I never planned on being a star. It kinda just happened.

***

“Take off your shirt,” the tall skinny man with the red pants and glasses told me. “I’m going to take a few Polaroids of you. I was more than a bit hesitant, and when he saw that I was uncomfortable, he said to me, “Look…what’s your name again?”

“Josh.”

“Look, Josh. There’s about two-dozen boys waiting in the other room who really want to be signed to this agency. I really don’t have time for you to waste my time. If you don’t want to do this then you can get up and leave right now and send the next one in. Now do you want to stay, or do you want to go?”

The truth was, I really didn’t know. Regardless, I slowly peeled off my shirt, folding it, and placing it in the empty chair next to me. 

“Okay,” the tall man told me, “now stand against the wall and look pretty.”

Pretty? How the fuck was I suppose to do that shit? I never thought of myself as ‘pretty’ or good-looking or any shit like that. It was all too weird for me. I didn’t really know what the fuck I was doing here. A model? Me? Maybe he was right, maybe I should stop wasting my time and leave right now. If it wasn’t for Bryan making me come down here, I wouldn’t have even been here in the first place. 

But at the same time, a big part of me wanted to stay and see what would happen. I stood against the wall, like the guy told me to do. He took about a dozen pictures of me, and when he was finished, he told me that he would send the pictures up to Daniel Wolf, the founder of the agency, and that I would get a call in the next couple of days to see if he wanted to schedule a personal appointment with me. 

I went back into the lobby, where a bunch of guys were sitting around in chairs, all of them looking like they belonged in Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs and Louis Voutton ads, holding their portfolios, some looking extra confident, others anxious and impatient. I felt awkward when I came out, because all of their eyes turned on me. Some of them gave me pleasant nods, while some others, one really good-looking dude in particular, sharp green eyes, short black hair, and a set of full, beautiful lips dressed in a wife-beater that clung to his muscular chest and showed off his great arms, ripped blue jeans, gave me this look that said, “What the fuck are you doing here, dude? You don’t belong here. Go home.” I know part of it was just some of my own insecurity, but a lot of it was real. Even as I walked away, I could feel those intense green eyes of his burning into my back.

Near the entrance of the building was a wall lined with photographs of some of the popular models already signed to the agency. Most of them were dudes that looked almost to be around my age, and most of them kinda had the same look: dark, moody eyes, dark hair, sharp jaw line, small lips, pretty boy looks. I skimmed over the photographs, and my heart skipped a little when I came across one model in particular. I was almost shocked by how sexy the guy looked. He had some of the same facial characteristics that the others seemed to have, but there was something different about him. It was a black and white photograph of him, close up, staring effortlessly seductive into the camera, with these incredibly beautiful, hypnotic eyes that were staring directly at me, staring at me as if this guy knew me without ever having met me before. The tag under his photo said his name was Dylan P. 

I must have stared at the picture for about five minutes before I finally broke out of my trance. I wanted to see this dude in person. I wanted to just be in the same room with him, even if he ignored me and didn’t know or care that I was there. I just wanted to see him. And I never felt that way about any boy before…even my boyfriend, Bryan, who, up until I saw Dylan P’s picture on the wall, was one of the sexiest dudes I had ever seen. 

Once I got outside of the building, I called Bryan to tell him what happened. “They told me they would call me in a couple of days to tell me whether or not they want me to meet with the main man that works here.”

“That’s good,” Bryan said, in his silky deep voice that always made my skin tingle. 

“I guess…still not sure about all this shit. I mean all the dudes look here actually look like real models. I don’t think I do. Felt like I just wasted my time.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna get this. I know you are. You need to stop doubting yourself all the time. And I know that none of those boys in there could’ve been half as sexy as you are.”

I laughed a little. “You’re just saying that "cause you love me.”

“Little bit…but it’s true. You’re beautiful. I wish you would see what I see when I look at you.”

“Me too,” I responded. “I just don’t want them to tell me no. I don’t want them to tell me that I’m not good enough. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough.”

“Just don’t give up already. And even if they do say no, it won’t be the end of your life. There’s always something else.” As Bryan was talking, I noticed a silver BMW sports car suddenly pull up at the curb right in front of the building, blaring loud Hip Hop music. Bryan was still saying something, but I couldn’t hear what he was said and my attention had veered away from him, to the tall, muscular dude, dressed in a tight, cherry-colored shirt that clung to his beautiful torso, with the words ‘You Wish’ written across the chest. He wore designer sunglasses, and he had short, black hair with cute thin sideburns. As he approached, he took off his sunglasses and my heart skipped.

“Josh, are you still there?” Bryan asked.
It was him. It was the dude from the picture in the lobby, Dylan. He walked up to the revolving doors with a whole lot of arrogant confidence, chewing on a piece of gum. 

“Yo, Josh, are you still there?”

“…Yeah, I’m still here,” I stammered into the phone. 

Right before he entered the building, Dylan turned and looked at me. He stopped and just stood there, staring at me. 

“Is your phone breaking up or something?” Bryan asked.

Dylan grinned at me. He had such a perfect smile, such beautiful white teeth. I had to turn around to check if there was somebody behind me that he was looking at, even though that was very stupid of me, since I was leaning against a wall and there was nobody to the right or left of me.

“What’s your name?” Dylan asked. There was such casual sexiness in the way he spoke. Like Bryan, his voice was deep, but had more of a Southern twang to it. I’ve always been turned on by good-looking boys with accents. He took a step toward me, and my heart started to race.

“What are you doing?” Bryan questioned, starting to sound a bit annoyed.

“Bryan, let me call you back in a little while. I’ll probably be back home in a couple of hours.”

“Josh…” I hung up the phone before he got the chance to finish what he was going to say. “Were you talking to me?” I asked, trying to sound cool, but I know he could probably sense some of the tension in my voice.

“Nobody else around,” Dylan said. He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his collar.

“I’m Josh,” I said.

“You’re also really cute,” Dylan said, flashing another cocky grin. I’ve never had someone say anything that straightforward to me after only talking to me for two seconds. He extended out his hand, “Dylan,” he told me, shaking my hand tightly. I almost felt like I was going to break out into a sweat and my nutsack tightened a little bit.

“I know. I saw your picture up there in the lobby.”

“Oh…” Dylan said, “so you here trying to get signed?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, what did he tell you?”

“What did who tell me?”

“Wolf. What did he say to you?”

“Oh. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. They told me they give me a call in a couple of days.”

“Come on,” Dylan said. “I’m goin’ to go talk to him "bout somethin’ right now. We’ll see what he thinks of you.”

“I can’t just walk in there. Don’t I need an appointment or something?”

Dylan snickered. “Not if you’re with me. Come on.” I followed behind him, my eyes on the back of his snug-fitting jeans the whole time. He had a great ass, nice, round, and tight. My dick twitched a little bit inside of my jeans. 

We passed by the same group of boys I passed on my way coming out. When they saw me again, especially with Dylan beside me, once again I got that same look of what appeared to me to be jealousy and “Who the fuck does he think he is?” As we approached the elevator, Dylan said to me, “All these dudes are just wastin’ their time. None of them are gonna get signed.”

“There’s a lot of good-looking ones here though,” I said.

The elevator doors opened and we both stepped inside. “Takes more to bein’ a model than just how you look, Josh.” I love the way he said my name in that accent of his. I could get a boner just hearing his voice. Dylan hit the button for the twenty-fifth floor and we started to go up.

“How old are you?” Dylan asked.

“Nineteen.”

Dylan seemed to think that was funny. I don’t know why. But I enjoyed hearing him laugh. Everything about that dude was just sexy. I couldn’t believe I was alone with him. “I remember when I was nineteen,” he told me. I looked at him a bit confused; when I first met him, I thought he was the same age as me. “How old are you?” I asked.

“I’ll be twenty-four in two months,” he told me, that seductive grin of his painted across his incredibly handsome face. 

“Oh,” I said. I stared down at my feet because I didn’t know what to say. I could smell him. He had his cologne on, not too strong, very memorable, very distinctive. I really liked the way he smelled.
“Are you nervous "cause of me, or "cause you’re goin’ to meet the big boss?” Dylan asked.

I tried to make eye contact with him, but it was so hard because he was so beautiful. I thought of Bryan at home, and for some reason, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I felt a bit guilty. “What makes you think I’m nervous?” 

‘"Cause I can hear your heart beating all the way from over here,” Dylan responded, winking.

I had to smile. “Alright. Maybe a little bit of both.”

Dylan examined for me for a moment, his eyes traveling up from my feet to my head. Even though I was fully-clothed, I felt naked at the same time. I still couldn’t believe someone this sexy was talking to me, that I was alone with him. “There’s somethin’ about you,” he said to me. “Somethin’ different about you. I’ve been at this agency for almost seven years, and I’ve never seen someone like you before.”

“That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“If you know what you’re doin’, it can be a really good thing.” He winked again and I felt my skin heat up. The elevator doors opened and we both stepped out. The hallway was white and long, almost like a hospital corridor. It almost smelled like one too. There were more photographs of models lined along the walls. I scanned each one as I passed. As we came closer to Daniel Wolf’s office, which was the only door in the whole hallway at the very end, I came across another picture of Dylan, an Italian magazine cover called “Nuovo Uomo”. As usual, it was a beautiful black and white profile shot of him, leaning against a pillar naked. His body was immaculate, lot of sharp lines and great angles. I couldn’t see his dick, and only a side view of his sharply-rounded ass, but it was just enough for me. I was mesmerized by the photograph, ten times more than the head shot I had seen of him earlier.

“Took that one "bout a year ago in Milan,” Dylan said. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine too,” I accidentally said. I felt a little embarrassed after saying it, but Dylan just chuckled and said, “Come on.”

Instead of knocking on David Wolf’s door, Dylan just opened it and stepped right inside, almost as if it were his own office. He told me to come inside with him, and I did, a bit sheepishly. I closed the door quietly behind me. I almost gasped when I saw how large and luxurious, Wolf’s office was. He must have had everything you could possibly have in one room: a large leather couch that seemed to spread from one side of the room to the other, a large, flat-screen plasma TV, and a big window with a great view of the city below, even a refrigerator. It was the kind of stuff you see in movies, but never think you could see in real life.

“Tell Anthony if he misses another fucking casting, then he won’t ever have to fucking worry about going to another one again,” David Wolf said and slammed down his phone. I was amazed by how good-looking he was. I was expecting some old-ass dude in his mid-fifties or something with a whole bunch of wrinkles and white hair, with one of those stuck-up, rich suits or something. This guy looked like he couldn’t have been older than thirty years old, smooth, wheat-colored skin with sharp silvery-gray eyes. He was dressed casually in a sapphire-colored silk shirt, slightly unbuttoned, letting me see that he had a little bit of hair on his chest, and simple blue jeans.

“Dylan,” Wolf said, “Two hours later and you finally fucking show up. What the fuck have you been doing this whole time?” 

“Brushing my hair,” Dylan said smugly. He plopped down in a plush leather chair in front of Wolf’s desk. I didn’t know whether it I should stand or sit, so I just remained standing.

“And who the fuck are you?” Wolf said to me. My heart immediately began racing again.

“He’s your newest client,” Dylan said. “His name is Josh.”

Wolf looked at me, a lot of reservation in his steel-colored eyes. “You got a last name, Josh?”

“Hunter.”

Wolf laughed. “Josh Hunter?” I felt embarrassed and angry. What was so fucking funny about my name? He stopped chuckling after a while and placed his feet up on his desk. “What are you here for, Josh Hunter?”

A part of me just wanted to turn around and leave right then. I didn’t belong here. Not only was I wasting my time, I was making myself look extra-fucking stupid in the process. I didn’t really have a smart answer to give him, because the truth was that I didn’t know myself what I was doing there. “I guess I want to be a model.”