Over Exposure
13
Back to School
“Shirley” by Daniel Korzeniewski, ID22226269 licensed from Shutterstock.com
MY MONDAY CLASS schedule was similar to what I’d had first semester. I started at eight Monday morning with a class called Chicago Performs. I liked the overview of this class because we’d be on our own most of the time with assignments to attend various performances in the city. Then we’d meet afterward to discuss both the performance and what it meant to the arts scene in Chicago.
At ten o’clock, I’d be in my second semester of the makeup course. This one was going to be really valuable to me since it dealt more with commercial and daily makeup rather than theatre makeup and body painting.
I’d get an hour and a half for study and lunch, then have a Directed Visions class at one o’clock. Talk about a dream class! This was finally getting right to the sweet spot of my whole photography experience. We would be creating objects, narratives, and settings for the sole purpose of being photographed. Some would be in the studio and some would be on location. I’d used a lot of found objects, but this class would focus on actually building a setting for a photograph.
Finally, I’d be in the second semester of the Urban Images class. I only had one class on Tuesday and Thursday. It was called Constructed Images and was both similar to and complementary to my Directed Visions class. I gathered that we’d do a lot of constructing images in the darkroom, not just on the setting. Everything about this semester excited me.
And, of course, I’d be working doing IDs, but it would be fewer hours than the first semester. Mostly, I’d be working from ten until one on Tuesday and Thursday. When we were settled in, my study group would be meeting Tuesday afternoon from about one-thirty for two or three hours. I had the same time on Thursday reserved for studio appointments, along with Friday and Saturday. Maybe I was being optimistic about that, but Cassie said she’d been booking appointments steadily as far out as the first of March. Great!
Ronda, Patricia, and I settled into our usual routines without much problem. Having the two girls with me during the week just made me miss Anna, but she’d be back from Rockford on Thursday evening. Patricia was working on her regular job and would continue to do so until we left for Canada after Memorial Day. The new Monday holiday law meant Memorial Day would be on Monday May 31st this year and not on the 30th as it had always been. I wondered if Billy would adapt or if he’d be marching on Sunday the thirtieth.
Devon was in my makeup class and Leanne was the teaching assistant. Leslie and I had both advanced photography classes together and Carrie was in my Urban Images class. All of us had agreed to take the Chicago Performances class together which was the just the second time all five of us had a class at the same time. Going to the performances would be terrific.
Our first study session was all about what we’d done on our intersession. Of course, I had my pictures of the time in Australia. As it turned out, Leslie had been in Paris where her intersession had included actual runway shooting. What really surprised us, though, was the shot Leslie had of a stewardess on her trans-Atlantic flight. I recognized the stewardess. It was Valerie Marsh, Beth’s sister. She’d met her at the airport and got to talking. When she mentioned that she was on a photography intersession, Valerie asked if she knew me. That led to some interesting revelations and Valerie had gotten Leslie upgraded to first class. Her flight was every bit as luxurious as mine since Pan Am was flying 747s to Europe. It was pretty cool.
“Valerie said you’d love to see this next shot,” Leslie said. She pulled out a picture of Valerie in the cockpit of the aircraft—stark naked. “She said she was planning a photoshoot with you in one of the airplanes this spring and invited me to join you.”
“Well, that’s pretty cool. I still don’t know how she’s planning to get us—as well as her entire wedding party—on a 747 while it’s grounded. We should have a good time,” I said. I had a moment of some emotion I didn’t even recognize. It felt like Leslie was horning in on one of my clients. On the other hand, I sincerely doubted that Valerie would want sex with Leslie and she’d as much as promised we’d have sex on her plane. Oh well.
Devon had been cast in Little Women, all roles performed by trans women. It didn’t provide credit, but he’d been scouted by an agent who specialized in placing cross-dressers and trans actors. Carrie attended a government seminar in Washington, DC that included watching the first day of the January session of Congress and meeting our representative. Leanne had been quiet through all this.
“Hey, Leanne. Did you have an intersession class or experience?” I asked.
“It was an experience,” she sighed with a smile.
“Do tell,” Leslie said.
“Well, I showed this sketch to Nate a few months ago,” she said.
It was a cool design, but I’d questioned the amount of work it would be to make the black blend into the white. It looked like the entire body would be painted. Leanne said she had the perfect model.
“I invited my model to join me for a weekend of practicing the paint.”
“You had a model naked in your hands for a weekend,” I laughed. “What could be better?”
“Ten days!” Leanne said. “We had so much fun, we just booked an entire week in the cabin after the weekend I originally booked. No one wanted a cabin on the north shore of the lake in the middle of winter. We were pretty much snowed in and spent many long leisurely afternoons painting each other in front of the fireplace and drinking hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps.”
“Sounds heavenly,” I said. “So, when are we going to photograph this phenomenon?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve already booked time with her in the studio. It will be so fun, and it will present new challenges for you as a photographer. It’s going to be… just fun!”
We actually got some studying done and chose the first performance we’d book next weekend.
Lance Weatherman quickly became my favorite instructor at Columbia. He was in his mid-forties and was a professional art photographer. In his introduction he informed us all that we’d already had three years more education than he had. But he’d been working as a photographer since high school and was chosen to instruct our Directed Visions class. He normally lived in San Francisco, but was in Chicago for ‘the worst weather he’d ever experienced.’
“Staging scenes that tell a story isn’t new. Keep in mind that every new art and communication technology from the first scrawled pictures on a cave wall to the printing press to the camera, has been used first for pornography. I believe the first person who discovered how to capture an image on a wet plate turned to his or her boyfriend or girlfriend and said, ‘Honey, come here and take off your clothes so I can test this thing.’ Some of the earliest poetry discovered in hieroglyphics is erotic poetry.
And when her lips are pressed to mine
I am made drunk and need not wine.
When we kiss, and her warm lips half open,
I fly cloud-high without beer!
“That’s poetry from more than three thousand years ago in Deir el-Medina, Egypt. Hard evidence that French kissing is better than getting drunk. I’m sure some Greek, building his house, drilled a hole in the wall to the women’s room and noticed that he didn’t need to look through the hole to see the naked women. The image was projected into his dark room on the opposite wall. Upside down, but still naked women.
“Moving to intentional displays of scenes goes back as far as DaVinci. It wasn’t long after he discussed using a camera obscura as a way to capture proper perspective that rooms were built to entertain people with scenes created in another room. The issue of the upside down image was solved with a glass lens, and suddenly rich men could watch a couple having sex in the next room, projected on the wall of their darkened chamber.
“Creating these tableaux also became a form of live entertainment without the interfering lens or wall between the audience and the performer. When I was in England, waiting for deployment in 1945, I attended a burlesque show at The Windmill. Windmill girls were the most popular of all the theatres because they not only danced and sang, they also created tableaux of tasteful nudes during which they didn’t move, but sometimes a poem was read or a song was sung that told the story of what was being represented.
“In the same way, tableau photography may be based on a familiar narrative, like something from a painting or a movie or a book, or it might be historical, comical, biblical, or any other story—even one you create if you have a bent in that direction. It shows a parallel image that enlightens history, religion, entertainment, or politics in your photograph.”
“So, you’re saying that these scenes are illustrative?” Leslie asked. “Like we illustrate a book?”
Lance sighed. It was obvious that he was trying to get to something else.
“Your photograph should not merely illustrate the story; it must tell the story. Or better yet, it must show the story. Surely, by now all of you have seen paintings or pictures of paintings of Judith and Holofernes. Holofernes was a general about to invade and destroy Judith’s home town. She goes into his tent and beheads the general, thus saving the town. But what’s the real story here? Is it merely an illustration of a sword passing through the neck of the general? Or is it that Judith had to go to him as a prostitute, sate him, get him so drunk that he passes out, and takes his sword to decapitate him? Showing a naked woman with the head of a man stretched out on the bed, tears flowing from her eyes in shame, not of having killed the man, but of what she had to do to get to him, actually tells the story in a way that a contemporary viewer can relate to,” Lance said.
Wow! Talk about a visceral illustration. Over the course of this class, we’d be looking at a variety of examples and then we’d begin actually setting up scenes, almost like a theatre director, to photograph a story in a single shot. Amazing!
Thursday afternoon, I had my first client of the new year. In Chicago, that is. I didn’t think I could really call the models I shot in Melbourne clients. I felt like I’d been working full time all month. But this was a girl who’d been through the ID photo mill and had picked up a brochure, then set an appointment.
“Welcome to Attic Allure, Shirley,” I said. “I’m Nate Hart. This is my assistant Rita.”
“Happy to meet you, Nate. I’m very excited.”
“Why don’t we sit and talk about what kind of photo you’d like.”
We went over to the sofa and she looked over the gallery and out at our props collection, then sat down.
“I got your brochure when you took my ID photo at school. Boy, I wish we had these back when I started here. It makes things so easy. Like cashing a check. Would you like to see my ID?” she giggled.
“When did you start?” I asked.
“Three and a half years ago. I’m a senior. I took your brochure home over the holidays and asked for a sitting and prints for Christmas. My parents agreed.”
Shirley was a very busty blonde with straight hair about shoulder length. She wore what I considered standard school clothes for January—straight leg wool slacks, a blue button-up shirt, and a butt-length jacket. She wore close-toed high heels that added about three inches to her height. Most striking were her green eyes that seemed very serious.
“So, you’d like a portrait and something a little more glamorous?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, which really pulled attention to her bust. I tried not to let my eyes drop to it.
“In general, yes. I dressed for the portrait that I’d like to use to send out at graduation. But… um… I… uh… would like a really nice tasteful nude. I talked to some girls who have had their photos taken and they assured me that you were the one to go to.”
“I appreciate their recommendation.”
“And I’d like it in color. When I first started here as a voice major, I needed work. You have your own studio, so you might not be aware that one of the work study areas available is modeling for art and photography classes. The first time I went into a figure drawing class and the instructor showed me a privacy screen where I could undress was a shock to me. I hadn’t realized that I’d be modeling nude. Now it hardly fazes me to pull off my robe in a class and get in whatever ridiculous position they want me in today. But out of all those paintings and sculptures and photographs, I don’t have anything that shows how I earned my way through college.”
“Well, that sucks. Let’s get you exactly what you want here. Rita, we’ll need the light blue background and stool for a formal portrait,” I called to my assistant. I’d been working with Rita a couple of months now and she was fun in the studio. I was glad she was ready to come back to work in the new year.
I led Shirley to the center of the portrait area and decided we needed both the usual headshot and a full-length portrait. Rita moved in to suggest an adjustment to her outfit, adding a very loose and old-fashioned tie and a beret to the outfit. When Shirley looked in the mirror, she got very excited.
I took most of the photos on the Nikon. It took a respectable portrait. I seldom loaded Kodachrome in the Hasselblad. It cost more to mount the transparencies and I didn’t think I was getting an appreciably better image. When we got to our best Attic Allure poses, I’d use the Linhof.
When the portrait was finished, I told Rita I’d need some artful drapery to use for the Attic Allure set. I left it to her to find something and took Shirley behind the privacy screen.
“Shirley, you’ve done modeling for the college and I know when we’ve had models in the photo studio there are some pretty strict rules in effect regarding maintaining distance and never touching a model. In my studio, I’m a usually a little more intimate with my models and often dress them and pose them physically. Are you okay with that?”
“Oh, yeah. I did investigate you pretty well before I made my appointment. Your assistant downstairs—Cassie—gave me a tour of the studio and I saw a couple of your other assistants running around naked up here. I almost wanted to join them. If we didn’t have that rule at the college, we’d get pawed by every artist and photographer in the school. This is different. There’s only you—and that scrumptious assistant—and I’m in your hands,” she said.
“Then let’s get you out of some of these clothes,” I said. “I think I know what you want, but at any time, feel free to give me ideas.”
I took her jacket to hang up and when I turned, she was unbuttoning her shirt.
“I’d like to keep the tie and bra on for the time being,” I said, taking the blouse to hang up. “We’ll drop the slacks. Mmm. Pantyhose look pretty gross in photos. I shouldn’t say that. I did a whole photoshoot of pantyhose ads last spring. Those are nice panties, though. Can you wear the high heels without the hose?”
“No problem.”
I could tell the bra was not one that she wore on a regular basis. It was by no means up to the job of supporting her boobs. But it looked nice and was pretty sheer on the upper side that just barely exposed her areolae.
“Let’s see what Rita has for some drapery.”
We went back out to the stage area and Rita had hung some actual drapes. There were several panels of a beige brocade that must have been for huge windows. I was pleased with it. The drapery liner that usually makes curtains more opaque had been removed from these. It didn’t make the brocade transparent by a long shot, but it did allow it to drape more fluidly. I grabbed an easy chair and Rita rushed over to help me move it into place.
We started with a few shots of Shirley in and around the easy chair. It made a nice prop for the shot. I decided it was time for a reveal and approached Shirley.
“This really isn’t doing very much,” I said, stroking the side of her bra. “Let’s get rid of it and take pictures with just the tie.”
“That’s kinky,” she laughed as she shrugged out of the bra. I looked to see if there were creases and massaged the marks left by the bra. “I have a rule,” she said. “If you’re going to play with my boobs, you have to kiss me. It’s like a law or something.”
“I can appreciate that kind of rule,” I said. “I’d hate to break the law.”
I pressed my lips against hers and they parted immediately to let our tongues play as I rubbed her breasts and brushed her nipples to hardness.
“You can’t imagine how nice it is to have my breasts treated gently,” she said. “Seems like guys just want to grab and squeeze—sometimes really hard.”
“Anytime they feel hurt or abused, you just give the word and I’ll kiss them to make them all better,” I laughed.
We soon got rid of the hat and tie. I had a feeling we were getting close to the picture she really wanted. I had her pick up the end of one of the drapes and pull it across her body I sighted through the 4x5 and then did some more positioning. I asked Rita to re-direct the light to cast some shadow across the lower part of Shirley’s body.
“You can take my panties, too, but playing between my legs requires some serious kissing.”
I stripped the panties off, even though I thought they would have been hidden in the photograph. I didn’t spend a lot of time petting her pussy, but when I’ve been given an invitation like that, it’s almost an obligation to pay attention. The kiss during that playtime was reward enough. I got the next picture on the 4x5 and it was close to what I wanted. I flipped the carrier and reset my lens speed to make it faster. We upped the light temperature, which cast a deeper shadow where I wanted it as well.
“We’re almost there,” I said as I repositioned her hand so she had her nipples covered for that ‘tasteful nude’ look. “I’d like you to look over there. Then when I say now, whip your head around to look at me. Let’s practice it.” She took the position. “Now,” I said.
She whipped her head toward me and I saw exactly what I wanted. I had her step out with her right foot and moved her left hand back a bit. I checked the fabric all the way around her to make sure the patterned side of the brocade was out and not the back. Rita was looking almost as closely as I was and adjusted the strong light slightly. I put her in position again and stepped behind the camera to check the focus and composition in the ground glass once more.
“Now,” I said.
Yes! It was perfect!
I swept Shirley up in my arms and carried her behind the privacy screen. Rita had already collected her underwear and put it there for her to dress. I sat on the fainting couch with Shirley in my lap and kissed her again.
“I got so excited on that last shot that I accidentally pinched my nipple,” she panted.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
I got the message and leaned down to take the offended nipple between my lips and kiss it with my tongue. Her nipples really responded to stimuli like that and it was soon hard and in my mouth for sucking. My hand on the inside of her thigh crept upward and her legs parted. As I touched her pussy, I raised my lips to kiss her again.
“Um… It was the other nipple,” she complained as we broke our kiss and I stroked through her wetness.
“Oh. I got confused,” I said.
She leaned back in my arms to give me better access to her other breast and spread her legs farther apart. I feasted on that huge breast and tickled her clit as her breathing sped up. This time, when I lifted my lips to kiss her, she held my head to her face and kissed through the whine of her orgasm as her pussy clamped down on my fingers.
“Oh, God. You should really put together a brochure that just advertises your services to women,” she said. “I’d pay double for that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Shirley. I don’t think I want to do that as a profession, though. It’s just something that sometimes comes naturally after we connect on a shoot.”
I helped her into her panties and then hoisted those big breasts into her bra. In a few minutes, she was dressed and ready to go.
“It will take a few days to get the slides back from the processor. Then we can meet next week to choose the ones you want prints of.”
“Thank you, Nate. I’ll see you next week.” She pulled her coat on and went downstairs. I adjusted my hard cock in my slacks. I don’t know why girls seemed happy to have me give them an orgasm, but never seemed to think about returning the favor.
“Hey, Boss,” Rita said when Shirley was gone. “Can you show me the processing routine when you do these photos?”
“Oh, I’d love to, Rita. But I shot all color work today. It has to go over to Pro Color for processing before I can print anything.”
“Darn,” she said, leaning in on me. I automatically put an arm around her. “I was really hoping you’d show me the darkroom today.”
She emphasized what she was saying by stroking up and down my obviously stretched slacks. Well, if she really wanted me to show her the darkroom, what could I do?
“You know, I got an order for a copy of the picture of you that is on display at Zefford Gallery. I do need to print a new copy. I could do that this afternoon.”
“Oh, good.”
We headed for the darkroom and I sorted through the transparencies for the one I wanted to print. I really wanted a super-size print of her picture for my gallery. I’d send the medium size that was currently on display over to Zefford. I tested the size for a 16x20 print and set up the chemicals, explaining what I was doing as I went. I’m not sure Rita was listening as she kept reaching around me to stroke my cock and when I turned toward her, I found she was already naked.
“Rita, are you actually interested in seeing the process?” I laughed.
“Yeah, but there must be time during the process to put this to work satisfying an itch I have. That whole session was so sexy that I got all turned on. Feel it? I was so glad you still had this when she left.”
She pulled my hand between her legs and I did feel the swamp that was there. While my hand was there, we kissed and I thoroughly felt up inside her as well as all around her clit. This was already the furthest I’d gone with Rita, though I’d seen her running around naked in the props closet a couple of times. She was a stunning girl.
“It takes two minutes to expose the paper, then it goes into the first tray for seven minutes. There are ten steps in the process that will take a total of about forty minutes. Four of those steps include me rinsing the sheet under running water in the sink,” I explained between kisses. She had my slacks unzipped and was fishing inside.
“Why don’t you get step one underway and see if I can get you undressed before step two?” she suggested.
“Okay. You’ll have to work in the dark for this,” I said. “Cibachrome is sensitive to red light as well as any other color.”
I had everything positioned where I needed it and turned off the light. Rita was considerate enough to let me get the paper on the easel and turn on the enlarger before she started attacking my clothes. I kept my hands busy on her as she stripped me. By the time my timer rang, I was as naked as she was.
I turned away and turned off the light, then moved the print to the developer tray. At school, we had drum tanks that we could put a print in and then do the rest of the process in the light. With open trays, I had to work in the dark through the whole process. When I turned back to Rita, she pushed me down in the chair and went to work on my cock with her mouth.
“Feel free to come in my mouth any time you want. When we get to the main attraction, I want you to last through at least a couple of steps.”
I relaxed and just enjoyed Rita’s attention to my cock. Frankly, she was so sexy that I had no idea if she was good at blowjobs. Just having her naked in the room with me was enough to fill her with come before my first timer went off. I pulled the print from the developer and put it in the stop bath, but didn’t turn back to Rita yet. It was only in the stop for three minutes before I pulled it to take to the sink and rinse. That was another three minutes. Those steps were similar to what it took for black and white photos. Next, I moved the print to the dye bleach. This was another seven-minute process that removed any excess dyes from the emulsion layer.
I returned to Rita and found her sitting in the chair with her legs spread. I knelt between her legs and began feasting on that wet pussy. One day, I’d like to have this view under light. I knew from seeing her and photographing her that her mahogany brown pubic hair that I was parting with my fingers was a close match for the hair on her head. I focused on her clit with my tongue and kept two fingers active inside her. We were rewarded with her first orgasm before the timer went off and I had to rinse the print under running water again.
Next, the print went into the silver bleach. During the developing process, the unexposed silver halide particles were turned to metal silver particles. The eight-minute silver bleach removed the silver particles. When I returned to Rita, she was bent over the chair with her wet pussy convenient to my tongue and touch. I found a condom and put it on, thankful that I knew this process as well in the dark as in the daylight. I slotted my cock into her pussy and pushed, sinking slowly into her as I reached forward to caress her breasts.
Eight minutes wasn’t nearly enough time and the next few steps required my attention. The print got a quick rinse of just a couple minutes under running water, then went into a second stop bath. This one stopped the bleaching process. It was only four minutes and it was time to do a thorough job of rinsing under running water for ten minutes.
“Can I hold the print under the water while you continue what you were doing?” she asked. That sounded okay to me and soon she was holding the print and rotating it back and forth as I plowed into her ready furrow again. We did a lot of laughing during this stage as I kept reaching around her to make sure the print was being properly washed. I stayed hard and she stayed wet. There were moments that approached a climax for both of us, but after ten minutes of rinsing, I withdrew and moved the print to a quick bath in the stabilizer. When it came out of that after just a minute or so, I put it on a drying plate and gently squeegeed the excess liquid off of it.
I opened the door of the darkroom and pulled Rita to the fainting couch. As soon as she was sprawled on it, I dove into her again and we got down to some very serious fucking. After forty-five minutes of getting ready for this, neither of us was going to last long and I was looking into her eyes as she seized up in orgasm and I started filling the condom. We lay there still connected until I began to soften and slip out of her unbelievable pussy.
“Oh, is that all?” she sighed.
That sounded like a challenge. I pushed her legs back and went to work on her pussy with my tongue again. She grabbed hold of her legs and held them to her breasts as I pushed the fingers of one hand up her pussy and the thumb of my other hand against her asshole. She ramped up fast for this one and exploded loudly. This time, she went limp and pushed my face away from her pussy. Yes, it looked just as good in the light as it had felt in the dark.
I glanced at my watch and realized I wouldn’t get today’s film to Pro Color until tomorrow. Oh well.
The rest of my weekend looked easy by comparison to Thursday afternoon. On Saturday evening, my study group went to the Chicago Symphony to hear Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. I took Anna as my date. Most of our class was in attendance and many had dates. It was nice that we could get student tickets for next to nothing.
It started with a trumpet and big crashing orchestra, then became a little pensive. It was beautifully performed. I started thinking about whether I could direct a scene to photograph that captured that symphony.
It seemed like it was easy to take Ronda and Patricia out now and then because they were right there in Chicago all the time. Anna got to spend Thursday through Sunday nights with us and was in Rockford the rest of the time. While she always wanted cuddles when she got in on Thursday, we were all beginning to wear thin by that time of the week and no one wanted to do anything. On Friday and Saturday, while she was in town, I was working at the studio. It was great that I had enough work to keep me busy, but it really cut into family time. I guess we all recognized the limitations and tried to accommodate each other, but there were times I just wanted to sit listening to something like this incredible symphony with Anna cuddled under my arm as we both made an effort to stay awake through the whole thing.
As I was composing my scene in my head, I thought of how well I’d worked with Sue Renton, the violinist, a year ago. I wondered how she was doing and thought perhaps I could do a whole series of her. Or perhaps a series of musicians. I could see by watching the orchestra that every one of these musicians was carrying on a love affair with his or her instrument. And the conductor had a whole harem in front of him.
We soon figured out that we weren’t supposed to applaud when the orchestra stopped playing. I guess you don’t applaud each movement—only at the end of the symphony.
“What did you think?” Leanne asked as we were leaving the symphony.
“I was swept away,” Anna responded. “Every time the maestro moved his hand, I wanted to follow it and move my body.”
“That’s a great concept,” I said. “It was like they were all marionettes and he was some master puppeteer. It was like he had invisible strings that he pulled that made all the players move perfectly together.”
“That’s an interesting concept,” Leslie said. “You should work with that for your directed scene.”
“Oh! The whole time I was watching and listening, I was thinking about how I could develop the experience into a directed vision. I hadn’t connected the strings concept. I could have him standing over my model with strings tied to her fingers or something,” I said.
“Why shouldn’t she be the conductor?” Carrie asked. “Everyone knows that when a woman takes off her clothes, a man is helpless to follow.”
“That does put a woman in a position of musical power and prowess,” Leva Harmon said. She’d accompanied her protégé to the symphony and I could tell Carrie was pretty proud of the fact. Another attractive girl I hadn’t met was with Dora. I don’t know why, but I immediately jumped to the assumption that she was another drag queen.
“Leanne, do you think we could come up with a scenario in which you’d paint a model playing some kind of an instrument? Maybe make her somehow ethereal?”
“That sounds like fun. What do you think, doll?”
“I think you want any excuse to fingerpaint my body,” the tall black woman with her answered. She was quite striking and she’d been introduced as Leanne’s girlfriend, Shawna Casper. I was told Shawna was the model who had agreed to do Leanne’s next big project with me. That was definitely something to look forward to.
The evening ended as wonderful evenings with my girlfriend should. When we got home, Patricia and Ronda were cuddled on one side of the bed, giving Anna and me plenty of room on the other side to make love.
The last week of January was just a warmup for non-stop chaos in February. In theory, my classes shouldn’t have been that difficult. Really, Urban Images was a lot of watching television, going to movies, and reading the newspaper. I had to catch up on watching the new show, All in the Family. Our first assignment was to watch the show the day after our first class. Night. It was on at 8:30. I guess I’d only missed a couple of episodes, so it wasn’t too difficult to pick up on the characters. It was full of stereotypes, which I suppose is what made it funny instead of tragic. Archie and Mike were good foils for each other. I’d never had a class that was devoted to discussing a television show for two weeks!
My second term makeup class was entirely hands-on instruction as we made each other over repeatedly. I was asked to shave for the duration of the class so I’d make a better makeup partner. After consulting with my girlfriends, I agreed. They agreed, only if I wore the makeup home at night so they could see it and critique it. It was supposed to be glamour makeup, but the first few times, I came home looking like a clown. It was only when Dora got hold of me as my partner that I got a makeup job that actually made me look glamorous! She wanted me to go on stage with her—which I declined.
Our Chicago Performs class was not going to be a bunch of concerts. The focus was on theatre and performance. We were supposed to collaborate on a project and actually create a performance ourselves, in addition to discussing various plays and such. That was going to take more time than all my other classes combined. I thought.
Both the Constructed Image and Directed Visions classes required stretching out beyond what I was doing in the studio. The focus of Directed Visions was to create a tableau that we could photograph. It would tell a story on its own. I liked Lance as an instructor. He reminded me a lot of Josh in Australia.
The Constructed Image was subtly different. The biggest thing was that we had to show our process from beginning to end. This was truly a fine art class. It didn’t depend on the model as much as it depended on our own imagination. We had to conceive a scene—which was not necessarily related to a model at all—and then actually construct the scene to photograph. We had to sketch ideas and concepts, then draw out a plan, and finally, build whatever the construct was that we were planning. If we used a model, he or she was simply to enhance our construct. Totally backward to what I was used to doing!
Thankfully, I had something else to look forward to. Ronda’s twenty-first birthday was coming up on the eleventh. We were putting off our birthday date until Saturday night and I was taking her to an actual adult music venue where we could have a drink and dance the night away. It seemed like forever since we’d had a real dancing date.
When Patricia turned twenty-one, we had an all-day photo party for the two of us in the studio, where she was naked and posing between bouts of lovemaking. Anna had a similar scenario setup. She came to the studio pretending to be a wide-eyed innocent and posed for me so I could send photos of her ‘to that collector in Paris.’ We got a lot of mileage and some great photos out of that little play. For Elizabeth’s twenty-first… I fucked her mother.
Ronda wanted to dance and I knew who to call to find the best venue.
“You know Ronda and I like to dance together, but I don’t know where the best swing club in town would be,” I explained. “I just don’t have the range of experience in the over-twenty-one scene, I guess.”
“There are some things that take years after you turn twenty-one to discover,” Jordan laughed. “Let me make a couple of calls and see what is available that night. She will be twenty-one, right?”
“Yes. It’s kind of a special time.”
“Indeed. I’ll give you a call back as soon as I have something.”
When he called back the next day, Jordan said he had a reservation for us at a nightclub on Michigan Avenue that was private. He gave me the name, but it meant nothing to me. He said he’d meet us in the downstairs lobby and we should simply be ready for Deke to pick us up at eight o’clock.
“You’ll love this place. It’s time for you to be recognized there. Be ready to dance the night away.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I hate to put you out, though, by having to be there. Can’t I just give my name?”
“It’s a little more involved than that. You see, I’m the one who holds the key. You can’t even get in the elevator without showing your key or being with someone who does.”
Crap! A private club! This could be interesting. I booked us a room at the Blackstone for after our night, though I doubted we’d get to it before the early hours of the morning. Jordan directed me to dress up, but not formal. Ronda, of course, took that as a reason to go shopping the week before her birthday and took Patricia and Anna while I played for the afternoon with Toni.
I was watching the news Tuesday night the ninth and saw there was a powerful earthquake in Los Angeles that morning. I immediately went to the phone to call Adrienne. It took an hour of trying before I got through to her.
“Oh, Nate! It was horrible,” she said when I asked if she was okay. “I was lucky. Two hospitals collapsed. Freeway bridges and interchanges. The ground opened up, right through the middle of some people’s homes. I have Fran and her roommate Alice here. Her entire area was evacuated because of the damage to the dam. 80,000 people! It’s chaos!”
“Fifi, I’m so happy you are taking care of our friends. But you are okay? No damage where you are?” I asked.
“I have a few broken things. I need to have the glass replaced in my beautiful photo. It fell off the wall and the glass shattered. The frame seems to be good, though. It was very frightening to see my dresser walking across the floor toward the bed as I was awakened by the shaking. I wasn’t sure where I could run to. It stopped just a foot away from the bed.”
After I’d comforted my pet and talked to Fran for a few minutes, we talked about more mundane things. Yes, I planned to come out to LA the last week of March/first of April when we were on spring break. It was possible that Anna and Patricia might go to Canada that week, leaving Ronda to start her spring quarter while I was in LA. That also led me to mention our plans for the weekend, celebrating Ronda’s birthday.
“We’re going to this private club on Michigan Avenue. You have to have a key in order to get in.” I gave her the name of the club.
“That sounds like so much fun. Perhaps I could jump out of a cake to surprise her!” Adrienne said.
“I wish you were here. There is nothing I would rather give her for her birthday than a threesome with our pet Fifi.”
I left it at that, knowing there was no way Adrienne could just pick up and fly to Chicago for a night with Ronda and me. It would be a wonder if there was room on any flight leaving LA this week.
It was a pleasant thought, though. I needed to arrange time with Fifi and Ronda soon.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
