Cover Shoot

You lay awake in the dark, thinking of the day’s photo shoot. How could you not think about it, when your models were Kate Upton and Charlotte McKinney, both of them wearing next to nothing, not to mention shamelessly changing bras and bikinis in front of you? You tried to be professional, of course, but it’s impossible not to think of those icons of sexuality in terms of their abundant breasts, well-rounded asses, gorgeous blonde hair, and lovely legs.

You still have yet to decide which of them will actually get the front cover of the magazine and which will be relegated to the back. The editor left it up to you; you guess he doesn’t want the responsibility either. They’re so irresistible—how can you decide which of them is more irresistible? They could be sisters, twins, and it’s hard to tell which of them is better suited to your luscious style of photography.

In fact, the biggest difference between them is something you couldn’t help but glimpse while they were switching from one outfit to another. Kate is completely waxed, her slit bare in vivid counterpoint to how lusciously her mane of golden hair falls around her shoulders. While Charlotte has a proud muff, not excessive, but a definite throwback to the natural, hairy women in the skin mags you read as a kid.

Look at you now. A star photograph for a prestigious magazine, trusted to decide which of these women is the next Marilyn Monroe, the next epitome of the timeless blonde bombshell. Whoever gets the cover is going to get a big push. There could be movie deals, endorsements—maybe one of the British Royal Family is looking to get married.

And neither of them is undeserving. The shoot was long and strenuous, but they were both polite, professional, striking you as entirely intelligent and hard-working. So you can’t decide one of them is more ‘worthy’ of the shot. Which leaves which of them looks better. And that’s still impossible to say. If they both offered to fuck you, you’d rip yourself in half trying to go for both of them at once.

On that thought, you hear the sound of a door creaking open. For the shoot, the magazine’s put you and the girls up in a suite, all to yourselves, its luxury a balm after the hectic day. Your bed’s soft as could be; you have to assume Kate’s is the same. But still, her room is on that side of the suite and you heard the door open. You know you have reason to lose sleep, but why is she tiptoeing around?

Then your heart stands still. No. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t try to influence your decision by paying you a nocturnal visit. Could you possibly accept? Of course, you wouldn’t think about debasing a girl that way—but then again, you’re not half-bad to look at yourself. And Kate was rather friendly with you. Maybe she’s honestly attracted to you and just wants some fun, casual sex. You just have to look at her and you want fun, casual sex—imagine how she must feel.

You keep listening, straining your ears until you hear her pad past your door. You shake your head. Maybe you heard wrong. Maybe she missed your room in the dark—she is a blonde, after all, even if there’s no telling how natural that is with her shorn cunt. No, you definitely hear her continuing on, confidently placing each footstep. She’s going to Charlotte’s room.

Now you’re worried. You know the two have a bit of a rivalry going, a frenemy thing—both of them preening for you, both trying to be the center of attention at the same time, knowing that whoever you like best is going to have her career get a shot in the arm.

They’re not bitchy to each other, but they’re not friends either. Could Kate be doing something to sabotage Charlotte—even to harm her? You wouldn’t think that of her; then again, you also thought she might be coming to give you a blowjob in the middle of the night. You can’t rule out that she might hurt Charlotte rather than concede defeat.

You get out of bed, not taking time to dress, and sneak out of your room. The door to Charlotte’s room is half-open. Listening intently for any signs of distress, you crouch your way over to it. You can see almost nothing in the dark, but you can hear a rustle of clothing. Then your eyes adjust to the dark and you can see everything.