Over Exposure
17
Performance Art
“Shawna” by patronestaff, ID331265447 licensed from Shutterstock.com
“I KNOW WE ALL want to just tumble into bed and screw our lover’s eyes out,” Anna said. “But we need to go over everything from the past week and the plans for the next three weeks. I still need to go to Rockford tomorrow morning and Ronda has to go plead temporary insanity to her professors for missing the first week of classes.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing. We really accomplished a lot in Stratford. It’s too bad Kathleen and Damien weren’t back yet, but things are definitely moving along up there,” Ronda said.
“The season opens the last week of May,” Patricia said. “The guy I talked to in their marketing department wanted to know if you could be there earlier to take production photos before the grand opening. I explained about things like college and he sighed. He wants you to be available all the next to the last week of May to take photos in the theatre. He’ll have shot lists compiled by the directors and you’ll have an hour before each show opens to move them through.”
“Holy shit! When did I become their production photographer?” I asked.
“Oh, I might have made the suggestion last summer,” Anna said. “And talked to their executive director in January. He was really impressed with the photos you did and said that if we could give him a fair price on photos, we could borrow unused props and set pieces from their storeroom.”
“I take it I’m offering them a fair price,” I laughed.
“Definitely.”
“Okay. The premiere of Over Exposure is set for the nineteenth of May, assuming they manage to finish all the cuts and re-editing they’ve been told to make. They’re supposed to cut it from a boring three hours and fifteen minutes to two exciting hours. We’re expected to be out there for festivities all that week.”
“Oh damn! I can’t do that. I just took the first week of the quarter off. I can’t cut another week just before the term ends,” Ronda said. “Poo!”
“Toni and I will stay home with you,” Patricia said. “There’s no reason for me to go to this. Anna is the business manager. She should accompany Nate.”
“That makes some sense. You’ll need to go with him to Stratford the next week.”
“But we really all need to go to Tenbrook the twenty-first for the premiere in Huntertown,” I said.
“I’ll cut class that day,” Ronda said. “I’ll arrange it in advance.”
“Do we need evening gowns?” Patricia asked.
“Yes. Anna will need one in LA for the red carpet, too.”
“We’re actually going to walk a red carpet?” Anna asked.
“With Adrienne. In fact, you should call and talk to her about getting a gown out there. She can have everything set up for you,” I suggested.
“Oh, that would be fun.”
“I’m sure Patricia and I can find Midwestern gowns,” Ronda laughed. “Treat Anna like a goddess while you’re there.”
“I can get into that.”
“Other than that, are we just on normal class schedules this week?” Anna asked.
“Not really. I have my Chicago Performs final presentation in two weeks. We need to rehearse at least one more time, which will be this Friday. I’ll try to make it early enough that we can still leave in the afternoon for Easter weekend in Tenbrook and Sage,” I said.
“Easter already!” Ronda said. “Oh! Today was Palm Sunday!”
“Some religious church-going family we are,” Patricia sighed. “Sorry, Nate, but I don’t think Toni will ever get a full year of perfect attendance in Sunday School.”
“She can borrow my pin any time she wants to,” I laughed. “I honestly don’t think there’s any other prize.”
“You sure have a lot of big projects this term,” Anna said. “And I do have the pricing for the patrons on their limited edition prints. What other big things do you have due this term?”
“Well, the performance piece is in two weeks on the sixteenth. Um… The model might need some special attention from me after that one. Leanne and I are finger-painting all over her body and she really gets charged up by it. Then I haven’t even begun to plan my Constructed Image project. It’s due the week of the 26th. And I’m scheduled to shoot Renée’s special project for Mr. Guzik on the thirtieth and first. I haven’t given any real consideration to what I should do with her. That reminds me, Anna. The Las Vegas patron wants one set of the limited edition prints, too. And I need to figure out how to print the color image in the size the club wants.”
“We both have finals the week of May tenth and then we leave for LA. This schedule is crazy!” Anna said. “Take me to bed and love me so I can go to school tomorrow and be sane for four days.”
Anna was just the first in line that night.
The next rehearsal went more smoothly. The paint went on in less than forty-five minutes and I spent a few minutes working with Shawna on poses. There was a lot of dancing involved to get her into some of those positions, and I did help her clean up afterward. That involved a lot of touching and a promise that I’d spend more time with her after the performance the next Friday.
I got home and everyone was ready to leave for Tenbrook for Easter weekend.
Tor and Elise were eager to have Toni with them as we made the rounds of the families in Tenbrook. It seemed like a shorter circuit than it used to be. We only had the Bergs, the Mays, and the Marxes. There was no reason to stop at Chris’s family and mine was down in Sage. We’d go there early Sunday morning.
Unfortunately, most of my Saturday was taken up with Anna’s father. He had to go over all the corporate taxes with me. We were profitable, but even with every deduction he could work out, I still had to pay a boatload of taxes. His latest move, though, was to transfer half the ownership of our Stratford property to Attic Allure because the whole lower part of the building was for the business. That reduced the amount that we all owed when I wrote a check to Jordan for the purchase by Nate Hart Enterprises. We got a considerable Canadian tax credit by purchasing business property in Stratford.
When I walked through town back to the hotel, I saw several posters in the windows of businesses, advertising the ‘Midwest Premiere of Over Exposure.’
“Pretty exciting,” Mr. Barkley said when he saw me looking at the poster in his window. “Too bad we don’t have a theater here in Tenbrook. We’ll all be at the theater in Huntertown, though. Even have invitations with tickets included.”
“That’s great, Mr. Barkley. Um… You all know this is a murder mystery and the name of the town in the movie is Otter Creek, right?” I asked.
“You aren’t the murderer, are you?” he laughed.
“I’m not in the movie and the movie isn’t about me. The photographer in the movie isn’t a very nice guy, though. I hope no one thinks that of me,” I said. I was getting a little worried about how people might respond.
“We had a big town meeting—must have been fifty of us—with the producer and the director. It was when they filmed the big truck wreck in town. That was pretty exciting. You could see the flames for miles away. They fixed the pavement, towed everything away, even repainted Harley’s house where the paint got blistered. Anyway, they explained to us that the town was just a physical setting and the movie wasn’t about anyone in the town. He said it was a murder mystery and not everyone in town was painted in a good light. We all understand. It’s still been nice to have new streetlights and paint jobs on all the storefronts, fresh paving of Main Street, and a ‘use fee’ paid to the town. We voted to turn the railway station into a museum and funded a restoration.”
“That’s cool. I just didn’t want people to think there was anything other than the scenery that was being used for the movie,” I said.
I chatted with Mr. Barkley for a while and found out the second floor had been turned into a community theatre with the dressing rooms and offices in my old studio on the third floor. It looked like Tenbrook was thriving.
We were all in a pew at Mom’s church in Sage for Easter service. The place was packed. We squeezed into a pew with Dad and Kat. Then Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace arrived and Anna went to the next pew to sit with them. Toni, of course, was all over Gampa Rich. You could just see Dad’s face light up in the presence of the little girl. Almost three years old. I could hardly believe it.
This church really went all-out for the pageantry. There were at least twenty people in the choir and they processed up the center aisle, led by flowing banners declaring ‘He is Risen.’ Then we stood for the first glorious hymn, ‘Christ the Lord is Risen Today,’ and you could hear the choir rising to a descant on the Alleluia. Even Toni was singing and I realized I had tears in my eyes. I looked over and Toni was patting Dad’s cheek and wiping tears away from it.
Well, that was the most exciting part of the service, though Mom preached a pretty good sermon and the choir had a good anthem that might have been a little too difficult for them, but they pulled it off okay. After church, lots of people came to greet our family and we all stood with Mom at the back of the church so we could say hello. Kat finally got her opportunity to carry Toni around and took her outside to run around a little.
We all headed over to the parsonage for Dad’s famous baked ham dinner. I’d been in LA on Mom’s birthday this year, but she put out a notice that she planned to celebrate her fiftieth birthday on Easter. Sure enough, about the time we were ready to sit down to dinner, Deborah and John showed up with Cameron and Anthony. Cameron was all grown up at five years old. Anthony, at just two, followed Toni around like a puppy.
I stepped into the kitchen to see if I could help get things on the table and saw Dad just sitting in chair at the table.
“Dad? Is everything okay?”
“I just… I get so damned tired I have to sit and rest a while.”
“Have you seen a doctor?” I asked.
“Of course! He says I’m getting older and put me on a diet. Said to stop eating so many donuts.”
“Probably a good idea. What can I do to help get dinner on?”
“Everything’s ready except slicing the ham. The good knife is out. Go ahead and cut it up.”
If there was any sign that my dad was sick, that was it. No one ever touched his ‘good knife’ and no one else ever carved the ham or the turkey. I got him to give me instructions on how to carve around the bone and fill a platter with slices that were near the same thickness.
“Anna!” I called. She poked her head into the kitchen. “Could you give me a hand putting the food on the table? It’s all ready.”
“Sure, sweetie. Oh, Papa Rich! Everything looks so perfect.”
She cheerfully took platters of food to the table and people gathered around. Dad took a seat beside Mom at the end of the table. The church had provided a long table and folding chairs to supplement our dining set. I could almost see Mom on Saturday putting the cloth on the table and reciting her sermon as she polished the good silverware and put it at each place. I knew that with fourteen of us at the table, even the toddlers would have good silver while Mom and Dad used the daily stainless. There were only twelve place settings of silver.
When Mom said, “Nate, would you offer the blessing?” I thought at first she was talking to Uncle Nate, but I glanced up and she was looking straight at me. I took Toni’s hand on one side and Ronda on the other, and we bowed for a prayer.
“Lord, thank you for the blessing of family and those of us who could gather at this table. Please bless those of our families who could not be here with us—our sister Naomi, the parents of Ronda, Anna, Patricia, and John. We thank you especially for the wonderful children gathered with us and lighting up our lives. Lord, bless Mom for her fiftieth birthday and bless Dad who watches over her. Help him be healthy. Thank you for this food and for those gathered at this table to partake of it. In your name we pray, Amen.”
I guess the rest of the meal went like most family gatherings do. We tried to get everyone caught up on what was happening in our lives. John was working in an electronics repair business down closer to St. Louis. Uncle Nate said he planned to visit us in Stratford this summer if things weren’t booked up already. Kat looked at Mom and Mom nodded.
“Nate, can Julie and I come up this summer? I promise we’ll be good and stay out of the way.”
“Of course you can. Coming for your birthday?”
“Um… Right after. I’ll be sixteen then and Julie and I can travel together without an um… someone older.”
“Wow! That’s hard to believe. What have you decided about school next fall?”
“I’ve talked it over with the admissions counselor and we agreed it would be best for me to complete one more year of high school so Julie and I can go to Minneapolis together.”
“Don’t forget about your lonely mom and dad,” Dad said. “It will be hard on us to have you both so far away.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. It’s only 350 miles. We might not make it home every weekend, but we’ll be back at least as often as Nate,” Kat said cheerfully.
“That’s farther than you think,” Deborah said. “It’s only 300 to St. Louis and look at how frequently we don’t get up here.”
“Yeah, but you and Nate have kids. I don’t plan on any for a long time,” Kat replied.
“Well, enjoy it while you can,” Deb responded.
We carefully kept our mouths shut.
After dinner and the cake that Deb brought, we got everything cleaned up and then ‘the men’ went on their usual walk together. The walk was pretty much as far as the front porch where everyone sat down to look at my newest portfolio additions. That was usually driven by Uncle Nate, but he stopped in at the studio regularly, so there wasn’t much in the portfolio he hadn’t seen. Dad and John made a lot of comments. They loved the ‘Maestro’ picture.
Ultimately, though, it got around to Dad’s health.
“Rich, I want you to come to Chicago and see a specialist I know,” Uncle Nate said.
“I can’t afford any specialists, Nate. And I won’t have you footing bills for me,” Dad said.
“Are you ready to just give up and die?”
“Everybody dies of old age. That’s what the doctor here said.”
“Dad! You aren’t old! You’re fifty-five. Uncle Nate’s older than you are. I owe you for about eighteen years of room and board. I’ll cover the cost of Uncle Nate’s specialist. Just, please come to Chicago and give him a chance to make you well,” I said.
Dad put a hand on my shoulder and nodded. John touched me and whispered, “We’ll help.”
We had to get back to Chicago. That was a 150-mile drive and would take us over three hours in the VW. Anna, Ronda, and I all had classes Monday and Patricia had to work. I was seriously thinking about getting a more powerful bus. Maybe a Ford Econoline. Absolute top speed in the microbus was sixty and we were lucky to average fifty driving across the state. Even less driving up to Canada. The Econoline had a V8 engine and a lot of cargo carrying ability. Well, I didn’t need to think about that at the moment. I’d need to talk to Anna about how we’d cover Dad’s medical bills.
Uncle Nate left about the same time in his Cadillac, but he was likely to get to Chicago an hour or more before we did. I was glad Deb and John were able to stay a couple of days before they headed back to St. Louis.
We buckled Toni into a new safety seat hung on the seat back in the second row. Anna sat with her most of the way to Chicago. Patricia had seen and comprehended how sick Dad was. She sat in the middle of the front seat with the gearshift between her legs and leaned against me, softly petting my arm or leg. I wasn’t even sure how soon I could get back to Sage to see my parents again. I guess, as Dad said, it’s all part of getting older.
The best thing I can say about the next week is that we got through it. My study group, which was also my performance group, met on Tuesday and we rehearsed the non-painting parts of the show. I had to do a welcome and get everyone seated. We’d all work on seating people. Carrie would be changing the lighting and the music. She’d have some comments, too. Leslie and Dora would be talking with each other about the performance and what we were working on with the model. Then I’d be behind the camera and posing Shawna. We’d take a bow and then accept questions.
Thursday afternoon, we were all back in the studio just to clean and get ready. We decided to have a shoe drop at the door and then scatter cushions on the floor. A few people would be able to sit on the sofa, the fainting couch, and the armchair, but we moved the table out of the way. We figured that if everyone was cozy, we could squeeze twenty-five in if we had to.
We were all nervous when we got to the studio Friday morning. There wasn’t much more we could do to prepare other than open the paint and get Shawna ready for her performance. Getting Shawna ready included some deep kisses from both Leanne and me. We’d gotten a robe for her to wear over her barely-there bra and panties. They matched her skin color so well you could really miss seeing them. We hoped that would mean they’d miss seeing us remove them.
The class started arriving right at one o’clock. By ten minutes after, everyone was seated and I stepped out in front.
“Welcome to Attic Allure, Chicago’s elite art photography studio. That’s right, what you see around you is actually a working studio where models come for artistic photographs. Many of those photographs, from here, and our studios in Los Angeles and Stratford, Ontario, are hanging on the wall behind you and we invite you to take your time looking at them before you leave today.
“In practical terms, all that means that the performance started before you got here this afternoon. We’re inviting you to look in on a work in progress as we prepare a very special model for a photo session. Please let me introduce our team. Photographer and lighting designer Leslie Lewis will be photographing scenes from our performance today. I remind you that photographs may include the audience as we will be working from all angles. The same is true of the camera Dora Devine is holding. She is shooting 8mm movies to send up to our partners in Stratford, Ontario, where we will be performing this work and several others this summer. Behind me is Carrie Lockhart. She is managing the technical side of our production, including lights and music.
“Now I would like to introduce Leanne Kim. Leanne plays a very special part in this work as the designer of the model. Leanne is an expert in makeup and you’ll see some of what we can do with makeup in our studio. And the model we’ll be making up is Shawna Casper. For my part, I’ll be working with Leanne on the makeup, and then I’ll be posing the model and photographing her for our gallery; images that you may wish to acquire at a later date.
“Without further ado, let’s continue with the performance.”
Carrie started the music and Leanne and I led Shawna to the center of the stage. We began by pulling her robe down off her shoulders and working on the first few patterns. Since we were finger-painting on her, the initial strokes went on pretty quickly. I moved Shawna in a couple of dance steps and ended up with her facing away from the audience as we lowered her robe to her waist. They saw her bra exposed, and so their expectation was that we’d be painting right over it. I suppose we could have, but we didn’t. I unclipped the bra and handed it to Carrie.
“Carrie, we need more sensual music now,” Leslie called. It was Carrie’s cue to change to a different LP. “Look at the paint go on.”
“The white against her skin is a great contrast for the movie,” Dora announced. “Carrie, could we have more light on the stage left side? I’m losing her against the backdrop.”
Carrie had been worried that she wasn’t going to be significant in the performance at all, but we’d built in a lot of cues like that and she’d practiced all of them. I released the tie on Shawna’s robe and Leanne handed it off to Carrie. We switched places and I started painting Shawna’s beautiful backside.
Dora set down her camera and picked up the brush so she could dip it in the body paint and paint in the highlights. Before long, we had Shawna painted from her shoulders to her toes and I moved behind the camera. I moved her to different positions and danced with her naked body in my arms as we changed from scene to scene. Carrie moved to a more primal beat with the music and Shawna began her own performance in front of us. And then it was there—the perfect shot. I had her hold and moved the 4x5 camera into place with her on her hands and knees.
We worked for another ten minutes, careful to be finished by two o’clock. Leanne reached Shawna with the robe and helped her into it. The six of us stood on the stage as the class started to applaud. I stepped forward and concluded the presentation.
“Thank you all for attending what we like to call, ‘The Making of a Work of Art.’ Please take your time looking at the gallery.”
Dora, Carrie, and Leslie guided people to the door and their shoes, and made sure they didn’t infringe on the working space of the stage or the privacy behind the screen where Leanne and I were kissing and pampering our model.
Leanne and I took Shawna to her room after everyone had cleared out. There, we bathed and fucked her.
Shawna was a sexy girl and had been living on a diet of tongue and clam for several months. She didn’t want to split up with Leanne, but she really wanted a cock. She saw me as an easy solution to scratching her itch while still having Leanne. I remembered the night Kelly told me she was using me and would get back together with her real boyfriend eventually. We still had fun together and I admitted I was using her, too. I was supposed to find out all the ways I could please my girlfriends when we had sex.
Shawna was using me, so I felt just fine using her to sate my own lust. Her boobs were fairly small and very sensitive. I’d painted them earlier and took great pleasure in removing the paint, then sucking on them with my fingers in her twat until she came in the shower. Leanne and I dried her and did a minute inspection of every part of her body to be sure we’d gotten the paint off. Ultimately, I gave Shawna exactly what she wanted and slid my condom covered cock deep into her pussy. About the time I was up to my balls, I wouldn’t have cared if Shawna was a two-ton green monster. Her pussy was tight and wet and she was a pneumatic lover, driving her hips up to meet my thrusts. And Leanne was making sure Shawna was coming, so all I needed to concentrate on was the come welling up from my balls to fill the condom.
I was home in time for dinner.
I’d felt more of a connection with Shawna while I was posing her than I had while fucking her. There ought to be a lesson there, I suppose.
I had met Claire Dresback at the club on a couple of occasions. The first time had been at Ronda’s birthday celebration when her date, a prominent Chicago politician, had asked to dance with my girlfriend. She was in her early thirties and a good dancer. The second time, she’d been sitting with my patron, Dorn, at the staging of the Maestro with Renée. I wasn’t sure what her relationship was with either or them or anyone else at the club, but I resolved to tread very carefully with her.
“Welcome to Attic Allure, Claire,” I said when she arrived. She was carrying a small suitcase that Rita quickly came to take and put behind the privacy screen.
“It really is an attic,” she laughed. “How campy.”
“Why don’t we talk about what you’re looking for in photos today,” I suggested. We sat on the sofa. She was an attractive woman, and I thought I could get a good portrait. Usually, though, when a woman brings a suitcase, she has something more elaborate in mind.
“I don’t suppose it’s possible for you to make me look like the model you brought to the club the other day. Or even like your girlfriend who I met at her birthday. And I don’t pretend I have anything to offer a young man anyway. I’m hoping for the impossible: That you can find a way to show me a little more like I was in my teens or twenties, when I first came to Chicago and had the world at my feet.”
“It seems you have Chicago at your feet, even today,” I said.
“Chicago is a very small part of the world. As I age, I see that my prospects are all getting older. It’s a little depressing.”
“Surely a woman in her thirties doesn’t need to settle for old men,” I laughed.
“You’re too kind,” she said. “This photo session is a birthday present to myself. For my fortieth birthday.”
“You must be kidding.”
“I’m getting over the hill. I only look young to older men.”
“I disagree. I only took you for thirty because of their presence. If you’d been in the company of younger men, I’d have taken you as a younger woman.”
“Oh, if only. Make me believe that with your photos.”
The challenge was set. Honestly, she did look younger. I thought of several women who fought to preserve their looks. I’d met them in Hollywood. But for me, this would be an interesting experiment to see if I could get a woman that age to respond like I wanted. We set to work.
During the course of our portrait sitting, I discovered Claire was a stock broker—a rarity among women. She often dated the men she advised and had made them a lot of money. She was single and not attached to any of the men.
“I’d like you to step behind the privacy screen with me,” I said. “I want to take a look at what you’ve brought and examine your makeup. I think we’ll want to make some adjustments.”
“You’ll reveal the stark truth,” she said.
“I believe the real you is more beautiful than the one you have used as a mask,” I said.
I removed her makeup and used a lighter foundation to even out her complexion and smooth the laugh lines. Her eyes were piercingly blue and I discovered she wore contact lenses. I had to use a very light hand applying eye shadow and mascara, which worked for the better. I brushed her hair and got rid of the ratting that was a leftover style from the sixties. When brushed out, her hair had just a little curl to it that I liked.
Then I looked through her wardrobe.
“This is a fun outfit,” I said, pulling a red T-shirt and black slacks from the suitcase. Claire was very organized. A matching red and black bra and panties were folded with the outfit.
“Yes, that covers a world of flaws. You don’t want to see too much,” she laughed. I turned to her and put my hands on her shoulders.
“Claire, if you will permit it, I intend to see everything today. I want to show you as the incredibly sexy mature woman you are. I want to take a picture that will make teenage boys lust for you. It’s not always in what we expose in the photo. Sometimes it’s what we hint at.”
As I spoke to her, holding her eyes with mine, I unbuttoned the blouse she was wearing and slipped it off her shoulders.
“What makes you so confident that you can just give me a makeover and take my clothes off?” she asked.
“I’m really not,” I answered. “It’s about our connection and understanding what you came here for.”
I unsnapped her bra and she slipped her arms into the cute little red and black bra she brought with her. I unzipped her skirt and she kind of shook herself awake.
“I’ll do this part,” she said. “I’ll meet you out front.”
“Good. I have just the thing for you,” I said.
I called Rita to me and we moved the bed into the scene, decorating it with pillows and a colorful spread. Rita and I worked well together to set the lights and get the right mood created. I turned and found Claire waiting for me.
“Slacks and a T-shirt, but in bed?” she asked.
“Don’t you remember getting home, dressed as you went to school or to the office, and just plopping on your bed to look at the mail or study? How about if we try you sitting cross-legged on the bed? Rita, could you get us an appropriate magazine?”
I helped Claire get positioned on the bed and stopped to take the strappy heels she was wearing off her and put them on the floor in front of her bed. Rita handed me a magazine and I placed it in Claire’s hands. I didn’t want to photograph the cover.
“I haven’t read a Mademoiselle in fifteen years!” she said, immediately opening it.
“I’m sorry it isn’t more current. Can we keep it closed and facing you for a few minutes? I promise you can read it from cover to cover if you want to.”
“Men! Everything you’ve always wanted to know about them,” she read off the cover. “I could have written that article. I should be teaching young women how to get what they want in life—especially from men.”
“The problem is there is nothing equivalent for young men. Perhaps you should write the article for them,” I suggested.
“That’s a good idea. Young men are clueless. Of course, most old men are, too.”
I shifted her position a little so she could open the magazine and I still wouldn’t see the cover. Then I tugged at the neck of her T-shirt. It was one of those with an oversized neck that we’d kept close to her neck in the first shot, but now I pulled it down off both her shoulders.
“Oh! My bra straps will show. I need to hide them.”
“We’ll get rid of them completely soon, but right now you have a delightfully naughty look about you. I’m looking at a real woman with her straps visible. How yummy.”
I took a couple more shots and then returned to sit on the edge of the bed as I contemplated what to move next. One strap. Not concealed, but falling off her shoulder.
“What would be the first thing you taught a young man?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s easy. How to kiss. Boys are clueless. I remember dating in high school and college and boys coming at me with wide open mouths and tongues hanging out. Disgusting. Boys don’t know the first thing about kissing,” she said. “There are 10,000 nerve endings in the lips. That’s the highest concentration on the female body other than the clitoris. And don’t get me started on what boys don’t know about the clitoris. There are 8,000 nerve endings in the tip of the clitoris, which is all people think the clit is. It is much more.”
I kissed her, just grazing my lips across hers. She started, her lips parting just a little as her head automatically tilted back.
“There. Hold it there. Think about teaching your young lover about the nerves in your lips.” I snapped a picture. “Moisten them. Oh, yes. This time, just touch the corner of your lips with the tip of your tongue. Let your eyes drift closed. Perfect, perfect.”
“How did you know how to do that? You must be much older than you appear,” she said.
I sat on the bed next to her as Rita changed film in my camera. I leaned in to kiss her as my hand slipped under the back of her T-shirt.
“I had a couple of excellent tutors, myself,” I said as I kissed her softly and deftly unhooked the catch on her bra. She melted into the kiss, but I held it to a tease, using my other hand to touch her cheek and caress her. As I tugged the bra loose, she automatically pulled her left arm inside the shirt and out of the strap, then back into the sleeve. I pulled the bra out of the other sleeve.
“They must have been excellent tutors,” she breathed. “One-handed bra release? That takes a lot of experience.”
“My girlfriends made me practice over and over,” I sighed. “Real task masters, you know.”
“And even with my breasts bare, you didn’t just grab and grope them,” she said.
“They aren’t the object of my affection; they are just part of her.”
“Affection. That’s what boys lose when things become passionate. Suddenly, the girl becomes an object to satisfy his erection and he’s on a racecourse to finish in her.”
“Girls are sometimes just irresistible,” I confessed as I had her stretch out on the bed on her stomach with the magazine open in front of her. “Not that boys shouldn’t be able to resist. They tend to lose track of everything else when faced with a sudden opportunity.”
“Like my bare breasts.”
“Yes. Now bite your lip just a little. Other side. Good. Let’s see the knees bent and the feet crossed in the air.”
I crossed them and spent a moment gently massaging them. Claire moaned a little.
“If only boys knew how many erogenous zones a girl has,” she sighed.
I took the picture from multiple angles and then moved to her once again.
“Let’s remove the slacks. Not the panties. Not yet. We want to build the enticement.”
I didn’t really let her move from her position. I reached under her and unfastened the slacks, then slid them down her legs, pausing to rub her scantily covered buttocks a little.
“That’s another area men just grab but don’t appreciate,” she sighed. “Or worse yet, they pinch. I’d frankly rather be spanked than pinched and I’m not fond of spanking either. Why do men assume a woman needs to be slapped around?”
“There are women I have encountered who like a bit of rough play,” I said. “Spanking. Even tying up. My natural inclination, however, is to worship the body of a woman I am interested in. I want to find each of those erogenous zones and give just the right amount of stimulation to it. I want her to feel totally fulfilled.”
“Where have you been all my life?”
“Perhaps you should consider finding a younger man and teaching him the things you want him to know and do. I think you might have fun with that.”
“You know, I might.”
I continued to work with Claire all afternoon. She didn’t seem to mind that Rita was always nearby. In fact, it might have made her more comfortable. I sat with her, kissed her, and caressed her, slowly removing articles of clothing until she was stretched out naked on the bed.
“Let’s have one that actually shows how beautiful you are without the tease,” I said, nudging her to her side. “You might not want to show this one to anyone, but it will be a good reminder to you about how beautiful you really are.”
I took four pictures with her on her side, two that showed her full length and the little tuft of hair at her crotch, and two that were much closer and showed just her breasts and face. They were really quite nice.
“What do you think,” I asked as I sat next to her on the bed and placed a hand on her hip. “I know we have some excellent photos, but are you satisfied?”
“Almost,” she said reaching out and placing her hand on my cock. She began stroking it through my slacks. I leaned forward to kiss her again.
“You know, a man of any age would consider that an invitation to much more than what we have done,” I whispered to her.
“I do hope so,” she whispered back.
I scooped her up in my arms and carried her behind the privacy screen.
“You know, I have a firm rule about not having intercourse in the studio,” I said as I placed her on the fainting couch and sat next to her.
“I can feel how firm it is,” she husked.
I pulled her into another kiss, letting the passions flow for each of us as I stroked down her side and over her mound. She parted her legs. I stroked between them and felt the gathering moisture and the slicking of her hair.
“However shall we resolve this without breaking your rules?” she asked.
“I think I know a way,” I said.
I began kissing my way down her body, finally paying oral attention to her nipples as she panted and stroked my head. Then I moved down her stomach and nudged her thighs farther apart so I could get between them.
“Oh my! This is far more advanced than the boys I knew in high school and college. Are all boys your age as knowledgeable?”
“I was well-taught. My lesbian girlfriend often has very specific needs.”
“You have… Oh, yes!” she panted as I scraped my fingers along the top of her vagina and circled her clit with my tongue. “That was nice,” she said, breathing more easily.
“That was just the beginning,” I said as I increased pressure on her clit and pulled a finger out to circle her anus. She gasped.
“I’m… Oh!... God!... Yes!”
I sank to the first knuckle into her butt and she went wild on my tongue. My other hand pinched at her nipples, exploring how much pressure she found pleasurable. It turned out to be quite a lot. Claire was gasping and trying to get enough breath in her lungs to cry out. Just as she was getting ready for a big one, I pushed my thumb into her cunt and nipped at her clit with my teeth.
She didn’t hold back. The air all rushed out of her lungs in a huge sigh and she lay still and relaxed beneath me. As I slowly withdrew my fingers from her orifices and pulled away, I took a moment to just look and appreciate the beautiful pussy spread before me. There was certainly nothing down here that would indicate how old she was.
“You wouldn’t happen to know any young men in your college who would like to learn all the ins and outs of a woman’s body, would you?” she whispered as I kissed her awake.
“The only guy I know well is a girl,” I said. “I mean trans. She prefers boys herself. You might strike up a conversation with Richard if he’s still doing piano engagements at the club.”
“You’re sure he’s not a little queer?” she asked.
“Not sure, but he seemed to enjoy Renée’s displays on the piano.”
“Oh, God! You got me so hyped up on my own orgasms that I forgot to get you off. Let me get your cock out.”
“It’s okay, Claire. I didn’t bring you back here for my own pleasure, but believe me, pleasuring you was a delight in itself.”
“You mean you would actually pass up a woman offering you a blowjob or any other orifice you want?”
“I’d rather not sully this relationship by asking you to degrade yourself by pleasuring me. Guys have been lying to women for years about needing to get off when they get hard. I rather like the feeling of lying next to you, touching your beautiful body, and feeling my erection pressed against you. It’s something I’ll be thinking about a lot in the future.”
“I suppose then that I should get dressed and let you do what you need to do in the studio. I’m really looking forward to seeing our photos.”
“I’d like to get right at developing the film,” I said. “I should have things to you early next week.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
