Full Frame
28
Full Frame
I KIND OF RUSHED through lunch and cleanup on Sunday afternoon so I could get over to the studio. I got the new pictures off the drying rack and took them downstairs to the big sawhorse table. I laid out my portfolio of shots that weren’t on the wall and checked to make sure my studio looked professional and ready for action. I was standing at the third floor door when Mr. Grossman pulled up and parked. He waved and mounted the steps.
“Welcome to Attic Allure,” I said when he entered. We both chuckled a little as we shook hands and I ushered him into the big open space.
“This is beautiful, Nate. You’ve expanded your range of backdrops.”
“I made enough money that I could get a few new lights and the muslin backdrops like your newer ones. But my contact in Chicago had just cleaned out an old theatre and had all these painted backdrops and a bunch of props he sent me. Said he couldn’t get rid of them in Chicago and had a truck headed for Des Moines that he could put them on if I’d take them.”
“Sounds like a good contact to have. And you’ve changed formats. This is an excellent camera,” Mr. Grossman said, looking at the Hasselblad set up on the tripod.
“I sort of have a patron. He saw my photos and arranged for me to have a better camera. I don’t even know who it is.”
“Congratulations. That will help you a lot. As much as this new studio space.”
“Mr. Barkley, who owns the store, said that it was just sitting empty collecting dust and might as well be used. We cleaned forever and then washed and waxed the floors. We just got the drapes up yesterday.”
“We?”
“My two girlfriends and I. They came into your studio Friday afternoon, but were too busy looking at your photo display to be introduced.”
“Oh, yes. Lovely girls. Speaking of displays, this is your gallery now?”
“Yes, sir. I have my portfolio and some newer shots on the table.”
Grossman took his time examining the hanging pictures. Of course, there were still some of the pictures he’d already seen hanging, but the majority were pictures that I’d taken since his last visit. He did a lot of going back to the older prints and then comparing them to newer ones.
“You’ve come a long way in a short time, Nate. I feel bad that I haven’t been more available to help you. This picture,” he said pointing at the first archival print of Lori, “would win a competition in nearly any part of the country except the Midwest. I find it very interesting that you’ve got models in this small town who are willing to pose for this type of photo. I see the artistry involved in the model, the photography, and the processing. I’m afraid most Midwestern judges would only see bare breasts. We just aren’t California.”
“I’ve definitely been lucky. I still only have a couple who are willing to model like this and let me display them. There are a couple of others, but they aren’t eighteen yet.”
“Yes, it’s best to avoid displaying photos of that sort. For all the talk of free love in this country, there are pockets that are becoming more conservative and more critical. So, let’s look at the newest pictures.”
We walked over to the table and he sat to examine what I had. The highlights, of course, were two of Lori with the falling silhouettes, Avery among the mushrooms, and Avery beneath the streetlight. He immediately pulled those four to the front and got out his loupe to examine them closely.
He didn’t say anything for a long time as he examined those photos and then looked through the portfolio.
“These photos would be welcome in any commercial gallery. You could probably sell a limited edition of this print for upwards of a hundred dollars,” he said, pointing to the picture of Avery under the streetlamp.
“A hundred dollars? How limited an edition?”
“A limited edition photograph is not an entirely new concept, but until Ansel Adams started selling his prints, there was little available. At the moment, a limited edition is typically an edition of 25 on fine archival paper, matted, signed by the artist, and bearing a sequential number from one to the number of the edition. You might also print some non-archival photos and sell them unsigned at a significantly reduced price. But what makes an edition limited when you could simply go to your darkroom and print some more?”
“That’s a good point. People pretty much have to believe you, don’t they? If I say there are only 25, then they have to trust me that there are only 25,” I said, nodding.
“But how many people who have never heard of you will trust your word on that? The only way to ensure a photograph is a limited edition is to destroy the negative, just as the newer lithographic prints are pulled and then the plates are destroyed.”
“I just… I can’t imagine destroying a negative. I did once, because it was pornographic, but even then, my stomach kind of gave a lurch when I cut it up.”
“It’s something to think about, but I wouldn’t say you need to consider it yet.” He pointed at the picture of Lori in front of the wall. “You really pushed the film, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, I took Tri-X 400 and made up a couple of batches of chemicals in ‘push’ formulation to start with,” I said. “I did a comparison and developed one roll pushed two stops and pushed the other three stops. I liked the effect.”
“Indeed. This young woman is a treasure as a model. She could have a career if she can comport herself like this photo indicates. If you just wanted to help her out, you could shoot an entire portfolio of her. And not just nudes. That picture of her on the truck shows as much of her depth as a model as it shows of your photography. If she is interested in modeling, I’ll assemble a list of names she could contact in Chicago. Top modeling agencies. When they see her portfolio, I wouldn’t be surprised if you got calls as well. Good work.”
“Thank you. That’s good advice and I’ll talk to her about it. If she’s interested, I’ll be happy to put together a model portfolio for her.”
Then he shifted his attention to Avery under the streetlight. He held it in his hands and leaned back to look at it. The moment when the truck had provided the needed fill light had allowed me to capture something magical. She was real and yet ethereal. I had printed a couple of other poses to compare them, but this one just jumped out.
“This one. I would want a copy perhaps half again or even twice this size on archival paper to hang on my living room wall. This supersedes… no, transcends the model, the setting, and the photographer. This is art.”
“I don’t think my enlarger will print anything that big,” I said. “I plan to hang that one in my own home, though.”
“One day, you’ll have what you need. But this image also creates an expectation. Now when a model comes into your studio or you go on location, everyone will expect a photo like this. You and I know it is a one-in-a-million shot. A professional model, seeing this, might understand the combination of factors that went into it. But I’m afraid a typical portrait customer would simply assume that you can make her look like this. And you can’t.”
I nodded. I had other pictures that approached this. Some of Patricia showed the culmination of model, setting, and photography that could establish my reputation. But she wasn’t eighteen. The same was true of the photo of Chris, beckoning to me to approach. I needed to find out when both their birthdays were. I wouldn’t use Chris as a model like that, but Patricia wanted the photos in a portfolio like Mr. Grossman suggested for Lori.
“Can you give me any other advice? I know I’m kind of asking for a lot, but how can I improve my photography?”
“Well, technically, you are moving along at the pace your equipment allows. A new or more advanced enlarger so you can do larger formats and also get better optics would help, but that is something you’ll be able to afford in the future. I’m not sure you could fit one in your current darkroom.”
“I think this one is about fifty years old,” I laughed. “I love it, but I understand what you mean. A lot of times I wish I had some feature or another that would make things easier or allow a different technique. Or even one that didn’t generate as much heat.”
“That will come eventually. The other thing I see as I scan all your photos is that you have an excellent eye for composition, but you are exercising it in the darkroom and possibly not with the camera.”
“What do you mean, sir?” I asked. I thought the composition of my photos was pretty good the way I was printing them.
“This is something that the top photographers in the country do but is very difficult. And they don’t do it with every photo. What you are doing at the moment—and there is nothing wrong with it—is looking at your proof and your negative and cropping it to get the right composition. One of the nice features of your photos for competition was that they weren’t just straight 8x10 portraits or landscapes. You were able to create images that were the size and proportion you wanted. If you get into photojournalism, you won’t even be the one who decides how it’s cropped. The layout artist for the newspaper will look at his board and determine he needs your photo to fit in a two-column wide space that is one and a half inches tall. That’s the space he has and that’s what your picture will be sized and cropped to.”
“That kind of sucks, doesn’t it? I guess I understand. The yearbook portraits I took had to be cropped and presented in a specific size and aspect ratio. Other than that, I’m either printing to the paper, say 8x10, or cropping what I want. I’m creating standalone art. In a newspaper it would be just a part of the whole.”
“Right. Now, for your standalone art, consider composing the whole picture before you snap the shutter. Make sure that everything in the frame contributes to the composition. Then print it full frame, without cropping it. Even with the black border. Yes, that limits you to the proportions of your 2x2 camera or the 35mm. But it will challenge your artistic eye to see the entire composition rather than looking at what you shot and creating the composition by cropping. I’d suggest you print an enlargement of some of your best pieces as full frame images and look at the whole thing to see what your eye saw when you took the picture. You might be surprised,” he said.
I’d never really considered that. I knew that even as far back as my 4-H project years ago, Mr. Harris had cropped out some extraneous stuff, like a telephone pole or a pointing hand. In fact, the shape of the photos was all standard 3.5x5 for display, even though the negatives from the Brownie were square. I was definitely going to try some of this full frame enlarging to see what I could learn.
We chatted for quite a while and Mr. Grossman gave me a few tips on what would improve a particular photo. I thanked him profusely, and when he left, I went straight to the darkroom.
I packaged up a bunch of my newest photos for Uncle Nate and sent them off to him in an envelope conspicuously marked “Do Not Bend!” I was just too pleased with the latest batch to wait for him to come for a visit.
I also broke a cardinal rule and took a nude print to school. It was sealed in an envelope, of course, and I didn’t think Avery would show it around school. But I wanted her to have this print because it was so darn beautiful. I saw her at lunch and thanked her for the session Thursday. I advised her to open the envelope when she was alone and preferably not in school.
Tuesday, Lori and Avery both stopped me in the hall and asked if they could come and see the rest of their photos after school. I agreed to meet them in the studio. Both girls were thrilled with their photos and I asked Lori if she would consider modeling professionally. I offered to do a portfolio for her and she started crying. She looked to Avery.
“Do it, girl! You know I’m not going into this. But Nate’s right. You have a combination of looks and movement that could make you a star. I’ll pose for Nate, just so he can look at my naked body, but in a couple of months, I’m headed to Berkeley. I won’t be having time to take on modeling gigs. That’s not my career choice,” Avery said.
“Would you really do that for me, Nate?” Lori asked.
“Absolutely. My… mentor says that it’s just as likely that the modeling agencies will call me, too. We might end up working together again sometime,” I said.
“You know, my pussy is always open to you,” she said. “I know you say you don’t mix modeling and sex, but if sometime you just want a raw fuck, I’m offering.”
“And if you want to fuck me,” Avery said, “I’ll offer you Lori, too!”
“You two are just too much. No fucking! But if you want to come around one afternoon and parade around naked while I take more pictures, Avery, I wouldn’t mind that at all.”
“Thank you for the pictures you’ve given us,” Lori said. “We have to wait at least a week after prom before either of us start modeling for more pictures. There’s just too much going on right now.”
“Isn’t there, though. I need to focus on my girlfriends this week.”
“That’s for sure. You started a real trend for prom with singles allowed. And triples. I’m taking advantage of it. I needed an escort for the processional and Melanie McMillan offered me her date, Ron Davis. It works out well. He can escort me in the processional and Melanie can fuck him afterward,” Avery said.
“It worked for me, too!” Lori said. “I was worried about getting anyone and kept trying to get in on Nate’s dance card. But when you got us triples, I took the bull by the horns, so to speak, and invited both Jeremy and Lyle to escort me.”
“The brainiac twins?” Avery said.
“The brainiac virgin twins,” Lori clarified. “I wonder if I’ll be able to tell them apart in bed!”
“Do you need an eighteen-year-old to rent you a motel room for after the prom?” Avery asked me. “Ron is taking Melanie to the Hills Motel. It isn’t much but I’ll bet they still have rooms.”
“Um… That’s okay. I’m not going to spring a motel room on Ronda and Christine. We’ll survive.”
“We’ll talk again after,” Lori said. “Now I’m excited to get started on my portfolio.”
The girls left and I decided to get their photo selections started and to put together an idea file for Lori’s portfolio.
“Mr. Hart, please come to my office. I believe we have a financial matter to settle,” Mrs. Abernathy said when she saw me at lunch on Friday.
I followed her out of the cafeteria and down to the office where she pulled out a list of thirty-one names and set it before me.
“These are the third wheels and singles from whom we have not collected the price of their ticket. I trust that you are as good as your word,” she said.
“Wow! Thirty-one people! I really had no idea so many people would want to participate,” I said.
“I think you informed me that you were good for up to a hundred of your classmates.”
“Oh, yeah. I have to pay for this, don’t I?” I laughed. I dragged my wallet out of my pocket and began sorting out bills. Then I dug in my pocket for fifty cents. “Twenty, forty, sixty, sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven, and fifty cents,” I said as I counted the money out on her desk.
“Well, that is very good,” she said, collecting the money. “I must say I was surprised at the number of people who wanted single tickets. But many are coming as a group and said they’d treat getting dances the same as they did at a sock hop. And among these, I count ten triples. A lot of girls who didn’t want to be left behind while their best friend went out to enjoy herself, I think. Nonetheless, my eyes have been opened and we will offer single tickets to prom next year.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Abernathy. And I’m sorry to have made such a scene about it.”
“All is forgiven. I believe your bravado cost you enough. Enjoy yourself at the prom.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I will.”
I left and headed back to the cafeteria. I’d paid her $77.50, but nearly everyone who wanted a ticket had paid me for it, and a couple of guys had given me a five for their two-fifty tickets just to help out. The whole venture ended up costing me $12.50. And I was glad I was providing tickets for those five people who wouldn’t have attended otherwise.
Chris and Ronda wanted to go with me when I went to Huntertown to pick up my tux and flowers Friday. That was good with me. Any time I could spend with them was good with me.
“Hey, are we going out to eat before the prom?” I asked when we settled at Gertie’s for dinner that night. “Is there any place to go?”
“Parents interfere again,” Ronda said. “They have informed me that they are taking us to Rigo’s Greek Steakhouse for dinner. We set it for six o’clock, which is two hours before the prom begins. We’re wearing party dresses and you can wear your sport coat. After dinner, we’ll come back and get dressed for the prom in our formals and your tux. You are going to look so dashing in your white dinner jacket!”
“Will we get to the prom on time?”
“Oh, geez. It goes on for four hours, you know? Doesn’t end until midnight,” Chris said. “Then there’s the after-prom, casual dance, and movie. We don’t even need to think about being there before nine.”
“I’m sure we will be, though,” Ronda said. “It doesn’t take that long for Chris and me to make ourselves beautiful.”
“It doesn’t take any time at all for that!” I said.
“You’re so sweet.”
When I got them home, we spent a little time making out, but we’d agreed that we wouldn’t have a late night right before the all-nighter tomorrow. I headed home and actually got to sleep about ten.
I slept until ten on Saturday!
Actually, Mom woke me up and told me to come to the phone. I groggily pulled on my sweats and went downstairs to find out who was calling me so early in the morning.
“These are great! I’ve shown them to a few people and we’ve got a booking.”
“Huh?” I said, trying to force myself to wake up. “Uncle Nate?”
“Yeah. What are you doing in bed so late on a bright Saturday morning?”
“Um… It’s cloudy and windy,” I said. “Tonight’s prom, so I was getting some extra sleep before I stay up all night.”
“Ah, the joy of teenage life,” he said. “Now let’s talk about your adult business life.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“That last batch of photos you sent has people talking. The upshot is that we have an appointment for you for a full photoset. I avoided these first couple of weekends of May because I knew you’d be busy with prom and Mothers’ Day coming up. So how does the afternoon of May 21 look for you? Can you do a shoot that day?”
“That’s Sunday in two weeks? Sure. 2:00?”
“That’s the time I gave her. Now here are the details. This is for Sarah Fox. She’s Simon Guzik’s twenty-year-old daughter. Don’t try to put the make on her. She is way out of your class.”
“I don’t mess around with models,” I said firmly.
“Good. But here is better news. She signed the regular model release, so if you can get good usable photos of her, you’ll have permission to show them when you’re ready, not five years out. Of course, Sarah Fox isn’t her real name, but she’s been doing a lot of local theatre with that stage name and has decided it’s time to move to California. She needs a full and comprehensive portfolio—clothed and unclothed.”
“She’ll bring her own clothes, I trust,” I said.
“Yes. And I’ve notarized her signature on the release and verified her age.”
“Can I use an assistant? Female. She helps me with props, models’ makeup, and is an extra pair of eyes when I’m setting up a scene.”
“I’ll verify, but it might even make her more relaxed. I’m glad you have someone who will do that.”
“I hope she’s available,” I said.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know that this is a big job. Enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Nate.”
“And there’s a buzz going on here. As we move toward summer, I’m guessing you’ll get a new model about every other week. Some of the people have just been holding back until they saw more. Sarah’s recommendation will go far in loosening the purse strings. And the bra straps.”
Wow! I’d pretty much forgotten that he said I’d get models from Chicago. This was my first gig for my patrons, I guess.
Mom and Dad rode to Huntertown with Ronda’s parents. Kat, Julie, Brian, and Danny went in the Evanses’ big Belvedere wagon. The kids got all dressed up and pretended they were on dates. It was cute. That gave me the Falcon for the night and I’d thoroughly scrubbed it, inside and out. I’d gotten a cleaner for the vinyl in the car from Mr. Barkley that made the car smell almost new. The dash and doors all sparkled. I even ran into Western Auto and picked up a new seat cover that I could put on the front seat so it looked almost new. Sort of.
I picked up Chris and Ronda at five-thirty and we posed in our “party clothes” for parents to take pictures. Dad was using my 35 and insisted on putting color film in it. I carefully avoided saying anything derogatory about color photos. I was becoming a bit of a snob.
Then we headed to dinner in Huntertown. It was really good. Dr. May ordered flaming saganaki as an appetizer and we all had to yell ‘Opaa!’ when the waiter ignited it. And it was delicious. I ate Greek style lamb chops that pretty much fell apart with a fork, they were so tender.
We ate our fill and then I took the girls to Ronda’s house where they were going to get ready. I went home and was dressed and ready to go in about ten minutes. I was thankful I didn’t have to figure out how to tie that silly bowtie. It was pre-tied, and had a strap around the back that clipped together. Mom inspected me and told me I had my cummerbund on upside down. Then I had to wait for forty-five minutes before I got the call that the girls were ready.
We all loaded into the car again and went to the Mays’ house for yet more photos of us in our formal wear. We did a triple photo and three couple’s photos just so we’d have every combination.
Chris and Ronda were just stunning. They both wore strapless gowns. Chris’s was pale blue with a white lace top and what she called an empire waist that cinched tight just below her boobs, then flowed out full from there to the floor. Ronda’s was light green and was tightly tailored lace from the top of her boobs to her waist. The fabric was a light chiffon, and when she spun around, I saw that it was slit up to mid-thigh. It was also just a little shorter than the floor brushing length of Chris’s dress.
“I plan to dance,” she said. “I learned what we couldn’t do at homecoming. Tonight, you can spin me around the floor like a top.”
“That dress will make you the hit of the evening,” I said. “Everyone will want me to spin you like a top, just so they can see your beautiful legs.”
“Play your cards right and you’ll get to see a lot more,” she whispered.
This time, I didn’t hesitate to pin their corsages on over their left breasts, and stuck my hand under the bodice so I could hold the flower in place as I pinned it. They giggled a little, but I didn’t make a big deal about feeling them up. Their parents were snapping photos! They did a joint pinning of my boutonniere and I really loved the twin rosebuds. I’d given the girls each red rose corsages as well.
They each had their little overnight bags with their ‘after-prom’ clothes. I’d hung my sport coat and slacks in the back of the car with my Dopp kit. The prom ended at midnight, but the school stayed open for the late-night partiers until breakfast was served at six in the morning. It was assumed that most kids would take a break to change clothes to something far less formal, but we had to be back in the building by one. There would be somewhat wilder music. They were showing a ten-year-old movie called An American in Paris, which I personally thought was a great movie with lots of wonderful dancing. I know some people were disappointed that they didn’t get an Elvis movie.
We finally got to the prom and presented our triple ticket at a few minutes before nine. Servers in blue and green dresses with sea shell necklaces led us to our table where we were joined by Tony and Patricia. Three other seats had been taken, but the occupants were apparently out dancing.
“It’s so nice to be able to come to prom and have my friends Judy and Janice back with me. They’ve really become wilder than me all of a sudden,” Patricia said.
“And having my best friend here to share this auspicious occasion is fantastic,” Tony said. “I know we don’t spend hours and hours together, Nate, but I consider you the top person on my list of people I like after Patricia.”
“Gosh, thanks, Tony.”
“How did you like Patricia’s latest picture story?” Ronda asked.
“I think I’m still turned on and it’s been a week since she showed me and told me her little story. She is just so damn sexy!”
“And all yours, hon,” Patricia said. “I’ll bet you two have some stories of your own.”
“Oh, yes,” Chris said. “But we just act them out instead of photographing them.”
“Ooh. Hot.”
“Hi!” Judy said as she flopped down in the seat next to Patricia. “Glad you guys finally made it. Did you stop to fool around before you got here?”
“Um… No. We went out to dinner with the parents and siblings. Then I had to wait while Chris and Ronda made each other even more beautiful than usual,” I said.
“Well, getting ready didn’t take that long,” Ronda said. “But when we were naked and about to put our fancy clothes on, I couldn’t keep my hands off Christine and that delayed us a bit.”
Judy’s mouth fell open while Patricia just giggled and Tony looked at me wide-eyed.
“Do you two fool around with each other and with Nate?” Judy whispered.
“Of course,” Ronda whispered back. “Don’t you fool around with Janice?”
“No! I mean we both get naked and all, but we only fool around with Pete. I wouldn’t have sex with Janice. I don’t even know how you’d do it!”
“That’s okay,” Ronda said. “I never thought I’d ever do it with a guy. And Christine never thought about doing it with a girl. Nate’s pretty open-minded, but I’m pretty sure he’s never considered getting together with another guy. To each his own. It makes no difference as to what kind of person you are. We all make our own decisions.”
That was when Pete and Janice got to the table from the dance floor.
“I’ve got one question for you, Nate,” Pete said as soon as he saw me. “How do you manage to keep up with two girls on the dance floor? I might not survive till midnight.”
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out,” I laughed as Ronda and Chris pulled me up from the table. We went out to dance and started having a blast. Occasionally, one of us would sit down while the other two danced together, and we didn’t discriminate as to who. A couple of times, Chris got snagged to dance with David or Kent, depending on which was not dancing with Anna. I got pulled over to dance with Judy or Janice or Priss or Debbie. One thing about triples was that you had to be pretty flexible about who you danced with. Lori even grabbed Ronda as ‘a fellow cheerleader’ to help her handle the twins. I hoped for Lori’s sake that they danced better horizontally than they did vertically.
The senior cheerleaders were all seated at the table next to ours. Lori had Jeremy and Lyle with her. Pam was with Joe Smiley. Avery was a triple with Melanie McMillan and Ron Davis. And at ten o’clock, Ron walked Avery in the procession where she was named Prom Queen. I was surprised when Joe was named Prom King and Pam walked with him to the coronation. I liked the quirky guy and we’d had a great photo session for his senior retake.
The committee pulled out all the stops and had a ‘professional’ photographer. When we lined up to get our prom portrait taken, I discovered they’d hired Mr. Grossman.
“Well, this is a situation I never imagined I’d be in,” he said. “I need to make sure this one is especially good since I know the subject will be critical of the quality.”
“As long as you get a memorable portrait of the three of us, I won’t be all that critical,” I said. We stood in the ‘grotto’ setting for our portrait and Chris came up with an idea that really brought the picture together. She held one of my hands and slid down so she was at an angle before Ronda and me. Ronda leapt up and I caught her so she was balanced on my hip with my arm around her. She kicked her leg out the slit. We looked almost like an acrobat troupe—only in formal wear.
The committee had also hired a live dance band and they were playing a lot of big band music instead of rock and roll. While Chris danced with one of the single guys at the prom, Ronda and I took to the floor and really put on a show. She wanted people to see her legs when she twirled, and I made sure of it. We pulled out all our swing moves and when we were done, we were the only ones on the dance floor and everyone applauded. I think they were just applauding her legs.
After the coronation, sometime around eleven, the undersea servers brought around cake and ice cream. We had our choice of coffee or punch. I chose coffee. I’d need it if I was going to last the whole night!
I noticed a few people starting to leave soon after the cake was served. It was sort of as if the serving of the cake marked the earliest acceptable time for lovers to slip out of the building. I saw Lori and her twins wave goodbye to everyone and take off. I was pretty sure she had arranged for a place to take them for their private after-prom party. Melanie and Ron left, too, leaving Avery with Pam and Joe. Avery had told me Melanie had booked a room at the Hills Motel. My beautiful girls went out to dance together to a nice slow song and I approached the cheerleaders.
“Might a lowly junior request a dance with the lovely prom queen?” I asked. Avery smiled at me.
“As long as you’ll leave her fully clothed,” Avery laughed.
She joined me and we danced. She wasn’t a bad dancer either and I complimented her.
“I’m not in the same dance league as you and Ronda. That was pretty spectacular. But knowing how to do a formal dance prevents guys from trying to pull me in to polish their belt buckles while dancing.” I was careful to avoid that. “So, who do you think is a better dancer: Fred Astaire or Ginger Rogers?”
“Too easy a question,” I said. “It’s obviously Ginger Rogers. She did everything Astaire did, backwards and in high heels.”
“No fair. You’ve heard it before.” We had a little laugh over the old joke.
“Congratulations on your coronation,” I said.
“Thank you. I have an idea. Why don’t we do a set of photos and I’ll carry my flowers and wear my tiara. And nothing else. I’ll show them what a prom queen I really am.”
“Well, not tonight. I promised I’d leave you in your clothes tonight,” I laughed.
“I don’t know why I should be so comfortable getting naked with you. I believe you are the only boy in this school who has seen that, unless somebody’s been spying in the shower room. I don’t even mind talking to you about it.”
“I feel truly honored by that. I hope that I will always have your trust, Avery.”
“That’s really what it is, isn’t it? Trust. I didn’t trust you when I posed for my senior retake and I exposed myself to kind of dare you. But you were respectful. You gave me exactly the photo I wanted. You never made a pass or even a rude comment. When I saw what you’d done in the pictures of Lori and Pam, I was just sure you’d be showing a private collection to everyone around school. I knew you’d photographed Patricia and possibly others. But if you have, there has never been a word about it even whispered around school. I gave you permission to photograph me and display my photos because I knew it would always be done in good taste. I trust you.”
“That is about the highest praise I can imagine ever getting. I have shown your photo to a couple of influential people who really know photography. They said the streetlight photo was one of the best they’d ever seen. They said that my pictures of Lori were a great example of an engaged model, a good photographer, and excellent darkroom skills. I mean, I thought that was as good as it gets. And then they pointed to yours and said, ‘But this is art.’ And that’s the sum of what I want to do with my photography.”
“I know that you can’t promise a picture like that every time we work together. The pictures with the mushrooms were great and fun, but they weren’t anything like what came together that night. The surprise of the truck lights catching me and you getting the picture when the light was perfect. Me trying to escape and falling. You rushing to my rescue and picking me up to protect me from the trucker’s eyes and carrying me to my car. Even the little kiss and caress to thank you. It was all a part of what came together that night. So, if it takes you a thousand tries to get the next picture of me like that, you’ll find me willing to pose a thousand times. You’ll just have to come to Berkeley to do it.”
“What do you plan to study?”
“Psychology. I plan to become a clinical therapist.”
“Wow! That sounds incredibly exciting and also difficult. I don’t think I could ever master that kind of subject. I’m just not smart enough to be able to tell other people what they need to be mentally healthy. I’m a little in awe.”
“Yet, you do that, too. You just use a different technique entirely. The first picture with Lori—you know she still says she’d fuck you for that picture if you let her—is another one of a kind. And the picture of her on the truck. Wow! She connected with those pictures. It showed her something important about herself. The picture with the falling bodies is every bit as good—maybe even better. But she knew she was acting. It didn’t really reveal anything about her. She will become a great model because of the first picture you took of her. It revealed what she was.”
“You’re really profound. I’m going to be thinking about that for a long time.”
“When you do your Attic Allure photos, don’t just think about what will make a good photo. Think about how you can reveal who that person is. That is what will make your photos truly great,” Avery said, laying her head on my chest. I hadn’t even realized that we’d been moving closer as we danced. Nor how long we’d been out there.
“Excuse us, but have you finished with our boyfriend?” Ronda asked. Avery looked at her and smiled, but didn’t move away.
“Um… I was thinking I might want to borrow him for a while,” Avery said.
“I think you’ve had him long enough for tonight,” Chris admonished. “But you are definitely on our list of acceptable dates if you decide to stop modeling. We’d all like to see more pictures of you, though, so no messing around while you’re still a model.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Avery said. “You really don’t need to worry, though. We were just working out the details of my next photo. Some time in two or three weeks. Maybe after graduation and before I leave for California. Thanks for the dance, Nate. See you around.” Avery kissed me on the cheek and gave a hug to Ronda and to Chris, then returned to her table.
“It’s beginning to thin out in here,” I said as I collected my girlfriends in my arms.
“It’s almost closing time,” Christine laughed. “You were talking to Avery for quite a while. I think a bunch of senior boys are jealous.”
“I’m not sure, but I think she was psychoanalyzing my photography. It’s going to take a while for my small-size brain to catch up with her giant-size brain.”
“Hmm. I think I know where I want your little head focused,” Ronda whispered.
“This is the last dance. We need to go to the car and get our after-prom clothes. And make-out a little. We don’t need to hurry,” Chris giggled.
I was okay with that. We gathered their shawls and headed for the car. We didn’t even bother getting in the front seat, but slid right into the back and started kissing.
I guess we got a little carried away. It was dark where I parked the car and we didn’t think anyone could actually see us as we kissed and petted. Petting went from simple fondling outside their dresses to having them unzipped and pulled down below their boobs. My tie was long gone with the cummerbund and I hoped I’d be able to find the studs to my shirt before I had to take it all back to the rental place. I ended up a mattress for the two girls as we kissed and sucked on each other.
I’d managed to get my hand through the slit in Ronda’s dress and found she wasn’t wearing panties beneath her garter and hose. Chris’s full skirt was around her waist and I found her pussy bare to the air as well. The girls kissed and fondled as I managed to bring both of them to a climax.
They collapsed in my arms in the back seat and we all dozed off a bit.
“Oh, look!” Chris said when she woke up. She had my wrist in front of her face, looking at my watch. “It’s after one! We can’t get into the school for the after-prom.”
“Dear me,” Ronda said sleepily. “We’ll just have to sleep in Nate’s arms for the rest of the night.”
“Out here?” Chris asked. “Maybe we should go someplace warmer.”
“Do you two want to go to the studio?” I asked. “We can find a way to cuddle up there.”
“Yes, we could,” Ronda said. “But we don’t have to. We know what the studio means and that we’ve been pushing the limits there. Maybe even breaking them up and tearing them down. But we don’t need to go there for the night.”
“What do you have in mind, love?” I asked.
“Take us to my house.”
“You’re ready to go home?”
“Yeah. After we left for the prom, my parents took off for a night in Dubuque. My brother happens to be staying with Chris’s family for the night and is probably trying to figure out if he can sneak into Julie’s room. That means my whole house is just sitting there empty. Including my bedroom.”
“We made sure it was all cleaned up nice before we called you to come and get us,” Chris said. “The bed is even turned down. Do you have your box of condoms with you?”
“Um… Yes. I put them in my sport coat jacket, just for emergencies.”
“Drive us to my house, Nate,” Ronda said. “I’m about to have an emergency.”
I could feel the impending crisis on my fingers in her pussy. I pulled myself together enough to get out of the car and into the driver’s seat while Chris and Ronda stayed hunched down in the back seat.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
