Page 2 of Offensive Plays

"Yes, love. Everything else can go. Top, bra, oh, and ensure her hair is pinned only to one side," he directs one of the assistants.

"Uh..."

"Hurry up, please. I need to be across town in less than an hour. Quickly," Jacques insists.

Hands are on me before I can even decide if I'm comfortable with the idea. They're tugging off the top I'm wearing and undoing my bra. The cool air on my exposed breasts cause my nipples to pebble. Instinctively my hands go up to cover myself as an assistant reaches for my feet and removes my shoes.

"Tu es prêt à partir," the assistant says. You're good to go.

Good to go? I'm topless. Practically naked if not for the jeans.

Jacques looks up from his camera when he sees my hesitation. "Something the matter, Libby?"

"I've just never—“

His eyes widen as he recognizes what I'm trying to say.

"Well, my dear, you better get used to it. This is Paris. Breasts are a part of our daily life."

Ok, but not my breasts. My breasts are very happy staying inside my shirt.

He looks at his watch again and motions for me to step forward.

"Right." I take a tentative step in front of the camera. Nervous for the first time.

"You'll need to drop your arms, Libby," he coaches me. I do as he says. And I've never felt more awkward.

What does one do with their hands when posing half-naked?

"Arm over your head and look directly into the lens, Libby."

I do so. And I feel the most exposed I've ever been. "Relax," he breathes out in irritation. He's been so great to work with, until this moment.

Just pretend I'm alone. Pretend nobody is watching. My eyes drift up to the camera as I take a deep breath and pose.

"Beautiful, Libby.” He snaps a few photos from different angles. “Now turn and look over your shoulder."

Thank god it's not a frontal shot. The assistant pulls my hair forward exposing my entire back.

"Gorgeous. Now both arms over your head and face me."

Too personal. Too personal. My brain screams at me. But this is Paris, and this is what modeling is like. I should know better.

As soon as it's begun it's over and I’m dismissed. I quickly grab the nearest robe.

"These are beautiful, Libby. You're a natural."

I want to say thank you. To take what he's saying as a compliment. But it's hard to do so when everything in me screams to get out.

I give him a faint smile, grab my things, and head back to my dressing room to change.

This is normal. I need to get used to it.

But in truth, I don't know if I'll ever get used to a stranger watching my naked body through a camera lens.

There are some things I don’t have to get used to.

And this might be one of them.