You sit back down on the sofa next to Kevin
From Create Your Own Story
You and Kevin drift back to the sofa together, the earlier tension replaced with a quiet buzz of accomplishment. The cushions dip beneath your weight as you settle into the corner of the room, shoulders almost touching.
Mike walks over, a satisfied look on his face. Up close, you notice the faint silver at his temples against his short black curls. He looks pleased—not flashy about it, just steady.
“You both did a great job,” he says, voice warm but businesslike. “Exactly what the brand wanted.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a thick fold of cash. No hesitation. No awkward counting games. He splits it cleanly between you and Kevin, handing it over like this is the most normal thing in the world.
You take it, the bills crisp against your palm.
“Appreciate it,” Kevin says easily.
You nod, sliding the money into your pocket. The weight of it feels grounding. Real. For a second, you feel almost embarrassed for the doubts you had earlier—for the nerves, the overthinking. It had been straightforward. Professional. Easy cash.
Maybe easier than you expected.
Mike lingers in front of you, rocking slightly on his heels. Rod stays near the camera setup, reviewing shots on the screen, dark hazel eyes focused and analytical.
“There’s something else,” Mike says casually. “Same brand. They’re expanding. Looking for guys to model a few more products.”
Kevin glances at you. You glance back.
“What kind of products?” you ask.
Mike’s lips twitch, like he’s gauging the temperature in the room. “Pays well,” he adds first. “If you’re interested.”
“How well?” Kevin asks, leaning forward slightly.
Mike doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he crosses to a small equipment case near the wall and crouches down. He pulls out a compact black box and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.
He flips it open.
Inside are several small, neatly packaged items.
“The other stuff is underwear, though,” he says evenly.
You feel your posture shift without meaning to. Kevin straightens beside you.
Mike watches both of you carefully—measuring reactions.
“Underwear?” Kevin repeats.
Mike nods once, then reaches into the box and pulls one out of its packaging. He gives it a small shake so it unfolds in his hand.
It’s black. Minimal. Structured.
“A jockstrap,” he clarifies. “To be precise.”
He holds it up by the waistband. The elastic is thick, with bold white lettering across the front: SXE.
The room feels quieter now.
Rod looks up briefly from the camera screen but doesn’t say anything. Just observes.
“Hundred bucks each,” Mike says calmly. “For a short set. Nothing complicated.”
Kevin lets out a slow breath through his nose, eyes still on the garment.
You feel a flicker of nerves again—but different this time. Sharper. More deliberate.
A hundred dollars.
You do the math quickly in your head. Quick shoot. Same room. Same setup. Just… less fabric.
Mike doesn’t push. He just stands there, average build relaxed, expression open but attentive.
“It’s still just modelling,” he says. “Brand’s clean. Online retail. Same deal as before.”
Kevin shifts slightly, rubbing his hands together as if warming them. “Same kind of poses?” he asks.
“Nothing explicit,” Mike replies smoothly. “Just product-focused. Athletic vibe.”
You glance at Kevin. He looks back at you.
There’s uncertainty there—but also curiosity. And the undeniable appeal of more cash.
You think about how nervous you’d been earlier. How quickly that feeling faded once the camera started clicking. How normal it ended up feeling.
You feel a small, almost amused shake of your own head.
“Silly to back out now,” you mutter under your breath.
Kevin hears you. A grin tugs at his mouth.
“So,” Mike says gently, holding the black SXE waistband between his fingers. “You in?”
The question hangs in the air, heavier than before.
