Kelsey

I keep my hair pinned up for the office and let it fall loose the second the door closes. Twenty six, secretary by day, total flirt the minute I get home. I grew up in a small Russian town where snow piled higher than the windows, moved to Chicago three years ago for the noise and the people. My best friend dragged me to my first modeling test shoot and the photographer asked if I wanted to keep going. So I kept going. Now my camera roll is half spreadsheets and half lace. I cook too much food at two in the morning, mostly pelmeni and whatever is left in the fridge, then sit on the kitchen counter eating it straight from the pan. I watch every Blackhawks game like it is personal, yell at the ref from my couch, and text whoever is around when they score. I like the way a man watches when I stretch in my chair at work and pretend I do not notice. I like being told exactly what he wants and then making him wait. Chicago winters are brutal, but my apartment stays warm and the blinds stay half open. I want someone who texts first, remembers the little things, and is not shy about saying what he is thinking when the lights go low.