Follow Focus
31
Mysterious Woman
“Monica” by Jade ThaiCatwalk, ID1055130089 licensed from Shutterstock.com.
WE HAD A FUN FEW DAYS at Camp Otterbein. I helped Dad with some of the heavier jobs he had, like cutting and lifting a tree that had fallen across one of the hiking trails. Patricia helped in the kitchen and ran in circles trying to keep up with Toni while still holding onto Alex. And we enjoyed the camp atmosphere, singing around the campfire, and watching my parents in an environment where it looked like they would truly flourish.
Time went too quickly, and we headed back to Ontario on Friday. Dad had built a little wooden box with a padded top for Toni to sit on in the back seat of the Suburban. She loved being high enough to see out the windows. Alex’s car seat hung from the back seat and fastened her in pretty securely so Patricia didn’t have to spend the whole ride holding her.
I thought Toni was going to sing camp songs all the way back to Stratford, but she eventually fell asleep, like she always had in the car. With the extra power of the Suburban, we managed to get home in time for dinner.
We got to ‘recover’ for the weekend, if you call entertaining Jane, going to see The Medium at the Patterson Theatre, and riding on Sunday recovery. We had fun and that was all I wanted with my family. Saturday night, my wives went to the theatre with Peter, Derek, and Kendra. Jane and I stayed with the children in our apartment, getting Alex and James settled at a reasonable hour and Toni down before it got too late.
Then Jane and I slipped into the bedroom and quietly made love until the family got home. Jane’s tiny waist had snapped back into shape after birth as if she was made of elastic. I still thought she could stand to gain a few pounds, but there was no question that she was a beautiful woman.
“I need to photograph you,” I said. “No one will believe you’ve had a child.”
“I’ve been dieting and exercising constantly since our son was born,” she giggled. “That’s the only reason I’m near myself again.”
“Jane, you know how beautiful you are,” I said.
“Thank you. Peter never fails to tell me. Even Derek passes on a compliment or two. But it’s nice to know a man who prefers women finds me pretty. It means a lot.”
“Who would have thought that when we met… Has it been four years ago? Four and a half? Who would have thought I would put a baby in your womb? And we’d both be glad about it.”
“Not just one, Nate. It’s too soon right now, but next summer, I’d like to get started on our daughter. Please tell me it will be okay?” she asked. “I want both my children to have the same father.”
“Do you mean that you want to come to bed with me next summer like this?” I asked as I petted down her body to her slight blonde bush and pushed my fingers into her. “You’d like me to make sure you are turned on and I can feel your juices flowing like they are now? Then you’d like me to strip off the condom I’m wearing now and push my hard and yearning cock into your quim. Like I’m doing now,” I said, pushing into her hot center. “You’d want me to grip you and hold you close to me as I rock in and out of you until you can hardly stand it? Then, when we both know the time is right, to unleash a load of baby-makers into your waiting vagina, searching for your egg to make our little girl?”
I was panting, but Jane was completely off the rails.
“Yes! Yes!” she called. “Fill me! Plant our baby in my womb. Take me, Nate!”
Feeling her clenching on my cock as she reached her climax was all it took to convince my cock to join her. We kissed and rocked in the aftermath of our orgasms, loving each other. Eventually, I had to pull out and get rid of the condom so we didn’t start the process early. Then we went to sleep in each other’s arms.
My wives joined us late that night, giggling after a nice night out with the girls, and perhaps a drink or two.
Monday morning, I was back in the studio after breakfast at That Scottish Café. Betty Marlin was the actress of the day and we worked well together. There was nothing urgent about getting the photos, so I decided to collect all the transparencies for the week and send them all to London for processing over the weekend.
Tuesday, Monica arrived at the studio at one for her photo session.
“Are you going to paint me with light?” she husked in my ear.
“With light and so much more. Perhaps I should paint you.”
“Instead of a photo?”
“No. Paint you and then photograph you. You know, decorate your beautiful body with paint and put you in front of one of my colorful backdrops,” I said as I led her to the stack of backdrops John had brought me.
“Oh, Nate, I am not so colorful. It would mock my disposition to have me brightly colored,” she said.
“Are you sad, Monica?”
“An artist is always sad. Aren’t you?”
“Only when I’m not making art. I’ve found my summer here to be a great lifting of my spirits.”
“You must lift me with you and make me into art,” she said. “But I am far more suited to black and white.”
“I agree, dear. And so, let us see what I can do with you.”
“Anything. You can do anything with me.”
I grinned at her.
“Except intercourse,” she sighed.
I spent some time getting Monica ready. I adjusted her makeup, removed her clothes, and petted her freely. Her lips were constantly ready for a kiss and I placed kisses there frequently. I pulled the black backdrop and brought Monica in front of it, changing the lighting to a complete silhouette with just a glow of light outlining her against the black. That was good, but I wanted much more.
“Dahling,” I said with mock drama. “This will never do. I need to capture your essence. Your mystery.”
“My lips. My breasts. What would you like to capture?”
“Sometimes, to reveal a model, I must conceal her.”
“You do not want me nude?” she asked, sounding offended.
“Oh, yes. I very much want you nude. But so much more.”
It took me a little while to get things set up the way I wanted them. I had to ask Anna to run out and get me some dry ice at our local butcher shop. We often bought meat there and I’d noticed that he had a sign advertising packing meat to travel with dry ice. John had left a fog machine at the studio last year and a little water and dry ice was all that was required. Dry ice fog, though, sort of crept along the floor. I’d want it stirred up. We’d used the fog machine for a performance with Min a couple of years ago and got great results with a small fan that rotated on a pedestal and disturbed the pattern of the fog. I got that set up and then went to find a transparent veil to drape her in.
I arranged lights and constantly returned to Monica to kiss her and show her I was not ignoring her. When she saw the fog, she got very excited and could ‘see’ what I was going for. We tried several settings that I shot with high speed black and white film. Once I was sure we were getting close, I changed to the 4x5, but continued using black and white film.
Eventually, I got the perfect combination. We’d been working for three hours and I snapped off the fog machine and carried Monica to the dressing room. She was frantic for my touch and my kisses.
“Did we make art?” she panted as I suckled her nipple.
“Yes. You were sensational. Sensual. Lubricious.”
“I am most definitely lubricious,” she said, pulling my hand to her pussy.
Oh, yes. She definitely was lubricated. I wasn’t just going to diddle her, though. I laid her back on the sofa and got my face between her legs. Monica’s howls of pleasure echoed off the walls of the dressing room. I had to assume anyone in the building at the time could hear her. Fortunately, the children were still at their day camp.
When she had come down a bit, I shifted and held her in my arms as I continued to kiss her.
“I know, the rule is no intercourse,” she whispered. “But I would. I would make love to you, mio caro.”
“No, my sweet. You are my perfect model. You are a work of art and allow me to capture you through the lens. This piece could make us both famous. I want no other reward.”
“Oh, kiss me again! Let me feel your love for this work of art.”
I did. Eventually, I managed to cool Monica down and gently dressed her. When she was dressed, we kissed again and she left. I plopped down on the couch and caught my breath. Moments later, Ronda popped into the dressing room.
“I can see she obviously didn’t take care of you,” she said. “But you just as obviously took care of her. I don’t believe her feet touched the floor on her way out.”
Ronda sat beside me and kissed me, then pulled back slightly to sniff at my face. She pulled my fingers to her nose as well.
“Does she taste as good as she smells?” she asked.
“You know, love, I believe only you and I appreciate the differences in a woman’s scent. And in her taste. She was very tasty.”
By this time Ronda had my cock out of my pants, stiffly pointing to the air. She reached over and pushed the lock button on the door, stripped off her clothes and mounted me.
“Tell me everything. Her taste, her smell, the feeling when you thrust your fingers into her. Are her fluids thin or thick and creamy? Did she squirt on you to leave so much on your face? Make love to me and tell me about her.”
I know that if Christine were still with us, she would consider this one of the perverted things about our relationship. But I described everything to the best of my ability while Ronda moved up and down on my cock. She was very nearly as vocal as Monica had been.
Anna and Patricia went to the opening of King John that night. Ronda and I managed to take care of the children, serve them dinner, dance, read stories, and get them to bed before we went back to bed and started screwing. I would see the show Saturday.
Wednesday, my photo client was slightly less active and turned on than Monica had been. Or perhaps I was simply being more cautious. Her name was Lisa Andrews and she was in the cast of La Vie Parisienne and the upcoming production of Everyman. So, as you might have guessed, she was a singer. You might have been wrong. I had no idea how well she could sing, but she could certainly dance the can-can on a table top.
Despite my slight reservation, Lisa and I had a good time. She was more than willing to get naked and place herself in my hands. I worked around a fantasy theme with her playing a shepherdess in front of a backdrop that had sheep in the background. I jury-rigged a shepherd’s crook out of a bamboo cane, tied with a ribbon. I also pulled her hair back in two ponytails, high on her head.
She had a fresh and innocent look to her that screamed ‘farmer’s daughter’ when I’d managed to get her peasant blouse down below her breasts. Then she clowned around while I continued to take pictures, including sitting on a fiberglass rock with her feet in the air and her skirt only barely covering her slit.
While I’d felt her up pretty thoroughly while posing her, it didn’t go further than that. After our session, she got dressed and left. I promised we had a good photo for the party that was now scheduled for July 22. I planned to bring a couple of my own models to that party and show off what wonderful perfect bodies they had. I’d already taken one of the photos of Patricia. Adrienne would be here a week before the party and I would definitely coax her into the studio.
I worked at processing and printing photos on Thursday. My wives helped choose the best of the best color transparencies of the women participating in the party and I printed them. I still had a few more scheduled, but Anna was keeping the appointments spaced out so that I could get processing and printing done. Even though everyone wanted a color 12x15 portrait for the party, I’d also taken a good number of black and white images, several of which I thought merited display. The proof sheets would be available at the party and Anna would be taking orders for additional photos there.
Friday, my client was Tori Lamar, one of the French singers from La Vie Parisienne. She played the Baroness and was just a bit older than the ingenues. She was still a stellar beauty, once I had her makeup done and put her in positions that showed off the firm parts and hid the soft ones. She had just a bit more body than the younger women, but she was fun to work with.
I got the week’s transparency film over to Dave and his motorcyclist took off for London to have the film developed over the weekend.
Anna’s parents arrived in town Friday evening for the weekend. They hadn’t come to England while we were there because they didn’t want to go anywhere they couldn’t drive to. I pretended to understand. I’d become so jaded by my travel that getting on a plane was no longer any big deal. I was as likely to go to sleep as to pay attention to my surroundings. I had to remind myself, though, that our trip to the Caribbean had been Patricia’s first time to fly and that Anna had only flown prior to that when we went to LA for the opening of Over Exposure.
We went out to see King John Saturday night. I understood Don and Nancy’s struggle to accept Anna’s family life. Being part of a menage was not what they hoped for their daughter. We didn’t go to any parties after the show, but took them back to their hotel and then went home.
One thing they did appreciate, though, was Toni and Alex. They took to heart Anna’s statement that Patricia’s kids were as close as her parents would ever come to having grandchildren—at least by her. They still held out hope for her brother one day down the line. We all went out to the ranch on Sunday and Anna’s parents clapped and cheered for Toni when she jumped her pony. They held Alex while we went for a trail ride and compared notes with Kendra on the development of Jane’s baby.
Don had a lot of respect for my business, since he still did the corporate taxes and coordinated with a Canadian firm on filing the necessary forms for Attic Allure Canada. He didn’t, however, want to actually see any of my photos. While trying not to be judgmental, he still felt they were not something wholesome that he should look at.
Well, we all tried to be happy and entertaining, but I think even Anna breathed a sigh of relief when they went home after Monday brunch at That Scottish Café.
My Monday afternoon appointment arrived dressed much the same way all the others had been—hoodie sweatshirt, shorts, and sandals.
“Happy birthday, Candace. Welcome to Attic Allure,” I said.
“Deep breath. It’s going to be fine,” she said, breathing deeply. “Hi! I’m here.”
Candace played Kathleen’s daughter in Pericles and had just turned eighteen. She was obviously very nervous about this photo session.
“Candace, I ask every model a question, so don’t think I’m singling you out. Are you here of your own free will without someone making you have your photos taken?” I asked. I usually did this in the dressing room before I started removing a model’s clothes, but I felt this needed to be taken care of before we even stepped foot in the studio.
“Um… Yes. I mean, no one’s making me do it. I said I wanted to. It will be like I’m really one of the girls. You know, I didn’t get to do a lot of things with them because I wasn’t eighteen yet. But I am now. And they’ve all been very supportive. Kathleen even offered to come with me if I wanted, but I’d be embarrassed if she was here. I mean, not that I’m not already embarrassed. It’s just…”
“Have a seat over here,” I said. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s on your mind. You know, we will take this only as far as you want to go. I’m not going to force you into any circumstance or pose that you don’t truly want to do. What has you so nervous?”
“I know we’re supposed to have a great unveiling at the party, but could I see some of the photos of the others? Just so I know what I’m getting into.”
“I think that’s okay. I won’t show you the photo that we’ll display at the party, but I took a lot of other photos, mostly in black and white. They’ll give you a good idea of what the others have been asking for. But please understand, just because the others have taken certain kinds of photos doesn’t mean you need to do that, too,” I said.
“Okay. I get it.”
We went to the display wall where I’d already put a number of images. I pointed them out to her.
“They’re all so beautiful! I’m going to look like a little kid!”
“Oh, I don’t think so. You have a good look and I’ll help you with makeup so you don’t look like a little girl.”
“Um… Okay. Um… Nate… Here’s the thing: I’ve never been completely naked with a guy. I mean, I’m not a virgin or anything, but the back seat of a car isn’t the kind of place where a girl takes off all her clothes, you know?” she panted.
“I understand. You know you don’t have to take all your clothes off. We can get a very sexy portrait of you without you having to strip,” I explained.
“But I want to!” she blurted. “I’ve been fantasizing about this all summer. I know we’ve only met a few times after shows, but the girls tell each other all about what it was like, you know. They talk about how you make them feel and that they just put themselves in your hands and you take care of them.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Some girls have said you made them come. Without even touching them! I… I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm. Not like they talk about. Monica said she screamed so loud she was afraid she’d lost her voice for the performance. I’ve never had anything like that.”
I sighed. Why did they have to paint such unrealistic expectations. This wasn’t a bunch of high schoolers. I suppose, in a way, they were hazing Candace. It could be cute, but the poor girl might think that I can just stand behind the camera and give her a screaming orgasm.
“Let’s not get all tense about the silly bragging some girls do,” I said. “Why don’t we just go into the dressing room and I’ll work on your makeup. Then we’ll get you a nice blouse for a professional portrait—one for your portfolio. We have all afternoon if we need it. We’ll take as much time as you want and get exactly the pictures you want.”
“Thank you, Nate,” she said, giving me a hug. I seated her in the dressing room and started working on her hair and makeup.
She really had lovely features. She didn’t exactly have the knockout looks I’d seen in Hollywood, but she was fresh and wholesome. And my assessment of her talent was that she did great on stage. No one seeing her performance as Marina would guess she was any less experienced than her castmates. I darkened her eyebrows, smoothed her complexion a bit, and applied lipstick.
Patricia knocked and handed me a powder blue dress with a vee-neck and short sleeves. It would be perfect for her headshot and portraits.
“Now we need to get you into this dress,” I said.
Candace stood and I realized she’d kicked off her sandals. But she just stood there, almost at attention.
“Do you want me to do this?” I asked.
She closed her eyes and just nodded.
I reached for the zipper on her hoodie and tugged it down. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she was getting flushed. Damn! She might come without my touching her! When the hoodie was unzipped, I slid it off her shoulders and down her arms, stroking her softly. She continued to breathe shallowly and stand still, so I continued by unzipping her shorts. I pushed them over her butt and down her legs. I held her waist as I lifted one foot and then the other out of the shorts.
Well, Candace was certainly naked in front of a boy now. And it was quite a vision. She had the perfect, scarcely-touched bosom I had seen so often on my classmates when I was a senior in high school. Her areolae and nipples sat on top of her breasts like little cones that had been applied to the perfect roundness of their support. She had a deeply inset navel and just a fluff of hair over her vulva. I wondered if she had any idea how delightful she looked.
I slipped the dress over her head and guided her arms through the sleeves. It was only after the folds dropped over her and I smoothed them out against her body that she seemed to come to life again. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Is that what they’re like?” she squeaked.
“They?”
“Orgasms?”
“Oh, I think that was just a preliminary,” I said, smiling. “Come with me now and let’s get those portfolio shots.”
We worked slowly and now that she’d faced her biggest fear and been naked with a man, she started to relax and work well with me. As I positioned her, I found her leaning into my hands and occasionally even rubbing her cheek against me when I was near. I looked at Patricia, who grinned at me.
“Patricia, I think I’ll use drapes for the backdrop instead of one of the paintings. We haven’t done a bedroom scene this summer at all. Do we even have a bed?”
“Melinda got a nice wood and brass bed that we haven’t used. We still have the mattress and bedding from last year.”
“Candace, perhaps you’d like to wait in the dressing room while Patricia and I set up a nice scene for you,” I said.
“Oh, I’ll help,” she said. “I um… don’t want to sit alone.”
“Okay. I’ll get on the ladder and hang the curtains. You can help Patricia move the bed into place.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to do a bedroom scene!”
She skipped off to help Patricia move the bed into place and make it up. When I finished the curtains, I found a peach-colored tunic that was soft and flowed easily over my hands. I took Candace back to the dressing room.
“We’re going to change dresses now and I’m going to take your hair down. Isn’t this a fun little item?” I asked, handing the tunic to her.
I started gathering her skirt and pulling it up so she had to put the tunic down so I could lift the dress off over her head. I let my hands run down her torso and over her breasts before reaching for the tunic.
“I’m naked with a guy!” she breathed. “Um… Do that again, please? You know, like you just did?”
I once again ran my hands down her torso and over her breasts. She sighed.
“That’s nice.”
I lifted the tunic over her head and she put her arms through the sleeves.
“It’s a little big.”
“That’s okay. We’re going to make it look like a gentle breeze would make it fall off you. Or a whispered word from your lover,” I whispered in her ear. She leaned against me.
“Yeah. Just whisper and it’ll fall right off.”
I led her back to the bed that Patricia had made up with a brown print spread. Anna had come in to help her set lights around it.
“Nice job,” I said, smiling at them. They both blew me a kiss and went up front into the store, closing the door behind them. “Let’s start with you just flopping on the bed as if it’s been a long day and you are ready to relax.”
We worked through the scene and she changed positions as I directed her. She got up on her knees and teased with the dress, barely keeping it over her crotch. It fell off her left shoulder, but didn’t quite reveal her breast. Then she sat with one leg curled in front of her and the other bent at the knee with her foot on the bed.
The magic moment had come. I reached over and tugged the left side of her dress down so her breast was bare. I softly caressed it.
“So pretty,” I whispered. “I feel a gentle breeze blowing.” I blew across her breast and she sighed, a sweet smile played on her lips.
“This little dress might fall right off me,” she said.
And eventually, it did. I teased at her breasts and nipples a bit as I finally got the dress off her entirely. She was expressing her pleasure more audibly as I put her in each new position, fairly squirming to get contact in places where she wanted it.
And then I got the photo.
She looked so relaxed and comfortable and utterly sexy. I shot the 4x5 transparencies and went to sit beside her on the bed. She crawled into my arms and pressed her face against my chest. I petted her hair and down her side. She rolled slightly to give me access to her breasts, so I played with them. Then, finally, she lifted her face to mine to kiss as my hand slid over her hip and to her hot, steamy core.
Her breath came in little gasps as her thighs parted and gave me access to the moist curls between them. I slid through her lubrication and when I touched her clit, she wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed so hard I thought she might break it. Then her lips and tongue broke from mine as she threw her head back and stiffened in orgasm.
“That is what it’s like,” I whispered.
“Oh God, yes! Do it again.”
Not just one more time, but three more. By the time she finally relaxed into my arms, there was a large wet spot on the spread. After cuddling her for another minute or two, I picked her up and carried her to the dressing room, where I wiped her down with a warm washcloth, dried her, and got her dressed.
I kissed her again and she floated out of the studio.
My Wednesday appointment, thankfully, was much easier. It was lighthearted and we joked a lot. Peg Alfred played Queen Katherine, John’s mother, in King John and was well into her fifties. She wanted fun photos that weren’t nude. She dressed herself as a stately elf and I photographed her in front of a fantasy drop that looked like it could have come from Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. She was a stately grand dame and a pleasure to work with.
I was getting excited by the time my Friday appointment arrived. Adrienne would be arriving that evening, so I wasn’t really focusing all that well on Cherianne Kline when she came in. There had been a couple of shows that I hadn’t attended yet, but I didn’t recognize her or her name.
“Welcome to Attic Allure, Cherianne. Are you here for the same package as the other actors?”
“Oh, that will do nicely,” she said. She had a slight trace of an accent that I wrote off as just another Canadian. She looked lovely and I assumed she was in the cast of some show or another.
“What show are you in?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m not an actor. I’m just an office worker,” she laughed. “You know the other term for actor is player. And I assure you, I don’t play.”
“Oh. Well, let’s start with a nice portrait and then we’ll figure out something artsy for you,” I said.
“I’d rather not have a portrait. In fact, I’ll go stark naked for you, but I’d rather you didn’t show my face in any of the photos.”
“Okay. We can do that. No portrait and no face in the photos. Do you have an idea of what you would like?”
“The works,” she said. “You have quite the reputation, you know.”
“I hope it doesn’t give you any false expectations,” I laughed. “Hmm. No face in the photos, but possibly nude. A woman of mystery. I sense something dark and secretive.”
“Oh, yes! That sounds perfect.”
“Let’s take a stroll through the props and costumes and see what we have that appeals to you,” I suggested, leading her to the limited props area. If we didn’t have something from the theatre that called out to her, we could extend the search into the store.
It wasn’t long before she zeroed in on the weapons table. There was a variety of prop weapons like swords, a mace, a couple of spears, and some kind of net. She went straight to a shiny sword.
“This is just the kind of thing an assassin would need to carry around in the dark,” she said, flourishing it around.
“She’d find it a difficult weapon to use since it’s made of wood and paint. But I like the concept. You’d be lurking around dark corners, probably in a cape so you could shield your face from the light.” We moved to the costume racks.
“An experienced swordswoman could do as much damage with a wooden sword as with a steel one,” she said. “I could.”
I found a pair of leather breeches, a black blouse, and a black cape with a hood. We’d used the cape for Jasmine’s photo, but she’d just held it in one hand as if she were about to drape herself. I led Cherianne to the dressing room.
“Do you need assistance dressing?” I asked her.
“Need or want? Such a decision. If you’ll do the assisting, I’ll be happy to have help.”
Of course I agreed. She was quite different than the actors who had come in. They’d all worn a hoodie and shorts as if it were a cast uniform. Cherianne was dressed in street clothes and waited patiently while I undid her buttons and removed her shirt, then stripped her of her slacks and pantyhose. She’d worn no bra nor panties and the body I uncovered was… I’d heard the term ‘hard bodies’ in Hollywood, referring to some of the bathing beauties down on Muscle Beach over in Santa Monica. Adrienne had taken me past it to see all the muscular beauties in bikinis. Cherianne was trim and toned. I had the feeling she was an athlete.
She preened for me and accepted my light touches as I dressed her in the black breeches and blouse.
“Is an office job here year-round work? I know many of the actors travel to other places for work in the winter,” I said as I worked. I didn’t need to worry about makeup, since I wouldn’t be showing her face. The hooded cape would help me with that.
“No. I travel a lot. Do you like to travel, Nate?” she asked.
“I always thought I’d love traveling, but I do it full time during the off-season. It loses some of its glamor.”
“You travel to take photographs of beautiful women?”
“Ah. I do some photography of government officials and events. Some architecture. But I take photographic equipment to embassies and install it for making visas and passports. It’s all pretty dull and boring,” I said.
“Where will you travel this year?”
“It will be chaotic. We’re planning to live in Oman and will be traveling across the center swath of Africa, through the Middle East, and much of South Asia. They will be long trips this year and I will miss my family.”
“Oh, poor baby. I’m sure I could make it more interesting if I traveled with you.”
“I have no lack of traveling companions,” I said. I fastened the cape under her chin. “This will certainly paint you as a mysterious woman carrying a sword. Let’s choose a backdrop and we’ll start taking some pictures.”
“But you’ve covered me all up!”
“Oh, my dear, that is so I can uncover you again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I suggested.
“Yes. I liked the feeling of having you undress me and caress my skin. Let us take pictures so you can do it again.”
Cherianne was easy to work with. She did her part to keep her face out of the picture, drawing the cape across it and taking various fencing postures with the sword. I worked her around in front of the drop and got the blouse off her. When I touched her breast, she offered her lips to me and we kissed.
“Now, Cherianne…”
“Please. It’s pronounced Cherry-Anne. Think of it as Anne with a cherry on top.”
“Oh! I’m sorry to have mispronounced it. Thank you for correcting me.”
“Don’t you think I have a couple of nice cherries on top?” she asked, pulling my hands back to her breasts.
Yes, indeed. I did manage to get photos of her cherries as she pulled the hood over her eyes. And when I pulled the breeches off, she pushed her pudenda into my palm. I hesitated as I kissed her again and probed to find if she was as turned on as she acted. The answer, sadly, was no.
We kept talking and she seemed very interested in what I did for the State Department and who I traveled with. When I said we had our own plane dedicated to our trips, she repeated her offer to travel with me.
I got her back into position and started taking pictures, but the fantasy backdrop was doing nothing for me. I pulled one of my old backdrops—a dark sky and reflections on water painted by Jerry Carson, a scene painter for a now-defunct theatre in Chicago.
Now I was getting somewhere. I positioned her again and adjusted lighting for some dramatic shadows across her body. I switched to the 4x5 camera and took the prima shots for the party.
Cherianne was surprised when I took the sword from her and picked her up to carry to the dressing room.
“My! You are stronger than you look. Have you carried me away to your casbah to have your evil way with me?”
“I believe it is you who are having your evil way,” I chuckled.
“Oh? Just taste my cherries and see if I don’t capture your interest.”
She pulled my head to her breasts and I sucked each of her nipples, tonguing them a bit. She moaned—a decidedly fake sound.
“Now let’s get you dressed so you can get back to work,” I said. “I’m sure we’ve taken more than your allowed lunch break.”
“Don’t you want to take me? You can do whatever you want with my body.”
Okay. There is something about having three wives, a mistress, a countess, and an unending stream of available women in the studio that has jaded my appetite. I certainly appreciated Cherianne’s body. It was beautiful and seductive. But I already knew she wasn’t as turned on as she was pretending to be. Another trailing finger between her legs confirmed that she was dry as could be.
“You’ve caught me on a day when my attention is required elsewhere,” I said. “And really, sweet Cherry, you aren’t interested in anything I have to offer.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I just thought you’d like to know that a woman was yours for the taking. I find you fascinating, and if not yet turned on, I’m at the very least interested,” she said. “It wouldn’t take much to start my engines now that we aren’t in front of a camera.”
“Truly, I thank you for your interest and your offer. Perhaps the others haven’t told you about my rules. No sex in the studio, and I don’t date models. I have three wives and my mistress is due here any time. I’m truly just a photographer,” I said.
“Oh, so much more,” she sighed.
I held her slacks for her without attempting to get her pantyhose on her. Then I buttoned the blouse she’d worn and tucked it in. She slipped into her high heels and just before leaving turned to kiss me again.
“If you ever need a fresh companion, please let me know,” she said. Then she left. I didn’t think I’d ever be that desperate.
I packaged up all the color work I’d done this week and went straight to Dave’s to get it sent to London for weekend processing. I stayed and talked to Dave a while, discussing the project the actors had this year. I’d now taken photos of thirteen actresses or people associated with the theatre and still had Kathleen to shoot on Tuesday. I’d try to get photos of Adrienne on Wednesday to go with the photo of Patricia I wanted to show. Then the big party and unveiling of the images would be the next Monday when the theatres were dark. Jane had hinted that she might like a new photo now that she was regaining her shape. Kathleen had invited her to take part in the grand reveal.
First, however, I was certain Adrienne would be arriving shortly. I headed home, thinking about the odd encounter with Cherianne. Anne with a cherry on top. I didn’t think I’d had any difficulty connecting with her for her photos, but there was just something off about her. None of my models had ever offered to travel with me. And certainly, none had come on so strong while being so unlubricated. It was more like she felt an obligation to have sex simply because she was naked.
I put it out of my mind and focused on Adrienne, who arrived only a few minutes after I did.
Everyone was excited to have Adrienne with us. Especially Toni. Our little girl would be six years old on Monday and felt that Aunt Addie had come to visit just for her birthday. We did nothing to disabuse her of that notion.
Adrienne, of course, was staying at the hotel, so Patricia took Toni to spend the night with her. I got the privilege of spending the night with my daughter Alex.
There were some family activities on Saturday, but the evening was reserved for me to take Adrienne to the closing performance of La Vie Parisienne. Having seen it once in English, I was able to keep up with the French version. Adrienne was in heaven and laughed at all the more subtle French jokes.
After the performance, we joined the women of the cast (there were thirteen) at their closing night party at the pub. Kathleen joined us after her performance of Pericles let out. It was a longer show than La Vie. She was very happy to see Adrienne and the two were immersed in gossip with each other as the party went on. I wondered what transpired with the men in that cast since they were conspicuously absent. Monica, who sat on my lap through part of the party said they had the official closing night party the previous night after the English performance. This one was one the women had put together for themselves.
Most of the operetta cast had been brought in for just this show, like Monica had been. I saw several women who appeared to be couples and the room had a decidedly militant feminist feeling to it. I was tolerated because of my relationship with Kathleen and Monica. Only two of the other women in the cast had been in for photos.
When I stood to take Adrienne to the hotel, Kathleen stood to go with us.
“Uh… Fifi?”
“Master, your friend Kathleen would like to join us tonight if it pleases you. We have been talking and she is a very curious person.”
“I know she was curious about having a menage when Anita lived with them. What is she curious about now?” I asked. Kathleen stood next to us and I looked at her. She just dropped her eyes.
“She believes she has a submissive side that is unexplored. She would like to be treated by you the same as you would treat your naughty little pet.”
Ah. So, it wasn’t just being submissive to my desires. Kathleen wanted to be punished.
“Is Kathleen aware that when she enters our room, she will be the least of us?” I asked. “She will do whatever either you or I tell her to do. She will be punished for failure by either one of us.”
“Unless it is your wish to have her dominate your pet, she is aware that she will be the least in our room.”
“Very well, pet. You may bring your little plaything with us.”
Then I made a production out of removing the chain leash Adrienne wore around her waist. Instead of clipping it to her collar, though, I looped it around Kathleen’s neck and handed the end to Adrienne. We were getting some interesting looks from the feminist lesbians and I decided it was time to make a quick exit.
“Come, Fifi!” I barked. I led the way to the door.
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