Today at Loose Id
Healing a hell creature…
Ion Toso models and poses as a live mannequin. Weary of one-night stands, loneliness threatens to consume him until, while posing in an upscale department store window one evening he sees the perfect woman jump from a cab wearing a fake green flower on her lapel. His dormant body comes to life for the world to see. Once he finds her, convincing her to accept everything he is, even the part no one dares look at twice will not be easy. Ion is an Essentiant—an immortal creature who steals and devours souls of human vermin.
Sandy Brittingham hasn’t been out on a date for months yet pretending to enjoy another aimless blind date is intolerable. Unable to bear the thought of murmuring polite lies at the end of the night forces her to act recklessly. Before she’s seated, she snatches off the fake green flower she wore so the man would know her and tosses it into the trash. Sandy walks out the restaurant and unwittingly into the arms of a thief, but she’s not sure the model who rescues her isn’t worse.
The group in front of the store grew larger. Ion had taken the assignment in Philly hoping it would break the monotony or at least add excitement to his boring day-to-day existence. He already knew it wasn’t going to work. Dres had been right; it was time to move on, do something more meaningful, and get away from the business of being pretty.
The snug underwear he wore for the show was damn uncomfortable. Did any man really wear tighty-whities? Hell, did they wear the brief in any color at all? Ion Toso’s eyes didn’t blink; his hands embraced chair arms as he leaned forward in a stiff pose. Shallow breaths prevented his bare chest from rising and falling, but a curl of hair stirred by air from the overhead vent feathered across his forehead. He would have used more glue to hold the wayward strand in place had he known about the air duct. Posing as a live mannequin, sitting, standing, stooping, doing those things for hours on end without flinching, bunching, or stretching a muscle created pains in places even he didn’t know existed, and Ion knew every part of his body intimately.
He hadn’t counted on the godforsaken strand of hair dancing on his forehead.
Ion avoided television and magazine layouts completely. Both afforded no way to mesmerize his audience. Oddly enough, this made him more sought after. Tonight, Dres, who also acted as his manager in public, waited in the dressing room. The faux job made it easier to lend supernatural abilities when the need arose.
Observing the people peering in the upscale store’s window, he ignored the wayward curl and thought about his new profession. Doctor was the obvious choice. It enabled him to do the deed without searching alleys for dying derelicts, murderers, or any kind of maniac posing a threat to society. Yet, as he told Dresdan in Los Angeles, it wasn’t his cup of tea.
The crowd of mostly women thinned. Some entered the store hoping to catch Ion up close and personal, others made their way into the fancy restaurant next door, and a few departed for what he guessed would be a quiet night at home. What might a lifetime with someone who truly loved him be like? He’d spent his entire existence in and out of one-night stands and short-lived relationships, which always left him seeking more.
Lately, Ion sought no one to slake his lust.
A yellow cab bumped the curb coming to a stop. The woman who exited leaned in the front window and gave the cabby a bill. Tires squealed as the driver lurched back into traffic.
Recklessness, warm weather, and a short, black skirt stretched across a plump ass caused something to happen for the first time in years while posing--Ion’s cock sprang to life. Impossible to conceal it, considering he wore only the name-brand brief. The world held ringside seats for the rise of Ion Toso’s dick. He thanked God for what little support the constricting underwear added to his pitiful situation.
Cameras flashed and fingers pointed when Ion closed his legs in an attempt to hide his predicament. He had not moved on assignment since the early days. As a live mannequin, unlike a model on the catwalk, he worked with smaller crowds so he didn’t need stringent mind control. Tonight, he lost power over the throng and was sure, with modern technology, pictures and videos already flooded social media like a storm. Unfuckingbelievable! Another round of queries regarding his real age would simultaneously bombard the airwaves.
Attention drawn by the hubbub, the woman turned and looked. Red lips curved into a smile, which distracted Ion from awful thoughts for a bit. Blonde hair curled just above her collar, and a low-cut white camisole held generous mounds peeking from the top. The fake green flower pinned to her jacket lapel marred an otherwise perfect picture. Pivoting on at least five-inch heels, she sashayed away. What a sweet ass! Ion didn’t have to look to know a drop of precum left a wet spot front and center of the snug white underwear.
In one tiny moment, internationally famous model and poser Ion Toso tumbled from his public throne.
A quick glance at the clock placed out of sight beneath the window ledge let Ion know he had ten minutes remaining. He wasn’t going to make it. Damn, growing complacent and lax, he had not taken sustenance, which would have given him more power to control the small crowd and avoid the awkward situation.
Standing, he twisted and bumped the plastic female mannequin in white lacy underwear behind him, sending it flying with a crash through the curtain. Jumping from the rise, he ignored murmurs and smirks from workers unpacking merchandise, and walked quickly down the hall. Not wishing to run into someone in the elevator, he took the stairs down to where the dressing room provided for his privacy was located.
When he entered the room, his best friend peered at his watch, set his coffee down, and stared at him. “You okay? It’s only ten till nine.” Giving Ion the once-over, Dresdan Mati burst out laughing. “I’ll be damned, you’re sporting wood.” He continued to peruse Ion’s body. “Christ, did you come in your panties?”
“Shut the hell up. They’re briefs.”
J. Hali Steele
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out.