This is a sequel to ”My Date as Teenage Girl Model”. You really should read that first (can be read as stand-alone). This time it’s told from Darius’ point of view.

I had really enjoyed my date with ”Amy Amstel” but I thought that was it. I was mistaken. The (very) local TV-station got hold of it and made a silly piece about it. This caused me and Andrew some discomfort. Andrew made a joke out of it and I – well, I just let it blow over and that was it, I thought.

A couple of weeks later I was asked to come over to Andrew’s place. Why? We never interacted. Well, apart from the “date” but that was definitely with Amy and not Andrew, remember. When I got there I was getting very worried since a representative from Amy Amstel’s agency was there. Had I got myself involved in some breach of copyright or anything like that? Honestly, it was just a bit of fun! So what if I’m a bit obsessed with Amy Amstel? I’m not a stalker. At least I don’t think so. The situation was worse than I thought at first. They offered me a summer job. A completely outrageous, ridiculous job bordering (on the wrong side) of lunacy.

Actually the offer was for both Andrew and me. Apparently they had been keeping me under observation as a “potential stalker”. I was not very happy about that but given how I had tried to get in contact with Amy Amstel I could hardly blame them, could I? Anyway, that had made them notice the local TV piece. That was the birth of a notion. “Amy” would come out of seclusion. It was well known that Amy could have been much bigger modelling star if she wasn’t such a recluse. Never moving around in the “right” circles, being seeing in the “right” settings, making the “right” connections. The agency wanted Andrew and me to fake being Amy and her “boyfriend”. They needed someone that could fool everyone that she (or he) really was Amy and someone to partner her continually to minimize the risk of being discovered. That someone had to

1) be reliable
2) look good enough to be believable as a model’s boyfriend
3) be charming (after all this was all about promoting Amy)
4) be able to keep quiet about the whole thing.

They claimed to have been satisfied by their background checks on me. I wasn’t sure they had got their money’s worth for that. Anyway, it didn’t matter. The idea was absolutely ridiculous and I told them so in no uncertain terms. They agreed. They also mentioned that if I had agreed Amy would have been very grateful to me and just for the sake of procedure they gave me the contract to read. I admit I was just enough smitten by Amy Amstel to briefly, very briefly, reconsidering.

I went home wondering why they were smiling when I left. I was just about to throw the contract in the bin when I decided to have a look at it. I read it. I read it again. I read it a third time going through every clause in detail. I went into my father’s office to get his opinion. My father is a lawyer, only a public defender and not a highly paid contracts lawyer but anyway. He read the contract. He looked strangely at me and asked

- Is this some silly joke? Is there something outside the contract you are hiding?

I assured him it was all legit. He read every clause in detail with me. His real concern was the Non-Disclosure clause. It was quite draconian. My father thought it a bit over the top. Me, I found the part about my pay to be the ridiculous part. I expected to be offered a place at Harvard but only with a partial scholarship. We could cover one, possibly two years of living expenses with savings but not a complete degree. The “Summer Job” offer would take care of that with a wide margin. After making sure that I understood the consequences I decided to accept. My loving mother kissed me on my head and said

- I’m so proud of my son, the escort.

In a way she was right but I’d really have preferred if she hadn’t put it just that way.

I checked with Andrew. He told me he’d do it if I did. He trusted me. He wouldn’t do it without me.

The day after graduation I started My Summer Job as Eye Candy in the Fashion World. The agency provided me with clothes and everything else I needed. I stayed in the same fancy hotels as “Amy”. Separate rooms of course. Anything else would be inconceivable given Amy Amstel’s reputation. “Amy” and I attended parties, premieres and so on. Actually the reasons for the parties didn’t matter and for me they blurred and not from alcohol. I was very careful with drinking. I was also handsome and charming. I discovered that the whole environment was ridiculous. Shallowness, point scoring, intrigues, over-blown egos, sucking up to potential “benefactors”. I was appalled. I was even more appalled to discover how good I was at navigating in this artificial world. “Amy” was supposed to be recluse so if Andrew as “Amy” was a bit silent nobody was surprised. It sufficed that “Amy” was gorgeous, she was, every time no matter the occasion. Andrew could have been born to the job. How did the boy do it?. Me, I schmoosed. I went over and beyond my duties. I made connections the agency could follow up. I enjoyed promoting Amy Amstel. I dazzled ladies and occasionally made them lust for me. I impressed men. Unfortunately I also inadvertently dazzled and made some men lust for me.

There were breaks in the partying and schmoozing. When Amy Amstel worked the “stand-in” couldn’t be seen and I couldn’t party. I needed the breaks. On what would turn out to be the last break I was invited to a shoot where Amy wasn’t involved. I was invited by the very famous designer involved. Since Serge was one of the men that I strongly suspected wanted to get into my pants I wasn’t too happy but the agency was ecstatic. Amy Amstel modelling Serge’s girl lines would be a great opportunity. I dithered but the agency used the ultimate argument: It was for the good of Amy Amstel. I was a sucker for that argument. My infatuation for Amy was as strong as ever.

I had misjudged Serge. Oh, he was most certainly interested in getting into my pants but he was very civil about it. He also saw potential in me. He made his photographers play around with me for a day (not THAT way). Apparently I’m a natural. Serge started to hound me. Who knows what would have happened if Andrew hadn’t made THE FATAL MISTAKE. He was caught, on camera, getting out of a car in a too short dress and hadn’t tucked properly. Given the target audience for Amy Amstel, young teen girls, this caused a scandal.

The agency called a damage limitation meeting. The result of that meeting was a decision that I would take the blame. I was to meet the press and read a very carefully worded statement that while not exactly being literally untrue gave the impression that

1) The scandalous pictures were of a stand-in for Amy Amstel
2) The real Amy Amstel had been present in the “scene” until just recently and then been overwhelmed and once more withdrawn.
3) I was the one that had insisted and practically black-mailed the agency to hire Andrew as a stand-in for Amy Amstel (with more than a hint of romance thrown in as well)

You wonder why I’d agree to this? Primarily, of course, “for the good of Amy Amstel”. Secondly, my master’s degree was now financed.
My meeting with media was a bit marred by the fact that I was giggling when getting up on the stage of the small theatre used. I was prepared to fall on my sword but I hadn’t expected to do it literally. I had tripped on a prop sword just before entering.

Before leaving I had a last private conversation with Andrew.
- Darius, how come you were prepared to take all the blame and save me from harm?
- I love you Andrew.
- You love – me? What about Amy?
- How can I love Amy without loving you?
- You knew? For how long have you known?
- Ever since that time by the lake. You just knew too much about Amy Amstel. And later on the hill-top the way you reacted to me kissing you. I can’t explain but I just knew that it was the one and only Amy Amstel that held back.

And I proceeded to kiss Amy/Andrew and she melted into my arms just the way I suspected she had wanted to do that day by the lake.

Well, that was two weeks ago. A week is a long time not only in politics. Things have happened since then. Back in town “My Summer Job as an Escort” has been the big issue. People are convinced that I’m gay. I don’t really care since I’m leaving town anyway. Right now I’m loading my car to go to Harvard. Yes, I got admitted with a partial scholarship.

I’m bit disappointed that Andrew has kept his distance from me since we got back. Somehow the gay label only got stuck on me. Andrew just slipped past. Andrew has let it be known that hi is going to finish high school with an equivalent education in France, only doing the two final years in one.

By a strange coincidence Amy Amstel will also spend the coming year in Europe. The events during summer have left her with a very full calendar of shoots. Something that I contributed substantially to but no one mentions that. Am I still infatuated with Amy? Of course I am but I think I have matured a bit.

Me?
I’m going to study hard. Between my studies and my extra job there will absolutely no time to party at university. Nor any other extracurricular activities connected to university. You see Serge really is a darling. He’s got a thing for me. Almost as bad as I used to have for Amy. He is determined to help me. Oh, he never got into my pants but he got me into his. His rather provocative underwear collection. He realized the commercial potential of the whole scandal and arranged a very nice contract to model his (male) clothing lines. Amy’s agency helped me getting a good deal. Don’t get me wrong, they didn’t sign me but got me a good deal with another agency. The underwear ads will appear in media just as term begins. Great timing! I’m sure that my fellow students will love that. Some more than others. Those will be disappointed. However, I must admit I look really hot in those pictures. Serge and friends of his have me lined up for work all the free time for the next year which is why I’m going to forsake normal student life. I don’t intend to make a career in modelling. I’ve had enough of that world but I desperately need the money. Next year I will get an apartment next to campus which isn’t cheap even if you share. Why an apartment and not stay in the dorms?

Next year Andie will start her studies at Harvard.