Arse Model
As I oiled Marvin’s body for the evening’s show, I thought back to the beginning of this amazing journey, three months earlier. I was taking Marvin for a night out but found him broken and alone, crying in his bedroom, wearing only a black thong.
“Oh god, I’m such a loser,” he sobbed. “I am nothing. I have nothing.”
I am ashamed to say that my first reaction upon seeing Marvin like this was annoyance. I was taking him out to a nice dinner to cheer him up and he wasn’t even dressed. After chastising myself for thinking this, I noticed Marvin’s physique. To say that he was an Adonis would be an understatement. It was then that I suggested to Marvin that he could be an arse model. Marvin, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, was reluctant at first but. It took a lot of convincing on my part but finally, he agreed. For the next hour I took a range of photos of Marvin in his thong.
“Have you got anything else, Marvin?” I asked. “Something in leopard print perhaps?”
“Check the drawer,” he replied. I opened Marvin’s underwear drawer and rummaged through it. For someone so bashful, he certainly had an extensive collection of thongs.
“I’ve never felt so alive!” screamed Marvin, his confidence growing by the minute.
What a whirlwind three months it had been. The week prior he performed at the Shanghai Underwear Gala and killed it. If Marvin put on a good show tonight here in Milan, well, the world was his oyster. He looked amazing in a silken red thong with a matching face veil. As I oiled his buttocks, he let out a sigh. I looked up at him.
“Nerves?” I asked. “Don’t worry, you’ll do great. Even better than in Shanghai. Your rump is like a pair of smooth ripe apricots.”
“No, it’s not nerves. It’s just…” Even though his face was covered I could see that he was struggling to find the words to say.
“What? Just say it,” I insisted.
“After tonight’s show, that’s it.”
“That’s it? What do you mean?”
Marvin removed the veil from his face. “I mean no more shows or cat walks.”
“You don’t mean that. Being an arse model is a dream come true for you. What happened to feeling alive?”
“It was your dream. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, I really am, but I don’t want any of this. I’ve learned that I don’t need to show my arse to feel alive.”
I stopped oiling. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came at. Marvin was right. It was my dream. A sense of guilt washed over me, guilt for pushing him so hard. I just wanted Marvin to feel good about himself, to have that spring in his step like he used to. With a knowing look, Marvin put his veil back on and was taken by security to the catwalk.
I don’t remember much about the show that night, I was in shock. The only thing I do recall is the twelve-minute standing ovation that Marvin received.
“Bravo, Marvin,” I said to myself as I clapped my hands. “Mission accomplished.”
