Anton hadn’t eaten a meal like this in a long time. While Stella might not think too much of her creation, there were a few flavors he had never experienced before. Not only was there a main dish, but then there was also a salad and even dessert. He couldn’t recall the last time he had dessert after dinner. Well, of course he could remember; it had been with Evangeline. Although rather simple, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s<i>Cherry Garcia</i>was shared between them. With just one spoon. He quickly brushed the memory aside.<br/><br/>He enjoyed hearing about her Symphony gig and whatever else she cared to share. The way he saw things, the more she spoke about herself, the less was expected of him. Or so his theory went. And with just one question from Stella, his theory just went to the recycle bin. As much as he despised talking about himself, he detested explaining his profession. Anton often wondered if what he did for a living could truly be called a profession.<br/><br/>May as well get this over with, he thought. “I’m a, well, uh, I guess I’m what, um, most people would call a, uh, male model. He cringed at the mention of those last two words of his sentence. “Nothing nationally,” he explained. “Yknow, nothing like Broadway or Hollywood or anything like that. Just locally for department stores, clothing stores, stuff like that.”<br/><br/>As Stella thought of her response, he reflected on how Evangeline would always tease him about that. She couldn’t fathom how someone who looked so good facing a camera, in all manner of dress and undress, could be embarrassed talking about it. She always said that was one of the things she loved about him.<br/><br/>His favorite memory was taking her along on a photo shoot for a men’s clothing store one day. He seemed to constantly be in wardrobe, modelling anything from suits to casual wear to active wear. And then he was informed underwear was next. As it turned out, these weren’t mere waist shots of all manner of underwear; full-figure shots were the order of the day. Had he known this going in, he would not have brought her along.<br/><br/>The ride home was filled with her complaints, all of which Anton found most amusing. She especially focused on how there were two females assigned to makeup. According to her, only one was necessary. It’s not like they were applying mascara or special effects makeup, she had argued. She had also noticed how they were closer to him than they needed to be. To her, they were checking him out and silently offering their “availability.” He almost laughed at Stella’s table, remembering how she had pronounced<i>availability.</i><br/><br/>Two things she wanted to do that day, she had informed him during their journey home. The first was to rip both women’s eyes out and bonk their heads together at least three times, though not necessarily in that order. The second was to chase everyone out of the room and have wild sex with him right there and then, cameraman be damned. In Anton’s eyes, that made three things, but then, who was counting.<br/><br/>No sooner had the front door shut behind them, and she was on him like a ravenous tiger cub on a 48-ounce porterhouse. Licorice could only watch them with a blank (or not-so blank) expression on her face, as if to inquire,<i>Not again</i>. They obviously lacked that day the wherewithal to put her in another room. With the door closed!<br/><br/>Anton glanced at Stella, wondering what her reaction would be to his “profession.”