Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous.

Chapter 3

A camera shutter clicks rapidly as I kneel in the sand, holding two strings of my bikini bottom up as though I've just untied it. It's a classic pose for swimsuit magazines.

"Gorgeous, Aiko!" the photographer yells, "Give me those bedroom eyes! You're being flirty! Show me some wing action!"

I lower my lashes just a tad and put a tiny playful smirk on my lips, bending my wings forward as if to caress my arms with the tips.

"Ooohhh! Perfect, darling!" he shouts again, taking more shots.

The sun is really beating down on me and I can feel my skin heating up under those intense rays. I think I might be sweating profusely but the waves lapping at my skin make it hard to tell for sure.

"We're good, darling," he finally says, handing his camera off to his assistant. He approaches me as I tie up my bottoms again and I look up when I'm sure they're secured.

"That went well," I tell him, pushing myself up to a stand. The poor guy comes up to my chin.

"Yeah, it was great! I don't know how the editors are going to be able to choose from your shots. It's such a pleasure watching you work."

"Thanks, Jared," I say, wings flaring with pride.

He's American but he's one of the best swimsuit photographers in the world and travels all over shooting spreads for magazines.

"Have you considered my offer from last time?" he asks with pointed interest.

I sigh inwardly, putting a hand to my hip, "I don't know. I'm still not sure."

A couple months ago, Jared asked me to come to America for some shoots for lingerie designers there. America is a whole new ballgame though. The models there are on a different level. I've been safe modelling here for all of my career. The thought of changing it up now and possibly failing is terrifying.

"Well, you have my number, Aiko," he reminds me, "call me- soon- if you decide you want to. I have the perfect thing for you."

"I will," I nod at him, giving a polite bow, and move off to allow for the next model and a change of scenery, trudging back up the beach.

"Hey, I heard you did a commercial last week," Mizuki, another girl from my agency says, handing me a water bottle as I head under the blessed shade of the tent set up for us to rest. She's a bit of a gossip, it's no wonder to me that she's heard about it.

"Yeah, it wasn't too bad," I tell her with a shrug, "I had one line and the rest was looking pretty, handing the heroes energy drinks."

Mizuki scrunches her face up like it's the most distasteful thing she's ever heard of. I can't blame her. My face would've been the same only a couple weeks ago.

She looks glossy from head to toe, subtle sunscreen probably completely covering her porcelain white skin. Too bad it still makes her have that odd sheen to her. Guess they'll fix that in retouching. I feel a little bad for her. My light tan skin is just darkening in this sunlight.

Her smirk grows, "Is this your contingency plan when you retire soon?"

I know she's mostly joking. After all, she's only a year younger than I am. If I'm headed to retirement soon, then so is she.

I throw a superficial glare her way, "I'm twenty-fucking-four, bitch."

She laughs lightheartedly and pats my arm with her- ew- greasy hand before moving off to take her turn in front of the camera, "Don't let that bitterness give you early wrinkles."

I can't help but roll my eyes. This is how my "friendships" with most other models go. We joke with each other about looking old and retiring... in our twenties...