Love in the Gist of Splendor
Yoshamai

Disclaimer: *mutters* I hate doin' this.. *ahem*... uh... They do not... I repeat, do NOT belong to me...*sigh*

Warning: Like, some severe AU!!! But it's fun... yaoi... seifer x squall... ENJOY!

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Chapter Three

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

My agent and I were sitting in his office going over my new assignment. I was supposed to meet this guy--Kani Toshimi , I think his name was-- to do a half-nude (only my whole bare ass sticking out) photo shoot for Gucci in GQ Magazine. I knew my eyes were bulging right out of my head when Luigi told me this. My five year contract stated that I didn't have to do any nude shots whatever the content, but when Luigi offered me seventeen point five million dollars to do it, I was reconsidering it.

Now, I know it'd be kind of hard to focus on work with a fucking guy just staring at my dick, but this is a good job--so long as the fucker doesn't ever touch me or get too close. It sucks even more because they'd really distract me with some freakish offhand comment, you know? 'Nice buttocks' or 'Sexy legs...nice and plump...' Uh huh, legs that you'd want to feel squeezing around your waist, hunh? Well sorry, fuckers, but this bitch ain't free! Mitchell had to learn that the hard way when he tried to force me to go home with him a couple of nights ago. When I told this to Luigi, he fired that bastard on the spot, saying 'Squall is way too good for the company to be led around under such cheap surveillance.'

And it's really hard protecting my body and virginity when a really young, good-looking guy comes along, usually another model. I have to keep reminding myself that all the guy wants is sex. That all he wants is to fuck me, then leave me. I know this sounds a bit corny and sappy coming from me, but I want to give it up to the man I fall in love with, not some slutty male-whore....

Anyways, Kani came in the office and I was able to see him fully before we got started on anything. He was in his mid-forties. He hardly had any visible wrinkles and his blonde streaked with blue hair half covered his make-up flooded face. His eyeliner and blush matched his hair--blue tinted with gold--and his nails were painted pink. He wore a see-through sheer black net-pattern tank top, a big, fluffy blue scarf, and tight Perry Ellis jeans that were obviously too small for him. When he came in, he held his hands out to me and giggled. Yeah, he was a fruit and that's why I didn't like him. Luigi sent him out and me a disapproving look to me.

"I don't know, but I don't particularly favor your attitude," Luigi was saying to me, his thick Italian accent clear and distinct.

"Whatever," I tried to resist rolling my eyes, but I did anyway.

"Look, Squall. Mr. Toshimi is a very respected artist," Luigi said lightly, pouring him and myself a cup of coffee. "He's known all around the world for his talents at creating works of art even with the most hideous of subjects. I don't see why you can't just compromise."

"The guy's a fucking fag," I hissed hotly. "And anyway, I'm not working with someone who looks like they couldn't give two flying fucks about anything but staring at my dick all day. See how it turned out with Mitchell?"

He looked at me and sadly nodded. "Yes, but that's because Mitchell was a hot headed American who knew nothing about sho-business. Kani is Japanese and has more sense than that." He sipped his drink.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything, Luigi?" I frowned at him, then picked up and sipped my own drink. He was never too partial to Americans.

"Nothing, Squall. It's just that we knew little or nothing about Mitchell from the start. Kani and I, we have known each other for three years." He put his hand on mine. "He's a good man, Squall. He wouldn't try anything, believe me." He then bowed his head and muttered what sounded like a curse in Italian.

"I just don't feel comfortable around him or with him." And I didn't. Not because he was an all out fag/queen/sissy/queer or any other name you can think of for it, but because he reminded me of myself. Even though I have yet to spread my legs for some guy, he reminded me that I'm a cock sucker and it sort of felt servile.

"OK," he said, rummaging through his desk drawers. He pulled out a thick book. "Come here." He motioned for me to stand by his side. I put my mug down and trudged over to him as he spoke. He opened it and I saw that this was a log of all his clients and hired photographers. He pointed to the first name and profile that appeared. I looked it over once and shook my head no. The guy was 34, red hair, brown eyes and sort of chubby at 233 pounds. His quote read, "Call me when you want your photographs come to life." That actually scared me half to death.

I kept just turning pages, looking for someone I'd like to look into. Every quote sounded so godamned cliché until I reached one that said, "The world is a beautiful thing to waste. Why not catch it on film." I looked up to see the photographer's name and I'll be damned, this was Seifer Almasy's profile. I smiled, pointed to his name and looked up. Luigi was smirking at me.

"Is that who you want to try?" he asked me, grinning.

"Um...yeah. Is he available for next week?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Are you sure? He's just another American." He lifted one eyebrow at me.

"Yes, I am" I let out an exasperated sigh and slumped back into my chair.

"If you say so," he shrugged. "I'll give him a call for you." He winked at me and continued to sip his coffee.

(To be continued)

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A/N: Well, this is uh... short, but I had to get it out of the way... Just to let you know, this chapter was like half inspired by the "B-Boy Blues" series by James Earl Hardy... Those books are THE best!!! (The B in B-Boy actually stands for booty...you do the math)... anyway thankies to all those who read this piece 'o crap and reviewed... it helps... keep reviewing and I'll keep posting.... thx.

 

~Mai~