The fact that he mentioned, in passing, that he was a model barely registered on my radar. I mean, I was purely focused on the thrill of an interview. You get that, right?
Should I have questioned why a young, male, model wanted to interview me? Er, nooo.... there could be all manner of reasons why... Maybe it was for an assignment, or a part-time job, who knows?
So we agreed on a date and time and it almost slipped my mind, you know how it is... That is, until I checked my diary that morning...
Did I panic? Not at all, why would I? It was just another interview right? *yawns casually*
So I ran a bath, adding half a bottle of my favourite bubbles (the bottle slipped, ok? OK?) and I took a long bath, washed my hair, shaved away my stubble, trimmed, plucked, towelled myself down and slathered on my Molton Brown body products until my skin gleamed (don't question me, this is my usual routine).
I dried my hair, scrunching it into a sexy, shaggy, style and stood in front of my closet for an hour or so deliberating on what to wear (this is also my usual routine, why don't you believe me...).
Finally I selected a cute pair of cut-off denims and a little strappy top (it was a hot day) and decided to paint my nails (just because they were due a new colour ok? no other reason).
I spritzed on some perfume and plumped the cushions on the couch in my writing den. I didn't want my interviewer to be uncomfortable. I'm a considerate kind of girl.
The bell rang and I buzzed in my male model, walking to greet him with a smile on my face.
Oh my goodness. It was my lucky day...
'Honey? Nice to meet you, I'm Duke.'
Duke's handshake was firm and lingered for a while (or was that my writer's imagination?).
'Hi Duke, pleased to meet you, come through and get comfortable.'
I decided to pour us both a glass of chilled wine (it was a hot day, remember?) as I thought it would help Duke relax. He seemed nervous, poor sweet boy...
'So, Honey, my first question is - What is your favourite time of day to write?'
'I love to write in the evening, that's when I'm at my best, with a glass of wine. I find that the words just fl'
'Er Honey, it's so hot, d'you mind if I remove my shirt?'
Do I mind? 'No, go ahead, feel comfortable.'
I tried not to stare...
'So Honey, how do you design your book covers? Do you use models?'
'Well, I'
'Would I suit any of your upcoming books d'you think?
At this point I must confess to a slight flash of irritation. I mean to say, he did come here to interview me...
'Well Duke, yes, it's poss'
'Cool, I'd love that. Check out my abs, I work out every day.' He flexed his abs, standing up and striking a pose.
And then he dropped his pants! I was in shock!
'What d'you think?' He grinned cockily.
'Duke, please sit down, we're in the middle of an interview. You wanted to know'
'Want to take a few pics?' He pranced around, posing, and I have to confess that I lost it. Completely.
I pushed Duke back down onto the couch and grabbed a roll of duct tape that I happened to have handy (research, we have these things).
'Duke, I swear, if you don't shut up I'll have to use this.'
'Ok, ok, only kidding Honey, let's go with another question.
Er, how do you write about bondage in your stories? Do you try things out?'
'Well, yes, it helps to know how things work practically, you know...'
'Why don't you show me?' I swear this man swaggered in his prone position...
I don't know what came over me but I grabbed a couple of pairs of cuffs, that I happened to have handy and expertly slipped them around his wrists and ankles. Before I knew it I had Duke trussed up like a turkey, his arms and legs spread wide.
'Does that answer your question Duke?' I enquired sweetly.
He grinned, 'Sure, I can see you know what you're doing. How do I look? Hot? Would this make good cover art? Want to take a photo or two?'
I don't know if it was the heat or the wine but I'd heard enough. I picked up the duct tape, expertly biting a length off with my teeth, and before I knew it I had Duke silenced.
'Honey, I'm home!' My man's voice reached my ears seconds before he appeared in the doorway to my den, his eyes widening in surprise at the scene before him.
'It's not what it looks like,' I said...
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