"But Brian, don't worry." After Abid frantically shattered the glass photo frame, he turned around gracefully and said to me like a consolation: "Maybe he can't meet my requirements, but I believe You can definitely do it."
Then before I could react, he took a few steps closer to me and stroked my left side of the face with one hand, and put the other hand on my shoulder. "You're so good, you won't let me down, will you?" He squinted his eyes intoxicated, "You won't listen to that stinky bitch and get a tattoo on your body that will destroy the perfection... "
"She broke our agreement, and then she looked like nothing happened! She broke my perfection with her own hands!" Abid's hand on my shoulder was getting harder and harder, making me feel the dull pain in my bones. "How could angel wings merge with red hair representing hellfire?... Her so-called paradoxical beauty is just shit!"
After seeing that I couldn't help frowning because of the physical pain, he slowly released the hand on my shoulder. Then he said indifferently: "The common merman in Eastern and Western legends is a truly perfect combination. The beautiful temptation of death lures sailors into the water and drags them into the abyss to become their food. This is the meaning of red hair in the daughter of the sea. ."
"Come on, take off your clothes and lie down here, and I'll help you remove the things that will blemish your fishtails." Abid pulled me to a prominent white four-corner table in the center of the dressing room. . The table is exactly a two-meter long rectangular table, which is just right for a person to lie on.
Models undressing in front of designers is the most basic thing that happens almost every day in this industry. That's why I don't want to continue modeling, because every time I do an interview, I need to be naked in front of a room of people I don't know well. That feeling is really not that good.
I simply unbuttoned my jacket, unbuttoned it, and folded it, then bent over to unbutton my shoes and pants, wearing only a pair of simple underwear. From the beginning to the end, Abid looked at me like a piece of art, appraising it. Finally, after I jumped on the table and put my legs up, he nodded with satisfaction. .
In order for the hair removal effect to last until the end of the shooting program, Abed chose not to shave, but to use wax to pluck directly from the root. I stood up with my hands behind my back and my upper body, watching him prepare the tools, while mentally analyzing and summarizing his performance just now.
Not lying down completely in front of him is one of the bottom lines I can't cross. Because when the animal is completely lying down and showing the abdomen, it is actually the most vulnerable and the least vigilant time. I couldn't control myself to completely ignore the dangerous message from my sixth sense, so I had to stay half-up.
According to what Abid said just now, the agreement between him and Sofia in the past must be to find a model that both of them are satisfied with, and then create at the same time. Everything worked out so well before, probably in large part because the models didn't come close enough to make them all feel comfortable.
Until finally this red-haired model appeared. There are very few people who simply lack a lot of melanin and have pale skin and golden red hair. Because they are rare and have been disliked in the Middle Ages, there are very few gingers who can satisfy their aesthetics.
Rare is more expensive, and some people prefer pale-skinned redheads. Both Abid and Sophia were inspired by the man as their muse. But things backfired, and the more they invested in their possessiveness and perfectionism, the more they manifested. While competing for this model, the two provoked a series of contradictions.
Maybe the model is heterosexual or something, in short, he prefers Sophia's side, and even tattooed himself on his body for Sophia's theme of fallen angels. It was the first time Abid felt out of control, and it was unbearable.
That's why he found out that I plan to reopen this photography theme after what happened. It's just that I really don't know what the final outcome of the model who was competed by two paranoid perfectionists will be in the collision of the storm.
My risk-taking behavior like this almost seems to be repeating the experience of the last model. But I guess the only difference is that this time I showed a submissive in front of Abed that the model didn't show before. That is to say, I almost did the behavior of my previous unlucky bastard in reverse.
This time I'm going to be biased towards Abid. Let's see what Sophia's reaction will be? If she is satisfied with the preference of getting that model before, will she ignore Abed's provocation this time? Still, because of her dominance in her character, she couldn't help but compete with the resentful Abid again.
And if after going back today, the investigation finds that the model has disappeared, this personal experiment is not just a research for my own subject. Maybe add the search for missing persons who don't know if they're dead, stupid vigilante behavior.
"His..." Abed smeared the cold wax glue on my calf, which made me cry out because of the stimulation of the temperature. My thoughts were interrupted, and in the next second the waxed paper was torn off by him, exposing a piece of smooth skin with excruciating pain.
…
Although the whole makeup trial process feels very strange, at least Abid is a patient hunter and has no habit of rashly shooting at the beginning. So after spending almost the entire day in his studio, cleaning my body hair, putting on that fishtail that restricts free movement, trying on makeup and changing it, I was finally able to get back to the hotel before it got dark.
"How is it, is your curiosity satisfied?" Dillon had figured out my brain circuit for a long time. When he saw me back, he opened his mouth and asked directly.
Touching my nose embarrassingly, I nodded at him, and I said with a dry smile, "Help me check the whereabouts of a person, I want to know if he is still alive and well recently."
"The model that the designer shared with his wife?" Dillon stretched his body and leaned on the bed, and when he heard me, he seemed to know what I wanted to say in the second half of the sentence. He raised his eyebrows and raised his hand to point at the dozen documents on the table in the corner of the room. "I don't know which one you're looking for. Let's look inside."
I was dumbfounded and walked over to take a look. Almost all of them were familiar faces, the same models I had seen all day in Abed's private dressing room. "You checked them all out? Just one day?"
"Of course." Dillon rolled over and jumped up from the bed, walked a few steps behind me and locked me between his arms. I looked at the reflection of the two of us in the vanity mirror, and then Dillon's low voice continued, "otherwise why do you think I should stay with you in la?"
I tried to pull his arms around me with my hands, but to no avail, I had to use this heavy human sandbag to find the red-haired figure in the pile of treatments. Dillon followed me through the documents, and watched the treatment he had spent a day getting through without knowing how.
Then he opened his mouth and said, "These models were ruined by the man and woman who sold them and counted the money for the traffickers." He freed a finger to point to a blond German that I happened to turn to, "In the Before he was spotted by the couple, he was just a part-time model with unstable income on the food and clothing line."
"Now he is a frequent visitor to major shows, and he frequently appears on the inside pages of various fashion magazines." Dillon continued: "It's a pity that his girlfriend of seven years broke up with him. After leaving that couple, he became obsessed with this kind of stuff that numbs his senses. The parties he frequents are basically not clean.”
Not clean means drugs were not banned at that party, so to speak the person was almost destroyed, psychologically destroyed. It is extremely difficult to bring people who are indulging in this kind of life back into their eyes, the "ordinary and boring" life of ordinary people.
"So what happened to this Arman and his wife?" Dillon's final tone was very serious. "And are you sure you want to follow up with them? I should be able to tell you everything you want to know."
I looked at the profile of the blond model I was working on, then picked it up and put it on the other pile. Then I looked up in the mirror and looked him in the eyes, "Yes, I have to follow up." Seeing Dillon frowning about to retort, I raised my hand to stop him and continued to explain, "Because I most want to know The person you gave me didn't even have it in the information you gave me."
That's right, there is no figure of the red-haired man in the whole dozen model profiles that Abed and Sophia have collaborated with before. "I was wondering what your criteria for finding this material was? Did the timeline start at the end of the studio contract with Abed, or before they worked together?"
Dillon's expression became serious, he let go of my hand and picked up the pile of documents and said, "What do you mean? ... The timeline I checked started after the models released their contracts with Abed Studios, and now the models The models that the world and Abid have worked with are all here."
"But it's not all here," I said, shaking my head, "I went to that studio today and saw that Abed had pictures of the models he worked with, all framed and hung on the wall in his office. Some of them were A red-haired model like me, he was very emotional when he mentioned this model. However, there is no information about that model in this file."
"Will the world evaporate, or just simply stop being a model?" Dillon's eyes turned around me and walked quickly to his computer, "The information you gave is only a description of the appearance, and now I am asking my friends to compare the missing persons Compare it and let you know as soon as there is news. But you promised me that I must be careful not to go too deep until the results come out."
"Understood." I pressed my finger to the center of my forehead, a little headache, "I hope it won't be a serial killer. I don't want to be involved in a case that can alert the fbi. If I am involved in a neurotic In the case, it's no wonder that Rhett's colleagues don't doubt that I have a relationship with these people. It's just that I suspect that there is something wrong with me. "