The other models started to whine, too, following Kerynne’s lead and getting snarky about various bit and pieces of their clothing. I had let Hensley handle it for long enough to know that she was amazing and adept at this, but I didn’t need to stand by and let the models abuse my designer.
“Knock it off, Kerynne,” I said to her as I shot her a stern look of warning. “I’ll remind you that there are terms on your end of the contract to abide by, too. Harassing my designer is in violation of at least three of them.”
Hensley tried to hide a small smile when Kerynne huffed at me and then became silent. She let Hensley fix the tulle without another word. Then, Hensley went back to affixing a small headpiece of horns onto the top of Cai’s head. The outfit he was wearing was incredible. It was a deep-red satin suit that fit like a bodysuit with peasant sleeves. He looked every bit the part of some sort of woodland prince headed to an indulgent revelry.
“The crotch is too tight,” Cai said to her as he wriggled his pelvis toward her. “Can you fix it, please? I know that my massively bulging size is a visual delight, but I’d still like to be able to use it and would prefer this outfit not to damage my goods.”
Hensley finished making sure the headpiece was attached tightly and then put her hands on the stitching at the inner part of Cai’s thighs to loosen it and mark it for a wider restitch later. But when she was working along the seam so closely to his groin, Cai moved and rubbed himself against her hands. Hensley looked startled but didn’t move her hands away from his now-swelling cock because she still had the open seam between her fingers and didn’t want the fabric to pull. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to let him get away with what he was doing.
“Cai!” I said as I walked right up to him and pulled Hensley’s hand away.
She made a little shriek when she saw the thread begin to unwind at the seam.
“If you want to rub your dick on someone, I suggest you ask first next time. Otherwise, it will be my pleasure to ask Hensley to sew both of your balls together.” I was angry, and Cai could tell.
“Lighten up, Arlo,” he said. “We’re in a fantasy here, remember?” He shook the horns on his head at me as if they were bells and then looked over at Hensley. “Besides,” he smirked, “she enjoyed it, too.”
Before I could say anything else to him—which honestly, I probably would have ended up regretting because I could feel myself getting ready to lay into him with some choice words—Cai turned and walked away.
I always felt the need to protect Hensley. She was frequently hit on by guys with less-than-sincere motives, and she had trouble setting boundaries with guys in general. It was like she went through life just hoping that all the creeps would steer clear of her, but instead, she seemed to be a magnet for them.
“He’s going to tear it,” Hensley said, not even seeming to notice how completely inappropriate Cai’s overly flirtatious move was.
“Take it off, Cai,” I shouted across the room at him as he swaggered around, trying to show off the giant hole in his pants, which was now becoming an enlarged peephole to see his genitalia.
“Fine,” he moaned theatrically. He turned to face us and slid the entire bodysuit off, then stood there naked, smiling at Hensley with his semi-aroused penis hanging between his legs.
Hensley stood gawking at him in shock, which only proceeded to make Cai more aroused.
I swear if I could do the show without models, I would.
Overall, the day was a success. All of the designs were incredible, and the models were pleased with how they looked in them. There were only a few small adjustments that Hensley needed to make—Cai’s crotch-fix being one of them—and aside from that and a few final touches, everything was ready to go. As the models were finishing up with getting undressed, some of them lingered and walked naked around the room, pretending to be searching for a lost shoe or earring, when it was very obvious that they were just seeking attention by parading their perfect figures in front of everyone. Hensley was zipping up garment bags and getting things put back onto the rack when one of the models came over to me and ran her hand along my chest as she stood in front of me in the nude.
“Mr. Pratt,” she said in an officially melodic voice. “Have you seen my panties anywhere around here?”
“No,” I answered flatly and started to walk around her.
“Are you sure?” she asked as her hand trailed quickly from my chest to the waist of my pants. “Maybe they’re in there?” she asked as she flashed her eyes down to my pants. “You work out, don’t you? I can feel how cut your muscles are beneath my hand.”
“Not interested,” I said as I pulled her hand off me and reached down onto the floor to pick up something black and lacy. “Here are your panties.” I tossed them at her, and when she caught them, she looked up at me with disgust.
“These aren’t mine,” she said as she dropped them back onto the floor.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” I said.
These girls were a dime a dozen. All of them just wanted to land some hot, rich guy who would satisfy them sexually and financially. They didn’t care at all about whether the guy loved them or was interested in what they had to say. When I first started in the business, I felt sorry for them. I had thought they were somehow getting used or fooled. And although I am sure some models are the victims of such treatment, these girls were not. They knew exactly what they were doing and exactly how to get what they wanted. I walked toward Hensley and saw that she had stopped zipping up the bags in order to watch my interaction with the model.
“They’re all over you, aren’t they?” she asked as I helped her to get the wheels on the rack unlocked so she could roll it out. “Do you ever take any of them up on their offer?”
“What offer?” I asked.
“She wants to have sex with you, doesn’t she? I mean, that’s what it looked like from here.”
“Oh,” I said as I chuckled. “Yeah, probably so. Most of them do.”
“Do you ever take them up on it?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” I answered honestly, without thinking about what an ass that made me sound like. “But I haven’t in a long time.”
Hensley looked hurt, which confused me. Why would she care if I slept with the models? It didn’t affect her work on the project at all. I tried to make it into a joking matter and change the mood to be a bit lighter.
“Honestly, it’s been at least a few months since I’ve even had sex,” I laughed. “I’ve been way too busy. I’m sure you’re getting more action than me.” Part of me found myself wanting Hensley to actually answer that as if it was a question that I was asking her.
“You’d be surprised,” she mumbled as she started to wheel the rack out of the room.
“Let me drive you home,” I offered.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll take the subway. Sometimes the commute on the train helps me work some things out in my head.”
“Are you actually going to wheel that rack through the city and down into the subway with all those clothes and accessories on it?”
“Yep,” she said.
“But what if someone steals something from the rack? What if one of the homeless people on the street or a thief in the subway grabs one of the bags and takes off with it?” I asked. It didn’t seem like what she was doing was the smartest idea to me.