Steve Rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fateandfortune2016-08-15 03:23 am
on_ur_left) wrote in fateandfortune2016-08-15 03:23 am
Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures
It was Thursday, and Steve was getting desperate. Class started in exactly a week, and he still didn't have a model. He figured, in New York of all places, finding someone willing to take their clothes off for money wouldn't be difficult. Sadly, he was aiming for someone professional (and not professional at taking their clothes off), and there weren't any actual artist's models who were willing to work for the income he had budgeted from the university.
He'd been planning on asking Peggy to do it again, but then she'd gotten a job offer back in England, and... well. She had family there, and he was glad she was able to do something she enjoyed, close to home.
It still left him in the lurch for a model. He'd been searching for almost a month now, finally this week he'd just printed up flyers and begun walking along the streets passing them out, explaining about his class, how he was looking for someone willing to do a Life Model job... He'd even had some people who had seemed interested - until he explained that yes, you would have to take your clothes off, during multiple sessions.
Inhaling deeply, Steve released the breath slowly, closing his eyes. "Please, dear God," he murmured, "I just need to find someone who can help me out. Anything. I know I'm bein' kinda picky, but if you could just, please help me out, here..."
And then he opened his eyes, and there she was. Striking, with white streaks at the front of her chestnut brown hair, a heart-shaped face, good, proportionate body-type from what he could tell under her clothes (Steve never noticed when he crossed the line when critiquing someone for art; someone else always had to point it out to him), she moved fluidly, and-- just-- she was perfect.
Before he knew it, Steve was standing in front of the woman, blocking her path, thrusting a flyer practically up her nose. "You're perfect! You're gorgeous, please, please, will you model for me?!"
It was maybe a whole five seconds later that he realized just how much of a creep he sounded like, and flushed bright red. "That's not a come-on!" he practically shouted.
He'd been planning on asking Peggy to do it again, but then she'd gotten a job offer back in England, and... well. She had family there, and he was glad she was able to do something she enjoyed, close to home.
It still left him in the lurch for a model. He'd been searching for almost a month now, finally this week he'd just printed up flyers and begun walking along the streets passing them out, explaining about his class, how he was looking for someone willing to do a Life Model job... He'd even had some people who had seemed interested - until he explained that yes, you would have to take your clothes off, during multiple sessions.
Inhaling deeply, Steve released the breath slowly, closing his eyes. "Please, dear God," he murmured, "I just need to find someone who can help me out. Anything. I know I'm bein' kinda picky, but if you could just, please help me out, here..."
And then he opened his eyes, and there she was. Striking, with white streaks at the front of her chestnut brown hair, a heart-shaped face, good, proportionate body-type from what he could tell under her clothes (Steve never noticed when he crossed the line when critiquing someone for art; someone else always had to point it out to him), she moved fluidly, and-- just-- she was perfect.
Before he knew it, Steve was standing in front of the woman, blocking her path, thrusting a flyer practically up her nose. "You're perfect! You're gorgeous, please, please, will you model for me?!"
It was maybe a whole five seconds later that he realized just how much of a creep he sounded like, and flushed bright red. "That's not a come-on!" he practically shouted.
no subject
One month, he'd said. Just one month, only a few times a week, and for really a very short time, comparatively speaking. She was quiet as she thought it over, her eyes on the piece of paper in her hand and the rate of pay that was mentioned - she could certainly use the money. And wasn't she supposed to be getting out of her shell, trying something new?
"I've never done this sort of thing before," she started hesitantly, glancing up at him with uncertainty in her expression. "I have... There are a few scars on my back from an accident. They're not that bad, you can hardly see them except up close or under certain kinds of light. Would that be an issue?"
no subject
"That's absolutely not an issue," he explained, his voice losing his over-eager tone and turning reassuring. "The room has a lot of natural light, as well as some fluorescent lighting - it might make the scars more visible than normal, but you'll be at least five feet away from the students. They'll be focusing on the overall look, but I do ask that they try to capture any details they notice. Most of the time, I'd probably have you facing them, or doing side views." If the back of the model were featured more prominently, he might've been able to convince a few people from earlier into doing the gig. But it really was about the front of the model, which society as a rule said that you shouldn't see in the all-together.