Page 33

December

Alice

I’ve been working on my next novel and even though the story will end up being quite emotional, all I can think of at the moment is: SMUT .

I really need to get laid.

Seeing Jordan the other day in nothing but his boxers sent me into a horny frenzy. Why does he have to be so damn good-looking?

The frustration builds and I delete another paragraph.

Nothing makes sense for this character. I’ve tried writing her into a hookup scene, I’ve tried the one bed trope, but the chemistry just isn’t there.

It needs more. She’s sexy and strong and she wouldn’t just have sex with the first guy she meets.

But maybe … maybe she could reconnect with her older brother’s best friend.

Ugh, this again?

I shake my head and slam the lid of my laptop shut.

I stand up and pace my living room for a minute before dejectedly plopping down on my soft, oversized reading chair.

Pulling my phone out of my sweatpants, I start looking for inspiration.

“How to spice up your sex life,” I type into the search bar.

The first article that pops up is something that no one in the history of existence should ever read, so I move on to the next.

My eyebrow lifts up, and I click on it. This one talks about everything from experimenting with toys, to acting out fantasies, to exploring erogenous zones.

My eyes widen and I quickly exit out. Maybe I’m not quite this adventurous yet.

Before I can turn off my phone for good, something catches my eye. “Five reasons why you should do a boudoir photoshoot.”

An hour later, I finally come out of the rabbit hole I went down. I put my phone away and turn on my computer, inspiration hitting me all at once. Maybe my character is curious enough to get some boudoir shots and send them to her brother’s best friend—I mean, her childhood friend.

Except the more I write, the more I realize I have no idea what I’m talking about.

After a couple glasses of wine and a lot of frustrated groans, I get back on my phone and start searching for boudoir photographers in the area.

I grab the bottle to top off my glass and realize that it’s empty. Huh, when did that happen?

I get a notification from the app that connects me with photographers in the area and it looks like Sam is available tomorrow.

Well, don’t mind if I do.

I wake up in my reading chair the next morning with drool on my face and a pounding headache. Did I really kill a whole bottle of Riesling by myself and pass out?

My phone buzzes and I squint at the message on the screen. Apparently, Sam will be here tonight for our appointment. What appoint?—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

No, no, no.

Please, please, dear God or whoever is out there, please give me a sign that I didn’t book a boudoir photoshoot. My phone dings again and when I tap the message, I see a receipt for a non-refundable payment.

Fuck.

I scramble out and run a hand through my messy hair. There’s got to be a way out of this. This Sam person will understand. Right? It was just a drunken mistake.

I groan and decide to call the one person who would not judge me for this.

“Hello, lapsi ? * . ” Normally his nickname for me— kid —would irritate me, but I’m too distressed to care.

“Eli, help me!”

His voice changes from amusement to concern in an instant. “What happened?” Eli says, his Finnish accent coming out like it does when he’s angry or serious.

“I think I did something really stupid,” I say, choking on the words. I think I might actually cry. What was I thinking ?

“Are you safe?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m not in any actual danger, Eli. I’m just freaking out.”

“ Helvetti ? * ! You almost gave me a heart attack .”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

Eli sighs and says, “Okay, tell me. What happened?”

I wince. Eli and I talk about everything, so I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this, but I think that maybe this might be crossing the line. He’s like a brother to me after all, and it’s not like he gives me details of his and Ash’s sex life, so why should I bring up mine?

“Al?”

“Okay, just please don’t think of me as weird after I tell you,” I say but don’t give him a chance to reply.

“So, I was writing a chapter last night and it got smutty, but I wasn’t getting the flow of it right, so I ended up researching boudoir photoshoots and I may have gotten drunk on a bottle of wine and accidentally booked a photographer.

” I rush out the last of the words and hold my breath in anticipation.

Eli chokes and sputters on whatever he’s drinking, and after a long moment he sighs so loudly that I can almost feel it in my own bones through the phone. “What the fuck?” His accent makes it sound more like watdafok and I grimace.

“Sorry, TMI, I just don’t know what to do. Apparently, I paid $300 for someone to come take pictures of me in my lingerie.”

“Jesus, Al. Can’t you cancel it?”

“No, apparently it’s nonrefundable. And I don’t have that kind of money to just throw around.”

“I’ll pay for it, just cancel if you want.”

“No, I’m not gonna take your money,” I say, a little annoyed that he would offer but grateful at the same time. Annoying older brother figures, always there ready to protect.

“Okay, so …”

I wait for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, I supply, “So …?”

“So do it.”

“What??”

“It sounds like your drunk subconscious was telling you to do some research. For your book, of course. So do it,” he says, matter-of-fact. Um, who is this person?

“Eli, are you feeling okay? Aren’t you usually against impulsive decisions, especially ones that are made under the influence?”

“Usually,” he muses. “But I don’t know, maybe you should get outside of your comfort zone. I’ve recently found that it’s good for you.”

“Hm, interesting. I mean, you’re not wrong, this would be a good research opportunity.”

“Problem solved, then?”

I sigh and accept my fate. I guess it is.

“Sounds like it. Are you coming home for Christmas?”

“Most likely. Depends on the game schedule.”

“All right, love you. Say hi to Ash for me.”

“Love you too, lapsi . Ash will have a field day when I tell him about this.” Eli chuckles.

Of course he will.

I nervously pace around the apartment, tidying up pillows and fixing my hair and makeup every five minutes. Sam texted that they are running a few minutes late and as if I wasn’t nervous enough, now I have even more time to overthink this whole thing.

The silky black robe I have on does nothing to keep me warm, so I rub my arms with my palms, warding off the chill that threatens to overtake me. I would turn the heat up, but I don’t want to be all sweaty for the photoshoot.

There’s a knock at the front door and I jump up, startled. It takes me longer than it should to walk the few steps over there and open it.

“Alice?”

“Um, yes?”

“I’m Sam,” the guy in the hallway says, and I blink at him a couple times. Why did I assume Sam was a woman?

“Right, nice to meet you, Sam,” I recover, opening the door wider to let him step inside. I poke my head in the hallway and look around, praying that Jordan has practice today and that he’s not anywhere near my apartment when I’m taking racy pictures with a complete stranger.

Except, maybe I should be worried that I’m in my apartment with some random person, one I didn’t expect to be of the male sex when I decided to go through with this plan.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask, adjusting my robe and making sure it covers everything.

Sam looks me up and down with an inscrutable expression and says, “No, I’ll start setting up lighting. I assume we’re doing this in the bedroom?”

My brain short-circuits at the word “bedroom,” and I just stare at him, wide-eyed and, frankly, a little panicked. What is he expecting to do?

He sighs, annoyance showing on his bearded face as he tsks at me. “The photoshoot location—in the bedroom or somewhere else?”

Oh. Right. “Of course, um, I think I’d prefer the living room. I basically live in that reading chair anyway,” I mumble nervously. I get that I have no clue what I’m doing, but this guy is giving me weird vibes and I feel uncomfortable.

“Great,” he says, and turns away, opening up his bag and pulling out various cameras and tools for adjusting lighting.

I awkwardly stand behind him and try not to fidget. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

“Do you have any ideas for poses?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ve never done this before, so not really.”

“Clearly.”

Excuse me? My mouth drops open and I almost ask what he means by that, but decide it’s probably best not to engage.

“I’ll guide you through the most popular poses and if you want to freestyle, you can.”

Freestyle. Boudoir. Poses.

What the hell did I get myself into?

“Totally,” I say, feigning confidence. “How long is the session?”

“Hour and a half,” Sam supplies, messing with the camera settings.

I send a quick text to Eli, letting him know the session is about to start. Just in case this guy decides to murder me or something, Eli can send for help if he doesn’t hear from me soon.

“Ready when you are, princess.”

I cringe at the nickname, but hide it by turning to my kitchen island and placing my phone there, face down.

Walking over to the reading chair, I stiffly sit on the edge of it, looking up at Sam.

He smirks at me and that uneasy feeling in my stomach returns. “Got any music?”

I nod and point behind him at the device mounted on the wall. Sam connects his phone to it and plays some sexy pop playlist he probably found on a streaming service. I wince when he turns the volume up way higher than I normally would in the apartment.

Thankfully it’s the middle of the day on a Friday and most of my neighbors are at work. I hope.