Spam! It's What's for Christmas Read online

  Ben’s brain lagged a step or two behind. “You mean I actually got the job?”

  Marge shrugged. “What can I say? I know desperation when I see it. And your talent really is quite impressive. Besides, we need someone right away. The guy scheduled for this gig tripped getting out of bed this morning and has a cast on his arm.” She sighed. “Not a brain surgeon, that one.”

  Ben fiddled with the piece of paper. “So this job, is it—”

  “Not porn per se,” Marge told him, “but it does involve graphic nudity. So if you don’t think you’re up to it—” She reached out, as if to take back the scrap of paper.

  Ben imagined Kai on Christmas morning, the way his face would light up when he unwrapped that God-awful ugly compote. “No, no! I’m good.” He forced a smile and turned to go before Marge could change her mind.

  “Knock ’em dead, hot stuff,” floated after him into the hall.

  * * *

  According to the slip of paper, the job was for later that day, which was good, because if Ben had had any more time to think about it he probably would have freaked out and gone home and pretended the words “nude male model” didn’t exist in the English language.

  Instead, he showed up promptly at the studio, another dingy building in another unpromising neighborhood. He rang the buzzer, told the scratchy voice on the other end of the intercom why he was there, and took the rickety elevator up to the eighth floor, his palms sweating.

  A tiny little woman with purple-red dyed hair waited to meet him. “You the talent?”

  “Ben.”

  “Rona.” She gestured with her head toward a door at the end of the hall.

  They walked into an enormous, mostly empty loft space. A man at the far end of it adjusted a camera on a tripod. Rona led Ben into a closet-sized dressing room.

  “You need to fill out these forms.” She handed over a clipboard, briskly efficient. “’One’s a model release and one’s for taxes. When you’re done, here’s your wardrobe.” She thrust a plastic bag at him with something red inside. Actual clothes. He hadn’t been expecting that, and it came as a relief. “You can change behind the screen.”

  Ben scribbled out his personal information. He’d never thought anything about taxes would make him happy, but the prospect of actually have something to tax put a smile on his face. He went behind the screen to don his costume, opened the bag and found that Rona had given him a pair of red velvet pants, sewed to look as if the fly had been peeled open, along with a Santa hat. He pulled on the clothes. His dick hung out of the pants, which he supposed was the point, graphic nudity and all. He wondered if possibly this was more humiliating than having no clothes on at all.

  “You about done in there?” Rona called to him.

  “Um.” He imagined Kai with that look he got when he was really pleased, mouth soft and round, eyelashes fluttering. He imagined the stack of bills sitting on the kitchen table waiting to be paid. He walked out from behind the screen, chin up and back straight even though his dick and balls were dangling out in front of him.

  Rona tilted her head. “Good. Those pants fit you perfectly.” Ben didn’t think she was making fun of him, but he couldn’t really be sure.

  “Where’s my model?” An impatient voice shouted from the other room. “Are you drinking on the job again, Rona?”

  “Go fuck yourself, McNally!” she hollered back and then plastered on a smile for Ben’s benefit. “Don’t worry. He’s a lot nicer to the talent.” She picked up a brush. “Okay, makeup.”

  She made rather perfunctory work of his face and then turned her attention to his cock. Ben raised an eyebrow at her, and she said with a smirk, “Hey, it is the star of the shoot.”

  When that was finally done, Ben made a move toward the door, thinking he was ready to get to work at last.

  Rona shook her head. “Call sheet says you need to have an erection in the shot. We’re on a tight budget. So sorry, you don’t get your choice of fluffer. If you like boys, close your eyes and pretend.” A pump bottle of lube sat on the makeup table, Ben noticed belatedly. Rona squirted out a liberal handful.

  “Um,” he stuttered as she reached for him.

  “Problem?”

  He went over his other options and came up with none. “Uh… no. No problem.”

  Ben had never had any trouble getting it up, not once in his entire life. Mostly, he got it up for boys, but his days as a ballplayer had given him an appreciation for enthusiastic girls, as well. The bottom line was: he just liked sex. So he truly had no explanation why his dick chose this moment of all times to turn prima donna on him. Come on, come on, he thought coaxingly at it. But it stayed stubbornly uninterested despite Rona’s best efforts.

  “More like this?” She twisted her wrist on the down stroke, something that never failed to get Ben going.

  Until now.

  “Maybe I just—” Ben struggled for some way to say I’m not usually this inadequate, I swear without sounding entirely pathetic.

  “What is taking so long?”

  The door to the dressing room flung open, and the photographer loomed there. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with short brown hair that was starting to recede just a bit, a mobile mouth that seemed equally capable of sarcasm as kindness, and bright blue eyes hot with intelligence. He wore black pants and a tight-fitting black shirt. Ben’s type tended more toward slight young pretty boys, but that didn’t keep him from noticing the body beneath those black clothes, not gym-rat perfect, but nice, very nice.

  “Oh. So that’s the problem.” The man’s sharp blue eyes fastened on Ben.

  Ben’s dick instantly twitched in Rona’s hand. This was lost on no one, and the man lingered, watching, until Ben was fully erect.

  “Good,” the man said. “Give him a robe and get him in front of the backdrop.” He disappeared.

  “I guess you do better when you keep your eyes open and pretend, huh?” Rona said, handing him the robe. “Leave this on until McNally tells you to take it off. He’ll need to adjust the camera and lights before he starts shooting.”

  It was a relief to cover up, and even though standing around doing nothing usually drove Ben half insane, today he wasn’t complaining. The man finally got the lights set and the camera focused, and he nodded at Ben. “Ready for you now.”

  Rona came and took the robe. Ben’s salute had lost a little of its enthusiasm, so Rona went to work on him again. Now that Ben stood under the hot glare of lights, his heart started to beat too fast, and his chest felt tight. Even admiring how the photographer’s black pants cupped his incredibly gorgeous ass did nothing to get him going.

  The photographer nodded to Rona, who hesitated a moment and then headed back to the dressing room. The man approached, and Ben looked down at the floor. Damn it, he really needed this job.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to molest you.” The man sounded amused.

  “I’m more concerned about getting fired.”

  “Relax. What’s your name again?”

  “Ben.”

  “Gavin. So, Ben, luckily for you, Marge called this morning to tell me you’re new to modeling, in case you forgot to mention it. I built some time into the schedule for reassuring the anxious virgin.”

  “You’re a sport,” Ben said dryly.

  Gavin grinned. “Not something I hear every day. So, look, it’s normal to be nervous the first time out. I can help you with that if you’ll let me.” His gaze met Ben’s. “Is it all right if I touch your penis?”

  The words alone were enough to make Ben suck in his breath, his dick suddenly a hell of a lot more willing. Apparently, he needed to reconsider what his type was, because this guy definitely had an effect on him.

  Gavin’s mouth twisted into a self-satisfied little smirk. “I’m going to take that to mean: yes, please touch me.” He curled his fingers around Ben’s shaft and stroked lightly. “Did anyone tell you what this picture is for?”

  Ben shook his head, not quite trusting th
at his voice wouldn’t crack.

  “Penis enlargement.”

  “What’s with the costume?” Ben asked, honestly puzzled.

  “Apparently, for some people nothing says happy holidays quite like a big, hard one. You have what so many men can only wish for.” Gavin started to move his hand on Ben’s dick. “Just imagine all those men looking at this picture of you, admiring, envying. You like to be looked at, don’t you, Ben? A hot guy like you.” He circled his thumb around the cockhead. “Like to be touched. You know that old phrase ‘making love to the camera’? Well, the truth is that the camera makes love to you. Every click of the shutter, every time the flash goes off, it’s like hands, the most sensitive, most appreciative hands, all over your skin.”

  Ben was not only hard by the end of this motivational speech, but he was panting.

  Gavin gave him a look of appraisal. “I think we’re ready to get started.” He returned to the camera. “Just stand naturally.” He began snapping pictures.

  Being natural was easier said than done when Ben was so pornographically displayed. His back went ramrod straight, and his shoulders tensed so much they were practically brushing his ears.

  “Talk to me,” he said desperately.

  Gavin didn’t hesitate. “People are going to get this ad in their email, and they’re going to open it, and their mouths are going to drop open at the sight of your luscious cock.”

  Gavin’s voice felt like a caress, and Ben’s body started to relax.

  “That’s good, that’s good,” Gavin encouraged him, the camera clicking away. “Can you thrust your hips forward? Like you’re offering me that big, gorgeous cock of yours.”

  Ben rested his hands on his waist and canted his hips, his skin buzzing.

  Gavin murmured, “Beautiful.”

  That was pretty much it for Ben’s self-consciousness. Rona returned, and they took the occasional break so she could reapply makeup or fix his hair or blot the sweat from his forehead. Ben hardly noticed. Maybe he’d finally found the skill he could fall back on. Possibly it should have bothered him that this skill involved waving his dick around for the world to see, but hey, washed-up ex-shortstops couldn’t be choosers.

  At last Gavin declared, “Okay. Robe.”

  Rona hurried over with it and told Ben, “We’re probably good, but don’t get dressed until McNally gives you the word. There are chairs in the lounge where you can wait.”

  Ben took a seat and flipped through an old issue of Photography. When he heard the main door open, he glanced up and saw Rona leaving. She waved, a bemused smile curving her mouth.

  Before Ben could ask where she was going, Gavin was standing in front of him. “So, we’re done with the job. I sent everyone else home, but I thought if you were interested in making some more money we could take some more pictures. They’d just be for me. I’d be the only one who ever saw them.”

  “What would I have to do?” Ben asked warily.

  Gavin met his gaze unapologetically. “Get yourself off.”

  Ben wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on the terrycloth and didn’t look away. He nodded before there had been any kind of actual thought process on the subject. He needed the money. For Kai’s gift. That was what he told himself.

  Gavin’s eyes turned an even darker shade of blue. “Give me five minutes. I’ll set up the shot.”

  It took more like twenty, and then Gavin called him over. A fluffy white comforter lay across some pillows, creating a cloud-like nest.

  “Lie on your back,” Gavin told him. “I’d like to start with some shots of you in the costume.”

  Ben’s lips quirked.

  Gavin shrugged. “What can I say? I’m full of the holiday spirit.”

  Ben got comfortable, and Gavin fiddled with the camera, and then it was show time.

  “You want to start by touching your chest?” Gavin suggested.

  Ben laid his hand between his nipples, just resting it there for a moment, and then he began to explore. Gavin had the camera in his hands, snapping pictures, from farther away and then closer up, circling around, taking shots from all angles.

  Ben started to ease his hand down his belly, and Gavin encouraged him, “Yeah, yeah, give that gorgeous dick some attention.”

  He trailed his fingertips along his shaft, light and teasing, because Gavin staring at him was the biggest turn-on ever and if he didn’t take this slow, he wasn’t going to last.

  Gavin held the camera away from his face. “Can I get you without the costume?”

  Completely nude was different than mostly unclothed, and if the way Ben’s dick reacted was any indication, a hell of a lot hotter.

  He started to slip the pants down his hips, but Gavin called out urgently, “Wait! Do that slower.” He knelt down, and the camera whirred away as Ben undressed as deliberately as possible.

  “You are so fucking hot,” Gavin muttered.

  Ben wrapped his palm around his dick and thrust, seriously getting into it.

  “Yeah, yeah, like that. Do you want to open your legs for me?”

  Not surprisingly, Ben found that he did. Gavin stayed on his knees, sliding closer, camera pointed at Ben’s face. “I can’t wait to see what you look like when you come,” Gavin said, sounding so very, very dirty.

  Ben arched his back and pushed up into his fist. He really liked a dirty-talking Gavin.

  “Do you finger yourself when you get off?”

  Ben nodded, and Gavin passed him a tube of lube. Ben soon had two fingers in his ass and an even tighter grip on his cock. He felt totally exposed, not that he minded particularly. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? Nothing had ever been a bigger turn-on. Still, he’d always been a two-way street kind of guy, and he figured Gavin owed him a little reciprocity.

  “You should tell me something,” he said breathlessly. “About yourself.”

  Gavin raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you think, huh?”

  Ben nodded, grinding down onto his fingers. “Mm-hmm.”

  Gavin stared for a moment, spots of color burning high in his cheeks, and then he went back to snapping pictures. “What do want to know?”

  Ben shrugged. “Something. Anything.”

  Gavin’s mouth lifted at the corners. “Oh, I see. A little quid pro quo.” He crouched down, to take some shots from a low angle. “Well, let’s see. I have a rotten temper and an anti-social personality. At least, that’s what most of my exes will tell you. I drink Scotch and eat red meat, and if you’re a vegan, please, God, just keep it to yourself. I came to L.A. to photograph a rare lotus, go figure, and ended up the photog to the flesh industry.” His voice dropped into a gravelly octave. “And you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in forever. A little shy and totally shameless. I like that in a guy.”

  Gavin’s blunt appreciation put Ben in the mood to be even more shameless. He spread his legs wider, fucked his hand harder. “Do you do this a lot?”

  Gavin shook his head. “Being a walking cliché hurts my pride. So I don’t fuck my models. Don’t get personal with them. But there you were, so damned pretty, your dick standing up just because I looked at you. And I couldn’t resist. I’m going to jerk off to these pictures until I go blind.”

  “You have a dirty mouth,” Ben told him.

  Gavin smiled broadly. “That’s actually one of my good points.”

  He knelt right next to Ben’s shoulder, and Ben could see the erection pressed against the tight black fabric of his pants.

  “Being a cliché isn’t the worse thing in the world.” The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to consider them.

  Mixing business and pleasure in this situation probably wasn’t the smart way to go. It was unprofessional, and the whole point of embarking on the nude male model phase of his life was to win Kai back.

  Then again… Ben never had been what you’d call a smart decision-maker.

  He reached out to cup Gavin’s dick through his pants. “Are you going to put that camera down or what?
”

  Gavin went still, a strained expression on his face: temptation and lust and rapidly diminishing self-control. Ben reached for the camera and put it down himself. The entire afternoon had been foreplay, and Ben preferred cutting right to the chase. He was all over Gavin in an instant, pulling at his clothes, kissing like he had no intention of ever coming up for air. He tossed Gavin’s pants and shirt and underwear into a heap beside the discarded costume.

  He kissed across Gavin’s chest and worried his nipples, again and again because Gavin gasped so prettily. He glanced up, grinning. “Do you like getting your cock sucked?”

  “Fuck,” Gavin said, teeth clenched, his cock jerking as Ben took it in hand.

  Ben grinned even wider. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  He’d been fourteen the first time he’d gone down on a guy: Lester Biggs, the number one starter on the Westland High baseball team, an adrenaline-fueled impulse in the showers after a 3-2 win over their arch rival. Lester had looked kind of skittish when it was done. Ben, on the other hand, had experienced perhaps the most important epiphany of his life; he fucking loved sucking cock.

  There was a flutter of excitement in his stomach as he darted out his tongue, swirled it experimentally around the head of Gavin’s dick.

  “God,” Gavin moaned.

  Ben smiled. This was always the best part, the desperate little noises that came streaming out of a guy when he had an eager mouth on his cock. He gave Gavin’s dick a squeeze, wrapped his lips around it, and set to work to see how many more sounds he could pull out of Gavin. He got a throaty murmur of encouragement when he started to suck, a high-pitched gasp when he traced patterns along the shaft with his tongue, a desperate “oh fuck, oh fuck” when he used the delicate edge of teeth on the scar where Gavin had been cut as a baby.

  “Ben.” Gavin’s chest heaved with his labored breath. His thighs trembled. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”