Ficlets

Bad Job

We’d only been here for 15 minutes and I was sick of this
It was different with Matt as the photographer-he made this feel like a job (and a bad one at that). Brad made it seem like an art-just an unusual and often looked down upon art
“Move that leg a little this way,” Matt instructed
I frowned, “Which leg? Which way? No offense but you’re really bad at this.”
He let out a sigh and walked my way. He grabbed my right leg and pulled it towards the camera. And, because he was Matt, he moved his hands all over my leg before he finally went back to his camera.
“You mind not doing that?” I snarled.
He smirked a little, “You’re getting paid aren’t you? Stop complaining.”
I shifted a little so that he could get another picture.
“Um, turn your body a little” he said, already walking towards me.
“I can do it myself,” I muttered
He put one hand on my rib cage and another on my shoulder to turn me.
“Hands off!” I said firmly. This irritated him and he slapped me on the right cheek-then an evil look came into his eyes.

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