Free Moon Mates (Shameless Shifters) by Sable Drake

"Wildlife
photography? You've got to be kidding me. Why on earth would you want to do
that? I can't believe you'd give up your career to take pictures of animals!
You’re a fashion photographer! You spend your days in a nice,
air-conditioned, well-lit studio taking pictures of hunks in their
underwear!"
    "Are
you done yet?" asked Jaylee when her roommate stopped for breath.
    Marion , red in the face and breathing hard, shook her
head. "In their underwear !" she repeated. "Or on a beach
someplace, taking pictures of hunks in swimsuits! Teeny little thongs! Oiled
bodies! Bulging packages! And you get paid for it. Good money, too!
Millions of people would kill for a chance at a job like that. You can't really
be planning to throw it all away."
    "Except
that I am. It's not all as great as you think."
    "Oh,
come on!" Marion picked up a stack of magazines and catalogs from their
coffee table and waved them in Jaylee's face. The pages flapped, fanning her
with a breeze that smelled of cologne samples.
    Images
fluttered past. Male models. Posing to display chiseled abs, sculpted chests,
rock-hard buttocks. Strong jaws. Brooding expressions. Smoky come-hither
bedroom eyes. Lots of skin on display. Bronze skin. Mocha skin. Dark chocolate
skin. All of it smooth, hairless, gleaming.
    And,
yes… packages. Bulging packages.
    "Look
at them," Marion said. "I know women who go out to clubs and fork
over a cover charge and a two-drink minimum for the privilege of stuffing more money down the pants of guys who don't look half this good. And you not only
get to take pictures, but you get paid to do it! And the perks…"
    "What
perks?"
    Marion gave her a lewd grin. "Oh, come on… you can
tell me. Nearly-naked man, exotic location, hot babe like you…"
    "You
make it sound like it's just me and the model. There's at least half a dozen
people around whenever I do a shoot. Lighting crews, make-up artists, wardrobe–"
    "What
wardrobe?"
    "And
I'm not such a hot babe."
    "Oh,
sure, right." Marion rolled her eyes and addressed an unseen audience.
"She stands there telling me that, with those big eyes and all that dark
hair, those gorgeous tits, that ass… not to mention a mouth that belongs in the
dictionary illustration for fellatio . Lips to die for... and that little
beauty mark–"
    "You're
starting to make me nervous. Besides, it's not like I'd get anywhere. Most of
them are gay, anyway."
    This
derailed Marion only slightly. "So? You can still dream! That's what a
vibrator is for. How likely is it that I'm ever going to seduce Tom Cruise? Do
I let that stop me from using my imagination?"
    Jaylee
laughed despite her exasperation. "But, see, Mare, here's the thing: Tom
Cruise turns you on."
    "What
are you telling me?" Marion waved the magazines again. "And these
guys do nothing for you? They don't rev your engine? Maybe I'm the one
who should be getting nervous, then."
    "It
isn't like that. These guys…" She took a catalog, one that somehow thought
it could sell men's clothes by showing men hardly wearing them. "They
don't do much for me. They're all alike. Pretty boys. Gym whores. They're not… they're
not real men."
    Marion leaned over her shoulder and put her fingertip
directly on a fire-engine red mesh pouch with prominent contents. "You
can't tell me that's not real."
    "That
isn't what I mean. I keep telling you."
    "And
I keep not understanding."
    "I'm
tired of looking through my viewfinder at nothing but waxed, hairless Boy
Wonders who look like they've got a bag of golf balls down their shorts. What
ever happened to guys with chest hair? I love sinking my fingers into a thick
mat of chest hair."
    "Ew,"
Marion said, nose wrinkling. "Next, you'll be telling me you like hairy
backs."
    "I
might not go that far," Jaylee admitted. "But I can't see
myself with a guy who shaves his underarms and trims his pubic hair down to a
wisp!"
    "Hey,
fair's fair. Women have been doing that for centuries. You've had bikini waxes;
I know you