polaroid angel - dreamnotfound

˖⋆࿐໋₊ 𝘰𝘯𝘦

dream is cleaning the lens when i walk out of the changing room, completely naked as requested. i remember how anxious i was in the beginning of my career, during the first nude photoshoots i ever did. i would shuffle out awkwardly with my hands covering my junk, like my pictures weren't gonna be seen by publishers anyway. now i can look back on those good old times and laugh. my confidence has skyrocketed since then, and nowadays i'm rather indifferent about showing every part of myself to complete strangers.

what surprises me the most this time instead, is the lack of props. usually photographers who come here like to bring props, either for me to hold and interact with or just for the background. apparently it's "trendy" to take playful photos with abstract objects in frame. i keep seeing it everywhere; in printed magazines, in digital ones, on websites, and on social media. i must admit that i've had to pose with some... pretty bizarre things before. and in strange outfits.

but anything for money, right? i don't mind.

this room however, feels too empty. it's just white, everything is. the studio lights, the floor, the backdrop. does dream know what he's doing? carlos said he's a rising star, so surely he's got skills. i'm more than interested to see how this will turn out. maybe i'm severely underestimating him.

"perfect," he smiles as he sees me walking out, "you can sit down in the middle and give me some time to adjust the field of view."

i do as he says, despite the floor being uncomfortably solid and cold. small, occasional clicking sounds from the camera and tripod are the only things that hinder complete silence from setting in. he leans down to type something on his laptop before returning to his previous position.

i watch him as he gets ready to start the session. he looks almost emotionless as he works, leaving hints back to that same mysterious aura that i observed earlier on. if i'm being honest, he's ridiculously attractive. and he seems to be my age too, which is considerably rare. most popular photographers around have got a few years behind their current skill.

i've mostly met older men and women. they'll give you a smile, they'll praise you for posing just right, but there's no spark, no energy. it always seems like they're about ready to retire on the spot.

but this dream guy is nothing like that. he just has something special going on with him. maybe it's that look in his eye, a hidden flame of sorts. cause i could swear he looks at me differently. differently from all the others, at least.

"are we ready?" he asks, peeking out from behind the camera to get my confirmation.
"yes," i reply, my tone short and anticipating.

"okay, i'd like you to turn so that you're facing half away from me."
"to the left or the right?"
"left."
i follow the instructions, sitting so that the back left side of my head is in focus.

"pull your knees up to your chest and hug them," dream orders next.
the position feels a little unnatural, but i go along with it.

"not that tightly, you can relax a little. just make sure that your arms are wrapped around your knees."
that's better.

"now hunch over. a little more.. yes, alright, that's perfect. and look back at me just slightly..."

i hold the pose, waiting as dream views me through his camera. he snaps one photo, then two, then three. the flash lights up the already painfully bright room even more, but in small bursts.

"great, now keep your eyes on the floor, and use your fingers as paintbrushes. pretend that you're painting something, very carefully."

my fingertips graze the barren surface, slowly and meticulously like he told me. the flash goes off yet again.

"and one more time, focus back on me."

i know i'm supposed to look into the camera when he says that, but i catch my curious eyes observing the man behind it instead. dream's neutral expression breaks for just a fraction of a second. you would've missed it if you blinked. he bites his bottom lip, taking a few pictures without even checking the camera.

"perfect.. facing me now."

his voice is so calm and soothing, smooth like warm milk and honey. i find myself taking a liking to it.

"left leg up, and hold it with your hand. keep your right leg flat against the floor."

wordlessly as always i pose, getting my face to appear as innocent and angelic as possible. the shutter clicks over and over.

"part your lips a little..."

more clicks.

i think i hear him lightly panting a few times, like he's out of breath. was he holding it? i suddenly become very aware of my own, paused breathing. it's like something's making me forget to do it.

"thank you, george," he says after another round, "you've done a great job."

quietly i smile at him, as i see no reason to speak. i get up from the floor to go and change back into my workwear. when the door to the back room slams shut behind me, i can finally take a deep breath. woah.

what the hell was that? a totally normal photoshoot? no. something felt different. not off, necessarily, but different nonetheless. the way his tone was so soft, and so patient. the way his stone-faced stare would crack at the edges when our eyes met.

i'm normally good at reading people, but dream really is something else. then again, it could simply be because i don't know him yet. we've barely even had a proper conversation.

i shrug it all off as i pull my shirt back on, closing the buttons one by one. it's getting pretty late, and i should start heading back home. i'm starving. some dinner would be really nice right about now.

the shoelaces slip between my fingers as i struggle tying them. my brain is caught in a fog of hunger and exhaustion. this is why i never stay after my shift is done. i become a zombie, messing up everything.

the doubt from earlier comes back to haunt me again. i must look horrible in the pictures. dream asked for a trial with "someone special," and i probably just shattered all his hopes and expectations. the extra makeup i slathered on just minutes before most likely did nothing. it doesn't help that i had no props to hide myself behind. all the focus was directed at me, and me alone. my frail figure, my vulnerable face.

i'm desired for my so called "fragile beauty," not my confidence.

i exit the room once again. dream peeks up at me from where he's sitting, laptop open. the two sides of my brain are battling with each other; do i say something, or do i stay silent? one part is telling me to speak up, because that makes me sound professional. i have to thank him and wish him a good evening before i rush out the door. it's common sense. but the other part doesn't let me. i fucking hate when i become all shy like this. god, how hard can it be to just say something? he's a photographer like any other. i've done this a million times before.

i'm probably staring right now. i swallow the painful lump in my throat that's been building up. my legs make their own decision, and they want out. i don't mind. this is fine.

"hey, george!"

the shuffling of a laptop being set down. footsteps coming towards me. a hand on my shoulder.

"wait..."

i spin around, and there he is. he's so close to me. his hand is literally touching me. my heart races. i can feel it pumping in my throat. dream.

me thinking he stopped me to complain or say goodbye must've been dumb, because he doesn't say a thing. in fact, several long seconds pass, without a word uttered from either of us. the tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

just as i'm about to turn and leave again, his hand gently grips my chin, fingers sliding along my jawline.

"you're beautiful."

he admires me for a brief moment.

"a-and i'd love to work with you again."

i'm speechless. my breathing hitches. i try to smile, but it comes out looking awkward and lopsided. he steps away, and lets me leave without more interference.