Eliott had to work to steady his breathing. He had been staring into the mirror for God knows how long at this point, his strange, womanly chest rising and falling more and more quickly. Those beautiful lips on his unfamiliar and intoxicating face parted in a look of shock as he gazed deep into his own icy blue eyes.
‘C’est impossible…’ Elliot whispered, his breathy new voice catching him off guard. And was that French? He didn’t speak French.
‘Commençons, Mélanie.’ Elliot heard from his left. He turned and saw he wasn’t alone. He was in a studio, with bright lights and people running around. The photographer stood looking impatient.
‘Vous êtes prête?’ Was he ready? For what? For the photoshoot. Yes… he was modeling Aubade’s new lingerie line. Modeling? He shook his head. He couldn’t model, he was — beautiful. The word rang through his head as he caught a glimpse of his delicate face in the mirror. It was impossible to ignore: he didn’t know how or why, but the reflection that responded as he wet his lips nervously set his heart aflutter.
‘Oui. Commençons,’ Mélanie replied, turning to face her new life.
