Release Me

models or with the staging. I want that same erotic allure, but withoutthe trappings. I’ll tie you up, Nikki, but I won’t put a picture of it on my wall.”
    Tie me up …
    I nod stupidly. He keeps knocking me off kilter.
    A moment later, Blaine comes in carrying a mug of coffee and I quickly button my jeans and get off the bed. He’s more casual than he was at Evelyn’s party, just Dockers and a black T-shirt. He smiles in a wide, friendly greeting. “Great to see you again, Nikki. Are you nervous?”
    “Hell yes,” I say, which makes him laugh.
    “Don’t worry. I’m like a doctor. Purely clinical.”
    I raise my brows.
    “Okay, that’s not entirely true. But I appreciate beauty, and I get off on capturing it. It’s personal, but it’s not. Does that make sense?”
    “It does,” I say, thinking of my photographs.
    “We have to trust each other. Work for you?”
    “I’ll try.”
    “And just so you know, I signed Damien’s agreement.”
    I have no idea what he’s talking about, and my confusion must show on my face.
    “The confidentiality agreement,” he clarifies. “I’m not allowed to talk about you or the sessions. And once it’s done, I’m not allowed to reveal who the model is.”
    “Really?” I look to Damien, who nods. He turns and points to the wall opposite the ocean. It isn’t a full wall, in fact it’s not really a wall at all. There’s a huge fireplace, with a great expanse of stone rising above it, hiding the chimney, I presume.
    “It will hang there,” he says. “You’ll be looking out on the ocean. You’ll see the sunset every night.”
    I nod. “Where’s the canvas?” If it’s going to fill that space, it must be huge. But there’s nothing but an oversized sketchpad on the easel.
    “Tomorrow,” Blaine says. “Today’s about getting us familiarwith each other. I sketch your curves, you stand there and look fabulous.”
    “I think you have the easier job,” I say dryly.
    “Hell yeah, I do,” he says, and we both laugh.
    “I’m still nervous,” I admit.
    “Totally normal,” Blaine says.
    I look desperately toward Damien. My skin is clammy and my pulse is pounding. Why on earth did I think this would be easy? I’m going to be standing naked in front of a stranger. Holy shit. “Do you have any wine?” I blurt.
    He brushes a chaste kiss over my lips. “Of course.”
    He disappears behind the fireplace, and returns quickly with three glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. He passes me a glass first, and I drink half of it in one swallow. The men look at each other with amusement and I defiantly swallow the rest.
    “Okay,” I say, then reach for the bedpost to steady myself. “Yeah. I think that’s better.” I hold out my glass, but Damien pours only a tiny bit.
    “I want you standing, not passed out,” he says, but he’s smiling indulgently. He squeezes my hand. “The first moment is the hardest.”
    “And you know this because of the many times you’ve posed naked?”
    “Touché,” he says. “Take your time.”
    “By the window,” Blaine says, and I’m grateful for the businesslike tone in his voice. “Close to the drapes. Damien, where’d you put that robe?”
    There’s an antique trunk at the foot of the bed, and Damien opens it and pulls out a red silk robe.
    “Just put it on the bed—the far side so it’s not in my composition. Yeah, that’s right. Okay, Nikki, right there. Do you want to put the robe on in the bathroom and then come in? Easier to just slip it off your shoulders.”
    I run the drape through my fingers. “No,” I say. I take thehem of the tank top and pull it defiantly over my head. The cool air assaults my bare breasts, and my nipples feel hard and heavy. I don’t look at Damien. Instead, I look out at the ocean.
    “Oh, man,” Blaine says. “That’s great. Your profile is amazing. And you have the most beautiful breasts. Stay like that,” he says as he starts to walk the room. “I just want to find the right place.”
    After a few moments, he’s settled in and though I should be more relaxed all I can feel is the tension building inside me, getting tauter and tauter every time he says I’m beautiful. Every time he praises my soft, perfect skin.
    I’m holding my eyes wide open, trying not to blink, trying to imagine I’m part of that ocean. That I am the tide, coming in and out, in and out.
    “Can you do the jeans now?” Blaine asks, and his voice startles me so much that I