photograph intent on stimulating. This includes the use of phallus props if necessary…’ Mark threw the page at Armand, grabbed the rubber cock and stuffed it into his tight pants, enraged beyond comprehension. “Uh, can you point it to the left or right?” Armand said nervously, “Make it look like its yours?” Mark adjusted the big rubber cock and brooded. “Good. Spread your legs again, just like the last shot. Only you have to stop glaring at me.” “Fuck you!” Mark spread his legs and tried to get back into position. “Dude. Please. I only work for those guys. I don’t make the decisions.” Mark ran his hand through his hair, feeling boiling hot and betrayed. “Make up!” Armand yelled. Danielle rushed over and crouched into the car, powdering Mark and brushing his hair. “Stop running your hand through it. You’re flattening it,” she said. “Right.” Mark pouted. “Like my cock?” She glanced down. “No, since I know it’s not real.” “Flamin’ hell.” She frowned, appearing sympathetic and backed out of the car. Armand crawled in. “You have to look less pissed off. I swear I’ll be here all night if you snarl.” “Fuck!” Mark glanced down at the big outline of a cock under his pants and fought to adjust his attitude. “Man, this is going to be a long fucking night,” Armand said, shaking his head. ~ Steve brought two bottles of beer to the other two men who were relaxing in the den watching football on the television. Adam reached for his and then set it on a coaster on a side table. “How late did Mark say he would be?” “He said eight.” Steve looked at his watch and sat down next to Jack. Jack swigged the beer and stared at the television set. “Did he give you the address where he is at?” “Yes. He gave me all the details. I wanted to go with him, but…” Steve shrugged. “Stop thinking the worst.” Adam raised his bare feet to a hassock. “You know these things take longer than planned.” “One word.” Jack sneered. “Sunspecs.” “Don’t even say it, Larsen!” Steve grew upset. “Right.” Adam tried to calm them down, muting the commercial interruption on the television so he could talk. “So we’re all going to Paradise for a big orgy-slash-party next weekend?” “That’s the plan.” Steve sucked on the neck of the beer bottle as he drank it. “Mark sent out invitations and so far all the boys are in.” “I’m glad he didn’t try to plan it for the summer.” Adam stared at the flat screen TV. “I prefer the fall. It’s too hot up there in summer. Christ, that area had over one hundred degrees for weeks.” Steve stared at Jack. He was in casual clothing, just his jeans and a Stanford sweatshirt, but always looked handsome and groomed. The tough LA lawyer and gay advocate, Jack Charles Larsen was the man to have on your side in a battle, period. The sleek talent agent? He was in black slacks and a short-sleeved off-white cotton top. Appearing as attractive as the actors he represented. Sex with these two was hot, but it wouldn’t even commence without the star attraction. “Should I call him?” Steve asked. “Yes!” Jack said. “No!” Adam replied. “Come on. It’s only eight-thirty.” Jack took his own mobile phone out of his pocket. Adam sighed tiredly and turned the sound back on as the football game resumed. Steve watched Jack’s expression as he made the call. “Where the hell are you?” Jack asked what was obviously Mark’s voicemail judging by the delay. “Do not do this to us again. You call when you’re late, Mark Antonious!” He disconnected the line and tossed the phone on the side table. “Should we go to the address?” Steve asked, getting nervous. Just as he did, they all heard the garage door opening. All three of them jumped to their feet and took off towards the kitchen to meet Mark. Steve opened the door to see Mark’s sexy TVR parking and him climb out, appearing exhausted. He had his jacket over his arm and his shirt was opened low on his chest. His pants were skin tight and Steve gazed at Mark’s crotch as he made his way towards them, like a panther. “What happened?” Jack asked. Mark glared at him and passed by all three to the kitchen. He threw his jacket on a chair and made for the liquor cabinet. Steve exchanged glances with the other two and followed Mark, watching him pour whiskey with shaking hands. “Please tell me you’re okay.” Steve touched Mark’s hair. Mark spun around, his eyes burning with fury. “No! I’m not bloody okay!” He shot down the drink and shivered. “Oh, that is just nasty!” He coughed. Jack appeared about to kill someone and Adam just stood solemn as a statue. “They wanted me to have a hard on!” Mark spat out sarcastically. “I was to sit in their bloody car with a thick dick!” Adam tilted his head. “You kidding me?” “No!” Mark stormed out of the room and Steve could hear his heavy footfalls as he climbed the stairs. Steve gaped his mouth and then said, “How the hell did they make him get a hard on?” “If they used a fluffer I’ll murder someone.” Jack made for the staircase. “Come on, guys,” Adam said, “Calm down. Let’s give Mark a minute to decompress.” Both Jack and Steve ignored him and stormed up the stairs. ~ Trembling, Mark shook a valium out of the vial and chewed it, trying to cope. He stripped, leaving his clothing in a pile on the floor, and stood under a hot shower, closing his eyes, resting both hands on the shower wall. He heard the men enter the bathroom and didn’t look. The shower door slid back. “Mark.” At Steve’s soft voice, Mark opened his eyes. “They had me stuff a dildo into my trousers.” Mark frowned. “How much more humiliation can I endure?” “For a car advertisement?” Jack tilted his head. “That company is so stuffy. I heard they were the respondent in a legal case regarding sexual discrimination against a lesbian employee.” Steve said, “Yeah. We heard that too.” “Then what the fuck?” Jack asked in fury. “Leave me be.” Mark tried to close the door. “Please.” “Do you need a valium, Mark?” “I’ve taken one, Adam.” Mark peered at them. “Please.” Adam left the bathroom. Steve and Jack lingered. “Please!” Mark implored. Steve stormed out and Jack moved back the glass door again to ask, “Was it in your contract?” “Yes.” Mark closed his eyes and put his face under the water again. He heard Jack close the shower door and leave.
