The wind blew threw Griffin Pogue's short-cropped hair. It felt good on his bare chest. He held his fire jacket over his left shoulder with his left arm bent back and his helmet down by his side with his right hand to show off his muscular arms and shoulders. His fireman pants sat impossibly low on his hips, showing off has ripped and buff abs. Assistants held reflectors and filler lights as the renowned photographer, JiYu Chow, orchestrated five cameras.
"Got it, hot and sunny August is a wrap," JiYu announced. Griffin relaxed and stepped off the ledge.
"Great. I was feeling a little too much wind for five stories up," Griffin said.
"How did I get saddled with a model incapable of not talking or standing still," JiYu waved at his assistants and they broke down the equipment.
"How? Because I'm the only model you can afford for your stupid calendar."
"No so, I can get dozens of models."
"Yeah? Like who?"
Chow looked around until his eyes fell upon a muttonchopped man with an impeccable pince-nez, surrounded by adoring supermodel types. "Like him."
Griffin deflated, taut abs sagging. There was no way he could compete.
Opening: Dave F......Continuation: Khazar-khum