F/Stop
6
Balance and Movement
“Dale” by Hank Shiffman, ID1640762944 from Shutterstock.com
ANNA HAD, INDEED, sold Hal Zefford a couple of my photos to display in his gallery.
“He doesn’t want too many, but he’d like a brochure of samples, a catalogue of sorts, to show customers who are interested in the two he accepted,” Anna said. “Of course, the term ‘sale’ is a little over-expressive. He’s taken them on consignment when you get them printed, matted, and framed. He’ll hang the two on consignment. If they sell, he gets 60% and you get 40%, of the price we set. So, if he sells one for less, you still get 40% of the asking price.”
“Damn, this is complicated. Sounds like he gets the lion’s share.”
“Only of what he displays in his gallery. If he sells from your catalogue, he only takes 20%. You can list the unframed price and bill the framing directly. Prints to be signed, of course.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m glad you are on this. I suppose we need to choose prints and see about making a catalogue.”
After a leisurely brunch with the family and kissing Toni, Patricia, and Anna goodbye as they headed back west Sunday morning, Ronda and I headed for the studio to meet Dale, formerly my Art Composition instructor. Beth rode downtown with us so she could go to the theatre and check the callboard. The director said he’d be announcing the cast for Streetcar sometime Sunday.
Ronda and I got the studio set up and cleaned up the last remains from the previous day’s painting session. When Dale arrived at the studio, it was all cleaned and ready for action.
“Dale, welcome to Attic Allure,” I said as she entered from the stairway.
“Oh my. It is obvious that your instructors have not actually been here. They told me you had some props that you used to create your unique style. This is an entire attic filled with props and costumes and scenery. Now I really wish I’d been here when you and Leslie were creating your compositions,” Dale said.
“Well, you might have found it a little uncomfortable. Leslie and I have known each other for a couple of years and worked together on a few occasions. We were both comfortable in our own skin, so to speak.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded that,” Dale said. “Back home I’m generally considered a nudist. I never wear clothes when I’m painting.”
“Oh, good!” Ronda said. “Perfect for Attic Allure.”
Dale stopped and looked at Ronda as if she’d just noticed her.
“Dale, this is my assistant today, Ronda. Ronda, this is Dale McKenzie, our model today,” I said. “We haven’t really talked beyond your stated desire to have the Attic Allure experience. Do you have specifics in mind?”
“Oh, well, not really. I brought your model release.” She handed it to me and I passed it on to Ronda, who took it to the desk. Dale was only twenty-seven. I was curious about her level of experience that brought her to Columbia as an instructor for the intensive. “I suppose,” she continued, “that I’d like a souvenir of sorts. I have a lot of pleasant memories from my weeks in Chicago, but nothing really to take with me.”
“That will be great. I like to start a session with a good portrait. It gives us a chance to learn to work with each other and to put the student teacher relationship behind us.”
“That relationship is already forgotten. I’m in your hands,” she said. “And, of course, in the hands of your pretty assistant.”
“What do you think, Ronda?” I asked. “Something rather Bohemian?”
“Yes. Let me see what’s on the costume shelf.”
“If you’d accompany me behind the privacy screen, Dale, we’ll take a look at your makeup and hair. Ronda will bring something for your formal portrait.”
“I was surprised to find you have an assistant. I had expected us to be… um… alone,” she said.
“Sometimes a model finds a… woman’s touch to be desirable when we are changing costumes, undressing, doing makeup, or even relaxing after the shoot. We have a hard and fast rule about no intercourse in the studio, but sometimes the experience gets so intense that some form of relief is required,” I said. “If you prefer, I can send Ronda home, though she asked to be my assistant today.”
“Oh, please. Don’t send her away. I’m an artist and I find the female form as stimulating as the male form. I didn’t come to your studio with the expectation of being fucked, but if circumstances happened to lead that direction, I wouldn’t be averse to it. If not in the studio, perhaps elsewhere.”
That certainly laid Dale’s expectations on the table. I pulled her hair back and brushed it straight down her back, about to the center. It was blonde and straight, and she looked a lot like the pictures I’d seen of hippie flower children. I really needed to take a field trip to San Francisco. I wondered if Adrienne would like to guide me.
“I don’t know where Cassie comes up with these dresses,” Ronda said as she joined us behind the privacy screen. “Did you say she’d been to an estate sale?”
“I think she goes to something every week. Anna’s given her a budget to acquire more props and costumes as she can. It isn’t a huge budget, but you should take a look at some of the new jewelry over there.”
“I think this will look perfect on Dale,” Ronda said, holding a very Bohemian looking dark blue dress with embroidered flowers. It was short and very off the shoulder.
Well, we’d move right to the main attraction. I reached around Dale and began unbuttoning her blouse. She was startled for a moment, and then leaned back into me as I glided over her breasts and down her torso. I pulled the blouse off, leaving her topless. I was sure she’d worn bras to class the past three weeks. I notice that kind of thing. These beautiful tits certainly didn’t need one.
“Oh, you are very pretty,” Ronda said. She couldn’t restrain herself from petting Dale’s boobs. Dale pushed them into Ronda’s hands and made free with her own hands to feel up Ronda.
“We’d better get some photos taken,” I laughed.
I helped bring the dress over Dale’s head and held it while she got her arms in the sleeves. Ronda removed Dale’s trousers and found she wore nothing under them, and like many of the professional models I’d been with, was shaved bare.
The dress bodice was elasticized and cut across just above Dale’s nipples. The sleeves were only attached under the arms and hung in a full blousy sleeve to her wrists. It was embroidered there and at the hem of the skirt, which only fell to about mid-thigh.
“How convenient that you have such perfect clothing ready,” Dale said.
“I sometimes think the whole attic is a magic trunk. You open it, and pull out whatever it is that you need at the moment. Wait till we get to choosing props for you.”
“So, you choose props for every model?” Dale asked as I led her to the studio area.
“Most of the time. It’s a mark of the Attic Allure style. Sometimes, though, a model doesn’t need any prop at all. You know what we need now, though?” I said. “Ronda, we need flowers for her hair.”
“I’m on it.”
I pulled down the light blue backdrop for just a hint of shading in the background. If I needed to darken it, I could always use a red or pink filter on the camera. It was still a struggle for me to use the terms I’d been given when I got to college. I’d learned color theory and filtering in my freshman sciences class. I’d ordered my first set of filters out of the school’s Edmonds Scientific Company catalogue. A red filter filtered out red and turned it black. The filter itself was a shade of blue or cyan. In photography, I was told, that was a blue or cyan filter. They were named according to the color of the filter, not according to what they did. I found that I still had to translate the terms in my head and sometimes got them switched. I knew which one I needed, regardless.
I got a small box for Dale to put her foot on, which bent her knee. Then I ran my hand up her thigh, pushing the skirt up. Just below her pussy, I had her take hold of the hem and hold it there. Ronda arrived with a wreath of colorful flowers for her blonde hair. I nodded and made a slight adjustment to the lights. Perfect. I took pictures and moved to different angles. I shifted her position, replacing the box with a stool she could sit on as I did torso photos. I pulled her hair forward over her chest and it fell below her breasts. She must have been growing it out for years.
After I’d changed film, I started shifting her to sexier positions and let the dress slip beneath her breasts. Sometimes the pictures I took were just face shots, but I liked having her breasts out where I could see them.
“What kind of things speak to you?” I asked as we took a break to find props. “What item would you say most embodies the real Dale?”
“Oh, that’s easy. It’s the same as what enticed me to come in for a photo. Jewelry. When I saw what you did with the necklace and earrings on Leslie, I got rather tingly,” she said. “I’m not sure I could have done what she did and posed topless in front of a classroom of my peers to demonstrate the use of nipple clamps, but it definitely turned me on.”
“Hmm. I don’t want to use the same piece that I used with Leslie. But my wonderful assistant Cassie acquired a whole box of costume jewelry. Let’s see what we have.”
I brought the box to the table, much as I’d done with Leslie the previous week. We sorted through things and I came upon a silver piece that seemed to go on forever.
“Let’s see what this looks like,” I said. I held it up to Dale’s neck and then took it away. “We’re going to get just what you want, Dale. This piece simply screams ‘naked!’ Ronda, can you help get Dale out of her dress?”
In a moment, my erstwhile instructor was standing naked in front of me. Ronda held her hair as I fastened the necklace behind her neck. It dangled down all the way to her thighs and I had to figure out how it was supposed to be worn. I started by smoothing out the top part, between her breasts. I held it in place while I teased her nipples to full attention. The corners came right to the edge of her nipples.
Then, I finally figured out that the long pieces were actually a kind of belt that fastened around her waist. It held two chains in front that made a circle around her navel. At the bottom of the circle, a dozen chains of various lengths dangled with the longest in the middle, hanging right to the top of her slit. I spent a few moments making sure those chains hung straight and true, while I slid my fingers through her wet pussy. She sighed, “Yes,” and I realized Ronda was reaching around to pinch her nipples.
I saw that there were two additional loops on the top piece, and they fit perfectly over her nipples to hold the center piece spread across her chest.
“That is really beautiful,” I said. Ronda came around to the front to get a good look and clapped her hands together. “I want one!” she said. I wasn’t sure if she meant the jewelry or the nipples.
I pulled a mottled backdrop and got on a stepladder to shoot down a bit. Ronda arranged her hair so it fell behind her ear. I stopped and while Ronda occupied Dale for a few minutes, I got out the 4x5 and loaded it for a couple art shots. I had to move Ronda back out of the way as she’d been kissing our model while Dale had unbuttoned Ronda’s top and had both hands inside. I had Ronda refresh Dale’s lipstick and check to make sure none of her makeup was smeared. Then Dale relaxed back a little displaying all that silver jewelry against her pale skin and pretty tits.
That wasn’t the last photo we took, but I felt we’d achieved the goal we set out for. Dale still had questions about how I used props and I chose a shawl and a hammer. I took her jewelry and switched it for a choker that I saw in the box. Ronda helped me as I folded the shawl diagonally and tied it around Dale’s waist with the point down her right hip. This did absolutely nothing to hide her breasts or slit, or to block access to them. Ronda and I took full advantage of the access and before I had the scene set, Ronda was also naked and my shirt was fully unbuttoned.
“Now,” I said. “I need to see you fierce, ready to attack with the hammer.”
“Oh! I see!” Dale instantly went into a semi crouch that made her look like a tiger about to pounce.
“Ronda, we need war paint. Something aboriginal.”
“I’ve painted pictures of aborigines,” Dale said. “I can do the makeup.” She went behind the privacy screen and sat in front of the mirror to start choosing makeup. Ronda went with her as I switched to a wild desert backdrop. I chose a rock and then changed the hammer for the spear we’d used on a photo shoot at the Valley of Fire in Nevada.
When I checked behind the privacy screen, I found Dale’s makeup was finished and she was sucking on one of Ronda’s nipples while vigorously pumping her fingers in and out of my girlfriend.
I kissed Ronda and she gasped into my mouth.
“Now, wild things. We need to take some more pictures.”
Dale stood and stuck her fingers, fresh from Ronda’s pussy, into my mouth as I stroked through her wet channel.
We did an entire roll of photos in front of the desert backdrop as Dale danced and paraded her naked body around exuberantly.
“In order for you to take your photo with you, I’ll need to stay for at least a couple of hours and do some processing and printing,” I said as I carried Dale back behind the privacy screen. It was one of my little rituals, and I kissed her while stroking her breasts and running my fingers down to her pussy. “Um… You two could go entertain yourselves and I could bring the photos in a few hours,” I said.
“It would be better if we entertained each other in the darkroom,” Ronda said. “Nate has to keep moving things from place to place in the darkroom, but he always seems to have time to satisfy a model or assistant.”
“Then I’m for that,” Dale said. “We don’t need to dress at all.”
I managed to get the film processed and to print contact proofs while the girls got each other off beside me and then both pulled my trousers off and fought over who would suck the first load out of my dick. Every time I had to move a print to a different bath, or complete an exposure, they switched off. I didn’t have all the proofs finished when I filled Dale’s mouth. She immediately turned and pressed her lips to Ronda’s to fill her mouth with my spend. Once she was naked and cut loose, Dale was a total freak.
We chose the prints we wanted and I started with the full-size art prints of Dale in the jewelry so it would be dry enough to send with her. Then I started printing half a dozen matte 8x10s to send with her as well. By the time I was finished with those, I’d had my cock in each of the women, and I was filling a condom up inside Dale when the last timer went off.
“I hope you’ll come to visit me in Australia,” she said. “I’d be happy to show you around and entertain you for a few months or years.”
“What an attractive proposition,” Ronda said. “I’m betting that sometime in the next three or four years, we’ll take you up on the visitation part. I’m not sure about the years part. We have other girlfriends who need Nate’s attention. And a mistress, too. We’ll either bring them all with us or have to make it a shorter visit.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll be invited back to Chicago one day,” Dale said. “Thank you both for giving me the full Attic Allure experience.”
The next week was typical chaos of getting back to school and into the grind again. We also had to adjust our schedules for Elizabeth’s role in A Streetcar Named Desire. She’d been cast as Blanche and would be rehearsing or performing for the remainder of the quarter. She laid her rehearsal schedule on the table Sunday night when we all got home and it looked horrendous. Six weeks of regular rehearsals, a week of dress rehearsal and three nights of performance. Then, she’d have finals.
Ronda’s finals were the same week as Beth’s performances. That would be intense. My spring break wasn’t until March 28—Easter weekend. I was feeling that I needed to go to Stratford and see about getting the new equipment Anna and I ordered set up there. I needed to talk to the contractor Harold had found for us and make sure I actually had a place to work this summer.
In the meantime, I needed to adjust to my new class schedule and professors. In some ways, my class schedules were getting more manageable. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I didn’t have class until 9:00, which meant I could make sure Ronda and Beth had been sent off to school with a good breakfast and still make it to my own classes without a problem. Tuesday and Thursday, I had a promising class that met for two hours at 8:00. It was called “Image and Text” and dealt with printing from a press perspective instead of an enlarger perspective. Anna had told me I needed to get a catalog of my art prints for Zefford Gallery. Maybe this class would show me how to do it.
That was my only Tuesday/Thursday class! By 10:30, I could be in the studio for a full day’s work, assuming I wasn’t busting ass studying. I knew my study group would want to claim some time, too, but I hadn’t met with the whole group since mid-December.
So, my class schedule would mostly be Monday, Wednesday, Friday. From 9-10 I had a class called “Self-Management and Freelancing.” It was the first class I’d had with all four other members of my study group. The school really pushed that class, even if you didn’t intend to go into business for yourself.
From 10-11, I had my second semester of History of Photography. From 11-12, I had a core curriculum class called Education, Culture, and Society. Carrie was in that class with me. My next class was at 1:00 and was my third semester of Photographic Practices. Finally, from 2-3, I had Color Photography. Leslie was in that class with me.
It was a heavier load than I’d been taking with six classes and eighteen credit hours. At the same time, it seemed my classes were more concentrated and I had more usable free time. It was a world different than my first semester, when my last class didn’t get out until five o’clock.
“It’s cool that we actually all have a class together,” Carrie said when we met for our study group Tuesday afternoon.
“I’m kind of feeling this term like I’m actually in college,” Devon said. “I mean, up to this point I’ve felt college was just the same as high school, but without parental supervision.”
“I agree,” I said. “I think Beth explained to me that the first year or so was really designed as a transitional period because even at eighteen we are inexperienced in self-management.”
“I guess that’s what we’re supposed to be learning in this class,” Carrie said. “I know I was pretty scattered last year. I didn’t really know what I was here for. I had all these ideas of changing the world, but no real direction.”
“What have you settled on, Carrie?” Leanne asked.
“I’ve declared myself as a sociology major. It intrigues me and I still want to change the world and make it better. I think Sociology will give me a better understanding of what I want to change and tools for doing it, even if I still end up a go-fer in some law office.”
“There’s a woman lawyer I met last year who is also into politics,” I said. “Name’s Leva Harmon. I’ll see if I can arrange an introduction for you. I still sometimes hear from her.”
“You meet so many cool people in your studio,” Leslie said. “I wonder if I’ll ever have that kind of contacts.”
“Speaking of contact, did you recover from our session with Min Saturday?” Leanne giggled.
“I haven’t had time to recover yet. You guys have to see the photos we did on Saturday and then the great shot I got on Sunday,” I said.
“She didn’t come back, did she?” Leanne gasped. “Without me?”
“No. No. This was…” I glanced over at Leslie and winked. “This was an interesting session with an Australian who was only in town for a little while. I had to stay in the darkroom and process and print her photos before she left town. I think she’s headed for New York now.”
“You dog,” Leslie shook her head. “You nailed her, didn’t you!”
“Well, you know how close you get in the darkroom. Especially when there are three in there.”
“Oh! I don’t want to hear about it,” Leslie moaned. “Yes, I do, but I want to be naked in bed while you tell me.”
“Leslie!” Carrie cried.
“As if that wouldn’t be your preferred position,” Devon laughed. “Can’t say I’d object to it.”
We did get some studying done and compared our class schedules, deciding to make our regular get-together on Tuesdays, starting with lunch. Well, I’d still be able to have a portrait sitting in the morning or after we studied.
“We’re going to introduce you to some new technology,” Professor Hyatt said to the four of us who had come to his meeting in the photo lab Thursday afternoon. I’d almost forgotten about it, but he was a team teacher for the Color Photography class and reminded me. “I’d like to introduce Amos Long, who is the expert on this.”
“Thank you, Ralph. The parts of this technology have been around since before World War II. In the past decade, a few improvements have made it practical to create laminated ID cards that include a photograph. You are already required to submit a photograph that meets certain criteria if you want a passport. I foresee that soon, drivers’ licenses will have photo requirements, as they already do in the State of California,” Amos said.
The setup was pretty simple when it came down to it. It was based on a Polaroid film carrier and a fixed focus lens. It had a second lens focused on the ID information. So, the information was typed on a card and inserted in front of one lens. Then the person being identified stood in front of the camera against a white background, lit so there were no shadows. When the shutter was tripped, both the person’s image and the image of the information were exposed on the Polaroid film. Inside, the ID frame and photo were laminated together and forty-five seconds later an ID popped out. Voila! We had a plastic picture ID that said our name, student number, and name of the college.
“The college has decided to require photographic student IDs for all students,” Professor Hyatt added. “You four have been identified as candidates for a part time work study program creating the IDs. We want to pilot the program this spring and make it a requirement in the fall. Why don’t you each go through the process of creating an ID for one of your fellows, starting with the student information—name and ID number—which you type in on a card. Then set up, take the picture, laminate it and let’s take a look at it.”
The whole session took about an hour and a half as we got the instruction and practiced it. The ID photos would be taken in the photo lab where Professor Hyatt was setting up the equipment. The work study program would be a maximum of ten hours per week, but there was some talk of providing the service to other local colleges in our area, like Roosevelt and DePaul. If that went through by next fall, the studio would be moved down to the administration office. I noticed that all the cards on which we typed information were embossed with “SAMPLE” across where the ID information went. I guess we weren’t actually identified yet.
When I got home from class Friday night, I was pretty whipped. And, for the first time since my Dad used it to take prom pictures a couple of years ago, my Nikon was loaded with color film. My assignment for the weekend was to take a roll of pictures and bring the exposed film to class on Monday so it could be sent in for processing.
That was the part that really got me. It was to be ‘sent in’ for processing. I had no way to process or print Kodachrome slides. Our first roll was to include objects, people, and animals that showed a range of color. I guess every object didn’t need to show the range of color, but over the full twenty-four slides on the roll, we were to include a range of color and texture. If we were indoors, I’d need to use the strobe flash. The Kodachrome was really slow film.
I was met at the apartment door by my happy and bubbly little girl, Toni. I picked her up and swung her around, then we immediately went to the living room to dance. Soon, I had Anna, then Ronda, then Patricia, then Elizabeth under my arm to dance with Toni and me. So much for being exhausted. When there was a little girl to be entertained, there was no such thing allowed.
We’d all had a hard week and decided to go out for our favorite pizza for dinner. Elizabeth had no Friday night rehearsal this week, but said five nights a week would start in two weeks, after blocking had been done and lines were being memorized. She kept practicing her southern belle accent. When we were seated at Pizzeria Uno, the waiter held her chair for her.
“Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” she drawled. She told us that was the only line she had memorized, but supposed she needed to start at the beginning of the play instead of the end. “It doesn’t matter, really. It’s the only line I have that anyone will remember.”
I thought she was kind of cynical for having been cast in a major role in a famous play. Vivien Leigh had won an Oscar for that part.
I tried to make Saturday and Sunday family days, but I still had to spend time reading and finding my photos. I got inspired when I caught the end of the TV show Toni was fascinated with and an ad chanting “Bargain Town! Bargain Town! Bargain Town!” I got Toni and Patricia bundled up and we drove down to 92nd St., a lot closer to where I grew up. What better place to take pictures of a child than at the toy store.
I remembered rare visits to Children’s Bargain Town. They were exciting because going there meant my parents had decided already to buy a toy or a game. The visits were also tense since we knew that if we asked for anything, we’d just turn around and leave. There were so many wonders in the store and keeping Kat from opening her mouth to ask for a doll was a superhuman feat.
Uncle Nate took me there once when I was about eight and went through a whole interview process to get me to tell him what I wanted. When I told him, he bought it. I owned a fantastic set of Lincoln Logs! I built cabins and towers and houses and schools and stores. Of course, only one at a time because there were only enough logs to build one thing. So, I had to take it down and put them away between building enterprises.
I was determined that Toni would not have that experience. I took photos of her and her mom as they went all over the store. Toni liked things that were soft and colorful. Perfect for my project. She came home with two new stuffed animals, a doll, and… a tricycle. I couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was just a little too big for her, but what little girl didn’t need a tricycle?
I think Patricia was just as excited and said that this summer she’d ride Nate’s Shadow bicycle while Toni rode her tricycle. Of course, everyone wanted to know if I’d paint it black and trim it with gold. There are things people never forget and you just can’t grow out of.
Our film was turned in on Monday and slides were returned on Friday. Professor Hyatt and Dr. Nader returned our slides after having dropped the stack of 24 into a projector and running through them so the whole class could see what everyone had photographed. There were a few pictures that people regretted having taken, and wouldn’t have if they’d known the pictures would just be shown to the whole class.
We were given our slides and told to choose one to print on Monday. That was a crock. It was easy to hold a loupe over a proof sheet and see 35mm contact prints. But holding a slide up to the light was infinitely harder. I knew already that I was going to need a projector if I really started using these color slides.
I stopped by Camera Warehouse to ask Levi what he had in the way of projectors, just to get an idea. They were expensive. In the meantime, he suggested a little plastic gizmo about three inches long and two inches in diameter.
“You can get into a light table and view the slides through a loupe like you do your proof sheets. You might even find that examining negatives on a light table gives you a different perspective on what you are about to print. But this little thing is a single slide viewer. Did you ever play with a View-Master?” he asked.
“That thing that had pictures of Egypt and stuff and you looked through something like binoculars and saw a three-dimensional image? My friend Dennis Harris had one.”
“Well, this works on the same principle, except not in three-D. You just drop a slide in the carrier end and look though the lens end. Helps if you point it toward a light.”
I tried it with one of my slides and thought it looked better than it had on the screen in our classroom. I paid $1.89 and took it home to look at my slides.
We all liked what we saw. The pictures of Toni were adorable. If it didn’t take so much work to enjoy them, I’d almost have said they were worth having color slides.
I had a rare mid-week date with Ronda. Wednesday, February 11 was her twentieth birthday. The mid-week music at the Holiday Ballroom would probably be second or third tier bands who would get on stage to play one too many of their original tunes before another equally poor band took the stage. But it was music, and a big dance floor, and we could get in.
Over the weekend, we’d go to Tenbrook, picking up Anna on the way. We’d all been invited to celebrate Ronda’s birthday at her parents’ house on Saturday. I’d spend a little time Saturday at my parents’ house and expected Patricia and Toni would accompany me. My folks loved Toni as if she were my child and Patricia as if she were my wife. And Kat was always happy to see both.
Unfortunately, Beth had rehearsal Friday night and begged off going. She promised to have a nice birthday dinner ready for Ronda when we got home on Sunday, but felt alone time would give her the opportunity to get her lines memorized.
I was almost ready to go Wednesday night when the phone rang.
“This is Nate,” I said automatically.
“Nate, it’s Sylvia. I want you to come to my house this evening and take a few photos. I want a set of nudes taken in my home rather than in the studio.”
I almost asked who she wanted to kill this time. I bit my tongue.
“I can’t do a shoot tonight or anytime this week. I have another commitment,” I said.
“Break it. I want you tonight.”
“Sylvia, I can’t go around breaking my commitments to take another photo shoot. And I’m not sure about doing a shoot at your house. I’ll have to see who is available to assist me and that takes some planning,” I said.
“I’m your patron and I insist that you come here tonight. You won’t need an assistant.”
Fuck! Who did she think she was?
“That’s not the way patronage works, Sylvia. I’m sorry to lose you as a patron, but you can’t just order me around. I don’t respond to that. Even your late husband made no more demands than to supply a model or two. That was for my benefit. I was not at his beck and call. Give me a call sometime next week if you want to set up an appointment.”
“Nate, Nate. I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly contrite. “I shouldn’t have called with demands. I just had a sudden inspiration for a shoot and wanted to do it as soon as possible. If this weekend won’t work, how about next weekend. I’ll make it all up to you and have a nice dinner for you Saturday evening before we do the shoot. You won’t need an assistant. I’ll have Gary help move your lights and anything you need. You see, I’ve moved into a new house to get away from the awful memories of the previous one. I just want to celebrate it with a nice set of photos.”
“I understand sudden inspirations and the tendency to run over people in the hurry to fulfill them. Dinner won’t be necessary, but I can get over to your house on Saturday at eight o’clock if that will work for you.”
“If you’re sure you won’t have dinner with me, okay.”
“Please call Cassie at the studio tomorrow and confirm the schedule and the address. I’m sorry to cut this a little short this evening, but I do have a commitment and I need to run.”
“Yes. Goodnight, Nate.”
She hung up before I could say goodnight. Crazy!
Ronda and I had dinner and then spent two hours dancing to music that wasn’t all bad. On weekends, the Holiday still attracted name bands and I knew that music talent scouts often dropped in to hear what was new and see if any musicians really stood out. Neil Diamond had played here, as well as Duke Elllington, The Buckinghams, Jerry Lee Lewis, and other big names. I was sure we’d be around for some others.
Ronda and I got a chance to really cut loose on a few numbers and we had a great time. Met a few people who came by to compliment our dancing, but really, we probably weren’t the best on the dance floor. People came here to dance and they came because they knew how to dance. But it was fun. We might have been the youngest during the mid-week, though.
When we got home Elizabeth was home and kissed us both.
“You two take the big bed tonight and I’ll sleep in the other room. I’m really bushed and I know you’ll keep dancing, even after you lie down,” Beth laughed. “Apparently, my professors don’t understand that we’re in rehearsal and one is having a nice unit test tomorrow. I need to review my notes.”
She kissed us again and disappeared into the second bedroom. Ronda and I took full advantage of the opportunity and danced horizontally for over an hour before we collapsed together and fell asleep.
We all made it to our classes Thursday and Friday. Ronda and I left after our last classes Friday and headed west to pick up Anna. Beth had rehearsal Friday night.
Anna spent most of the rest of the trip back to Tenbrook making out with Ronda. I pulled over a couple of miles before town to give the girls a chance to pull their clothes back together. One little kiss and Anna ramps up to a sex maniac. When she kissed Ronda, she couldn’t stop and had our smaller girlfriend’s clothes either off or loosened enough that Anna could get her hands inside and manipulate Ronda to multiple orgasms.
Ronda was still panting when I pulled up to her parents’ house and we all kissed goodnight. Dr. and Mrs. May were waiting on the porch and waved to Anna and me as we pulled away. I parked in front of the hotel and Anna accompanied me to my room.
I found out four guys from the movie crew had been to town this week and were lining up some action shots for this spring. These guys. They wanted to know if the town could arrange to have the trees leafed out by the first of April. As if the village council controlled the weather!
We didn’t really want to stand around chit-chatting, though. As soon as Anna and I were in my room, she was tearing at my clothes as I pulled hers off. In five minutes, we were stretched out on the bed and I was pounding my cock into her pussy.
“Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she chanted. “I’ve missed your cock so much this week. I want to live with your cock inside me. Fuck me!”
I reminded myself to thank Ronda tomorrow for whatever she did to get Anna so charged up. Anna came like a firecracker and then rolled me over so she could post on top of my cock, continuing her fuck me chant as I played with her breasts. This time, when she came, she pitched forward on me and I caught one nipple between my teeth as I started filling her pussy with come. The added nipple stimulation sent Anna right back into her paroxysm.
When we both finally stopped coming and were still linked together, Anna continued to kiss me and whisper how much she loved me.
“What came over you tonight?” I asked. “You are so passionate. I know kissing gets you turned on, but this was pretty extraordinary.”
“Well, Ronda is a really good kisser, especially when my fingers are deep in her vagina,” Anna giggled. “But, you’re right. There’s more. Oh, I love you, Nate. I love you so much!”
“I love you, my sweet. Tell me about it.”
“I got propositioned this week!” she blurted out. “Me! Can you believe that? He’s a nice guy and I just told him I had a boyfriend and three girlfriends, so I was really not available. He didn’t give up. He asked me the next day and again the next. I finally asked him why he kept pestering me.”
“And?”
“He said he wanted me to know that with him there was no competition. He only wanted one girlfriend, one lover, one wife, and they all had to be the same woman. So, I asked him, ‘Why me?’ You know there are lots of pretty and smart girls in our school. Most of them are looking for a husband.”
“Are you?” I asked.
“No! And now I know why. He said that I was pretty without being sexy, smart without being intellectual, and funny without being a show-off. He figured that I was truly average and he was an average kind of guy. Can you believe that?”
“What a jerk!” I said as I kissed her again.
“Yes, he is, and I told him so. But think about it. I’m not sexy like Patricia is. I’m not brilliantly smart like Ronda. I’m not a comedienne like Beth. I’m average. I’m pretty, pretty smart, and sometimes funny. I’m totally average.”
“I could tell you a hundred ways you are way above average,” I started.
“I’ll let you, but not yet. I’m an average—or maybe a little above average—small town girl. But I’m in love with an extraordinary boy and three girls! And they love me! My boyfriend loves me to my very soul. I’m not competing with anyone. I get all his love because he has enough to give each of us all his love—and a little toddler, too. Maybe—if I gave it twenty years or so—that guy and I could fall in an average kind of love. But I already have a way above average love and I’m not going to trade it for any average dude with an average career prospect who wants an average relationship. I’ve taken statistics. I know average isn’t even possible.”
“I love you so much, Anna. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please don’t ever leave me—even if I fall below average,” I said.
“Leave you? Do you have any idea how much I love you? How much I want you? Put your cock in me again. Fill me up again. You make me so fucking horny!”
Well, there you have it. I did what she said.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
