Newly Exposed

  Newly Exposed

  Book One in the Exposed Series

  Meghan Quinn

  Published by Hot-Lanta Publishing

  Copyright 2015

  Cover by Meghan Quinn

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  www.authormeghanquinn.com

  Chapter One

  Adam

  “Name, age, and where you’re from.”

  I shifted in place and tried to not let the panel of five women intimidate me as they looked me up and down.

  “Hi,” I waved like a nerd, temporarily lifting my hand from my pocket, but returning it rather quickly after the sneers I received. “I’m Adam James. I’m twenty years old and I’m from Nebraska, but I live here now…”

  “That’s great,” I was interrupted. “Take your shirt off,” the lady questioning me demanded, as she waved her pen, indicating for me to remove my clothing.

  Feeling uncomfortable with the situation I was in and the abruptness of the lady interviewing me, I took my shirt off and held it in my hand, as I tried to stand as tall as possible while five sets of judgmental eyes took in my physique.

  “How often do you work out?”

  “Well, I try to get in at least four to five times a…”

  “Are you opposed to nudity?”

  “N-nudity?” I gulped. “I thought this was a casting for a book cover.”

  “Are you opposed to nudity?” the lady repeated.

  “Well, I mean, I’ve never done any public nudity…”

  “How do you feel about simulated sex?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, wanting to clear my ears out.

  The lady asking the questions was no doubt in her fifties and loving the fact that I was halfway naked in front of her. I could tell by the way she licked her lips and stared at my crotch. Three of the other ladies were younger and more into taking notes on what I said. They must have been the minions. On the far right was a woman who kept silent the whole time, not really writing anything down and not asking any questions either, just observing. She made me the most nervous, because I had no clue what to expect from her.

  She wore her large black sunglasses over her striking face and red lipstick caressed her lips, while the rest of her body was encased in black skinny jeans, heels, and a T-shirt. Her golden blonde hair sat at the top of her head, giving her a don’t-fuck-with-me look. She was hot, but intimidating as hell with her long legs crossed one right over the other and her red lips pursed with judgment.

  “How do you feel about simulated sex?” the older lady, who reminded me of Meryl Streep, repeated.

  “Um, well I like sex, but I’m not really into porn. Well, I mean, I like porn, not that I watch it much, well at all. I mean, I watch porn, I’m a man, but I don’t watch it regularly…just when I’m bored, which is practically never.” I ran my hand over my face as I wished that they had actually interrupted me this time, but instead, they all sat there staring at me with smirks on their faces, except for the blonde, who remained stone faced. “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t really think I can do porn things. I don’t like the idea of not knowing where people’s…um, vaginas have been.”

  One of the minions snickered and bowed her head. Real mature.

  “It’s simulated, so there is no actual penetration and we cover up all your…bits,” the questioner said with a smirk, as she stared at my crotch once again.

  “Oh, well then I guess I could be down for that,” I responded, as I felt my face go red. Did I just say I would be interested in performing simulated sex for a photo shoot?

  “But that’s a no on the nudity?”

  “Well, uh, what kind of nudity?”

  “If you don’t think your penis is big enough, we do have prosthetics.”

  A prosthetic penis? Was that really a thing? Holy shit!

  “I don’t need a prosthetic,” I retorted quickly. “I’m pretty comfortable with…”

  “How long?” she interrupted me again.

  “I’m sorry, how long what?” I asked, trying to even out the tone of my voice which wanted to keep squeaking.

  She waved her hand, as if telling me to continue, even though I had no clue what she was talking about. I searched my brain for an answer, but she huffed, pulled her glasses off of her face, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “How long is your penis?”

  Was she for real? When did how long is your penis and how many times do you work out become casual questions in a job interview?

  “I-I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “I never measured him before.”

  A smile spread across her face. “Ahh, you call your penis a him.”

  “Well, he’s not a girl, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  The minions all looked up and waited on the edge of their seats for my answer. Did I want this job that bad that I should continue to answer these questions?

  Yeah, I needed money…badly, so I swallowed my pride and mumbled out his name so it was barely audible to my own ears.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that, what’s his name?”

  My hands ran down my face and I said, “Just-In Beaver.”

  The room rang silent.

  I looked up and saw the moment when it all clicked in their heads. In unison, they all busted up laughing and started typing away on their phones, most likely spreading the news about the idiotic Nebraska kid who named his junk after a horny little pop-star. Fuck me.

  Testing the waters, I looked over at blondie, and I noticed that my little nickname garnered a smile from her. Interesting.

  “Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that. Write that down, girls,” the elder lady said to her minions. “What publications have you been in?”

  “Publications? Like magazines?”

  She looked up at me over the glasses that she was now sporting again and said, “Yes, magazines, ads, online features, book covers…”

  Shit.

  “None yet, but I assure you…”

  She held up her hand and took another look at my headshot, well, body shot. I spent every last cent I had left on that picture and was just praying that Teeg Model Management liked me. I had no other options left.

  “Tattoos or piercings?”

  “None,” I admitted.

  “None?” she asked, while looking at me skeptically.

  “No, I’ve never thought of something that I wanted to ink on my body for eternity. I’m not opposed to tattoos, I’m just trying to figure out what kind I would want, if any at all.”

  She nodded her head and then looked down at her papers again. “You didn’t answer your penis size, at an erect state.”

  “Is that a real question?” I asked, trying not to sound insulting.

  “Mr. James, do I look like a woman who has time to joke around?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then answer the question.”

  I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t really know, but if I had to guess, maybe like this size,” I said, while showing them a length with my hands. The minions eyes lit up and the older lady nodded in approval.

  She then turned to the rest of the panel and started talking
as if I wasn’t in the room.

  “Amazing body, nice abs, and that V cut is spectacular. If he’s telling the truth about his penis size, then that could be promising. He needs a tan, haircut, and maybe some piercings, maybe some small gauged earrings.” The girls nodded their heads, agreeing with every word and giving me hope.

  Blondie sat up and said, “He has the face of a baby; it doesn’t match his body. People won’t buy it.”

  Blondie just became blonde bitch in my book.

  The older lady looked over at me and said, “Are you wearing contacts or false eyelashes?”

  “False eyelashes?” I cringed. “No, I don’t even know where you would find those, and I don’t wear contacts.”

  “It’s a shame that those eyes are attached to a man. What I wouldn’t kill and trample over to have a set of eyelashes and bright turquoise eyes like those. Am I right, ladies?” They all nodded and gave me the stink eye at the same time, blonde bitch was back to her neutral self.

  “I think I would have to see him in underwear.”

  Blonde bitch leaned forward and said, “You can’t be serious, Meryl.”

  Holy crap, her name really was Meryl…that was surprising.

  Meryl looked over at blonde bitch and said, “He has potential.” My ears perked up at Meryl’s confidence in me.

  “I don’t need potential. I need someone who knows what the hell they’re doing, who can walk on set, pose, strut, fuck, and relax on cue. I don’t want to be training anyone.”

  “Zia, I understand, but remember what happened last time with a cocky model?”

  Zia? I could see that. The name fit the bitch.

  Zia nodded her head and then sat back in her chair as she eyed me through her stupid sunglasses. Get a clue, we’re inside lady.

  “He would need to have a tattoo artist consultation and the gauged earrings would be a must. I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Let’s see him in some underwear and baby oil. Have the Duo fix his hair too; that mop on his head is atrocious. He needs something cleaner, maybe a fauxhawk. And you’re going to have to ditch the dog tags.”

  “That’s non-negotiable,” I said, without even thinking. “Dog tags don’t come off.”

  Zia sat up and scooted to the edge of her seat. She lifted her sunglasses off her face, showing off a pair of brilliantly bright green eyes. “Are you in the army?”

  “No.”

  “Then you don’t need them,” she said, putting her sunglasses back on and crossing her arms.

  My blood started to boil from her arrogant attitude. I had a correct first impression of her; she really was a bitch.

  “We can discuss that later if we decide to take him on,” Meryl said, interrupting the showdown I was having with Zia.

  “He would need a different name,” Zia cut in, while looking down at her nails.

  “What’s wrong with Adam?” I asked, showing more emotion than needed.

  “It’s too plain. If you had an agent, like every other proper model in this industry, they would have taken care of your hair, image, and name…that way we wouldn’t have to bother, but I guess Meryl is into charity cases now.”

  I was seconds away from telling Zia to fuck off when Meryl got out of her chair and walked up to me. She was a tall woman, so my six-foot-two stature didn’t tower over her. She patted my cheek and said, “Such a baby face. Go through that door over there,” she pointed behind me and continued, “And have the Duo take care of you. They’ll know what to do.”

  “Duo?”

  “Just go,” Zia said, aggravated.

  Keeping every ounce of professionalism on display, I gritted my teeth and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  As I was walking away, I heard the minions chuckle to themselves and take pictures with their phones, most likely of my backside.

  I was desperate for money, but what the hell did I just get myself into?

  Chapter Two

  Solo

  “Mmm, mm, mm, there’s some class-A man meat out there today. Did you see the guy with the beanie hanging off his head? Holy crap, I think I was impregnated just from him looking at me with those steel grey eyes. Did you catch his name?” Nolly said, as she leaned over her desk and tried to catch a glimpse of the models that were coming in for casting.

  “I think it was Blaze or something ridiculous like that,” I replied, while thumbing through Polaroids. Nolly was right; there were some seriously hot men coming in for the casting, but like usual, they were your typical douche canoes, ignorant, but with bursting egos who thought that with the flex of a bicep and a pulled up shirt they could win over any girl. Contrary to popular belief, not every girl was like that.

  “It was Blaze,” Nolly clapped her hands together and grabbed the Polaroids from my hand. “I need some material for tonight while I’m alone in my apartment.”

  Well, I wasn’t like the other girls; Nolly was a different story, though. She was constantly getting wrapped up in Teeg Models and getting her heart broken, and I was there for every break up.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t like mixing business with pleasure because first of all, these guys were so not my type and secondly, I didn’t want to have to have an awkward encounter at work like Nolly did all the time, and like I did at one point, but I refused to think about that mistake.

  My style was a little different than the girls I worked with, who were plucked right from the pages of Vogue, in their high heels, made up faces and thousand dollar dresses. I was the hipster who knew I wasn’t cool and didn’t act like I wasn’t cool, but knew I was cool, if that makes sense. I knew I wasn’t cool. I wore Converse, skinny jeans, and graphic T-shirts to work almost every day. The only reason Teeg Models kept me employed was because I was damn good at my job.

  Nolly and I were referred to as the Duo. Zia would give us a model and we would turn him into an overnight sensation by creating a social media account and pimping the hell out of him. We were also able to be professional on set when conducting video blogs, prepping the models, spraying water on them, making sure their man bits were properly displayed, and keeping everyone comfortable on set. Teeg Models wouldn’t be half as successful as they were without Nolly and me, and we made damn sure they knew that, hence the reason I was able to dress for comfort every day at work.

  “What happened to Rocco?” I asked, referring to Nolly’s last crush.

  “Ugh, turns out he was gay.”

  “Aren’t the good ones always gay?” I asked with a dramatic sigh.

  “I think they are.” She stuffed the Polaroid in her purse, and I just shook my head at my friend, there was no use in trying to fix her. “Did Blaze leave his headshot? I want to grab his number.”

  “You’re lucky you’re hot, Nolly. Not every girl can get away with stalking men like you can without looking like a complete psycho.”

  “They’re just not doing it right. When texting, you have to act like you’re sending a picture to your friend, but really send it to the guy who you’re hot for. That way he gets to see what you look like and he thinks you just happened to type in the wrong number. Simple.”

  “That really works?” I asked, while uploading a video blog for one of our models who lives in the Teeg house.

  “Every time,” she said, while giving me a devilish smile.

  I rolled my eyes and continued to upload different videos for the guys. Zia Teeg was the owner and photographer for Teeg models. She was able to make every woman in America drool over her well picked and molded models. If you were signed on as a Teeg model, you had it good. You were put up in a house with the other guys and you lived in luxury. The gym available to all the models would make any professional athlete jealous, the kitchen was immaculate, stocked full of healthy food, and the bedrooms all had California king beds, according to Nolly at least. I hadn’t been in any of the bedrooms. The house was up in the Hollywood Hills, overlooking the valley, and it was not only a place for the guys to live, but it was also used for photo shoots. The yard was big e
nough to transform into any kind of set and the endless pool made for some amazingly wet worthy photos. There was also a grand room on the first floor that was used as a studio.

  The unfortunate part of my job was that, not only did Nolly and I handle everything that went into prepping and preparing the models, but we were also glorified babysitters, meaning, there was a guest house on property that we were required to stay at. I think living there was one of the reasons why I was able to stay as far away from the guys as possible, because I got to see every last annoying habit of theirs.

  “Um, excuse me? I’m looking for the…uh, Duo.”

  The timid yet deep voice came from behind the curtain, where I looked up to see a guy walking in, shirtless, with his shirt clutched in his hands and worn jeans gracing his legs. His muscles rippled over his body, but were also natural, unlike some of the men I got to see on a daily basis. This guy was not using any kind of “supplement.” His brown hair was shaggy and his bright eyes stood out against some of the longest eyelashes I had ever seen. He was hot, I would give him that.

  “That would be us,” I said, standing up to walk over to him.

  “I’m Nolly,” Nolly said, stepping in front of me. “Do you know that guy Blaze?”

  The guy looked at her with confusion. “Uh, I don’t believe so.”

  “Damn,” she looked over at me and said, “Can you handle? I want to see if I can catch one more glimpse if he is still here.”

  I knew Nolly wouldn’t be able to focus until she completed her stalking, so I nodded and she was off in a second.

  “Who’s Blaze?” the guy asked once Nolly left.

  “A guy who doesn’t even know what’s about to hit him.” I took a deep breath and held out my hand. “I’m Solo Cohan. I’m assuming Zia and Meryl want you in underwear and all greased up?”

  “I believe so, and I’m Adam, by the way.”

  I nodded and waved my hand in the direction we needed to walk. “Right this way.”