Blue Rose - Reneé Rapp

Behind the Lens

The next morning, Y/N was up early, the sun barely creeping over the horizon as she stepped out of her hotel and into a waiting car. The after-party was a blur of lingering tension and teasing words, but today, her focus was back on work.

By the time she arrived at the studio, her team was already bustling around, preparing for the shoot. As she walked in, the familiar smell of coffee and perfume greeted her. Y/N slipped into the dressing room, where her stylist was ready with the outfit—a set of lingerie paired with an oversized blazer, open just enough to leave a bit of imagination but still daring.

She stepped in front of the mirror, running a hand through her hair as the makeup artist worked her magic. Her phone buzzed with reminders of the day's schedule, but Y/N ignored it, lost in the moment. The shoot was set to be sultry, and she was more than ready to play her part.

The studio was dimly lit, with soft lights casting a glow on the sleek black backdrop. The photographer, an older gay man with sharp eyes and a focused expression, paced around, making sure everything was perfect before Y/N stepped in front of the camera.

"Alright, Y/N, let's start with something strong," he called out, gesturing her forward. "We want confidence. Seduction, but not too over the top. Just enough to leave them wanting more."

Y/N smirked, rolling her shoulders back and stepping into position. The other model Sierra, a gorgeous woman with dark hair and piercing eyes, joined her, both of them settling into their roles effortlessly.

The first few shots were soft—Y/N leaning against the model, their bodies close but not touching. But as the photographer directed them, the heat began to rise.

"Closer!" the photographer called out. "I want tension, like you're about to kiss but you don't. Let them imagine it!"

Y/N and the model leaned in, their faces mere inches apart. Y/N's hand brushed against the model's bare skin, her lips slightly parted as if she were going to whisper something. The model's gaze held hers, and for a moment, Y/N felt the electricity of the scene build.

"Perfect," the photographer murmured, snapping photo after photo. "Now, Y/N, I want you to take control. Place your hand under her chin, bring her closer. Like you're about to cross that line but you're just teasing."

Y/N followed the instruction, her hand gently lifting the model's chin, eyes locking in a way that felt natural. The two of them moved like they'd done this a thousand times before, every pose, every shift adding to the sensuality of the shoot.

"Excellent. Now, lean in like you're about to kiss," the photographer said, his voice lower now as he got closer to the lens. "But stop right before your lips touch."

Y/N's breath mingled with the model's, their lips almost brushing, but she pulled back at the last second, leaving just enough space between them to drive the tension higher.

Click. Click. Click.

"That's it! Beautiful," the photographer praised, finally lowering his camera. "I think we've got what we need."

Y/N pulled back, a playful grin on her face. "Told you I could bring the heat," she said, tossing the model a wink as she stepped off the set, already thinking about what the final shots would look like.

-----

The day passed quickly, and by the time Y/N returned to her apartment, she was exhausted but satisfied. She tossed her bag onto the couch and made her way to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water and collapsing onto the counter.

As she checked her phone, a notification lit up the screen.

Renee Rapp started following you.

Y/N froze for a second, her heart skipping a beat. She clicked on the notification, scrolling to see Renee's profile. The memories of the previous night came flooding back—the teasing, the tension, the way they'd left things unfinished.

A smirk crept onto Y/N's lips. So she's curious, she thought.

Moments later, another notification came in: her manager had sent the photos from the shoot earlier that day. Y/N opened the email, scrolling through the shots. They were incredible—every image dripped with the heat and tension from the shoot, each one bolder than the last. One photo, in particular, stood out: Y/N, fingers under the model's chin, eyes dark with desire, their lips hovering just inches apart.

Y/N didn't hesitate. She selected a few of the best shots, edited them slightly, and posted them to her Instagram with a simple, yet teasing caption: "Almost."

She set her phone down, expecting the usual flood of likes and comments, but it wasn't long before a notification caught her eye:

Renee Rapp commented on your photo.

Y/N's heart raced as she opened the notification. The comment was simple, yet bold enough to send a shiver down her spine:

"You're making it hard to look away."

Y/N bit her lip, a small laugh escaping as she stared at the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she typed out a playful response:

"Maybe you shouldn't."

She hit send, the thrill of their flirtation sending a surge of excitement through her. It was a bold move, but Y/N had never been one to hold back.

This is going to be fun.