Page 2 of Size Queen
“Because you tend to go for more ‘relationship-y’ stuff,” she responds. “Which is fine—I hold nothing against your lifestyle, just as you don’t hold anything against mine.”
“Right.”
“Damon isn’t a player, but he’s a man,” says Sabrina. “If he likes you, he’s going to pursue you until he gets you. I just think you should be careful… his shop has a bit of reputation here in Miami.”
“What’s the name of the gang that goes there a lot?” I ask.
“The Rolling Heads,” she answers. “I really can’t believe you knew nothing about them before today. They’re not vicious miscreants, but they can be dangerous if they’re pissed off… That’s why you need to be careful if Damon comes your way. Play hard to get.”
“I can handle a few horny bikers,” I say as we pull into Raw Wheels’ parking lot. “Even if one of those bikers happens to own the bike shop. And besides, what makes you so sure that the owner is going to want me anyway? So, he saw a picture of me—”
“Trust me,” says Sabrina. “I’ll be your wingman whenever I can, but he might wait until you’re alone to talk to you, so…”
Since it appears we’re one of the only ones here, Sabrina and I take a few extra minutes to make sure we’re good and ready to go. We finally step out after a hoard of cars start pulling in and join us in the parking lot.
In the shop, the set is there waiting for us. Several varieties of motorcycles, and a few other miscellaneous vehicles, are parked against a variety of backdrops and decorations, glistening in the Kino light. Thankfully there are dressing rooms in the back of the shop, so I am relieved there. I’m excited about the day ahead.
My assumption that there wouldn’t be many bikers in the place so early in the morning is wrong. There are nearly a dozen bikers scattered around the place—some drinking coffee, some drinking beer. Some of the bikers are quite handsome, but none of them keep my attention long enough to warrant breaking my focus. I’m not here to flirt and get phone numbers. I don’t care how hot the guys are; I’m here to work.
Unfortunately, the guys here didn’t get the memo. Even before the director or our coordinator can start the shoot, most of the guys here are hitting on me.
Then, just seconds before the photographers are ready to go, the front doors burst open to reveal a man among boys, who walks in and grabs the attention of nearly every model, myself included. He isn’t simply handsome or attractive—he is straight hot.
Once I can tell for sure he is practically staring at me, I begin avoiding his gaze. I am instantly nervous, and something tells me right away that this must be the owner.
“That’s Damon,” Sabrina whispers in my ear, confirming my guess. “And he keeps looking at you…!”
“Yeah, what’s the deal?” I chuckle.
It’s obvious to Damon that he already has the full attention of the room, so he barely has to raise his voice to talk.
“Morning, all,” he says.
The room responds with a variety of morning greetings.
“Welcome to Raw Wheels,” he continues. “I’m Damon Abrams, and I’m the owner of the place. I’m glad your agency chose us to host your shoot, and I can answer any questions you may have. Don’t be shy to say hi.”
It is then that I choose to meet his gaze and risk the possibility of getting lost in his piercing eyes.
He has some facial hair but not enough to hide the sexy grin that’s forming the longer I look at him. His hair is black, and his skin is tan. His mesmerizing eyes are blue like glistening water, and his nose and mouth look delicious enough to nibble on.
Among many other qualities, he is also tall, muscular, and fit. He also has a number of tattoos I can see on his arms and back that his leather jacket doesn’t conceal.
Sabrina and I dish about Damon and the other guys while we change swimsuits in between sequences. I can’t get over what a perfect specimen he seems to be.
“I wonder how many tattoos he has,” I ponder. “He looks like he’s got alot—more than a lot compared to those other bikers. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told mehe’sin a gang.”
Sabrina snorts. “Honey, heisthe gang. Damon is thepresidentof the Rolling Heads.”
“Huh. I probably shouldn’t give him the wrong impression, then.”
I often receive a lot of male attention, both off and on set. Today is no exception, and the flirting continues throughout the entire shoot. I let them get away with a half-witted quip or two, and sometimes I give it back, but I don’t let any of them go past a certain point.
The only person that I want to come and talk to me is the sexy owner. I’m not sure if it’s the repeated attempts from lesser men that’s provoking me, but eventually my eyes begin to actively seek out Damon, hoping he might join the competition.
Sabrina is constantly reminding me how Damon is the president of a dangerous biker club, and how that could either be really good or bad, depending on your outlook. I can’t stop thinking about him whenever I’m posing for the camera, and by extension the room. I try my best not to seem “inviting,” but whenever I know Damon is nearby, I can’t help myself.
Sabrina claims that whenever I’m being shot, Damon has eyes only for me. I don’t get to witness much of Damon’s gazing at my body through the sea of camera flashes and horny bikers, but I believe her.