You're not a model. You think the entire act of modeling is silly at best and detrimental at worst. You only agreed to pose for your friend because she was desperate and begged for your help. You had no idea the photo would end up in an art gallery. Even worse, the piece seems to have attracted the attention of an older professional, a man who claims to be working on a series about "the perfect woman." When he asks if you'd accept a contract, you scoff. The very idea disgusts and terrifies you. That's not who you are. But he gives you his card. And over the course of the year, a few chance encounters convince you that, maybe, he isn't a creep. Maybe he really means what he says, that you are beautiful, majestic, and worthy of this art. That the art, in fact, is worthy of you. And every time you see him, his hungry eyes draw you deeper in...