Member-only story
Glamour Girl
Meeting me again wasn’t on her bingo card for the year.
I knew her as Zelda — the girl from the magazine covers, the one who tore across runways around the world as she donned different fashions from all make of designers. She posed like a conqueror every time the camera came her way, and anyone would have told me I should have known better than to fall under her spell. But it just so happened that I was invited to an end-of-the-year party attended by the industry’s elites. I, as a lowly photographer with just a few credits to my name, knew better than to ignore the invitation.
What I didn’t quite expect was to be faced by Zelda in the flesh as soon as I walked in.
She wore a sheer black body suit — much like a full-body casing of nylon-esque material — through which you could see her black bra and panties on display. But she didn’t seem to mind as she smiled for the various cameras that caught her in their crosshairs. Another young woman hovered nearby, and I found myself gravitating towards her to get the intel I needed.
I cleared my throat when I was near enough that Zelda was in reach but still a careful distance away. “Are you the assistant?” I asked the nervous young woman at my side, and she cast me a grateful look that was all too rare at events like this.
