Exposure
10
Art Photographer
“Carrie” by Jeff Thrower, ID74060449, licensed from Shutterstock.com
“DORA, HONEY, I need just a little more pucker for this pose. No. Not a big fake smoochy face. Think of that first caress of your lover’s lips. Just meet him as he touches your lips. Yes. That’s it,” I said. I took the picture and it was damned sexy.
“Nate, let’s take it just a step further,” Anna said. “Dora, the gown is lovely, but we need to loosen it up a bit. You don’t mind showing a little of the lovelies, do you?” Anna started to unbutton Dora’s top.
“You embarrass me, Anna,” she whispered.
“Oh, honey, just between us girls, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Would you rather have Nate do this? I promise, he’s very good at it,” she said.
What? The idea was that Anna would help her with costume adjustments. I wasn’t supposed to get too close. But Anna set it up and I couldn’t help but feel it was a test of me more than of Dora.
“Honey, let’s just relax,” I said as I approached Dora.
I lifted my hand and stroked her cheek. It was easy to forget that Dora was actually my roommate, Devon. She was really cute. She was about five-five and wore a blonde wig that hung in curls around her face. Her makeup was exquisite. Her delicate hands had painted nails that matched the polish on her toes. She was still in an open-toed high-heel sandal that did wonderful things for her legs.
“Um… Nate… You don’t have to…”
“Shh. This top is truly beautiful, but it’s hiding some of your best bits. Don’t worry. We won’t completely expose you. I know you depend on your mystique. But really, honey…” I ran my finger down the center of her chest and pushed her blouse aside to show her lacy bra. “We can tantalize your audience with just a little more. Now, let’s try putting your right hand on your left thigh. Can you feel what we’re doing? People who see this picture will be straining to see if just a hint of your nipple is exposed. Don’t worry. It just enhances your cleavage a little. I promised not to expose you.”
The effect was great. Crossing her arm over pushed her right breast up and out a little so she looked like she had modest but definitely desirable boobs. Behind her, Anna gave me a surprised look and smiled.
I went back to shooting pictures, coaxing Dora into different expressions, and then having her turn to show her back. From this view, I could see what a lovely back she had and I reached in to unfasten her bra.
“Hold this in front so you don’t expose your pretty little titties,” I said.
She clasped the bra in front of her and I tucked the straps under her arms. She had a bare back down to the G-string that parted her butt cheeks. She turned to look over her shoulder at me with a smoky gaze that just sizzled with anticipation.
When we finished the set, Anna moved in and helped refasten her bra and pull her dress back together. We wrapped up the session and Dora left.
“Great work, ladies,” I said. “Dora is going to love this set of photos and will get great publicity with them.”
“What does she do that she needs publicity photos like that?” Theresa asked. Elizabeth and Anna about lost it and couldn’t control their giggles, turning away to force me into answering the question.
“She’s a drag queen,” I said. “If you’ve been Uptown, you might have passed Augie’s. It’s just a little bar with a bright sign in front advertising the show and performers. Dora is opening there in December.”
“Wait. Um… That means… You mean… You treated him like a girl!” Theresa said.
“It’s how she wanted to be treated. But we didn’t cross any lines. I just tried to make her feel as sexy as any other model who comes to Attic Allure,” I said.
“And you did great!” Elizabeth said. “I really didn’t know how you were going to pull it off, but you did. Literally. Her clothes came off and those were some of the sexiest poses I’ve seen in your gallery. I love you!”
“You really surprised me,” Anna said. “You just accepted her for who she is and helped her through the whole process. I could feel that I wasn’t getting the result either you or she wanted. And you just stepped in and took care of her like any other model.”
“Well, as long as Devon doesn’t think there was anything more there than there was, I’m good with it all. The pictures will be great.”
“What? Devon? As in your roommate?” Beth screeched.
“Yeah. I hardly ever saw him until a few weeks ago. He thought I was scary and stayed away from me,” I laughed.
“He hangs around with that chick who’s always trying to get a protest started,” Beth said. “She’s just down the hall from me.”
“So far, I’ve managed to stay out of her clutches. It seems like she is constantly on the lookout for some way to use a photographer in her protests. She went so far as to suggest that we rent some police uniforms and stage a scene of protesters being beaten. Absolutely not!” I said. “We’ve got enough of that happening for real without staging fake protests and beatings.”
We finished cleaning up the space and headed out. Elizabeth had come through again and we had tickets to see Plaza Suite at the Blackstone Theatre at eight that night.
We headed downstairs after I got the proofs printed and Levi stopped me on the way out.
“Got a message for you, Nate,” he said. “Guy named Hammer called. Said you’d know who.”
“Yeah. Why’d he call here?”
“Short message. He said, ‘Every high school. Monday morning at eight.’ You understand what it means?” Levi asked. I swallowed hard.
“Yeah. Yeah. I know what it means,” I said. “Thanks, Levi.” I practically dragged Beth and Anna out of the store and down the street.
“What’s going on?” Anna asked. “What does Malcolm want?”
“Who’s Malcolm? For that matter, who’s Hammer?” Elizabeth asked.
“One and the same. Anna knows him as Malcolm. I only ever knew his… What did you call it? His business name, Hammer.”
“And?” Anna insisted.
“There’s going to be a city-wide strike of high school students, Monday morning at eight o’clock. I need to get hold of Professor Jonas.”
“Professor Jonas? It’s Nate Hart.”
“I don’t normally take calls at home on the weekend, Nate. Is this important?”
“Only if you want all your photojournalism students to have a chance at the kind of tip I got last week. There will be enough action on Monday for everyone to get photos,” I said.
“Something big is happening?”
“Every high school with a black or Latino student body is going to walk out on Monday.”
“Holy shit!” my instructor said. “This is good intel?”
“I believe it. I’ll be staked out to get as many photos as possible.”
“Okay. What school will you be at?”
“Calumet High School. I think it, Harrison, Austin, and Wendell-Phillips are likely to be hot-spots. They’ve all had limited walkouts before. I’m sure they’ll jump at a city-wide walkout.”
“Okay. I’ll see how many of our class I can get hold of and get them in position. I think it would be best not to pass this tip on any further. Too much media interest could alert the police and make for a confrontational atmosphere.”
“I agree, but this time, I’ll specifically be looking for the police informant in the school. At Harrison, he was pointed out to me when the police broke into the cafeteria and started arresting kids who moved in there when they were chased back inside. I didn’t dare stop to take pictures once I was in the thick of things.”
“Infiltrated. We’ll all be on the lookout. Good work, Nate. Keep it up.”
I disconnected and breathed a deep sigh. Elizabeth and Anna collected me by the arms and practically dragged me to the theatre. It was a new Neil Simon play and it was pretty good. We laughed a lot, even though a couple of the scenes were kind of poignant. As soon as the show was over, we went back to the dormitory and collected our things for an overnight. Deke was waiting for us and took us to Elizabeth’s house. We didn’t really fool around much. Beth and Anna weren’t into girl-girl stuff and it was awkward to have one girl waiting around to take her turn. We just all got in bed and cuddled up to sleep.
Sunday, after a long leisurely brunch with Beth’s parents, we piled into the microbus and drove Anna back to Rockford. Then Beth and I returned to the city and I parked the VW in the garage next to Camera Warehouse for a mere $30 a week with in and out privileges.
Monday morning, I was up early, and in the microbus to go stake out Calumet High—for two years, my alma mater. At 8:00 sharp, the doors of the school were flung open and students flooded out of the school. More than in the Harrison strike the previous week, but police were there to try to force them back into the school. There weren’t enough police because they’d been called to every high school and junior college in the city.
I took pictures of a couple of failed attempts by police to force students back, but it was the police who soon fell back. Nearly 3,000 students linked arms and circled the building holding the police out. The strike lasted all day and eventually word came to the strikers that the school board had agreed to ‘read the manifesto.’ That wasn’t really good enough, but the strike ended for the day. All told, over 35,000 students in the city had walked out of classes to protest the poor quality education and lack of integration.
Daley was opposed to extensive school integration. As the black neighborhoods expanded, he had the school board keep redrawing the boundaries for schools until the mostly black schools were overcrowded and understaffed, while the white schools had empty seats and too many teachers. Something had to happen soon or it would simply explode.
“Hey, camera boy!” a voice called to me. I recognized one of the guys headed across from the school.
“Raoul, how are you, man?” I asked.
“Hanging tight. I got a tip to watch for you. Here’s a copy of the two manifestos as rewritten for today. I’ll give you a tip. It’s called Black Monday. And it’s going to repeat. Every Monday until we get action from the school board,” he said. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. Next Monday we’re marching to the school corporation offices. We’re not quitting.”
“That’s cool, man. I’ll get this into the newspaper. Speaking of which, I need to get my film processed and hit the office before deadline.”
“It was your picture on Friday that let us get everyone pulled together. They kept saying it was only the rioters in front of the convention the police were beating on. You showed it was anyone who had a backbone. Let me know if I can supply anything else,” he said.
“I’ll do that. When it breaks that you’re planning to walk every Monday, though, I won’t be the only one around taking pictures. I know there are at least eight out covering different schools today. Next week there’ll be dozens,” I said.
“Bring ’em. The more witnesses, the less the cops can do. We’ve got to break this thing fast or we won’t make it at all.”
“It’s always close, isn’t it?” I asked. It seemed like any kind of movement at all was just an hour from failure before it succeeded. I took the manifestos and headed back to the lab to get my pictures in to the paper with the story. I missed class again all day.
It didn’t make a difference the next Monday. About half the college students in the city walked out in solidarity with the demand for integrated classrooms, more diversity among teachers, bilingual classes, and black history and contributions being taught.
I got pictures as students from every direction approached the school board offices with their demands. As I predicted, there were newspaper and television reporters and photographers crawling all over the city. My run of exclusive photos came to a complete end. Prof. Jonas had a few choice words to say about when news is so well-covered that it ceases to be news.
In class, we moved past news photography and started dealing with other forms of photojournalism, including documenting progress on projects and issues. The idea was to record the history of some contemporary event. That was the big difference between written journalism and photojournalism. A writer could write about the history of an event ten or fifty or a hundred years later. A photographer couldn’t photograph an event after it was gone.
As it happened, I had a client who sought me out to do another series of photos for her and to do a story about her blossoming career. It was a short piece and some of the work was done in the studio, but I followed her backstage the next weekend and used the Hasselblad to capture her behind the scenes. It was an interesting experience, but I didn’t think anything would really come of it.
The next Monday, the school board acquiesced to the students’ demand for a meeting. It was going to be a long slow process, but there was a chance they’d make some gains. What was sure was that the whole student strike issue was no longer news.
And then it was election day.
Nothing too unexpected. For a while there, it looked like Humphrey would pull it out, but Nixon even carried Illinois, thanks to Daley’s August strongarm tactics. Of course, the South, upset over Johnson’s civil rights legislation, went to racist segregationist Wallace. That was a day I just stayed in my room. There was nothing good that could come of this election.
Of course, staying in my room wasn’t actually an option. We still had classes and I was really enjoying the different effects and quality we could get with a large format camera in photo lab. This was definitely going to be on my wish list for Christmas. I’d have Levi start looking around for me. That would involve a whole bunch of new equipment. My current enlargers couldn’t handle that size film and the developing trays were different.
For that matter, the whole shooting process was more deliberate. When I was out in the field using the 35mm Nikon, I could shoot up a 36-exposure roll in fifteen seconds with the motor drive. I tried not to, but by comparison, 35mm film was cheap.
That’s by comparison to 120 film for the Hasselblad. The 12-exposure rolls tended to slow my process in the studio down a little as I didn’t roll off a bunch of photos in a row. The 4x5s I’d worked with in the lab took a single frame of film at a time. The aspect ratio of the film is 4x5. In reality the film is slightly smaller than 4 inches by 5 inches, sized at 100mm x 125mm. In shooting, you lose another 5mm in each direction because of the notches for the film carrier, and are likely to lose more in the enlarger. Yeah. We were going to have a test on it in photo lab this week.
The net result was that you shot one frame at a time and then reloaded the camera. The frames were processed and printed one frame at a time, so it took a while. You just didn’t shoot as many pictures in the studio when you were shooting in large format, so each one had to be perfect. I wondered how that was going to affect my style if I moved to that format. Probably only for portraits and not for Attic Allure photos.
As usual, Friday night was a non-stop party in the dormitory. Beth and I often went out on Fridays so we weren’t around the chaos, but she was in her last couple of weeks of the quarter for DePaul. She had finals coming up and was a very studious person. I tried to focus on my study, but my door was open into the common room and the common room door was open to the hall. I could smell marijuana from someplace down the hall and was always sure the police would break in and start beating people at random for having weed.
“Okay, I’m ready!” Carrie said stumbling into the common room, looking around, and heading straight for my bedroom while stripping off her clothes. “I admit the only way we’ll get people to listen to us is with naked pictures. Do me! Take my pictures now.”
“Um… Carrie, you’re in my bedroom. Naked.”
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“You’re naked in the boys’ dormitory. I don’t take pictures in my bedroom. Put your clothes on!” I said.
“You don’t like me naked?” she said, near tears.
I pointed at the open door where half a dozen guys were looking in from the common room.
“Carrie, everybody likes you naked. I don’t think that’s what you want.”
She looked at the guys staring at her and screamed. Then she shoved the door shut in their faces and tried to cover her tits and pussy with her hands. I started gathering up her clothes to hand to her.
“How could you let me do that?” she cried. “They all saw me naked! I’ll have to quit school.”
“You don’t have to quit school. You just need to get dressed and hold your head high as you leave,” I said.
“Don’t make me go!” she said. She dropped her hands away from her body and hung her head a little. “You like me naked, don’t you, Nate?”
“Carrie, are you drunk?”
“No. A little high, maybe. It’s not like you can walk down your hall and not get high. But, if you won’t take my picture, we could do other things, you know. I mean, if you like me,” she said.
“Carrie, I’m a nineteen-year-old guy and you’re a naked girl. Of course I like you. But you still can’t just barge into my room and strip demanding pictures or sex. I don’t take pictures in my room. I don’t have sex with models. Why don’t you tell me what is really going through your mind while you get dressed now,” I said.
“Um… I can’t believe you don’t want to have sex with me,” she said as she sorted out her clothes and found her panties. She seemed in no rush to get them on and paused several times with her hairy crotch exposed. “You got pictures in the newspaper. I thought maybe you’d get one of me and they’d censor it and then I’d point at it and be able to make an issue about how sexist the newspaper is and that it amounts to repression of women and a violation of our civil rights by the war-mongering right wing that voted for Nixon who are trying to keep the schools segregated.”
“Whoa!” I said. “I’m not sure I can even parse that sentence.” She finally pulled her panties up and grabbed a T-shirt. Like a lot of the college girls, she didn’t bother with a bra. I watched her breasts disappear under the shirt and just kept watching them as they moved around beneath the thin fabric. “It seems like you’re struggling to get a coherent protest together.”
“Yeah. Well.” She pulled her skirt on and zipped it up. It only just covered the panties. “How can I help it? There’s so much wrong in the world! I want to fight for women’s rights and for civil rights and for integration and against the war and for redistribution of wealth and against pollution… How can I help but struggle for a coherent protest?”
“It’s a problem, but… um… Have you ever seen those Indian fakirs who lie on a bed of nails?”
“Well, not in person, but I’ve seen pictures.”
“Have you ever seen one lie on just one nail?”
“They can’t do that!”
“Of course not. When they get all those issues tossed at them at once, people can just lie down on them and sleep. If you only toss one issue at them, they can’t ignore it. There’s no way to lie down on it. Even if you see all these issues—and I agree they’re all important—you have to settle on one to make people really uncomfortable. Right now, you’re protesting so many issues that people can ignore you easily.”
“But I can’t just stop supporting the World Wildlife Fund or SDS or the NAACP!”
“No. You don’t have to. You can support all those things. But you need to choose one to speak out about—to make your cause.”
“What’s your cause, Nate?”
“I’m not really a leader or a protester. The one thing I feel most passionate about is the draft and sending unwilling kids to die in a rich man’s war. You see, that supports anti-war, civil rights, and even feminism if you stop and think about it. But it’s only one thing that I’ll fight for—or against. I want the draft abolished. Completely. Right now,” I said.
“I get it, I think. I wanted you to be a part of founding a chapter of SDS, but that’s not your issue. Even though you’ve been beaten by police, that’s not your issue. Even though you photographed student walkouts for integration and better education, that’s not your issue. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about any of the rest of it.”
“Right. Let me tell you a story. There was once a preacher who preached every sermon on baptism. No matter what scripture he chose, somehow it came back around to baptism. One Sunday he opened the floor to the congregation to suggest a topic for him to preach on and one fellow figured he could get the preacher off the subject of baptism, so he said, ‘Preach about pills.’ The preacher nodded and started right off. ‘There are round pills and flat pills, long pills and short pills. There are red pills and green pills and blue pills. But the most important pills are the gospills, and in the gospels we find important words about baptism.’ The congregation got the point.”
“I don’t think he’d keep many people in his congregation,” she laughed.
“No one lies down on a single nail. If you’re going to protest, you have to make it so that people will pull the nail or suffer. Once you get that nail out of the board, you can grab another one.”
“Will you take my picture?”
“Sure. Tomorrow at the studio. I’ve got a morning appointment, but if you come in at one o’clock, I’ll do a good set with you.”
I figured that was what she really wanted in the first place.
I didn’t think anything about my first appointment in the morning, but I was surprised when I saw who came in. It was a guy and a girl I recognized from the protests. I’d heard he had been arrested at one point and both had been suspended. They were real leaders. I welcomed them in.
“Can you give us a good couple portrait?” he asked.
“Sure. Do you want this like you’re two allies in the struggle, like two friends, like two people with opposing views?”
“Like two people in love,” she said. “This protest stuff will really lead to interesting things.”
“You’ve got it. And congratulations!”
“Thanks. We came here because you took the first pictures of the protest. We thought it would be cool to have the first picture taken of the two of us to be by the same guy,” he said.
“Well, thank you for thinking of me. Let’s try a couple of formal sittings and then look at something a little more off the wall,” I said.
Theresa and Cassie got busy putting together the drops and setting I wanted while we talked and we got right down to taking pictures. We tried a couple of the typical, with her seated on a stool and him standing with his hands on her shoulders or the two seated together side-by-side. Then we moved to a sort of comic shot with the two of them pulling on a giant wishbone the girls found in the back. Then they got cozy with her sitting on his lap in a chair.
I was surprised when they loosened up enough and shed their clothes to cuddle together on the bed. They weren’t exposed inappropriately, but the kids were just eighteen years old and I was surprised they were willing to go that far.
“We were told that this was the best way to get an Attic Allure photo,” she giggled. “You sure you can’t see any… um… nasties?”
“You’re clear. I love that you’re willing to do this.”
“I want to see our photo up there on that gallery wall,” he said. “You got some other black kids up there. Will you do us, too?”
“Theresa and Cassie, I need the black backdrop and strong backlight.”
The girls knew just what to do by now and the scene was set in just a couple of minutes while I changed film.
“This one is going to be just from the waist up if you want to put your pants back on. If you don’t, I’ll cut the picture where it doesn’t show anything nasty.”
They elected to stay naked and I had them face each other in an embrace, but with their heads pulled back to look at each other. Then I had them turn back-to-back and lean their heads back beside each other. I positioned her arm so it covered her nipples and set the lights a little higher. It was a good shot and we did several variations.
They were happy and I think they were well on their way to giving each other orgasms. My assistance wasn’t required.
“This is where you take photos?” Carrie asked when she came upstairs.
“Welcome to Attic Allure,” I said. I let her tour around a little and view the gallery.
“That’s Devon!”
“Dora,” I answered. “When she’s in drag, she’s Dora. Don’t get them confused.”
“Right. Seriously?”
“Seriously. I treated her just like any other woman who comes here for a glamour pose.”
“Um… So, what do I need to do?”
“First thing is to sign the model release. Read it carefully. I’ll have the right to use any of your photos as well.”
“Are those girls staying?” Carrie whispered.
“Cassie and Theresa are my assistants. They weren’t expecting to work this afternoon, so if you don’t want them here and are willing to help me move set pieces and props, I’ll send them home.”
“Okay. After my display last night, I’m feeling a little self-conscious. I’d prefer if we were alone.”
“As long as you remember that I don’t fuck in the studio and I don’t fuck models. This is the studio and you are a model,” I said sternly.
“Yeah. No fucking. It’s your rule and I expect you to abide by it.”
I told Theresa and Cassie they could go and they both gave me a kiss. They also made sure my hands were in contact with their butts while we kissed. I was sure the display was all for Carrie’s benefit.
“Does she have a boney butt?” Carrie asked, nodding toward where Theresa and Cassie had left.
“Mmm. Surprisingly, soft and squishy.” I pulled down the first backdrop.
“The other one certainly looked soft and squishy,” she giggled.
“Are you trying to set up comparisons?” I asked.
“Um… No. I mean, not exactly. A girl just likes to know what a guy likes. I mean, if you want to try mine, I offered it last night,” Carrie said.
“Honey, when we get into the flow of things and start working together, I might touch you anywhere. It’s part of getting the right look. I’ll move you around, position your legs and arms, point you in the direction I want you.”
“Um… Anywhere. Okay. Like, just to get me in the right pose. Sure.”
“Now, come here and let’s get a standard portrait. You’ll be able to send this home to your parents if you want. I don’t think they do school pictures at the college.”
I seated her on the stool and tilted her face toward the camera. I placed her hands where I wanted them and generally got her used to having me touch her. Then I got the first photo, reset the lights, and took another, before I moved her position slightly. I had a hand on her back and one on her stomach and explained the posture I wanted as she straightened up. She was wearing the usual sweater and miniskirt, so I made sure I touched her bare legs often.
“Now, let’s find something interesting for you to change into,” I said. “We’re going to make you into a revolutionary first.”
“Yay! Viva la revolucion!” she said.
I went to the costume rack and found a military type shirt and a fatigues hat that was just a round pillbox with a bill on it. It said ‘Army Surplus’ stamped inside, but I wasn’t sure what army. It looked more like what you’d imagine a South American general dictator wearing.
“Okay. This will work. Come over here behind the privacy screen.”
“Why a privacy screen? We’re here alone, aren’t we?”
“Yes. It’s the illusion that it’s private—a small space held away from the rest of the open room. Now, let’s get this sweater off,” I said. I didn’t wait for her. I just started lifting the sweater up and over her head. She held her arms up and just like the previous night, I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Now that I’m looking at you with an eye to what we can do for a photo, I have to say, I like these very much,” I said, petting over her breasts and lifting them slightly. I rubbed her nipples. “We’ll want these nice and stiff for the picture when they appear. Now the skirt.” I unzipped it and let it fall. She stepped out of it.
“I’m sorry. I’m wearing panties,” she rasped.
“No problem. I’m sure they’ll come off when we want them to. Right now, though, slip your arms into this shirt. Let’s see what a sexy revolutionary you really are.”
I worked with her for several minutes, trying out a different number of buttons done. I made sure to pet over her boobs frequently. Then I placed the cap on her head at an angle and led her out to the stage area.
“Okay. I want a couple of pictures just like this and then we’ll start getting creative with it.”
I posed her and shot. Posed her and shot. I unbuttoned her shirt completely and tied it loosely under her boobs, then posed her and shot. I took a trip through the props closet and found a telephone lineman’s field phone. It was kind of squarish and shaped like a brick with a khaki canvas box it came in. I had her hold that while I untied the shirt and let it hang, then let it hang off one shoulder. I made sure her nipples stuck out nice and hard.
“Oh, yes. You do have a soft squishy butt, too. It’s very nice, but the pink panties are doing nothing for the image. Let’s lose those.”
I simply pulled them down her legs and off. I tossed them behind the privacy screen and looked at her thick brown bush. I began plucking at the hairs and fluffing them out. I noticed Carrie kind of absently take over pinching her nipples to make them hard.
“Okay, let’s have a couple like this, then I have a different shirt and panties for you.”
“I’m getting dressed again?” she said, breathlessly.
“Only temporarily. I like you naked. We’ll come back to it.”
I grabbed a khaki T-shirt and pulled it over her head, then measured the length with my fingers. I got a pair of scissors from the table and clipped the shirt, then tore it off her, leaving the bottom half of her boobs on display.
“If I bend over, I’ll fall right out of this,” she said.
“Oh, good. Here, slip into these.”
I held a pair of black bikini bottoms, not too brief, but with nothing but the half T-shirt on with them, they got the message across just fine. I’d seen a box of cigars back there. They were old and dried. If she squeezed one very hard it would crumble. I warned her not to.
When the scene was set, I had a jungle fighter in her little hat, half a T-shirt, and black panties, talking on the phone and gesturing with her cigar. The next time I changed film, I cut another slit in the shirt and tore it off, this time, just above her nipples. I cut another slit in the bottoms, careful not to clip her hair.
She was getting to look like a pretty damn sexy revolutionary. She lost the bottoms next.
“I think my hair got matted down again,” she whispered. And then she waited for me to fluff it. I did and moved all the way between her legs to be sure her hair was clear of the swamp that was forming down there. I dragged my fingers through it and she whined.
“We’re going to have just a few more pictures, my little revolutionary, then I’ll take care of you,” I said.
“Okay,” she gasped, as I circled her clit. I put the daybed in the setting, facing the backdrop, and piled pillows on it so she was behind a bunker of sorts. Her pussy didn’t actually show in this position, but she was just as happy to have no pants on.
I took the last shot and snapped a lens cover on the camera. I walked around the bed to sit beside her. I gently took the walkie-talkie and the cigar and set them aside, along with the hat. Then I let her settle into my arms as I tended to her needs. She was a kind of frantic kisser, and I didn’t think she was very experienced at it. I wasn’t sure she’d ever had her nipples sucked on. I decided I should be careful about fingering her pussy too much. I didn’t know for sure if she was a virgin or not. It didn’t take much manipulating of her clit, though, for her to light up like a firecracker.
“I’ve never felt anything like that!” she said. “I’m definitely going to be a feminist now! I’ve had an orgasm. It’s true. Women’s lib is true!”
“I’m glad you’ve discovered it,” I said.
“Do it again!”
I managed to get proof sheets printed of the day’s work and then chose one of the prints of my first couple for the day to enlarge. I was contemplating doing a print of the feminist revolutionary when Beth came up to the studio.
“Hey, babe,” I said. “How goes the studying?”
“Oh, fine. I was never this uptight about finals in high school. I’m all cranky and I need my boyfriend to show how much he loves me,” she said.
“How can I possibly do that?” I asked, taking her in my arms and kissing her.
“Mmm. That’s a good start. Take me home—up to my house—and spend the night making love to me.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Let me put my stuff away and we’ll go. We can grab something to eat on the way,” I said. I started securing my camera and getting things put away while Beth settled at the table and looked at the day’s pictures.
“This couple is beautiful!” she said.
“They want to be in my gallery and I think they deserve a place there,” I answered.
“No kidding! Who’s the babe with the cigar? Wait! I know her! She’s the revolutionary always trying to start a protest. She lives up the hall from me.”
“Yeah. Her name’s Carrie. She pals around a lot with Devon.”
“What was she protesting for these shots? Oh, sexy little devil, isn’t she?”
“She can be. Part of what we were working on was finding her real cause. She’s been flitting from one thing to another all semester. I heard someone suggested that cute little naugas were raised in cruel conditions and then butchered for their hides. Carrie was ready to start a ‘save the naugas’ campaign before Devon got her settled down.”
“Gullible girl. Did she arrive at any conclusion?”
I turned out the lights and put an arm around my girlfriend to leave.
“I think she’s found a cause that really turns her on,” I said carefully. “She’s pretty gung-ho on women’s rights and feminism now.”
“Hmm. How did she settle on that?”
“I think it had to do with her experiencing her first orgasm.”
“Oh, you devil! No. Seriously? She’d never had an orgasm before?”
“Not according to her. She thought they were a myth and she plans to go out and reveal the truth to women everywhere.”
“Hence the big thick cigar in her hand,” Beth laughed. “I’d like to have that truth revealed to me tonight. Think you can help a poor girl out?”
“As many times as you want.”
“Oh, I’ll hold you to that.”
We grabbed a sack of sliders at White Castle and in half an hour we were naked in Beth’s bed. I did my best to give her as many orgasms as I could. I used my fingers, my tongue, and my cock. And she coaxed three from me before she finally moaned and rolled over asleep. I just watched her for a while and petted her bare back and hair. She was sure an enthusiastic lover. And I felt sated, too. But I wasn’t sleepy.
One thing I’d noticed over the past year was that I wasn’t falling asleep as quickly at night anymore. I often studied late and then had trouble waking up in the morning, but here I was without my books and wide awake.
I reached for Beth’s phone and dialed Ronda’s number. She answered on the second ring.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning. Who’s calling?” she demanded.
“It’s Nate, honey. Sorry to wake you up.”
“Nate! Don’t be sorry! Wake me up any time. You called!”
“I call whenever I can,” I said.
“Yeah, but they’re always so short. Can we talk a while?”
“I’m at Elizabeth’s, and she told me I could talk as long as we wanted. How are you doing?”
“Oh, damn it! I should be used to this. I spent every summer away for eight weeks. It’s been two and a half months here in Boston and I’m so homesick, I’m miserable.”
“I miss you,” I said.
“Will you pick me up at the airport?”
“When?”
“Two and a half weeks. On the 27th. You and Elizabeth can pick me up and we can go get Anna and be back in Tenbrook to hug Patricia and Toni.”
“Of course I’ll pick you up! I was afraid you wouldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving.”
“I can’t stay here alone any longer! I thought it would be different. I thought I’d have late-night conversations with Christine and that would get me through between when you and I could talk. I’m so lonely!” she cried.
“Oh, Ronda, I just want to hold you in my arms. I miss Christine, too. I can’t believe she just cut us off like that.”
“I love her and I hate her,” Ronda sobbed. “Nate, I’m not like Christine. Please don’t cut me off or break up with me. I don’t care how many other girls are in your life, just please save room for me. I’m not going to leave you!”
“And I’m not going to leave you,” I said. “I still love you, baby. You won my heart.”
“I don’t know how it happened. I thought I was a lesbian. I haven’t even met a girl here who appeals to me. I just want to be in your arms,” she said.
“So where are we going to have Thanksgiving Dinner? We should let our parents know who all is coming,” I said.
“Oh, yeah. Wouldn’t they be surprised if we all just showed up? Maybe we should check with them to see what they have planned. I’ll call when we finish talking.”
“Um… better wait until morning. As you said, it’s two o’clock.”
“Oh. Maybe you’re right. Elizabeth will come, won’t she?”
“She came several times tonight,” I laughed. “I don’t know what kind of celebration her family usually has or if it’s important here. I’ll talk to her in the morning.”
“I’ll come again for Thanksgiving,” Elizabeth mumbled. Apparently, she wasn’t completely asleep.
“Tell her if you aren’t making her come enough, I’ll pitch in and help,” Ronda said. “You know, I really wouldn’t mind a little intimate time with her.”
“I don’t know if she’d be up for that or not,” I said.
“My family doesn’t make a big deal out of Thanksgiving,” Beth said. “I think Valerie is taking Mom and Dad to Mexico that week. I already told them I was going to Tenbrook.”
“Great. Elizabeth is with us. We’ll have to configure the microbus for passengers.”
“Don’t lose the mattress completely. We might need it that weekend,” Ronda said.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Nate. Um… If Elizabeth is awake, maybe you could lick her to another orgasm and tell her it came from my tongue to yours.”
“You are getting horny, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got my fingers in my pussy and it’s squishy just from talking to you.”
“Oh, God! I’d like them to be mine.”
“Hey, Ronda,” Elizabeth said rolling toward me. I held the phone down to her. “Tell me what you’d like me to do to him for you.” I couldn’t hear the response, but Beth’s hand was on my cock. “Really? I’ve never done that.— Yes, I like that.— I’ll try it.— Okay, night, sweetie. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” She handed the phone back to me, but she didn’t let up on stroking my cock back up to full hardness.
“Hi, honey. I’m back. I guess Beth wasn’t as asleep as I thought she was.”
“Are you hard?”
“Pretty much.”
“Roll toward her and do that thing where you rub between her butt cheeks with your hard cock.”
Elizabeth nudged her butt up toward me and tugged at my cock to get me to roll toward her. In a second, I was sliding between her cheeks.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Does it remind you a little of sliding up and down my crack?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead and get her all slippery so you really slide.”
I wiggled around and licked up and down Beth’s crack until she was well coated with saliva and then went back to sliding my cock between her cheeks. I moaned. So did Elizabeth. I could feel her rubbing at her clit.
“She’s really slippery, now.”
“Good. Make sure you nudge at her butthole when you stroke up. Don’t try to go in, just nudge it like you do mine sometimes.”
“Is that what you want me to do? Like I do with you?”
“Yes. You’ve never done it with Elizabeth and she wants to experience the pleasure.”
I pulled back and made sure the tip of my cock caught on Beth’s anus as I slid forward and then past it. I moved back and forth a few more times, catching and nudging, then slipping past as Ronda described how she had the phone lying next to her ear and was using both hands to stimulate her pussy and her ass.
“You know I won’t last very long like this. Beth, you are so sexy and Ronda is talking sexy to me.”
“Yeah. I like it. Do what she says. Don’t worry about me. I’m getting close.”
“Are you getting close, Nate?”
“Yeah. You know there’s something about this position.”
“Well, that’s not Vicki in front of you, so don’t go plowing into her. But when you’re ready, make sure your tip is right up against her hole and fire away.”
I caught on Elizabeth’s back door and just stayed there, bouncing back and forth with her muscles clenching and releasing on the tip of my cock. I wasn’t going to last any longer.
“This is it,” I gasped. Then I groaned as I shot jets of sperm into Beth’s butt. She had the tip of my cock firmly clenched in the hard rubbery ring of her asshole and it fluttered as she reached her climax, too.
“Oh, yeah!” she moaned. “Yes.”
“I feel it. I’m coming, too. I love you, Nate,” Ronda said as she climaxed at the other end of the phone line.
“I love you,” I said. “I love you both.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
