FAGE Six Pack
Title: In One Eighth Of A Second
Written for: abbymickey24
Written By: chartwilightmom
Summary/Prompt used: Older man meets younger woman
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A/N: Huge thanks to Vampiremama for not only being the best mistress a pet could have, and her speedy beta skills, but her awesomeness in putting this gift exchange together. Kisses to beegurl13 for the lovely banner. Check out my FB page to see. abbymickey24, I share you love for all that is Jacksper, hope you enjoy.
I can remember from an early age seeing my mother in photographs. Her face adorning the glossy pages of fashion magazines; her smile etched in black and white while her body was covered in luxury. She was stunning, beyond beautiful to me.
Seeing the smile on her face, the love of her job, the ease of which she handled every shoot, planted the desire in me early on to follow in her footsteps.
And now at the age of twenty-one, I am a model like her, having worked from my early childhood through my teenage years and now as a young woman. At this exact moment I find myself achieving what most in my industry want the most, being the face of a designer.
The cab stops in front of a non-descript building, an etched H in the glass doors is the only thing to indicate what business might be inside—Hale.
Not every model has their chance to work as the cover face of a line, or even grace the covers of the fashion trade. But when you get the call, there isn't a no in your vocabulary—only yes. It gives you a contract, a long-standing assignment—security. As I step into the elevator to travel up to the third floor, I think about how my life is about to change, the excitement sending chills running down my spine.
I settle into the comfortable red couch in the waiting area, my eyes wide, taking in the uniqueness of the lobby. The room is split into two halves, the left is all black: couch, walls, ceiling, carpet, table, lamp, even the single vase in the room. The void of color continues along everything, saturating and absorbing, the side of the room swallowing everything into a black hole that isn't really there.
Then to my right is the complete opposite; all white, the same type of furniture but completely different and somehow balancing to the black on the opposite side.
But my vision is drawn to the middle of the room, where a wide red line stretches along the two-tone floor, wrapping itself up and down the opposite walls before coming to completion on the center of the ceiling above me where a large chandelier seems to mark the point of intersection, dividing the room into two complete halves.
I can only assume that is a representation of the two partners that make up Hale, a brother and sister team, Rosalie and Jasper Hale. At the age of forty, Rosalie is the figurehead of the company; she has worked her way through the trenches, building the Hale brand from the ground up. She can be seen at all the events at fashion week, her own statuesque form complete with beauty that rivals any of the models that wear the Hale name.
Her younger brother, Jasper, is only thirty-five but has been successful as the only photographer for the Hale brand. While she is the forefront, he stays in the background, preferring to let his sister enjoy the spotlight. Their dynamic works for them though, her designs and his vision of photography.
The first time I saw the Hales I was at a fashion week party that my father was attending. I thirteen at the time, just starting to get a good footing on modeling and Charlie asked me to tag along in place of my mom. The room was filled with beautiful people, everyone smoozing, drinking, talking business and gossip in the same breath. I distinctly remember seeing Rosalie and Jasper that night as I wondered around the room. There was a buzz surrounding them, models and industry people straining to get into their ear, never giving them a moment alone.
I was immediately attracted to Jasper even though I never got close enough to meet him, my just blossoming body being feed by the fuel of Jasper Hale. The daydreams I had in the years to follow even now make me blush.
And even though I had never shaken his hand or been within the space to hear his voice, I always felt there was something about him, an invisible connection between us. Over the years I sought out events that the Hale name would be associated with, anything to see him in person.
He was older than me and I knew I would never gain his attention, make his head turn for me. It is a crush that would never amount to anything but longing looks and fantasies.
My thoughts of past daydreams, how not so innocent they once where, are broken as a door that I didn't notice along the red line opens and a well-dressed young man steps through. He smiles as he approaches me.
"Good morning, Bella Swan. I'm Riley, assistant to the Hales. If you would, follow me." He gestures and I stand, letting him lead me to the white side of the room and the lone double doors along the wall.
"This is Rosalie's office. Your measurements were sent over last week and she has several pieces that she would like to try on for fittings. Once she is satisfied, you will see Heidi in hair and makeup, and continue over to Jasper for a test shoot today."
As he tells me what I need to know for my job, we walk around an active room. The room is large; spanning what I can only assume is the width of the building. The stark white of the lobby is faded into light colors, tans and ivory, shades of yellow seeping to the palette. Even the walls are mostly windows, giving to the gentle light of the early day, warming and making me smile. I count no less than a dozen people in the room, all women, pulling fabrics, sewing, working at desks and giving the room a buzz of energy.
Before I can even ask a question, we come to a stop in front of a large desk, covered in fabric swatches, designs and a few mannequins aligning the sides. Behind the desk, with her head down is the one and only Rosalie Hale.
"Boss," Riley says, gaining her attention. "Bella Swan."
"Bella, right on time, just wonderful," she says cheerfully, a wide smile on her face. She stands and comes around, pulling me into a warm embrace. She pulls back but only enough to look me over. "You know, I know your mother, when I first started in this business, she was working behind the scenes with your dad. Such a lovely woman."
"Thanks, she is." My mom wasn't famous as a model, but well known, especially inside the industry. She met my father, Charles Swan, a magazine photographer, and after only a month together, they married. I came along only a year after that, my mom tailoring her jobs, her schedule to benefit not only in raising me, but also to help my father. She completely retired as a model when I was ten and has spent her time working with Charles and his business ever since.
She pulls me into her side, and guides me to a long rack of clothes. "So, shall we get you naked?" I turn to see her grinning, a joke she must like to use often with models.
Over the next two hours, I try on over two dozen outfits, all the while being pinched, pulled and tucked for the fittings. Only when Rosalie says stop, that she has what she wants am I allowed to sit down.
Next, I find myself back in the lobby, Riley leading me along the red line to the door, which he first stepped through.
"This is Heidi's domain. She will do your hair and makeup. Just a warning, she's a bitch." I nod to his quick instructions before coming face to face with a woman dressed in red.
With his warning in mind, I softly smile at Heidi, earning a snort and a mumble about beautiful hair before stalking away.
Heidi is quiet as she works on me, giving me what I refer to as a fresh coat of paint on my face. She is gentle when applying all the makeup, but when she gets to my hair, she pulls and tugs a little harder than I am used to. After my hair is sleek and quaffed, I find myself being lead by Riley again back out the red door into the lobby.
Shall we see what's behind door number three?
A rush of nerves roll through me as Riley opens the black door, and urges me to step through before letting me know that the team will be long soon for the test shoot. When he shuts the door behind him I immediately find myself in the blackness of the room, saturated, my eyes working to adjust for the lonely light in the room, a lamp on a table.
When no one answers, I start to walk further into the room, my focus on the lamp, praying that I don't fall or trip over anything along the path. As I progress, the light revealing more of the dark room, I see scattered furniture, all dark fabrics.
Once I reach the table and take a look around the room, my eye straining to see into the darkness, I get the sense that someone is watching me, the hairs on the back of my neck prickly, my imagination starting to run wild with thoughts of something jumping out to scare me.
Then I hear a click, then a few more in rapid succession.
"Who's there?" I ask again into the dark room. "I know someone is there, I hear the camera."
"Good to know you aren't as dumb as the rest of my sister's hires," a low and deep voice replies from the dark. Feeling a bit like a child wandering in the dark, wanting to call out and locate the voice, to touch and feel for what I know is real in the abyss.
"I'm glad you think so…?" I take a step from the halo of light of the lamp as I leave the question hanging in the air.
"Stop." The definitely male voice commands, freezing me in place.
Click, click, click-click-click.
Before I can respond, I hear movement, the brush of fabric and heavy steps coming towards me. A pale face starts to appear, shrouded in the shadows. As he continues to move closer, his face becoming clearer, the angle of his jaw, the slight smirk of his face, a hint of a dimple at the side appears. The shine of his eyes catches my attention, drawing me in, the glimmer like a light in the darkness, leading me to safety.
"You must be Ms. Swan. I'm Jasper, Jasper Hale."
His voice is smooth, deep and rich, warming me like a shot of fine whiskey.
"I am." I continue to stare, unable to say anything else, mesmerized by his eyes. Being that this is the first time that I am up close and personal with Jasper, I just can't help myself. To see the face, to have him looking at him; I am in awe. Suddenly, his eyes and face are blocked from my vision, the lens of his camera pointing directly at me.
I watch as he moves closer, turning the zoom, focusing in on what he sees through his lens, wanting to know what he does. Curious, the words tumble before I can stop them. "What do you see?"
He remains silent as the camera continues to click away.
"Do you see everything from behind that lens?"
"I see a beauty in this world, a light in the darkness," he replies.
"But I'm not the first model you have ever seen, ever taken a picture of. You must have seen thousands of faces like mine, more beautiful."
The clicks stop, a sign falling heavy from him before he speaks. "But you are the first one that I want to capture."
My heart skips a beat, hope swelling inside me at what they could mean.
He continues, moving closer, then circling around me, the click of the camera and my breathing the only sounds in the room. I lock on to his lens, wanting to see his eyes again, his face. I follow him, turning only my head to follow his movements. Naturally, I start to smile, no direction given from him, just a drive to make him happy.
He finally drops the camera from his face as the door from the lobby opens, and a wave of people come in. Other lights are turned on, breaking the quiet silent of the dark room I had entered. Jasper turns immediately, leaving me with just a look of his backside as he walks away.
Looking him over, his wardrobe mirrors the room, all black. Loose jeans hang on his hips, and an almost tight t-shirt, giving me the shadow of a tone body underneath his dark ensemble. When he turns around and I finally get to see his face in the light of the room, I immediately find my interest in him has peaked even more; any fantasy that I have ever had no where near the real life version.
He has the same soft waves of blonde as Rosalie, all one length but cut to his jaw line, giving him a look between a starving artist and a rock star. His young looks are not the man of thirty-five, not a wrinkle on his creamy pale skin to suggest he looks a day over thirty. His eyes are what keep me starring at him, they look up from his camera that he is making adjustments on; large and open, the stark blue of their color only to be matched by intense blue that I have seen in ocean of the gulf coast.
I wonder what he has seen in this world, has he always taken pictures of clothes, of models. Or has he seen other things though his lens; what else he has wanted to capture in his life.
My focus is broken when I am pulled away and placed behind a changing screen in order to put on a freshly altered dress. A quick check of my makeup and hair and I find myself in front a white backdrop, all the screens and lights on, giving the stage the spotlight of the room. Jasper is behind his camera in the shadows behind the lights, looking at me once again through his lens.
The lights begin to flash as the clicks of the camera start going off like ticks on a stopwatch, all the while Jasper remaining in place hiding behind his lens. Rosalie is behind him, giving verbal directions to me.
Bat your lashes.
Place your hand on your arm.
Twist your body to the left.
Though the directions I find myself looking intently at the camera, wanting for it to reverse so I can see Jasper, see what he sees when he looks though his lens. I can remember the first time I was in front of the camera for a modeling job, the anxiety, and the pressure. But over the years, I came to deal with everything, reminding myself that it isn't forever and that I can deal with being the center of attention for the short time. As I continued my work as a model, my only wish was to have the same comfort that my mom always had in front of the lens.
As I continue to move, my vision finally drops from the camera to the floor. A wave of comfort rolls through me knowing I can feel his eyes on me. My body relaxes more, the tension I have felt on previous shoots melting away.
I can hear the click of the camera, the flash of the lights as I move. With every breath I can feel Jasper's eyes, memorizing, capturing.
Suddenly, the studio is filled with silence.
A gasp comes from Rosalie as two warm hands touch me, moving me into a self-hug position. I peek up without moving my head to see Jasper in front of me; my breathing stops. His fingers gently tilt my face to my shoulder before trailing down my arm to grasp my elbow.
"Stay here," he softly says, moving backwards towards his camera.
"I think we have enough for today," Rosalie announces, stopping the shoot. "Thanks everyone."
Over the next week, I continue to come into the Hale offices, Rosalie using me for sizing and a real life mannequin, and Heidi trying out new ways of torture for my hair. I even find out from Riley that Jasper had a long meeting with Rosalie after I left that first day.
I find myself confused about what happened during the test shoot, my reaction as well as why the room went silent when Jasper positioned me. Did I do something wrong? I am never told something different, never reprimanded or even told to stay away from Jasper.
Only at night when I am not at work do I have time to think about Jasper, our short interaction with each other. My fantasies of the past become more vivid, more depraved, now having seen his face, his eyes, I want him even more.
But I know that nothing will ever happen.
Work continues, and I try to focus on what I am being paid to do. I go to work, I exercise, and eat right; doing everything I cannot to show how I crave to be around Jasper. When I finally get to see some of the proofs from the test shoot, I am sitting on the red couch in the lobby, flipping through proofs, amazed at Jasper's concepts and abilities as a photographer.
I find the last picture he took, the one just after he touched me, moving me into place and the zone in which I finally found for myself that day. I don't recognize the woman in the picture; she is relaxed, lost in a sea of something that I want. She looks comfortable, like my mom did when she was a model.
"Those aren't even the best ones," a voice from behind me says.
I turn to see Jasper leaning against the back of the couch. "They're not?"
He smiles, his teeth make a first time appearance from behind what I hope are soft lips, his grin so wide it causes me to smile in return.
"Would you like to see?" he asks, standing up straight and extending his hand to me. I stare at his hand for just one second before taking it.
"Yes, I would like that very much." And I would like to do wicked things to you too.
He leads me out of the lobby and into his studio. It has only been a few days since I was last in here. The room isn't quite as dark, more than one light illuminating the dark walls.
Jasper leads me to the far wall, to a table masked in the shadows, he flips on a switch turning on a light table, covered in pictures. He reaches onto the table and clicks on a mouse that turns on a computer.
There on the monitor is just my face, barely showing, and the lack of light that day giving my face an unearthly appearance.
"Oh," I say, trying to remember to breathe. I am astounded but the concept that I can even look like that, that Jasper could capture me in such an artistic fashion.
He moves the mouse; the pictures start to change, flowing from one image to the next, my face becoming clearer, closer. A smile gracing my lips, one I have never seen before in any picture I have ever taken.
I feel almost silly, a blush trying to creep over my skin, to show the betrayal that I have for the thoughts and fantasies since in my adolescence for this brilliant man. Steeling myself, I concentrate on the pictures.
"These are so beautiful." In seeing what he has done, makes me want to get to know him, to know the man behind the camera, to capture my own time with Jasper. I reach out my fingers wanting to touch the monitor, to see if the images are real.
I lower my hand and turn to see Jasper looking at me, studying my movements.
He picks up his camera sitting on the light table, gesturing for me to take it.
"This, my camera, I can see the world through this lens."
"You can hide behind it too." Shocked at what I just let slip, I cover my mouth in horror.
Instead of a look of distain, he grins. "Yes, I suppose I can. But what if I don't want to hide anymore. What then?" His eyebrow arches as he asks the question, and for the first time I see a cheekier side to Jasper.
"Isn't it safe behind the lens?" I challenge.
"I think it might be better on the other side."
We continue to talk, Jasper telling me about his quiet life on the other side of the camera; the pictures that he has taken that don't involve models or fashion but of the real world that is out there. As we continue to talk I find out that I am correction in my assumption of his choice to be behind the spotlight that his sister steps into so easily. The ease of our conversation is amazing and with each sentence, with each look into his eyes, I begin to understand him.
Talking in his studio leads to an early dinner in a quiet restaurant, dim and dark, the perfect place to stare at him without being judged. Jasper doesn't seem to mind, every time I lock onto his face, he is right here, staring back at me.
Jasper is easy to talk to, a comfort with him that just increases the imaginary connection I have created in my head with him. I can see why I like him so much, why the desire to have more with him is there. He is caring, charming, mischievous and sexy. Any woman would be happy with him.
Jasper is attentive as I talk, telling him about my parents, and growing up as a model. He explains that Rosalie handpicked me out of thousands of models, wanting a young and fresh face that could proudly wear the Hale name.
When the waiter brings the check to the table, I stare at it like it is a death sentence, at any moment the fluidness of the day will be cut short.
I look from the check to Jasper, a worried look gracing his face. I didn't realize that I was glaring at the offending piece of paper.
"Is everything ok? You look irritated."
"Yeah, I just…" The fault in words causes a pause. Taking a breath, I speak the words that cause an instant blush. "I don't the day to end."
Jasper reaches across the small table, takes my hand in mine and tugs me closer. The aroma of his beer that he was drinking drifts from his mouth, the blue of his eyes drawing me closer. A few inches and our lips would be touching.
"Then it won't," he whispers.
Scared, shocked, astounded, I remain still as the space between us disappears, the soft lips I imagined touching mine.
Jasper Hale is kissing me.
It only takes a second for me to react, my lips part, my bold tongue sneaks out only to be greeted by his. His hand touches my face, slowly dragging his fingers down my cheek to my neck, traveling to wind under my arm and around to my back. Shortly, we are wrapped up in each other, kissing, arms holding and pulling us together to push any unwanted space out of the way. Only when the waiter returns, clearing his throat to get our attention do we finally come up for air.
Without looking away, Jasper throws some cash on the table and pulls us out of the secluded table. His arm remains around me as he guides us out into the night air.
He holds me close, his lips brush my cheek before grazing my ear. "I don't want this to end, come home with me?"
Pulling back from our embrace, watching the tension on his face as he awaits my answer. I find myself excited; not only did we kiss, but also Jasper wants more from me. I never thought in my wildest dreams that he would want me too.
"I know this is presumptuous, but I can't let you go right now, I need more of you."
With one word I could make him frown like his puppy just died or happy like he just won the lottery.
With beaming smiles on both our faces, we make our way back to Jasper's apartment. We start kissing the moment the door is closed, our motives becoming evident with our rushed actions.
He picks me up and carries me through the apartment, my lips attached to his skin, my legs finding purchase around his waist. I only allow him to let me go when we reach his bed, my legs drop, my back lying on the black comforter.
Jasper looks at me, devouring my body with is eyes, without words, without touching. His jacket hits the floor before he continues to strip bare for me. His chest is tone, just enough muscle definition for me to trace my fingers on for hours. As he peels his black pants open, I see a pair of tented black boxer briefs.
"Your turn," he says, clicking his tongue.
I prop myself on my elbows, watching as he lifts each of my legs, slowing removing each shoe. He crawls over me, peeling my jacket from my shoulders, grazing his fingers over each breast. I sit up, pushing his body backward as he continues to remove my clothes. My shirt comes next; he lifts it over my head, pausing when he finds I am not wearing a bra. With my head and arms trapped, he leans forward pushing me to lie back down. Suddenly he is kissing me over my left breast, sucking slightly before flicking each of my bare nipples with his tongue.
My jeans are detached, leaving me in my sheer black panties, my body almost completely exposed to Jasper. He intently looks over my body, causing my full body blush to appear.
Instantly Jasper is on top of me, his hands roaming up and down, his fingers feeling their way along my heated skin. The weight of his is body pressing against mine as I spread my legs allowing him to settle closer. Each of us moving, looking for friction as we kiss frantically.
Palming my breasts, he pulls and tugs, sprouting each nipple to a hard point. He reaches my center, stroking me through the sheer material, the wetness seeping through, coating his fingers. My hands map his back before moving to the edge of his briefs, slipping my hands inside and grabbing his ass, thrusting his hips forward.
Moments later, we are completely naked, protection quickly resolved with a rip and a roll. Jaspers fingers covered in my moisture as he strokes his sheathed latex. He kisses me when his places his tip, slowly, torturously sliding in inch by inch.
"Jasper, more, I need more!"
He grins, kisses me, sliding his tongue through my lips, languid as he starts to stroke. With each time he enters me, my body starts ascending, building the fire that is getting hotter with every movement.
The sounds of our bodies fill the room, wetness and a slapping of skin, sounds that are seared into my memory forever. When we finally fall together, Jasper is quietly chanting my name. Grunts and moans are the only sounds I can come up with, my mind and body a loss for words with ecstasy.
Wrapped in his black sheets, smiling and sated, I roll to my side to see Jasper once again with a camera in his hand.
"You know, I'm not going to pose nude for you," I tease.
"I don't need a photograph to remember you naked, Bella. That memory is just for me."
I find myself confused, "Then why the camera?"
He lies down beside me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before resting his head on the pillow next to mine. He extends his arms, raising them up above us, holding the camera lens in our direction.
"It's time to capture something else I want."