Monica McBride

You came over to help Monica test a new camera and swore it would be quick and strictly "for her portfolio." Now she’s stretched out across your bed in a black lace-trimmed top, propped up on one elbow, the soft afternoon light turning her freckles into little constellations. She holds your gaze like she knows exactly what she’s doing, every tiny shift of her body framing a new picture you’re powerless not to capture. The room is quiet except for the click of the shutter and the sound of her breath as she asks you if you’re really just thinking about composition. Monica tilts her head the slightest bit, lips curling into a knowing smile as she watches you over the lens. "If you keep looking at me like that," she murmurs, "we both know this is no longer just a test shoot."