The Model 1

The next morning seemed to roll by in a bit of a blur – concentration was never my strong point, but it was at an all time low that morning. All I could think about was the modelling “audition”, and whether my looks would stack up in the professional world. I went back to my dorm during lunchtime and spent a good hour being narcissistic, re-arranging my hair and changing my outfit, trying to find something smart and stylish that showed off my assets. I finally decided on a pale blue and white vertical striped shirt, with the top two buttons undone, coupled with a stylish, slim-fitting dark pant. I judged myself as impressionable and attractive. With nervousness and excitement in my mind, I drove over to the offices of JA Male Modelling Agency.

Upon arrival, I felt instantly a slight sense of intimidation. I had expected a small office, but instead I found a large, four-storey high building. Its aesthetics were pleasing and it shone out amid the other drab pieces of architecture in the street. I lowered my big, expensive sunglasses and walked up the stairs, my inner excitement growing constantly. The doors slid open for me and I found myself in a white, gleaming room, with a reception desk and a few grey chairs the only decoration. That was until I glanced upward above the reception desk, where a monstrous photograph of a bare-chested man stood, overseeing the work of the young male receptionist. He wore only jeans, and his body was exceptional – I doubted I had ever appreciated the male form this much before. As if his body was not good enough, dark-coloured eyes and a chiselled jaw heightened his masculine appearance. A caption written in embossed letters read “Yves Floreant, winner of World Young Male Model Summer 2007.” Strangely, I felt a quiver in my shorts; there was no denying that he was a very beautiful man. Shutting these gay thoughts out of my mind, I proceeded over to the receptionist, who was also quite handsome. I wondered whether my sexuality was now suddenly in doubt, or whether I was simply in the company of many attractive men. I decided on the latter.

“Good afternoon,” the man intoned in a low, elegant voice. “How may I help you?”

I lifted the shades off my eyes. “My name is Elliot Dawson. I had a screen test organised for 3pm today.”

The man fiddled with his computer and seemed to agree. “That’s all in order, Mr. Dawson. You need to take the elevator up to level three, where you’ll wait in a sitting room before your test. Good luck,” he said, and winked, as I turned around, and moved towards the elevator, with no doubt in my mind as to the young man’s sexuality.

Level three was a similar room to the ground floor – all white and clean with stylish grey chairs. I found myself in the company of two other men, after announcing myself to the second receptionist. The first was slightly shorter than me, around 5”8, but was stocky and his muscles bulged from a tight yellow t-shirt. He wore a cap and a sour expression, and gave me a mere nod as I found my seat. The other was taller – he had longer legs – and looked to be more Mediterranean, perhaps Greek. His crisp white shirt was not tight, yet it was evident that beneath it lay quite a fine young body. I had to stop myself from wondering what it looked like. Was I turning gay? I barely knew what to think, and simply stared around the room, where more winners of “World Young Male Model” contests had their images splayed all over the walls. It didn’t seem like long before I was called up by another man – and this time it was Angus.

“Welcome, Elliot”, he said in his cultivated voice. “Glad you could make it. Please, step this way,” he said, and we walked down a corridor, again filled with images of seductive looking men. I could barely concentrate on where Angus was going, because I kept wanting to look at the pictures. What was I doing? Think about Emma, and Rebecca, and that other girl you did last week…what was her name again?

Finally we arrived at the end of the corridor, where we turned left. Angus led me into a large, long room, with a white screen at the end, behind several cameras. It looked as if I was going to be thrust straight into the action.

“Well Elliot,” Angus said, “I’ve got a couple of people I’d like you to meet. This is Robert Gough. He’s one of our top photographers. He might be taking a few shots of you later on.” I shook hands with a small, wiry, dark haired man, who enthusiastically smiled up at me. “And this is Jeremy Andrald,” he continued, “who is the manager and founding director of our agency. He inspects every model before they are signed.”

Jeremy Andrald was, undoubtedly, a very good-looking man. He was ruggedly handsome – I suspected he had once been a model himself. He had a long, brooding face and brilliant green eyes. His hair was brown and ruffled. He wore a designer suit that seemed tailored – it fitted him so well. I had once thought myself the hottest guy alive…I had been proven wrong, a few times over, this afternoon.

“Elliot, is it?” he said in an English accent, smiling broadly. “Pleased to meet you. Angus has been squawking about you all day, seems positively infatuated…” We both turned to Angus, who simpered and blushed, turning away to find some files. “Never mind him,” Jeremy said jovially, “but really, he has a point. Such a fine looking young man! Just take your clothes off for me, and then I think we can sign you up!”

I frowned at this point. Take my clothes off? I had never done this in the presence of other men before…except perhaps in my infancy! “What – everything?”

“Well I suppose, if you really must leave your underwear on…what’s the matter, is there something wrong with your penis? Come on, it’s not like I’ve never seen one before…” Jeremy spoke matter-of-factly, as if this was normal.

I felt under pressure suddenly, as Angus, Jeremy and the photographer all stared at me, expecting me to strip. Humbly and reluctantly, I obliged, removing my striped shirt first, revealing my fit, toned torso. A ripple of excitement seemed to come over Jeremy, who gripped his pectorals at the sight of my chest. Kicking off my shoes, I lowered my pants, revealing my expensive, designer boxer briefs. I gave the trio a quick glance, before rapidly lowering my underwear, and my large, swinging cock came into full view. I felt embarrassed, but Jeremy seemed understanding and offered assurance. “That’s fine,” he said; “you can pull them up now. Sign him up Angus – you can do your first shoot this afternoon. With – er…let’s see. I think…yes. Yes, Yves would be a good match – his masculinity next to your boyish charm…Yes, a couple of quick solo shots for Elliot here, and then get him in underwear with Yves.”

Angus turned away and left the room, apparently quite excited about the thought of two men in underwear together. Yves, I remembered, was the stunningly handsome man I had seen in the lobby of the office earlier. Again, oddly, I felt quite excited about meeting him…my sexuality was under a serious test this afternoon…