Life Begins at Midnight

Heartlessness

The crew packed up and left, wondering about the weird timings of Richard's next shoot. They did not dare to question him openly, but they were puzzled. He should have been pleased. She had done so well in the Cheetah Shoot. His pets had not let go of her willingly. Other models had refused point blank. She was different. His pets loved her. The crew, too, had already started liking her, calling her Anna, and were delighted when she'd blushed so naturally and had thanked them. Nobody ever thanked the crew. At least none of Richard's former models had. They worried that Richard would overwork this girl who claimed to be inexperienced but gave such beautiful shots with ease.

Richard was alone, at last, and he slumped on his chair, running a hand through his gorgeous dark curls. Anna had gone with Zoe, who looked worried about the apartment-sharing. Richard couldn't stop himself from thinking about Anna. Hating her for agreeing to his vile schemes. Hating her for refusing to give in. He hated himself for being so unforgivingly selfish. He still couldn't believe why the presence of that girl affected him so strongly. He wanted to see her on her knees, begging for consideration. He wanted to hear her plead. He wanted to feel that he controlled her. But he couldn't even see it happening in his mind. He could only see her smiling when she came, thanking the crew, stroking his darling cheetahs Sunrise and Morning. He could hear her in his mind, talking to them in that beautiful voice, thanking him despite knowing that he'd put her in with the bratty Neapolitana girl on purpose. He wished that she would talk to him in that special voice of hers. He envied Sunrise and Morning, who seemed to deserve her company more than he did. He hated himself for thinking what he was thinking. Because he planned something for Anna that night. He had always believed that life began at midnight. He was sure that Anna would never be the same after midnight. He was planning to change her forever.

He called Julia. She had never seen him this tired or angry. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to dare.

"Julia. The midnight shoot. I want this for Analemma Wrenner." He said in a care-worn voice, handing her a paper from his file. The pencilled remark he'd written to one corner had been cancelled by him. She could make out the words that were struck out. 'Little more humane' they said. Julia was suddenly filled with dread. What sort of a person did she work for?