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Wanton Weekends - Ashe's Error
🕑 Added 2023-06-12 03:32:52 +0000 UTCmorefunblonde: hi, I saw your ad..
morefunblonde: you're looking for models?
morefunblonde: is that right?
photosbyron: Hi, there! That's right. Wow! Your pics are awesome, Ashleigh. Have you ever modeled before?
morefunblonde: lol call me Ashe, nobody calls me Ashleigh..
morefunblonde: and no sorry, no experience
morefunblonde: everyone's just always telling me I should try it.. so, what the heck, you know?
morefunblonde: is that okay?
photosbyron: Of course! I'm always looking for fresh talent.
morefunblonde: cool!
morefunblonde: could you tell me more about what you're looking for?
photosbyron: Well, I like to keep it kind of spontaneous. But, I'll be upfront so I don't waste your time. This would be a bikini shoot.
morefunblonde: oh
morefunblonde: um, what kind of bikini, exactly?
photosbyron: Well, it's for Board to Death. The surf shop? So, it's kind of sporty. Hold on, I'll send you a pic.
photosbyron: 39u3k.jpg
photosbyron: What do you think?
morefunblonde: that's not bad..
morefunblonde: where would the photos be displayed or whatever?
morefunblonde: (sorry, I don't know how this works)
morefunblonde: :'D
photosbyron: It's all good! I appreciate the questions. Makes me know you're really invested! Board to Death hired me to do some photos for their social media. So, you'd be on their Picogram, FaceSpace, and maybe even a few other places. Assuming the photos come out well.
photosbyron: Sound good?
photosbyron: Ashe?
morefunblonde: sorry, my mom was here
photosbyron: Ahhh, gotcha. You don't want her to know you're doing this?
morefunblonde: no no, not exactly
morefunblonde: I just kno she'll worry
morefunblonde: know*
photosbyron: Well hey, nothing to worry about. Okay? You looked at my page? Saw some of my work?
morefunblonde: yeah, yeah your pics are really good
photosbyron: Thanks! That's too sweet.
photosbyron: Well, if you're nervous or anything, I can send you some references. But really, this'll be very chill. Promise.
morefunblonde: um, no that's okay
morefunblonde: I trust you
morefunblonde: (plus I already read all the reviews from girls on your page..)
morefunblonde: :P
photosbyron: Hah!
photosbyron: Glad you did your homework. Alright, I'll send you the details. Tomorrow at 8 AM okay for you?
morefunblonde: oh, so soon
photosbyron: The light's best around that time. And Board to Death are kind of in a hurry.
morefunblonde: well, I've got nothing going on
morefunblonde: :)
morefunblonde: looking forward to working with you!
photosbyron: Same here!
Her room dimly lit by the glow of her laptop screen, Ashe anxiously chewed her bottom lip. She wondered if she was making the right decision.. Everyone told her she needed to get out of her head.
"Be spontaneous! You think too much!"
Well. This was her, being spontaneous.
Rising from her seat, the young woman moved before her vanity mirror. Staring at herself, she inclined her head to the side, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. She wondered what others saw when they looked at her body. She had some idea, of course.. Plenty of men had shouted things at her from car windows, telling her exactly what they thought of her.
Ashe folded her hands behind her head, turning sideways in the mirror. Yes, plenty of men had been happy to tell her how much they wanted her. How they wanted her. Where, and when, and how hard, and how fast, and how much she'd enjoy it. This body, her body; it had an effect on men.
Dropping her arms to her sides, the young woman frowned. But, she couldn't see it. To her, it was just.. her. She was beautiful, she supposed. She wasn't oblivious to the fact that she'd been blessed with good looks. But, the real beauty was in what her body could do. It was strong, tall, and well-balanced. It had allowed her to run, climb, and rollerblade. To work tirelessly alongside her father when he needed help with one of his many projects.
But, for years she'd heard a chorus of friends, family, and boyfriends tell her she should put it to better use. A model, or perhaps an actress. One boyfriend had suggested she try porn. When she'd berated him over the idea, he'd graciously attempted to meet in the middle, telling her she could 'just' be a stripper.
Her nose wrinkled at the memory. It seemed like everyone felt they were better qualified to decide what to do with her body than she was. Maybe they were all right.. Maybe she was wasting her potential. So, why not give it a try? It was just a bikini.. Just her body. People already stared at it, whispering lewd comments when they thought she was out of earshot. So, why not use what she'd been given, and make a little money in the process?
Turning away from the mirror, Ashe closed the lid of her laptop, smothering the dim light.
---
The next morning, the young woman crept quietly out of bed, doing her hair and make-up by lamplight, as she tried not to alert her parents to her activities. It wasn't that she didn't want them to know.. Not exactly. She was nineteen, and more than capable of making her own decisions. But, they worried about her. They'd spent her youth telling her not to talk to strangers on the internet, and now here she was, doing exactly that.
They were.. Traditional. Old-fashioned, in a lot of ways. They didn't understand that things had changed -- that this was just how people networked nowadays. So, why worry them? Better to just go, do it, and show them how well it turned out, later.
Applying a thin layer of pink lipstick, Ashe pursed her lips, making a flirtatious, kissy face in the mirror. Then, she let the facade drop, a self-deprecating smile taking its place.
"Alright, girl. Come on. Don't think," she whispered to herself. "Do."
---
As she exited her home, Ashe quietly drew the front door shut behind her. She furrowed her brow as the top hinge whined pitifully, certain it would wake one of her parents.
"Shh.. I'll fix you when I get home," she grumbled.
"No time like the present," called a voice in return.
Almost leaping out of her skin, Ashe turned to find her father sitting on the front stoop, a cup of coffee cradled in his massive hand. He wore a satisfied smirk on his broad, bearded face.
"Daddy!" the young woman hissed. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry pumpkin," came her father's reply, the smile on his face indicating that he was not, in fact, particularly sorry.
Her father, Cole Kinney, cut an intimidating figure. Tall, barrel-chested, and with arms as thick and hard as tree limbs, he looked like he could crush crush a man's head with his bare hands. For all Ashe knew, he could. But, the big man was a jokester first and foremost, and in her twenty years of life she'd never heard him so much as raise his voice, or swat a fly out of anger. His big, sausage-fingered hands were more adept at making things than destroying them.
"You're up early," the big man observed.
"Yeah.. I'm like, going to meet Wren. We're going for a run," the young woman replied with an awkward shrug.
This is exactly what Ashe didn't want.. She hated lying to her parents. She knew how hurt they'd be if they learned she was hiding things from them.
"Oh? Whereabouts?" Cole asked, raising his cup to his lips.
"Downtown. By the boardwalk," Ashe replied without missing a beat.
"Mm. Okay. Just be safe," the big man said with a smile. "Pepper spray?"
Lifting her keychain, the young woman gestured to the leather-clad tube hanging from her keyring.
"You know it," she replied.
"Good girl," her father said, taking another sip of coffee. "Coming home right after?"
Rocking from one foot to another, Ashe shrugged.
"I don't know.. It's a nice day," she continued. "I may like, stay out for a bit."
"Well, just be safe." Pausing for a moment, the big man added, "Lot of creeps out there nowadays, Ashe."
A frown creased Ashe's brow. How was it her father always seemed to know exactly what she was up to?
"I'm a big girl," the pretty blonde said, leaning down to kiss her father atop his head. "I can like, take care of myself. Love you, Daddy."
"Love you too, pumpkin. Call if you need anything," the big man added.
Darting to her car, Ashe tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder, smiling at her father as she went.
"I will -- but I won't! Be back later!" she called out.
---
As Ashe arrived at the beach, she tapped a message out to the photographer on her phone.
morefunblonde: hi! I'm here!
morefunblonde: by the fountain
photosbyron: Great! Stay right there, I'll come get you.
Perching on the edge of the fountain, Ashe looked down at her well-worn running shoes and athletic clothes. She hoped she wouldn't make a bad first impression, but she could hardly show up in heels and a dress. Still, what if he--
"Ashe! Hey!" called a voice across the beach.
Lifting her head, Ashe stood and smiled as she saw a sun-kissed man in a Hawaiian shirt approaching, a broad smile on his face, and a mop of sandy blonde hair atop his head. He looked.. Handsome. Easy-going. Friendly.
"Hi! You're Ron?" Ashe chirped, extending a hand.
Rolling his eyes in a self-effacing manner, the photographer shook his head.
"Byron," he said, taking her hand and giving her arm a pump. "Everyone thinks it's 'Photos by Ron,' but it's, 'Photos Byron.' I should really work on my branding, I know."
Turning from her, the man quickly strode across the beach, waving at her to follow.
"Come on, we'll talk and walk," he said, his bare feet sinking into the sand as he went.
"O-oh! Like, right. Sorry, you said the light.." Ashe mumbled, sand filling her shoes as she trailed him.
"So, I'm all set up over here. I've got your suit, and it looks like you already did your make-up, yeah?" Byron asked, not even turning to look at her.
"Y-yeah! Yeah, does it look okay? I was like, going for kind of a summer thing, like.." Ashe began.
"Yup, perfect," Byron said, cutting her off without so much as looking at her.
Ashe's stomach tightened as Byron led her to a secluded spot, tall rock formations forming a natural wall that obscured the view from the boardwalk. But, the young woman dismissed the feeling, reminding herself not to over-think things. This was fine. Normal.
Turning to her with a reassuring smile, Byron pressed a swimsuit into her hands. She was relieved to see it was the same one he'd shown her the previous night. She'd half-expected it to be swapped for a revealing thong. She chose to take it as a good sign.
"What do you think?" the photographer asked.
"Yeah! It's um, it's nice." Rubbing the suit between her thumb and forefinger, she couldn't help but notice how thin and cheap it felt. "Where should I.. Um, where do I change?"
Absentmindedly toying with his camera, the photographer nodded to the rock formation. "Just go over there, behind those rocks," he said without looking up.
Her cheeks burning, Ashe shifted anxiously from one foot to another. "Oh, um.." she began. "What if, um.. What if someone sees? Is there um, like a um, a shelter or something around here I could change in?"
Frowning, the photographer finally looked at her. "Ashe, we're losing the daylight. Come on, nobody's out here but us." Shrugging, he added, "I could come hold a towel up for you, if you'd like."
"N-no! No, that's um.." frowning at her feet, the young woman curled her toes in the sand. Don't think too much, she reminded herself. "I'll um.. I'll be right back."
Hurrying towards the rocks, Ashe found a secluded spot, obscured from view by stone and bits of foliage that had made its home in the craggy stones. Looking at the swimsuit in her hands, the young woman chewed her lip anxiously. She could still leave. She could just apologize. Go home. Blowing out an unsteady breath, she shook her head.
No. She'd come this far.
"Be spontaneous," she whispered as she began to disrobe.
Emerging from the rocks, Ashe smiled at the photographer, making jazz hands as she approached.
"Ta-dahhh!" she said with a nervous chuckle.
"Mm? Oh, yeah," he replied non-noncommittally, sparing her a brief glance. "Looks good."
Dropping her hands to her sides, Ashe frowned. She couldn't figure this guy out. One minute he was smothering her with compliments, and the next he seemed like he couldn't care less about her presence.
"Alright, you ready, babe?" Byron asked, gesturing her towards the water.
Babe?
"Um, yeah! Yes," Ashe stammered as she trotted towards the spot the man had indicated. "What um, what should I do?"
Hefting a surfboard, Byron passed it to the young woman, rolling his eyes dismissively. "Hold this," he said. "And look pretty."
Swallowing hard, Ashe wrapped her arm around the surfboard and forced a smile as Byron raised his camera.
"Good. Very nice," the photographer mumbled, his index finger tapping against the shutter button of his camera.
As he moved around her, snapping photos and making occasional comments to do this or that, Ashe's nerves began to settle. True, Byron was a little more.. intense, than he'd come across online. But, wasn't that just how artists were?
"Alright, pop your hip to the left," Byron murmured, peering at her through the viewfinder of his camera. When she obliged, he dropped his camera, the attached leather strap causing it to thud against his bare chest. "Not your left, my left!"
As he approached her, Ashe stammered an apology. "O-oh, I'm sorry, I--" The words died in her throat as Byron's hand fell upon her hip, pushing her in the direction he wanted. Goosebumps raised across her flesh as the man glared at her, his fingers digging into her flesh.
"There!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Was that so fucking hard?"
Raising his camera, he took one more photo, capturing Ashe's obvious dismay. Chewing his lip, the man shook his head.
"This isn't working. Take off the top," he said matter-of-factly, hefting his camera into position.
"Wh-what? I--" the young woman began.
"The top!" Byron snapped. "The surf-shirt. You've got a bikini top under it, right? I told you this was a bikini shoot!"
Ashe froze, her eyes wide. What was happening? Why was he acting like this? Why was he yelling at h--
"Oh for God's sake," Byron huffed as he closed the distance between them, crossing the beach with a few long strides. Without waiting for an answer, the man gripped the thin garment and pulled it over Ashe's head, leaving her clad in a thin, under-sized bikini top. "There!" he said with a smile. "Now that's perfect. From the top!"
Once again the photographer began to circle her, his camera clicking away as he urged her into new poses. Trying to project confidence, Ashe did her best to comply as Byron shifted between effusive praise, and scathing derision.
"Beautiful! That's beautiful!"
Click.
"On your knees, downward dog style. Knees, Ashe! Not hands and knees! I said downward dog, not doggy style! For fuck's sake!"
Click.
Click.
"Wow! You've got it babe! Seriously, this is amazing. I know some people, people I could put you in touch with. You could make a lot of money."
Click.
Click.
Click.
"What?! What's the big fucking deal? Just take off the top!"
"B-but," Ashe whimpered, her eyes wide. "I-- I don't, I--"
"Babe, come on. You want to make money, right? You want to earn?" the photographer pressed with a huff. "Nude modeling's where it's at. Seriously, you're already here, you're already posing. What's the fucking problem?"
Ashe's mind raced at a mile a minute. What was she doing? She had to get out of her. Had to leave. She had to--
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is your problem? Would you talk instead of just staring at me with those big stupid eyes?" the photographer barked at her. "Just get your fucking tits out!"
She felt numb. What was happening? Why didn't she bring someone? What the Hell had she been thinking?
"Helloooooo? Earth to bimbo!"
She hadn't been thinking. That was the problem.
"You are not doing this!" the man growled as he approached her. You're not wasting my valuable fucking time because you don't want to work. "Take it off! Now!"
Ashe's eyes, blurry with tears, could not discern the man's face before her. He wasn't even a man. He was just -- a shape. A dark, foreboding shape, barking orders and threats. Her eyes simply wouldn't work. Her hands. Her mouth.
So, she stepped outside her body, her mind disassociating from the moment. She felt, in that moment, as though she was a bystander, watching the whole thing play out from a distance.
She watched, as her body numbly removed the swimsuit covering it.
She watched, as the dark shape barked at her, ordering her into new poses.
She watched, as the shape, finally satisfied, allowed her to return to the rocks and dress.
She watched, as the shape sat her down by the sea and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders.
"Sorry to be so tough on you. This business is brutal. I just want to make sure you're ready," he cooed, his words like candied venom in her ear -- sweet and stinging all at once.
When her body nodded dumbly, her red eyes staring blankly out to the sea, the shape pressed a few bills into her hand. "You were great," the shape said with a smile. "I'll be in touch. I'd love to introduce you to some friends of mine."
Then, he gathered his things and left. Like nothing had ever happened.
And Ashe stepped back into her body. Looking down at her hand, she saw money there, pinched between her thumb and forefinger.
Two-hundred dollars.
Opening her hand, Ashe did not watch as the wind snatched the bills and took them out to sea, away from her. She simply stood, collected the few things she'd brought, and returned to her car.
---
Days later, as Ashe sat on the front steps outside her house, watching ants march in a line across the sidewalk, she found the numbness from that day persisted. It felt like she was underwater, drowning and struggling to get to the surface. But peaceful, too. Beneath the waves, there was no shame, or anxiety.
Just quiet.
Of course, her father knew something was wrong. She'd caught him looking at her with worry in his eyes -- and he'd been hovering more than usual.
"Hey pumpkin," came Cole Kinney's voice, the front door to their home swinging open with a screech.
Case in point, Ashe thought.
"Hey, Daddy. What's up?" she asked, forcing a smile.
"Thought you were gonna fix this," the big man said with a grin, moving the front door back and forth, its top hinge squealing in disapproval.
"Oh gosh, duhhhh. Sorry, Daddy!" the young woman chirped as she sprang off the porch.
"Hon, I was just jokin', you don't--" Cole began.
"No no, it's like, so annoying! Won't take a minute. Just need some RustAway," Ashe called behind her. "I think we've got some in the garage!"
Whistling cheerily, Ashe approached her father's workbench and located the little aerosol can full of rust-cutting lubricant. This was good. Having a little project. Something to distract her. That was all she needed. Just something to keep her mind off the whole mess with Byron.
Taking a moment, Ashe ran her hand over the workbench, thinking about how many hours she'd spent here as a youth, watching her father tinker with this or that. It'd been years since she'd spent a night in the garage, watching as her father tinkered with this or that, one of the AM stations chattering away on his ancient radio. She shook her head, bouncing her hand against the rough wooden surface.
As she returned to the porch, she continued to whistle as she spritzed the door hinges. What had she been so worried about? It was all so silly. So what? She did something a little naive, met a strange man from the internet, and now he had some naked photos of her. So what? No big deal! It'd be a funny story one day.
Opening and closing the door, Ashe smiled in satisfaction. No more squealing hinges. No more wail of metal-on-metal. Just quiet.
"Daddyyyy," Ashe called out sweetly. "Cinderella's finished her chores!"
"That's great," her father called out as he approached from within their home. "Now close the door, I ain't paying to cool the whole.."
Cole's voice trailed off as he looked at his daughter.
"What?" Ashe quipped. "Want me to re-shingle the roof while I'm at it?"
The big man approached his daughter with his hands out, his voice low and soft.
"Hon," he murmured.
"Daddy, are you okay? You look funny," Ashe laughed, her cheeks suddenly hot.
"Honey," Colt whispered. "Why are you crying?"
"Crying? Daddy, I'm not.." Ashe began, bringing her hand to her face. "Oh," she remarked, wiping tears away. "Oh, I'm.. I'm just.. I'm sorry.." Her voice broke. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
Dropping her arms to her sides, Ashe began to sob.
---
The next morning, the young woman awoke late, her eyes red and puffy. She felt terrible. But, at least she felt something. Progress, she thought bitterly to herself.
Stumbling into the kitchen, she found her mother busy at the stove, creating a stack of blueberry pancakes at least a foot high.
"Morning, sleepy," Bonnie Kinney remarked to her daughter. "Not like you to sleep in."
Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Ashe nodded in agreement. "I wasn't feeling so good last night," the young woman said.
"Better now, though?" her mother asked.
"Mmhm," Ashe replied, taking a seat at the table. She did feel better. It was like the wet blanket that had been weighing her down had, at last, lifted. And now she could breathe.
She hadn't told her father what had happened, and he hadn't asked. He'd just done what he'd always done -- patted her back and told her it was okay.
"Hey, where's Daddy?" Ashe asked, noting her father's empty place at the table. It wasn't like the big man to miss a pancake breakfast.
"Ohh, he said he had to run an errand. Didn't he tell you?" Bonnie asked, tilting her head to the side as she placed a stack of pancakes before Ashe.
"No.. Why would he?" the young woman asked her mother.
"Well, he borrowed your laptop last night, after you went to bed. Figured you knew something about it," Bonnie shrugged, turning back to the stove.
Ashe froze, ice filling her veins. Her laptop. The chatlogs. Byron. Did her dad--
"Girrrrls! Daddy's home!" came the big man's voice as he entered their home, his heavy footfalls approaching the kitchen.
"Hey hon," Bonnie said, going up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on Cole's cheek. "Finish your errand?"
"Mm? Oh yeah, no biggie. Just had a client who needed to make a few changes," Cole shrugged, scooping a stack of pancakes onto a plate, before taking his place at the table. "God, these smell good, Bon. You outdid yourself."
Rolling her eyes, the big man's wife slid a cup of coffee towards him as she took her own seat. "Came out of the same box it always does, smooth-talker."
"Hah!" Cole laughed, his voice booming through their home. "Well, maybe it just smells extra good this morning. It's a beautiful day, and I'm here with my two favorite ladies. What could be better?" At this, Cole raised his coffee cup to his lips, draining half the glass into his mouth.
"Cole Kinney! Look at your hands! What'd you do?" Bonnie cried out, her brow furrowed with worry.
Lifting her eyes from her pancakes, Ashe looked at her father's big hand, wrapped around his coffee mug. It was covered in tiny cuts and bruises along the knuckles, looking as though he'd dragged them across concrete.
"Daddy?" Ashe asked, her eyes wide.
"Mm?" Cole looked at one hand, then the other. "Aw, damn. Well, how'd that happen?" Smiling at the two women seated opposite him, Cole shrugged. "You know how it is with us gorillas. We drag our hands when we walk!" A laugh rumbled out of the big man like thunder, his hand slapping against his knee. "Now c'mon, let's eat!"
Rolling her eyes, Bonnie shrugged as she cut into her stack of pancakes. But, Ashe's eyes remained fixed on her big bear of a father, and his damaged knuckles.
"Ashe," Cole whispered, dropping one of his enormous paws onto the girl's hand. "Don't worry. It's okay. Just a little accident. These things happen." Withdrawing his hand, the big man gestured to her plate with his fork. "Now, eat your pancakes, or I will."
Lifting her fork, Ashe frowned at the big man. But, when his hand darted out to steal a bite from her plate, she squealed, hugged her plate protectively, and began to eat.
---
That night, Cole found himself in the garage, as he often did. Humming quietly to himself, he stopped suddenly as he heard light footfalls behind him. Bare feet on concrete.
"Hey Bon, I won't be long. Another hour, tops," the big man murmured.
"You always say that. And it's always more than an hour," Ashe quipped.
Spinning on his stool, the big man grinned at the blonde intruder. "Hey, pumpkin! What're you doing out here?" he asked.
"Couldn't sleep," the young woman shrugged. "You're not listening to the radio tonight? They like, run out of oldies?"
"Har-har," the big man drolled. Shifting to the side, the big man gestured to a pile of mechanical components atop his workbench, and Ashe recognized it instantly as her father's ancient radio.
"Aw, Daddy. Did it break again?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
Shrugging helplessly, Cole returned his attention to the pile of parts before him. "Eh, what can you do?"
Hopping atop the workbench, Ashe swung her legs, feeling for all the world like she was ten years old again. "Buy a new one? The WiFi reaches out here. I can show you how to use TuneSpot. Or hey, podcasts! That comedian you like has one."
Cole shook his head. "I like this one," he replied simply.
"But, it always breaks," Ashe giggled. "You spend more time fixing it than listening to it.".
Well," the big man replied. "Maybe I just like fixing it."
Ashe sat for a moment, watching her father tinker with the many tiny, intricate parts. She wasn't sure what to say. So, she said the only thing that made sense.
"Can I help?"
Comments
Thanks so much! I'm not really confident in my prose yet, but I'm working on it. :D
Dandelion
Wow! Incredible. Keep these coming. They add so much depth to the girls and sate my thirst for the game in between updates haha
Bob Obo
Good dad πͺ
