. shutter stock

[camille de vries]

Camille

Though sunshine poured through the windows on the other side of the studio, Camille's gaze was solely transfixed by the moody set before her. Almost as if preserved by a time capsule, the hazy spotlights and essential casting couch waited for her to return to it, the decade away melting to all but a few moments as she settled her lithe body on the couch. Dressed in jeans and not much else, Camille crossed her arms over her naked chest as hair and make-up swarmed, eyes smudged just so and pout perfected through the familiarity of her people. Trusted crews, trusted photographer...already the difference was noticeable, the only true holdover from the last shoot brightening a smile to her lips when he finally stepped onto the set. "Ayy," Camille calls, drifting a hand away from her body to motion up and down in appreciation. "He's still got it."

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

Taylor had forgotten the feeling of a stranger's fingers against freshly cleansed skin, the makeup artist pressing a whole manner of lotions into his pale skin, biting her lip as she worked. As was his habit he made idle chitchat with her, asking where she'd travelled from, how long she'd been in the industry, the works. This came naturally to him, photoshoots still part of his life and hair and makeup still part of those shoots, though he knew everything that would come after this would be different. It was easy to stand and be himself, able to situate himself towards the back of the group shots as the tallest member of the band. Now he not only had to be front and center, he also had to disappear at the same time, to dissolve into being a vaguely aesthetic background for Camille's central magnetism.  Feeling self conscious, Taylor steps onto set with a trepidation that fades as soon as he sees his familiar friend. She looks just like she did all those years ago, though without the deer in the headlights wide eyes, a sexy self assuredness taking its place. "Are we in a time warp or what." He closes the gap between them, going to hug her but hesitating, conscious of her semi nakedness. Instead he offers his closed hand for a fist bump. "You look great. Shall we get this show on the road?"

[camille de vries]

Camille

Aside from the quiet maturity in their faces, Camille could almost put them right back there all those years ago. The nervous, wild beat of her heart against his ribs, the tightness of her mouth when the photographer begged her to gasp, the sharp contrast of her dark, doe eyes and the clear, steady blue of his. But now she fret less and enjoyed more, returning his modest gesture before she dragged him in for a hug anyway. At this point the world seemed to have seen and known her body in the ways she would give it to them, and it was better he remember that now than have to awkwardly remind him later. "Wonder if this couch has seen any action since," she jokes, dragging him down with her as the flashes popped for lighting tests, production buzzing back and forth behind the lens she offered a teasing smile the next time it clicked. When the crowd eventually hushes, her eyes drift quickly back to Taylor. "Ready when you are," she agrees, half calling to the team as music filled the room, the lights further dimming when she artfully arranged herself atop his frame. "You look hot," she adds, half in response to his compliment and half to settle the tenseness of his posture, hand pressing gently against his arm. "Did they not beg to bleach your hair back for the day?"

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

Enveloped in a hug, he can smell her perfume mingling with her expensive shampoo. Both were probably contractual sponsorships, Camille's orbit having grown exponentially since they last found themselves scantily clad and draped across each other. Her skin against the cotton of his t-shirt— a contrast that had drawn criticism the first time round, and yet remained, faithful to the original. "Ew," he says to her comment, casting a glance down at the couch he was now sat on, his long frame awkward. He used to know what to do in these situations, he was sure. Knew his angles, the ways to position himself so as to look graceful rather than gangly. Taking a long sip first, he hands the bottle of water he was holding off to a runner with a nod of thanks.  Cami commands the set and it causes a warmth to spread in his chest. That's my girl. In response to her positioning he leans back, enjoying the weight of her on him, his eyes falling to hers and trying to ignore the flashes that were going off around them, the muttered conversations from people huddled around monitors distracting. "Says the supermodel." He keeps his eyes on her, trying his best to tune the rest of the world out and struggling with it, grateful for her idle chatter. "They did, I said it was a dealbreaker. Do you have any idea how fucked my hair was after years of that?" Of course she did. "Are you as disappointed as them?"

[camille de vries]

Camille

Cami'd learned to reframe these moments over the years. First an out of body experience, then a character, now a dance; the give and take of two people, the chemistry of body movement and precise angles and the infinite, split second of control unbound, giving way to something special that, when captured correctly, set the world on fire. It's what she wants to evoke now, again, coaxing comfort in these first few shots as she dared even further. Back swayed to tip their bodies closer, lips drifting to his ear even as her eyes shot hotly to camera. "Yes," Camille whispers, touch raised to the darkened locks in question. Memory a camera roll of the old photos, fluidly shifting to rest her head against his chest, thumb tucked into the pout of her mouth before it curled into a grin. "Your heart's beating very fast, Taylor. I can feel it."

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

This was so similar to the first time round and yet so different too. He couldn't put his finger on what the main change was, beyond the obvious age and hair color differences... she positions herself exactly as she had been back then, a pose he recognizes easily, given that he has the poster blown up on his bedroom wall. His eyes fix somewhere on the ceiling above them, trying not to pay too much attention to the reality of a beautiful woman being semi naked and draped over him, though his heart is beating hard against his ribcage. It hits him what the difference is. Back then she had been so green, and he had been so protective, his self assurance had extended to her as he coaxed her out of her shell. "I'm out of practice. Sorry," he mumbles. Casting his mind back to the photo he saw every single day, he tries to focus on what he did back then. His hands find the small of her back, one leg rising in a louche bend that allows hers to intertwine. "I'll loosen up. Sorry."

[camille de vries]

Camille

It was funny, how similar it felt again. Trying to relearn the comforts of their own skin, the heat of one another, dangling a long standing friendship between the lines of sizzling chemistry drummed up for still shots. But it was her this time that sought to provide comfort, to run her hands over him in familiarity, to catch his gaze with trust in his decisions. At the end of the day she'd trusted Taylor almost implicitly since this day long ago, both still full of naivety. Now she wanted him to trust her, or remember that he did, hooking her ankle around his calf and gazing at him with intended, smoked desire. "Hmm...think about the last time you had incredible sex." Her eyes drift shut, head tucked gently under his chin to allow him to absorb her evocative question. "Could you even think at all? What did you feel like?"

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

It had been a while since their last reunion, Camille's frenzied schedule keeping a wedge between them that disappeared as soon as they shared the same space. She was someone he had instinctively felt comfortable around since the fateful day they met, but even Taylor would admit that this was verging on awkward; how often did you go from not seeing someone to having them half dressed, spread across you? Quite often, actually, though usually it was Kendra and there wasn't a crew milling around them. Embarrassingly her question brings a heat to his cheeks that he's sure is being captured by the photographer. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes the prompt, allowing thoughts of Kendra's toned, tanned skin to fill his mind. With her head tucked under his chin it's possible to forget that this isn't Kenny, his hand finally moving to trace the smooth skin of Cami's back, his head tilting back ever so slightly as memories come back to him in snippets. "I kept thinking she'd be the death of me one day." His hand is on the small of her back now, edging slightly under the waistband of her jeans. "I kept thinking that I wanted her to be the death of me one day."

[camille de vries]

Camille

Camille can all but feel his skin heat up, touch daring under the hem of his shirt as her question hung in the air. Allowing him the moment, the flood of memories, leaning in to the caution of his reaction and coaxing further with the hitch of her breath to encourage his touch. Back then they'd been strangers and he'd been unafraid to hold her; she knew now of his history, of his tumultuous relationship with love and anything defined as family. But today she would clear all that knowledge, use only what she needed to drag him further away from him touching his friend. She was a ghost, a lover and a stranger all in one, choosing the more romantic, but less passionate of her tongues. "La douleur exquise - an exquisite pain," she breathes, dark hair rippling over her shoulder as she shifted up to regard him. Inked skin and tangled, open mouths swimming in her own memories. "So good it could destroy you. Look at me like that."

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

Her youth had made him protective before, though that hadn't been a limiting factor once the cameras started rolling. He had known how to be a vessel back then, used to being on sets where it was made very clear that the clothes were the talent, not the male model. Had known how to stare at a camera with eyes that weren't seeing, or how to hold himself so that a jacket sat just so. When interacting with another model the job became more like acting, affecting a smile in more commercial shoots, or turning sultry when the product had a higher price tag. "Something like that." He loves the sound of her voice, familiar and rhythmic with the accent he remembered so well. The muttering around them has increased and it's obvious that they haven't got the shot, just like it's obvious that it's not Cami who's the problem. He tilts her chin up to look in her dark eyes, ringed expertly in subtle makeup that made them sparkle. "I'm fucking this up." He willed himself to stop seeing her as a sixteen year old ingénue. To see the obvious, which was to say, an incredibly beautiful woman. "I can't get out of my head."

[camille de vries]

Camille

She knows he can still hear the noise. What is mindless static in her head, aside from the steady pulse of base that thrums the concrete floor, can't seem to sit right within him, watching his eyes flicker around for a moment like a shattered reverie. In moments like this she knew how important it was to stay close, to stay present, hand flattened against his chest as she pressed up, looping her knee over his hip to straddle him. For a moment she covers herself again, motioning for the threadbare white tank top she knew they also needed a photo in and tugging it quickly over her head. Resettling, drawing herself back, hands trailing across the planes of his chest, the slope of his neck, settling in to a decision that strayed a little further from their intended direction. "I'm going to try something, ok? Go with it." And with no hesitation her hands curve around his jaw, drawing him up to press her lips soundly against his.

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

As she sits up he continues to take her in. She's so self assured that he wants to bleed it out of her and into himself, allowing her to take charge as she makes the wardrobe change without having to be prompted. Her skin glows under the lights and he keeps his eyes on hers, trusting her so completely that he sits up without noticing he's doing it, drawn into her considerable orbit. Before he can register what's happening her lips are on his and from there instinct takes over, his hands curving around her thighs and to her ass, his tongue brushing against her lips for access. For the first time today he actually manages to forget where they are, even forgets their history, letting his base desires take the reign. When they pull away he smirks, raising an eyebrow at her. "Better," he confirms, sensing the relief in the room as they started to finally make traction. "Maybe once more for good measure?"

[camille de vries]

Camille

Cami wonders if that moment of hesitance was captured. If the photographer caught his split second of frozen surprise, the stoic set of his jaw, before everything on set caught fire and burned. Gasping her breath into his mouth at the request of his tongue, shifting closer to his hips as he drew her close. It felt erotic and correct, the tense ice of him melting, her heart now the warbling mess as they dragged away to regard one another. His eyebrow raised, the heat of his eyes welcome, her own rolling playfully as she tutted "greedy," right into his waiting kiss. Hearing the hum around them, knowing the moment was near, teeth snared to his bottom lip and tugging as their eyes opened, dark and lush as she felt the signature camera click echo across the floor. "That was the shot," she whispers in his ear, knowing it will be the billboard. The centerfold, the masterpiece. "But let's make it hard for them to choose, no?"

[taylor maitson]

TAYLOR

Flashes of light are still visible through closed eyes, the mumblings around the room taking on an approving tone. Cami's turn to save the day. Looking at her, her eye roll sends a surge of desire through him that's channelled into the kiss. His body has lost all its tension, melting under her expertise, his lip caught between her perfect white teeth. A laugh follows, Taylor shaking his head at her ability to sense the shot that would make all of this worth it. He's all but forgotten the crowd around them now, lava in his veins that lets him focus everything on the girl on top of him. His hands move from her hips to her waist and up to her miniature waist, pressing his fingertips into her glossy skin, knowing he's pressing against his jeans and she must be able to feel it. It feels transgressive to be running his hands over her, a perversion of their friendship given legitimacy by the strange situation they found themselves in. "Fuck, you're really beautiful," he mutters, dipping his head to the nape of her neck and tracing kisses along it.

[camille de vries]

Camille

As his mind reclibrates his touch reciprocates, intentional over the curves of her skin as she heaved to catch her breath. Dramatically, for a few frames, trading teasing smiles over the spark they'd set ablaze. Allowing herself to be what the brand wanted, draw those unforgettable images back from the depths and send them splashing across pages again. This time with a desperate twist, ten years down the line and wiser about bodies, about themselves, about what chemistry and clouded thoughts could do. Setting her hips further against him, head tossed back as his lips pressed heat against her neck. "I know," she whispers, voice dying out when he crossed somewhere sensitive. Knowing that there were others there, knowing his reaction as her touch grazed between her legs, turning her head to camera at the very last moment and pushing his to do the same. Riding the high of lust and the inevitable thrill of these photos, feeling his breath against her neck as someone finally piped up to mention they needed to change. "See," Cami managed, breath ragged as she dared another kiss. Unscripted, unreserved, yet wrapped in safety. "You still got it."