Full Frame
24
Photographer’s Assistant
“Lori” by Dan Howell, ID52225018 licensed from Shutterstock.com
I SPENT SATURDAY EVENING—while my girlfriends were on a date with each other—processing and printing pictures of my mother. I did an 8x10 glossy of her photo in the church, and an archival print of her Attic Allure photo. The Attic Allure photo was still damp when I picked it up after church on Sunday and brought it home to show everyone. Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace arrived in time for Sunday dinner.
After we’d had ham and sweet potatoes and scalloped potatoes and asparagus, Dad brought out the carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and one candle. He set it before Mom and we sang ‘Happy Birthday.’ Her birthday wasn’t actually until Monday, but her brother came to celebrate today, so Dad baked a cake. It was delicious!
Uncle Nate presented Mom with a really heavy box that she had to clear a place for on the table. Mom opened it up and found a new Sears Electric Typewriter. It even came with a case, though you’d need a porter to carry it. Must have weighed twenty-five pounds.
“Nate, how could you?” Mom said with tears in her eyes.
“Well, my little sister’s a minister now. She has bulletins to type, and sermons to prepare, and those mimeograph stencil things. I figure that you might be preparing some great theological book sometime. You should have something decent to type on.”
“But it’s… You’re so extravagant. Thank you,” she said as she went to hug her brother. I’m not sure he knew what to do with that physical demonstration. I don’t think I’d ever seen them hug before.
Kat gave Mom a painting she’d done. I didn’t realize how good an artist my own little sister was becoming. It was a watercolor of our Main Street. Cool.
And, of course, I gave her the photograph I’d taken just the day before and cautioned her that it was still damp and fragile. She looked at it a long time with Dad looking over her shoulder and then passed it to Nate and Grace. She gave me a hug and just whispered, “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”
“Nate, you know we’ll want a copy of this photo,” Aunt Grace said. “We’re all so proud of your mother.”
“I have one printed up and drying,” I said. “It’s in the studio.”
“Have you been to the studio, Grace?” Mom asked. “It’s really very professional and Nate has developed quite a nice style. Nate, why don’t you take us all on a tour? I know your uncle will want to spend time there with you.”
I hadn’t expected everyone to head over to the studio Sunday afternoon, but the weather was nice and I didn’t think they’d track much dirt in. I couldn’t believe Mom was inviting Aunt Grace and Kat in when she knew I had nudes in my gallery.
Everyone oohed and ahhed over the setup and lights that I had, then looked at the gallery.
“Oh, these are lovely,” Grace said. “I only got a little feel for what you were doing from the photos you gave your uncle at Christmas. This is very impressive.”
“Thank you, Aunt Grace.”
“You’ve got naked girls!” Kat exclaimed.
“Honey,” Mom stepped in, “the human form is fundamental to art throughout the ages. If you keep progressing with your art like you have this year, it’s likely that you will be in classes with nude models for drawing and painting. It’s not something you need to worry about yet, but one day you’ll have a better understanding.”
“Will you take my picture like that?” Kat asked me.
“Not exactly,” I said. “I’ll take your picture if you want to come up for a nice portrait session, but you can’t model like that until you are at least eighteen. By then, you aren’t likely to want to model. You’ll want models of your own.”
“Okay, I guess. But they’re so pretty.”
“Part of what makes them so pretty is the art,” Uncle Nate said. “You can’t just take a picture of something—a person or Main Street or the neighbor’s dog—and have a great photo. I’m sure you’ve seen some of your friends’ drawings in art class. It takes your vision and talent to turn that into art. You’ve got it and your brother has it. I don’t know where either of you got it, because it sure doesn’t run in our family. Maybe your dad’s family has a bunch of artists.”
Dad kind of shrugged.
“Grace, it’s such a lovely day out. Why don’t you and Kat and I take a walk down Main Street. We can leave the boys to talk about photography. I know my brother wants to dig deeper,” Mom said.
As soon as they left, Uncle Nate turned to me and I smiled. I went into the darkroom to get my full portfolio. He and Dad sat in the chairs at the desk and went through it together. Every once in a while, he’d stop and pull one of the photos from its sleeve. Of course, there were no nude pictures of Patricia, Chris, Judy, or Janice in the portfolio. I’d taken Uncle Nate seriously when he said he didn’t want to see that kind of photo of anyone under eighteen. But I noticed that he did pull the photo of Chris in her lingerie with her back turned. He grabbed the photo of Judy, Janice, and Pete being interrogated. But he also pulled half a dozen of the shots of Pam and Lori.
“You need more models like these,” he said. Dad just nodded.
Uncle Nate also wanted a run-down on how my new camera was working out and said the quality of the photos was a real testimony to what I could do with it. Dad and I showed him the safe we’d built in the darkroom and he looked at the albums of negatives and proofs I had there.
“You need a fireproof file cabinet to keep your film and releases in,” he said. “If something happened here, the wooden safe wouldn’t protect your most valuable assets. These photos are what will make you famous, not that camera.”
“Gosh. I hadn’t even thought about that,” I said. “I guess you’re right, though. All the equipment is replaceable. The photos aren’t.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Dad said. “There’s an office supply store in Dubuque. We can make a run up there to check it out.”
Uncle Nate inspected everything in the darkroom, the bathroom, and the studio. He even went back into the storage area and just scanned around to see what kind of stuff I had. Finally, he collected the photos he wanted into an envelope and we locked up.
“Oh, Nate. The picture of your mom is so beautiful!” Chris said when she came up to the studio Monday afternoon. We’d made arrangements to go out hunting for photographs Monday afternoon. It was Mom’s ‘day off’ and she’d gone into Huntertown to get her hair done for her birthday. I was going to carry the whole camera case with me so I could change lenses and filters if I needed to. Chris took one of my reflective panels for the lights so I could get a little extra light if I needed it on a subject.
“Where to first?” she asked.
“I want to get some more people shots. Mr. Lewis said he’d be in Sweet Treats this afternoon doing spring cleaning. Let’s start there.”
It was a quick trip to get to Sweet Treats, next door to Center Marketplace. We got some nice pictures of Mr. Lewis making sodas. It was a classic soda fountain with a long counter and red-topped stools. He had a big mirror behind the counter so people could see him dipping ice cream and making treats. Best of all, Chris and I ‘had’ to drink the sodas he’d made up and listen to him talk about the history of the shop and how long he’d been there. I noticed that Chris had a notebook and pen with her and was jotting down things.
Circles, and arrows, and a paragraph on the back, I thought.
We went from there across to the bank and I asked if I could take a picture of the president. He was a nice guy and had been president of the bank for years. He might have been the best known figure in town. I’d been in the bank about every week to deposit my earnings or to get a check to send out to Camera Warehouse.
“What are you going to do with all the pictures?” Chris asked.
“I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “I have in mind putting together an exhibition of the faces of our town. You know, that’s one of the big differences between Tenbrook and Chicago. I mean there are a thousand differences, but the thing that I’ve noticed here most is that everybody knows everybody else. Like, everyone knew when Henry’s calendar had been stolen, almost as soon as it happened. Everyone knows Miss Ludwig at the library, and Mr. Spencer at the bank, and Mr. Lewis at the soda fountain. If I displayed their pictures someplace, everyone who came to see them would know exactly who they were and would talk about the setting and where it was taken.”
“Kind of a portrait of a small town,” Chris nodded. “Let’s go see Pastor Reisner. He’s in his office on Monday afternoon and I bet he’d like a picture. Are we getting model releases from everyone?”
“So far, no problems. I’ve been positioning it as being for a record of the village leaders.”
“I want to go through all the photos and see if I can write something up about each one. Remember the ‘paragraph on the back explaining what each one was?’ We should have little stories about each person to display with the photo.”
“What a great idea! I saw you taking notes. You’re a really good partner to have on this.”
We walked to the Lutheran church and Pastor Reisner was happy to have his photo included. The church ran a daycare center for working parents and we went into it. The children all seemed to love him and expect him. I got a picture of him with three little kids crawling on him while he read to them. What a great photo!
“Have you talked to Paul Armstrong?” Pastor Reisner asked. I wasn’t sure who that was.
“Would he let us take his photo?” Chris asked.
“I think so. Let’s go back to the office and I’ll give him a call.”
We went to the office and Pastor Reisner made the call as Chris explained that Paul Armstrong was the minister at the other Lutheran church, across the street.
“Paul, it’s Luke. How was Easter service for you?— Good. Good. We had a record attendance. Lot of the CEOs, you know.— Did you know that Pastor Hart’s son is a photographer? Pretty accomplished, too.— Right. He’s putting together a little exhibition of community leaders and I suggested you should be included.— No, this has nothing to do with the council. He just came here and took my picture with his assistant. How about if I send them over to you. You’ll like the picture and you get a copy of it for signing the release.— Great. God bless you, Paul.”
Pastor Reisner looked at us after he hung up the phone.
“He agreed?” Chris asked with wide eyes.
“He’s not an ogre, Chris. He’s my good friend. We worship the same God and in the same way. Our differences are all political. We don’t let that come between us.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “Anything else I should know?”
“I’d suggest you not refer to Rev. Hart at all, but especially not as Reverend Mother Superior,” he laughed. Chris and I gathered up our equipment and went across the street.
Rev. Armstrong was a little older than any of the other ministers in town. He had gray hair and a slightly more severe countenance than the others. I certainly couldn’t imagine swapping preacher jokes with him. But he listened to what I was proposing and read the model release thoroughly before signing it.
“Do you have any ideas regarding how you’d like to be shown?” I asked. “Possibly a favorite activity or a place in the church?”
He pointed at a soft red leather chair with a reading lamp and table next to it.
“This is where I study,” he said. “That would be the best place if there’s enough light.”
I assured him there was and he sat in the chair with the lamp over his shoulder. He held his Bible open in his hands and I started getting pictures. We were up close and I used the short length lens. I had Chris angle the reflector so I’d have enough light just from the lamp when I snapped off the overhead fluorescent.
I got pictures of him reading and then one in which he just raised his eyes a bit to look at me. The light was perfect and I captured the shot.
“Thank you, Reverend Armstrong,” I said. “I appreciate you taking the time to let me get your photo.”
“I’ll be looking forward to seeing the results,” he said as he moved back to his desk. “I assume you will be returning home this evening? I wonder if you would take this card to your Reverend Mother Superior for me.”
I’m sure both Chris and I had our mouths wide open as we stared at him and he held out a sealed envelope.
“I am not completely without a sense of humor,” he said, chuckling. I took the envelope and we left.
“Well, that was interesting!” Chris said.
“For sure. Say, that’s the Humane Society, isn’t it? Let’s stop there.”
“I’m sure there are some prominent canine citizens in the shelter,” she laughed.
“I was thinking about the town hero,” I said. “Lori mentioned once that this guy named Billy worked there. He was wounded in Vietnam.”
“Yes. I never knew him very well other than to see him play basketball. He’s six or seven years older than us. I know it was really sad when he came home a couple of years ago,” Chris said.
We walked in and stopped at the desk. I explained what I wanted to the woman out in front.
“Oh, it isn’t me you want a picture of,” she said, sounding relieved. “Come on back to the kennel and meet Billy.”
We went into the kennel where there were half a dozen dogs. Around the corner there was a place where a couple of cats were kept, just out of sight from the dogs.
“We handle strays, abandoned pets, and injured animals,” the woman said. “If we can’t find a forever home for them, we have an agreement with a couple of larger shelters that will take them and work on placing them with owners. We have a no-kill policy here, but we can’t just keep dogs and cats forever. I guess it’s kind of appropriate that we hired Billy to take care of them. He has a room here and is very good with the animals. There he is.”
I saw the guy in fatigues and a khaki T-shirt playing with a big dog in the turn-out yard. It seemed he was endlessly tossing a ball and letting the dog fetch it. The dog didn’t seem to be tiring of the game at all.
“Billy, this is Nate and Chris. They want to take your picture with the dogs. Can you sign your name on this form for them and let them take your picture?”
“Okay,” he said simply. “This is Roger. He likes to play with me. I’ll bring Lulu and Dutch out to be with him. They like each other.” Billy signed the form the woman held and she handed it to me as Billy went to get the other two dogs. Roger sniffed all around us, including some rather personal sniffing at Chris. She laughed.
“Boyfriend only, Roger,” she said as she pushed him away. I looked at her and raised my eyes. “And maybe a girlfriend,” she whispered.
Billy returned and the three dogs took off tearing around the play yard together. I looked around. We had some sunlight and I got a couple of pictures with a faster setting. I couldn’t possibly stop the dogs and Billy from just being a blur if I shot at less than 1/500th of a second.
“Hey, Billy,” Chris said as she approached him. “Can you get the dogs to pose with you over there by the building? Nate would like a picture that isn’t quite so fast-moving.”
“Okay,” he said. He just went over by the wall and whistled. All three dogs ran straight to him and he gave each one a bit of kibble. There was a sign on the wall that said, “There’s a whole bunch of dogs in here!”
I managed to get the sign and three dogs all in the picture with him. I figured I could crop out the window and get a good picture. Chris followed my direction and positioned the reflector. I got half a dozen pictures, including one where Roger turned his head and licked Billy’s neck as Billy laughed.
“Thank you, Billy. I appreciate you taking the time for pictures,” I said.
“Come again and adopt a dog. Lulu needs a home,” he said.
Chris and I went up to the front and I stowed my camera and lenses in the case with the new model release form.
We’d had a fun day and walked back to the studio.
“Thank you for letting me be your helper,” Chris said. “I had a fun day. But this doesn’t count as our date. I want the full treatment, you know.”
“Um… I’m not sure what the full treatment is, but how about a nice dinner date Friday?”
“I hear there’s another movie theatre in Dubuque, so we wouldn’t have to see the same movie you saw with Ronda.”
“What’s playing?”
“Thoroughly Modern Millie with Julie Andrews.”
“I’m sold. I’ll check out restaurants when I’m in Dubuque tomorrow.”
“Why are you going to Dubuque tomorrow? Another date?”
“With my dad. He’s got time off work this week because a bunch of the high school boys want to earn money for prom. My uncle suggested that I need a fireproof file cabinet to keep my negatives and releases in. It seems like a good idea.”
“Oh, I see. Well, will we do some more photos on Wednesday?”
“I think I need to work on my paper. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. I was just trying to delay the inevitable. We could work in the library together, couldn’t we?”
“Christine, I’d spend every minute of my life with you. Of course we can work together. Maybe we’ll take some more pictures on Thursday.”
After a couple of delicious kisses, right on the street corner, we parted and went home.
It turned out that the mysterious envelope Pastor Armstrong sent my mother was a birthday card. My opinion of the guy just jumped even more.
With the help of a guy at the store, Dad and I wrestled the 250-pound locking file cabinet into the back of the Falcon. I couldn’t believe the price of the thing! It was used and still cost almost $500. Dad paid for it and said, “It’s from a patron.” I assumed he meant Uncle Nate.
“How are we ever going to get this up to the studio?” I asked.
“I was thinking about that. I’m not sure the stairs would support the weight of the cabinet and two grown men moving it. Why don’t we talk to Barkley and see what he thinks? We might need to put it in the garage.”
Mr. Barkley walked up the back stairs with us and shook his head.
“I don’t know, Rich,” he said to Dad. “I wouldn’t trust it. Why don’t we take it in through the store and up the inside stairs? Those are all inspected and certified safe. This is really just supposed to be a fire exit.”
We went into the studio and Mr. Barkley looked around at all the lights and props I was using. He spent a few minutes looking at my gallery, nodding. We went down the inside stairs to the third floor. He stopped and looked around. I noticed his chair and ashtray were no longer there.
“Since I quit smoking, I don’t come up here at all anymore. Getting a little dusty. Instead of carting your fire safe all the way up to the fourth floor, why don’t we put it on this floor so it doesn’t crowd you any further. In fact, if you want, why don’t you move your studio down here and just keep the fourth floor for your darkroom and props storage. It would give you a lot more room to work around your models and scenery. You’d have to bring down whatever props you wanted to use, but the space is just sitting here empty. Might as well have some use for it.”
“Really, Mr. Barkley? Thank you! It does get a little crowded. I did a three-person shoot a couple of weeks ago and it was hard to get far enough back to get them all in the scene.”
“Well, you can see there are restrooms on this floor, too. Years ago, the fashion department was here, so there are a couple of dressing rooms as well. It would be more professional than having your models change in the upstairs bathroom.”
“This is great, Mr. Barkley. I’ll get busy and get it cleaned. We’ve got a Shop-Vac that should make quick work of all the settled dust,” I said.
“We’ll check your key, but I believe it works for the door from the outside stairs to this floor. We can leave the stairs inside to the fourth floor open and you can get in and out easily. I’ve got a two-wheel dolly in the back of the store we can load that monster safe onto.”
We got the file cabinet upstairs and I started figuring out where I was going to set the studio up and what I needed to bring down from the attic. The ceiling was a little higher on this floor than the attic, too. I liked that and immediately started figuring out how I could expand my lighting.
The first thing, though, was to clean the space. I had no idea how long it had been since the room had seen a broom, but I sure couldn’t invite a model in here in its present state. I went home and got our Shop-Vac. I’d used it when I cleaned the garage, but I don’t think it had been used since. I emptied the bag and carted it, along with an extension cord, up to the third floor, using the outside stairs.
The room was really huge and gave me an idea of how little of the space on the fourth floor I was really using. It was about thirty-five feet wide and close to three times that long. And, except for my file cabinet, it was empty. I started at the front where there were arched windows that were taller than the ones upstairs, and started vacuuming everything. I vacuumed up the walls, around the woodwork, and across the floor. When I got the main area cleaned, I vacuumed the two dressing rooms and dared to stick my head into the restrooms. They were going to take more than vacuuming. The huge area had hardwood floors, just like the rest of the building. The main floor, where the grocery and general store was, had been tiled in linoleum. With this floor being so empty, it echoed unbelievably.
I took the Shop-Vac back home and got the mop and pail. I stopped at the store and asked if there was any floor cleaner that would be best to use for the wooden floor upstairs. Mrs. Barkley pointed me to Murphy Oil Soap. I bought it and carted everything upstairs. Vacuuming had been a long job, but mopping promised to take forever. I decided I’d head home to dinner before I got started on that.
When Chris got to the studio at noon on Wednesday, she found all the lights taken down and the backdrops disassembled.
“Nate? What’s going on? Are you moving? Are we going to study today?” She sounded a little panicked and I came running up the inside stairs. I caught her in a hug and kissed her. She responded passionately.
“It’s all okay,” I said, still out of breath from running up the stairs and from kissing her. “I’m moving the studio down a floor. It’s going to be beautiful. But I guess I can’t get to the library today. Maybe tomorrow.”
I’d done the packing upstairs as a break while the floor dried. The next step, though, promised to be the hardest and most backbreaking. Mr. Barkley gave me a bottle of Simoniz Floor Wax.
“Downstairs?”
“Wait till you see it, honey! Come on.” I led her down the stairs to the empty third floor. “It started with the fireproof file cabinet. It’s really heavy and Mr. Barkley suggested I stop here on the third floor and clean the place up to use as the studio. I’ll still use the attic for my darkroom and props storage. But look at the room I’ll have just to set scenes and photograph people. I’m going to order some ten-foot-wide muslin backdrops to replace the paper ones. Won’t it be great?”
I was exhausted from vacuuming, mopping, and packing, but I was still incredibly excited. I guess it flowed over onto Christine. She grabbed me and kissed me like our lives depended on it. I got weak in the knees.
“I’m so proud of you, Nate. You’ve got a real business and you’re a real professional photographer. I’m so proud to have been one of your first models and so happy you let me work with you,” she said. I felt ten feet tall.
“Um… You might want to come back tomorrow to work with me. Today is going to be a really hard job.”
“Moving things?”
“No. I vacuumed and mopped but I need to wax the floors and clean the restrooms. It’s going to be a long hard day of work.”
“Do you think I’d let you send me away and do it all by yourself? Of course I’ll help. You know what? I’ll bet Judy and Janice would help, too. Let me run and get them. I saw them downtown when I was on my way here and they asked where I was going. I’ll bet they’d love to help.”
She ran out the door and down the stairs while I mixed the floor solution. I was just getting ready to apply it when the three girls ran back into the studio.
“We’ll help!” Janice yelled. “We can have two people waxing the floors and two people cleaning the restrooms and we’ll be done in no time!”
I thought that was a little optimistic, but I showed them the cleaning supplies and they tackled the restrooms with more enthusiasm than I could ever muster for the job. Chris and I got our rags and worked next to each other as we started in the corner and began working our way out. This was going to be long backbreaking work, but it only took us a few feet before we saw how wonderful it would be. The old floors really shone.
“Did you take pictures of it before?” Chris asked.
“I snapped a few thirty-fives. I didn’t see any sense in using the Hasselblad for what is essentially an industrial shot.”
About an hour later, Judy and Janice finished polishing the two restrooms. The tile floors and walls practically reflected our image. But what was better was the look of the two girls. They had red bandanas tied around their heads and had their shirts unbuttoned and tied in a knot just beneath their boobs.
“Nate, this calls for more than a 35. I think you’ve got two models who are ready for action,” Chris said.
“Can we be the first ones you shoot in the new studio?” Judy asked. “That would be such fun!”
“I need to get the other camera,” I said. I ran upstairs as the two girls pulled Chris into one of the bathrooms and closed the door. Not sure what that was about.
When I got back, Judy and Janice were bent over the waxing cloths and Chris was showing them the process. I interrupted to get photos of them in the sparkling clean bathroom and then we went back into the big room and I shot some pictures with all three girls working on the floor. I thought, though, that Judy and Janice had loosened their tops. When they both turned toward me on their hands and knees and lifted their heads, I could see straight down their cleavage to their navels. Chris had backed up and was holding a reflector for me to get a little of the window light shining on them.
I stopped to change film and when I turned back to them, the shirts were completely untied and hanging open. It wasn’t like Chris or Ronda, or even Patricia, but I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of having those two girls expose their breasts to me. They, of course, were treating this like any other costume shoot. They held the mop for a prop and then, much to my surprise, they wiggled out of their jeans. I mean really wiggled because they were tight enough to have been painted on. I took another picture as their bikini-clad asses came into view. I guess they weren’t actual bikinis, but bikini-cut panties. One in blue and one in pink.
I quickly turned to Chris to make sure she was okay with what was going on and found her standing behind me in just her panties. She’d already lost her jeans, shirt, and bra.
“Honey? You don’t want me to take pictures of you, do you?” I whispered.
“No. But I didn’t want to be the only girl in the room with clothes on in front of my boyfriend,” she giggled. “Besides, you can only look at them and take pictures. You can touch and kiss these,” she whispered.
I gave her a hug, running my hands up and down her bare back, and turned to photograph my almost naked maids as they clowned and pretended to scrub and wax. After about fifteen minutes and another roll of film, I finally called a halt.
“I’m sure we got some lovely photos, but I have to stop now and continue waxing or I won’t have a studio ready for anything else,” I said.
“You don’t really mind if we run around in just our panties while we help wax, do you?” Judy asked. I swear she pushed her tits out toward me to show them off. Where was the body-shy girl who got all embarrassed when she thought her nipple bumps were visible in her swimsuit? Judy was showing off as much as Janice was.
“Chris? It’s okay, isn’t it?” Janice asked.
“I don’t plan to put my shirt back on,” she said. “My boyfriend can look at you two all he wants, but I want some of his attention.”
“Yay! Let’s get busy,” they shouted. And for the rest of the afternoon, I worked on waxing the rest of the floor along with three yummy girls dressed in only their panties.
At one point, I saw Mr. Barkley come up the stairs to see how we were doing. When he was just in sight, he got a view of the three girls’ asses pointed toward him. He shook his head a little as if to clear his eyes, squinted at them, and then retreated down the stairs. I didn’t tell the girls he’d appeared.
We’d finished by dinner time and Judy and Janice pulled their clothes back on and said goodbye. I turned and found Chris, still in just her panties.
“I know we’re not supposed to fool around in the studio, but it seemed a shame to get dressed and not have you pay any real attention to me. Please?” she asked.
That was no problem. Chris wasn’t my model and we weren’t working on any shots. I took her in my arms and kissed her while I caressed her back, then kissed my way down from her chin across her breasts to pay some loving attention to her nipples, while I held her back and her butt in my hands.
“Mmm,” she said when I’d kissed her again. “I can’t wait for Friday night.” Then she went to get dressed.
Somehow, I managed to convince her to come home with me for dinner and it was really relaxed to have her at the table as part of the family. We told Mom and Dad and Kat all about the cleaning we’d done and how nice the new studio looked now that the floors were waxed. They promised to come and look as soon as I moved my equipment in tomorrow.
I really had to spend part of Thursday in the library working on my paper.
By Friday afternoon, I’d moved the essentials down to the new studio and had everything set up for a photoshoot. I went to pick up Chris for our date to Dubuque. She looked down.
“Are you okay, honey?” She looked like she was about to cry.
“My stupid period started today,” she whimpered. “I’m achy and bitchy and we can’t make out like I wanted to because I’ve got a pad in my pants and I’m all messy.”
“Honey, we aren’t required to do all that stuff. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. If you just want to be held or massaged or anything, that’s fine. I just love to be with you and we’ve had such fun this week, it’s been like being on a weeklong date. I love you, Christine,” I said.
“Oh, Nate, I love you, too. I’m sorry to be such a wet blanket.”
“Really, honey. Would you rather do something else, or reschedule our date?”
“I want you with me, but I don’t feel like riding in the car for an hour. Could we, like, maybe just go in the house and watch TV? We won’t really be able to make out much because my parents and Julie and Brian are there, but you could hold my hand and have an arm around me.”
“Do you want to get some food first?” I asked.
“Just come in. We’ve got food.”
I went into the house with Christine and she told her mother and father what we wanted to do.
“We plan to watch the Friday night movie after dinner. You two can just watch TV for a while or play a game. I’ll keep the little monsters out of the room,” her mom said. The two kids looked through the kitchen door at us and scowled. No friends there. “Dinner will be in half an hour. Just relax. I know you were looking forward to your date, but this will be just a nice family time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans. If it gets to be too much for Chris, I’ll just slip home,” I said.
“I’m sure she’ll be happy for the company. I get hit the same way sometimes.”
Chris and I went into the living room and just left the TV on whatever sport show was playing. We didn’t pay much attention. I started rubbing Chris’s back and before long she was stretched out on her stomach on the couch and I was sitting beside her gently massaging her back. I noticed that she had dressed planning to have fun later. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
After dinner, the whole family went into the living room and watched the Friday Night Movie at 8:00. I guess it was as much a ritual for the Evans family as our Sunday night ice cream and Disney ritual was. The movie on this night was called The Victors, about an American squad of soldiers in World War II. I thought it was a little advanced for a ten and twelve-year-old and apparently their parents agreed. Half an hour into the movie, the kids headed for bed.
We watched together for the next hour or so. I had my arm around Chris and she held my hand against her tummy. I guess I was like a heating pad. About ten o’clock, Mrs. Evans said she was tired of all the gore and was going to bed. She looked over at her husband and he got up to follow her.
I asked Chris what she wanted to do and she said to change channels. We switched to The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and just left the television on that station until eleven-thirty. Once her parents were out of the room, Chris shifted her position so she was kind of lying across me with her head in my left arm as I held her with my hand on her tummy. It was a toss-up as to whether we were going to watch TV or just kiss for a while. She pushed my hand under her sweater so it was on her skin and during the course of watching television and kissing, my hand gradually moved up to cup her boob. She kissed me deeply.
“Careful. Be really gentle, please,” she said. “My nipples get so sore and tender during my period I can hardly stand it. No. Don’t go away. I like to have you just hold them.”
I liked that, too. At eleven-thirty, Chris was nearly asleep in my arms and I kissed her again.
“You’d better go to bed, sweetheart. Much as I’d like it, I don’t think your parents would appreciate finding us asleep on the sofa in the morning.”
“Yeah. I think I’d like it, too. But you’re right. Thank you for being so understanding and just holding me tonight,” she said.
“I love you,” I said. “I can’t think of anything better than just holding you.”
“I can think of a thing or two, but we’ll have to put it off for a while, I guess. I love you.”
We kissed one more time and I headed home. Then I went back to Chris’s house to get the car. I’d forgotten that I drove, intending to take her to Dubuque.
After I finished the laundry and ironing Saturday, I went shopping at the antique store. I returned nearly everything I currently had and got credit for 80% of what I’d paid for them. It was a good deal as far as I was concerned, but I wanted a new batch of set props. I chose a small fainting couch, a different table, different chairs, and a whole batch of different props. I got a floor lamp with an interesting shade, an animal horn of some kind, an apothecary scale that was just a replica and not something that worked, a big wall clock that I could hang from a ceiling or a support, a couple of baskets, some new artwork, a globe, and a white porcelain statue of a Greek or Roman goddess.
It took me two trips to get everything back to the studio, and lugging that fainting couch up the back stairs was a real pain. Plus, an idea had crossed my mind and I had to take a trip out into the country to see if I could find the location I wanted. I wondered if Lori would go for it.
Then I went home and asked Kat if she wanted to be the first model to pose in my new studio. She jumped up and down and ran to her room to ‘get ready.’ Mom laughed at me and I told her I’d found a rocking horse I thought she’d enjoy posing on. Mom was doubtful, but this was a very unusual horse. It had apparently been converted from a small carousel and was all painted up, then attached to rockers. It even had the brass-colored pole sticking up through it about three feet.
Kat and I went to the studio and she fell in love with the horse. This was miles ahead of any standard rocking horse and I got some great shots of her in a pale blue dress against my red backdrop. She hugged the horse, rode it side-saddle, and stood astride it with her feet in the stirrups. I had a feeling I might want to just keep this one and do a complete refinishing job on it this summer. Last summer, I’d given Kat a bicycle. This summer, maybe I could give her a horse.
I called Chris to see how she was feeling and she said much better now that her boyfriend had called. I asked if she’d like to work with me on a photoshoot Sunday afternoon. I was going to have Lori and had a basic idea I wanted her help on. She was happy, but reminded me that Lori might not want her around if I was shooting any nudes. I said we’d just ask her and find out.
Sunday afternoon, Lori was surprised to walk into the studio and find that I didn’t have any lights or backdrops, and that Chris was there, too.
“Lori, I’ve moved the studio downstairs and we’ll go there if that’s what you’d like to do. But I had an idea for a location shoot in an isolated place where no one will disturb us. Chris has been helping me with a bunch of photo sessions lately and I thought you might be more comfortable if there was another woman along with us. If you don’t want to do an outdoor shoot or if you don’t want Chris around, just tell me and we’ll change to the studio. I’ve got some interesting things there, too,” I said.
Lori looked at Chris and raised an eyebrow.
“You okay with me showing my tits and pussy to your boyfriend?” she asked bluntly.
“I’m getting used to it,” Chris laughed. “But that picture of you over there is what convinced me, Lori. I want to help Nate capture another picture of you like that. And you know… studio rules.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lori said. “But I tell you, if he gets me another picture like that one, I might not be able to restrain myself from at least giving him a blowjob.”
“We can discuss that as a possibility,” Chris said coyly. “Maybe you’d teach me how.”
“Oh! I had no idea your girlfriend was so kinky, Nate. Let’s go out in the country and get naked!”
We loaded my camera equipment in the back of the station wagon and Chris claimed the middle of the seat as Lori got in beside her. Even though I knew Lori had planned to just get naked for the photoshoot, I liked what she was wearing. It was a pair of short cutoffs and a tight white tank top with nothing under it. Obviously. We could see her nipples through the top as soon as she walked into the studio.
I drove out to the abandoned farm where Ronda and I had made out the previous week.
“My God!” Lori said. “The old Hanratty farm. This will be easy. Park over there, right beside the barn. Yeah. Right here.” I parked where she directed. It didn’t make much difference. What I wanted was out a little farther toward the field.
Lori threw her head back and closed her eyes while Chris and I watched her curiously. While we watched, her nipples tented the fabric of her shirt further. Lori took a deep breath and sighed.
“Right here was where I lost my virginity to Billy Lamonte,” she sighed. “Good times. You want a re-enactment?”
“Um… no. Not exactly,” I said. “There’s an old truck out here that just sparked my interest. And don’t strip yet. I want to start with a few photos dressed just like you are.”
“Okey-dokey.”
I handed Chris a couple of reflectors and grabbed my tripod and camera case. We walked out toward a field where an old truck had been abandoned years ago. It must have been a ’40s model, or maybe even ’30s. I wasn’t good at identifying things like that. It was pretty worn and rusty. We just looked around it for a couple of minutes while I figured out the best place to pose her.
“Okay, I’d like you up on the rail leaning against the cab,” I said. She walked over to it and turned to me.
“A little boost?” she asked. I handed Chris my camera as I went over to lift Lori up onto the side of the truck. I turned back to discover Chris had just taken a picture. She looked at me and grinned.
“Couldn’t help myself,” she said.
I took the camera and fastened it to the tripod. I started to give Chris the reflectors for some up-light, but then saw what Lori was wearing on her feet. They weren’t exactly fuck-me shoes, but they had an inch-high heel and open toe.
“Honey, could you take her shoes? She needs to be barefoot for this. Lori, we’ll make sure you have shoes on before we help you down from the truck.” She just laughed as Chris tickled her foot.
Chris ran back and I told her what I wanted with the reflector. I used the 100mm Planar lens and set up just far enough away that I could get her complete figure in the frame. We manipulated the reflector a bit and I took some light meter readings before I went back to the camera and set my aperture and speed. I was using a lower speed film because it was a bright day out at last. The temperature was up in the mid-sixties, but it was going to cool off fast as evening came.
“Hike your shirt up a little so it’s above your navel,” I suggested. She was using one hand to steady herself on the rail of the truck, so she pulled her shirt up a bit with her other hand. She kept hold of it. “Beautiful!” I said. “You’ve got a gorgeous navel.”
I changed film while the girls chatted and then got back to work.
“We’re ready for topless,” I said. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, but could you come here and steady me so I don’t land in the bed of the truck? It’s kind of precarious here and I don’t think I’m going to want my bare butt on this rusty rail.”
I quickly went to her and held her waist while she pulled her shirt up above her breasts. I stopped her.
“Pull it down over your right boob and hold it up over the left. Can you hold the position with just one hand on the rail?”
“Yeah. I got this.”
Chris was experimenting with positions of the reflector and managed to get a really clear highlight across the top of Lori’s nipple. I got a couple of shots and then went back to hold Lori again while she finished stripping off her shirt. She did look pretty edible with her tits about two inches from my face. I started to get her into position when Chris spoke.
“Wait. Don’t let go yet. Lori, unzip. Fold the waistband back like you could just wish them off and they’d be gone.”
Lori followed the directions and I loved the look of her bare boobs and shorts zipped down to the top of her slit.
“Sultry look,” I said. “You’re just waiting for your lover to come and help you out of them.”
“He’d never get any nooky up here,” Lori laughed.
“I think he just wants you up there high enough that he can get his face between your legs,” I joked.
“Oh, God!” Lori slapped her right hand back against the cab of the truck to keep her balance and threw her head back.
“Perfect! Hold it right there,” I barked. I took three shots and asked Chris to climb up in the bed of the truck and see if she could direct the reflector down on Lori to get stronger shadows. Lori just stayed in her position and I got another good photo, then pulled the camera closer to look right up her leg and across her boobs to her upturned face.
We took other pictures around the abandoned farm and Lori managed to get completely naked when we went into a barn and she found a horse stall she could lean back against. The light was lower in the barn and it had a more familiar Attic Allure feel to it. Finally, we got her dressed and headed for the car. It was a successful photoshoot.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
