Claire*, like so many fourteen-year-old girls, loved going to the mall. One day, a vaguely handsome older man approached her there. “You’re beautiful. Such defined cheekbones. You could be a model, did you know that?” he said, with a disarming smile. “I’m Scratch. I’m a fashion photographer. Why don’t you stop by my studio tomorrow?” And like so many fourteen-year-old girls would, Claire beamed. She liked him instantly.
The next day, Claire arrived at Scratch’s and knocked on the door. Scratch opened the door and Claire entered, noticing that it was a small, cramped apartment. Not a studio. But before this could register, Scratch gave her some underwear. “We need some photos of your body.” Claire changed, feeling self-conscious. Scratch looked at her and began snapping a camera. “Bend over, pout, smile,” he instructed, moving so quickly that Claire didn’t quite know what to think. “OK, we got it!” Scratch shouted after about 30 minutes. “Get changed.”
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