Over Exposure
28
Happy Holidays
“Lani” by Richard M Lee, ID207889303 licensed from Shutterstock.com.
WE SPENT FRIDAY and Saturday going from house to house, having more Thanksgiving with Anna’s parents, Ronda’s parents, and Patricia’s parents and in-laws. I was just a little uncomfortable with Tony’s parents because their son was dead and I was basically married to his wife. They were really nice though and even asked Patricia if she was going to give them more grandchildren. Wow! It sounded like they accepted that I’d be the father.
Kat came to Tenbrook with us that day since I’d been going back to Sage every morning anyway. Toni wanted to see her gamma and gampa Hart as much as either Patricia’s parents or Tony’s, but when she found out Kat was coming to Tenbrook, she was pleased. Of course, once we got to Tenbrook, Kat disappeared with Julie and scarcely had time to say hi to Vanessa Kowalski—once her best friend. It seemed they were on good terms now. Vanessa and Brian had broken up and Brian was off with another classmate. I guess he’d resigned any relationship with Kat to Julie.
Interestingly, neither Kat nor Julie had given up entirely on the idea of having a boy in their lives. They were, however, picky and not interested in any of the boys in their schools. Julie was eighteen and a senior now. She’d been accepted at the University of Minnesota to study art history. I guess all that looking at famous artworks in order to find poses got her interested in actually studying it. The girls were ready to move to Minneapolis in August and move in with Rachel and her parents. They were holding weekly conversations with the family and were getting more enthused every day.
Julie took Kat home that evening, so my family stayed right there in the hotel Saturday night. On Sunday morning, we just drove back to Chicago to get ready for the last spurt of classes to the winter break. Ronda had two more weeks and would be cramming for her finals this week. Anna and I had three weeks until our winter break, but they were packed. I was ten days from the opening of A Man for All Seasons and I had to put in my extra ten hours of costuming work for the semester in order to get the show ready for dress rehearsal on December seventh.
Any time I wasn’t in the costume shop, I was in the studio working with Leslie and Margot on our display. That was going to be pretty interesting, in my opinion. I was transferring images from all three of us to use in a slide show. Creating positive slides out of black and white negatives wasn’t necessarily difficult, but it was time consuming and I was working in the dark most of the time. I had to take an unexposed roll of black and white film, and do a contact print on it from the negative. There was a lot of lining things up and making sure the negative was in contact with the new film, then processing and mounting the results. Like I said, not difficult, but time consuming.
We also found a print shop in town that would do halftones of Margot’s photos and print them on newsprint. So, we all had a ‘product-based’ display next to a slide show. It would work pretty well.
First, though, I had to watch In Cold Blood, a 1967 film based on Truman Capote’s book. It was definitely a spooky movie. The two guys who played the murderers were absolutely cold. The biggest difference between the movie and the book was the creation of a character named Jensen who was a reporter. He kind of functioned like a Greek chorus, filling in the stuff in the movie that couldn’t be shown. They set the movie as a flashback as the murderers are awaiting execution.
What I thought was most fascinating about the whole thing was that Truman Capote was a neighbor and childhood friend of Harper Lee, who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. She went with him to Holcomb, Kansas to do the research for the book before the murderers were actually apprehended. I wondered if she was a kind of front for him so people wouldn’t be upset about being interviewed by a homosexual author.
The show was pretty good. I mean A Man for All Seasons. It opened on Thursday night, but we didn’t go until Friday night, after Ronda had taken her last exam and was officially on winter break. I still had finals the next week, which included my final projects.
Over the weekend, we installed our exhibit in the space we were allotted for the Body, Space, and Image class. It was a performance based final and we each had a model we were working with as well as the slide show. It wasn’t difficult for Leslie and me to get Carrie and Dora to be our models. Margot had a boyfriend who agreed to model as well and we did a photo session on Sunday afternoon in our space to get the last slides for our show taken.
Monday morning, we watched Fahrenheit 451. It was an hour and fifty minutes long, leaving us an hour of class time to write our analysis of the differences between the film and the book. Fortunately, it’s a short book, so I’d managed to get it read over Thanksgiving. What I really missed, though, was the opportunity to talk it over with my breakout group. It was definitely an interesting commentary on the role of media and society. The books were being burned because the government had decided reading led to rebellion and unrest. I could see it happening.
The costume construction final amounted to going over all the costumes from the show to inspect them for damage and have them cleaned and put away in appropriate storage. I did a lot of ironing—a task I excelled at.
Wednesday, we presented our installation. There were only a dozen people in this class, so there were four installations. We all had photos of our work displayed around the room, as well as the slide show playing. We got Carrie and Dora in settings we’d created and Leslie and I started taking photos. Then Margot’s boyfriend came stumbling in, holding his bloody chest as if he’d just been shot. Margot came rushing in with her camera and took pictures of the scene.
I guess the cool part was that, having rehearsed on Sunday and taken the photos of our models to get them processed, our slide show included slides of the scenes we were supposedly photographing live. We definitely got a good grade out of the class.
My Thursday class was pretty laid back because we had to have our papers finished and handed in the previous week. The paper was to be about our career strategy. Dr. Nader had assured us all that we would pass the class with a good grade, but he would review each paper extensively and return them to our mailboxes over the break. During the Thursday ‘final,’ we each gave an overview of the highlights of our strategy. It had to include our career goal and ten steps we would take to achieve it. It really made me think about what I wanted to do and whether I wanted to continue doing Attic Allure photography or if I wanted to branch out in some way.
I’d be spending my Intersession in England, working with a professional photographer there conducting a special session on Location Portraiture. It would be a good way to test myself by getting out of the studio and seeing if I could maintain the Attic Allure style in a more natural setting.
At last, my semester came to an end. I was ready for a break.
Except I had one more client in the studio on Friday.
Lani Dorsett had been one of my three assistants when we created IDs for the symposium and for the freshman class. She was a marketing and merchandising major and was pretty damn beautiful. But our association last fall had not prepared me for the vision that walked into the studio Friday afternoon. Lani had done some work this semester.
She’d also been out for a professional makeover and hairstyling. Her light brown hair was streaked with blonde. She had cherry red lips and a metallic bronze eye shadow that really brought out her dark blue-green eyes. She wore a sea-green sweater that hugged her curves with a mid-thigh miniskirt that showed a promising expanse of leg.
“Lani, welcome to Attic Allure. You look spectacular!” I said greeting her.
“Thank you, Nate. When I decided to have an Attic Allure photo done, I really started focusing on my body condition and looks. It hasn’t hurt me at all in my job search,” she said. “I realize I’ve left my photo for the very last of the semester. Thank you for agreeing to meet me at such a late date.”
“Oh, not to worry. We have another semester. There’s plenty of time to get exactly what you want.”
“Well, not exactly. I’m graduating mid-term. The official mid-term commencement is Sunday. Then I’m off to New York.”
“Congratulations! Let’s get you set just as you are for a portrait and we’ll move right into the Attic Allure shots you want. Are you headed to New York for your new job?”
“Yes. I got a job with a big advertising agency in New York and start the Monday after Christmas.”
I got her seated on the stool for a portrait and adjusted the lighting. Her sweater was soft, but pretty much skin tight. She was wearing a bra that made her breasts really stick out. I took a couple of shots and then used my light meter to check readings again. It wasn’t going to work.
“Lani, I hate to do this so early in the session, but we have to talk about it. I believe we’re going to see your bra in the photo. The fabric of your sweater is pulled tightly over it and the contrast of the bright white of your bra against your skin and beneath the sweater is going to make it stand out.”
“I never even thought about that! Does it happen often?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Skin has a different… I’ll call it reflectancy… than the fabric of underwear. Especially if the underwear is a shiny material. The bra does great things for the shape of your breasts under the sweater, but it’s definitely going to show.”
“Okay. So… um… how about we get a few shots for the shape and then I’ll take it off. I might decide it’s worth it to see my underwear. I already figured it would be coming off eventually. I just want a nice professional photo that doesn’t show my um… nipples.”
“We will definitely get both for you.”
I finished up the roll of black and white film and even took a color frame on the 4x5. There was certainly nothing wrong with her poses or shape. She slipped behind the privacy screen to take off her bra and returned a minute later as I finished putting a new roll of black and white in the Hasselblad.
“It’s weird. I’ve always felt exposed when I don’t wear a bra. Is this really better?”
“I think the only way I’ll be able to convince you is to develop these two rolls and print a proof sheet,” I said. “I assure you, though, your shape is still very nice and when you hold still, I can’t tell you aren’t wearing a bra.”
“Oh. Now I’m really self-conscious. You can tell I’m not wearing it when I move.”
“Things do move differently,” I sighed. “Don’t worry. The movement can’t be seen in a photograph.”
We went through the poses again and I took the pictures, including a color frame. She was still undecided, so I went ahead and processed the two rolls so I could print a proof sheet of each.
“Why do you put the film in a black bag when you load it in the whatever that tank thing is.”
“It’s the developing tank,” I supplied.
“I thought you just did that in the darkroom.”
“Even though it’s black and white film, it’s panchromatic. That means it’s sensitive to all ranges of light. I can’t even use the red safety light in the darkroom while I get it loaded. Once it’s in the tank, then it’s sealed from light. I use the safety light in the darkroom when I’m making prints because the black and white photo paper is orthochromatic. It isn’t sensitive to red light. One of the most important things I’ve learned in college is the correct use of filters. And how to call them by the right name.”
“May I watch in the darkroom?”
“Of course.” I was certain her question was one of curiosity and not of invitation. We wouldn’t be doing any making out in the darkroom while I printed the proof sheets.
In addition to printing the contact print, I enlarged a photo from each of the sets. I don’t know why the extra work didn’t irritate me like it would have a few weeks ago. I guess it was because with classes out, I was feeling more relaxed and willing to just educate an interested person. It took a little over half an hour to print the four sheets and get them developed and rinsed.
During that time, I found out Lani was a driven professional—maybe exactly what you’d expect from a marketing person. She’d finished her four-year degree in three and a half years, had a job with a major advertising agency lined up a month before she graduated, and had done the work to reshape her already good-looking body into a real model’s body.
“I’m starting at the bottom and will probably do more fetching coffee than writing advertising copy. The agency made no secret that they wanted me partly for my looks. I guess they often do rush jobs and concept pieces that they don’t hire a model for. They just put people from the office in the studio and shoot the concept. I have to say, all the people I met there were pretty much beautiful. I worked like crazy this fall to take off five pounds and tone up all my muscles. I spent a fortune on my hair.”
“You’re extremely beautiful,” I said. “It doesn’t bother you to be kind of used like that for your looks? Do you think you might have a modeling career?”
“It bothered me at first. How dare they suggest that they wanted me pretty and not just because I’m an advertising genius. But one of the facts of life in advertising is that sex sells. Do people buy a Mustang because it is a great car, or because there’s a beautiful girl in a bikini leaning over the hood? If I’m selling myself for a job, I had to adopt much the same principle. I’m not sleeping with anyone in the company to get this job, but if they like to look at me, that’s a weapon in my arsenal.”
“Let’s take a look at these now and see what you think,” I said. “Understand, I didn’t spend any time testing and changing settings in the enlargement, so both photos should actually be better when I print a release print.”
“Oh, wow! It’s like my bra is in one of those black light posters. It just glows under my sweater.”
“Notice that in this one—and I intentionally chose one where your nipples would be toward the camera—you really can’t see the color shift because they are a shade darker than your skin and not brighter.”
“Okay. I’m convinced. Everybody I talked to told me to trust you. It’s just hard for me. From now on, your word goes. But I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“The people you talked to should have told you that I have a firm rule against sex in the studio. And I don’t date models.”
“Yeah. Well, get me great pictures and I might not care.”
We started working much more fluidly from that point on. The energy picked up and I started seeing what Lani could bring to an advertising agency. She had some great ideas. And she ended up very naked. I draped her with some satin fabric we had and the result was terrific.
We did some awesome product shots, some open shirt front shots, and at one point I grabbed a damp washcloth and wiped her down when she was getting sweaty. She stood calmly as I washed her pits and under her breasts. Then she very deliberately spread her legs apart and I wiped through her pussy.
It might sound strange, but even when I was wiping down her breasts and through her pussy, it wasn’t particularly sexual. Sure, I think we were both aware of what I was touching, but we didn’t dwell on it. Still the touches became more intimate as we progressed and Lani seemed to be looking for opportunities for me to touch her.
I finished the last shot I thought we’d take and scooped her up in my arms to carry behind the privacy screen so she could dress. I set her down on the couch and she pulled me down next to her.
“So, no sex in the studio, thank heavens,” she said. “But I’m naked in your arms. We could at least make out a little.”
So much for it not being sexual. This time when I caressed her breasts and dragged my fingers through her pussy, she was kissing me with fervor. I finally pulled away and said I thought we’d better stop now.
“Yeah. Sorry for using you like that, but it’s been a long time since I had a boyfriend and being naked with a guy who would touch me and wash me and take care of me was a real turn-on. Really, it’s a good thing there’s no sex in the studio. I was about thirty seconds from ripping your clothes off.”
“Lani, I really like you and I think we got some great photos. But save the rest for when you have a boyfriend in New York.”
I got film ready to process and a package of 4x5 color transparencies ready to take down to Pro Color while Lani dressed. She stepped out from behind the privacy screen, wearing the same sweater and miniskirt she’d arrived in. She came right up to me for another kiss.
“You didn’t put the bra back on,” I said as I caressed her once more.
“I liked the feeling of having it off. Thank you, Nate. I’ll see you next week to go through the proofs and choose my portfolio.”
She left and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I got a look at myself in the mirror and decided I’d better wash all the lipstick off my face before I left for the day.
The girls had a spa day on Friday while I was with Lani. Anna had been in finals on her twenty-second birthday Wednesday. That meant that I would get to take her out on Saturday to celebrate. We went to the studio so she could help develop and print the pictures of Lani’s photo session. We had a lot of fun in the darkroom—most of it naked.
Then I took her to dinner at the club. She wanted to see it and I figured this would be a good time. We only had dinner, though. There was a big concert at the Auditorium. I didn’t know much about the first artist. Of course, we got there on time, so saw the warmup act. It was a folk rock singer named Eric Andersen. Kind of a raspy voice. Reminded me a little of Bob Dylan.
The second group was Mott the Hoople. They were a little more hard driving rock with a touch of country. They really rocked out with “Honky Tonk Woman.”
But then the headliner show was ready to start. The place was packed by that time. It was a screaming madhouse when the New Riders of the Purple Sage, mostly a country rock and blues rock band, came on stage and started with “I don’t know you.” By the third number, we were ready to rock with “Hello Mary Lou.”
“She’s No Angel” was more twangy, but by the time they hit “Truck Drivin’ Man” we didn’t care if it had a country beat or not. We were still rocking when they got to “Take a letter, Maria.” None of us were really ready for the concert to end, even though it was close to one o’clock by the time they finished with “Glendale Train.”
We didn’t bother to go home. I’d taken a room at the Blackstone and Anna and I continued to rock each other for a couple of hours before we dropped off to sleep.
Sunday, the family went out and got a nice Christmas tree. Darn thing cost eight dollars! Toni was incredibly excited, though, and we helped her make paper chains and string popcorn and cranberries to decorate the little tree. We had some decorations from last year, including lights and a star for the top of the tree. I wasn’t sure if Toni was going to sleep again until after Christmas. We had a couple of Christmas albums we put on the stereo, some left over from things our parents gave us. Of course, we had my ‘birthday’ edition of Gene Autry’s “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” I call it my birthday edition because Autry recorded the 78rpm record in September of 1949. It was kind of a scratchy recording compared to the LPs we had, but I still loved the thing.
Ronda had a copy of Perry Como’s Christmas album that was pretty easy to listen to. When we’d played our music—and Toni wanted to dance to Santa Claus—we just switched to the radio. The stations were playing mostly Christmas music now.
With Ronda, Anna, and me home, we kept Toni busy baking cookies and going downtown to see the window displays. Of course, we all had to do Christmas shopping, too. I really wanted to give my girls something special and decided that jewelry had too many meanings. I still worried about what would happen to the family when Anna, Ronda, and I graduated in the spring. So, I opted to buy them all fancy lingerie. I guess I’m a typical guy. I think the cute little nighties were more for my pleasure than theirs.
On Thursday, we headed west. We all wanted to see our families, of course, but Toni wanted to visit her three sets of grandparents. I think Patricia’s mom won as the favorite grandma. But Toni loved to visit the Kowalskis because Vanessa was one of her favorite people—right up there with Kat.
Dad was hands-down her favorite gampa.
When we got to my folks’ place on Christmas Eve, she ran straight to Dad to give him a big hug. He danced with the little girl the same way I did and she loved it. He was looking a lot better now and had put his hand to making Christmas Eve dinner. It wasn’t an elaborate meal, but it was good and we all sat around the tree afterward and opened presents.
I was a little surprised that Toni took a doll she’d received to sit on Gampa’s lap. She then proceeded to tell him a long and involved story about how the doll had come from Santa’s workshop and it was made just for her because she especially asked Santa for it when she sat on his lap the previous week.
I don’t think anyone knew she’d asked for that doll.
On Christmas morning, we all headed out to make the rounds to the other families again. Each family had some kind of celebration that we all got to participate in. And, of course, Toni got more presents. I was thankful that a lot of the presents were clothes. She was growing like a weed and we really had all the toys our apartment would hold.
We got back to Sage after dinner so we could all see Deb and John and their kids. But we didn’t stay there for the night. With those four, us five, and the three Harts still at home, it got to be a real houseful. We said we were planning to stay the night in Tenbrook, but when we got in the bus, we realized we’d packed up everything and decided to just go on to Chicago.
We got in late. Toni never really woke up after we got home. We just tucked her in. Then I gave my girls their Christmas presents and they all ran to dress in the sexy lingerie before we went to bed.
And for my present, I got to take their nighties off of them.
What I really wanted during that week between Christmas and New Year’s was just to cuddle with my family, drink hot chocolate, and read stories to Toni. And I did a lot of that, but I also had to get ready to travel. Monday, January 2, started the intersession and I was headed to England for a three week intensive with Sir Andrew Scott, a renowned British portrait photographer. Scott’s claim to fame was portraits in a natural setting and we were to study capturing location portraits during the session. This meant we were to pack and carry our equipment to London and to each portrait session. Sir Andrew had included a list of equipment that included our cameras, tripods, strobe flash, and two lights that had to be adapted to English power. That meant I had to have a converter that would adapt their 240-volt power to my 120-volt lighting. And I’d need extension cords. My pack was going to be heavy.
Levi to the rescue again. Yes, he got the right power connections for me, but more importantly, he got me a Commander folding luggage cart. When the Commander was opened up all the way, it was like a hand truck. I could strap my three bags to it with heavy-duty bungee cords and wheel it almost everywhere. But when I was flying, after my two bags had been checked, the Commander folded up into about a sixteen-inch square, six inches thick to accommodate the wheels.
Three bags. Of course, I had my metal camera case with the Hasselblad and Linhof cameras, lenses for each, film carriers, and unexposed film for each camera. Getting all that stuff into a single case meant the case was huge and heavy.
The registration fee for this class included developing materials and darkroom time, but did not include raw film stock. We were advised that we could purchase film locally, but should bring ‘a few days’ worth’ with us. At the rate I could use film, that was a lot. Not to mention my carrying the Nikon over my shoulder with film stock for it. That was in a separate case and only counted as a shoulder bag and not as luggage.
Then there was the duffle that held two tripods, light stands, umbrellas, lights, spare bulbs, and extension cords and adapters. That weighed close to thirty-five pounds. Finally, I had a duffle bag with my clothes in it. My girlfriends took great pleasure in deciding what I needed for a three-week trip during which I would need to move at least twice, according to the syllabus.
We were thrilled that Adrienne came to town for the week. It gave us all one more person to hold and cuddle. It was cold in Chicago—what else is new?—and kept flirting with snow. It finally came through on Thursday night and we woke up to an inch of fresh fallen snow. We all bundled up and took Toni over to the University where we took turns pulling her around on a Sno-Coaster we’d found at Goodwill. Toni loved being pulled on it and at the University, I discovered I could use the tow rope I’d tied to one handle to swing the saucer in a circle and let it go to slide twenty or thirty feet across the lawn. The girls all wanted to try it, too. It was a different Adrienne than we were used to, who was giggling and laughing and begging to be thrown across the lawn again.
We got back to the apartment and everyone stripped off their wet clothes. We had hot chocolate and sat around naked in front of the non-working fireplace with blankets thrown over all of us. Patricia put an exhausted Toni down for a nap. I found Adrienne crawling under my blanket and felt her suck my cock into her mouth. I experienced one of the most powerful orgasms of my life with my girlfriends cuddled around me and my mistress sucking on my cock under the blanket.
As it happened, each of my girlfriends got the experience of having Adrienne between her legs under the covers, as well. When our mistress had fulfilled each of our desires, the four of us fell upon her to devour her in every way possible as we sucked and fucked her.
It was Adrienne who also made the final decisions regarding what should be in my duffle and what I was wearing on the plane.
“England is considerably more formal than Australia,” she said. “Even though you will be working as a student photographer, you will need to dress appropriately. Jeans and T-shirts are out. You’ll need to wear a tie pretty much every day. That means dress shirts. Wear your gray flannel suit on the plane. I’ll show you how to pack your dress shirts, sports coat, and slacks in a tidy bundle that won’t need ironing if you get them out as soon as you arrive at your hotel.”
“I’ll never get this all into the same bag when I’m on my way home,” I sighed when I saw the neat little packages she had everything packed in. She immediately shook all the clothes out and laid them on the bed.
“Now you try it,” she said impishly.
“You naughty little pet!” I said.
“It isn’t only that you’ll need to pack to come home,” Adrienne explained, “but you are moving at least twice while you’re in England. You’ll need to pack things for each move and make sure they are out of your bags when you arrive so you don’t have to track down an iron once you get there.”
“Still…” I said threateningly, patting her on the bottom.
“Yes, master. Fifi’s bottom is yours to punish as you see fit,” she panted. I did see fit to punish it, though not too severely.
Lady Jane had told me much the same thing. I was looking forward to seeing her. She’d promised to meet me in Oxford.
Friday night, I took all four girls to the club for New Year’s Eve. Toni was off for a sleepover with a friend from school, letting all of us go out at once. It was quite a celebration and we saw several people we knew, including Jordan, Nadia, and Adele. I was surprised to see Valerie and her new husband there, as well. Of course, we greeted my patrons. Anna had met most of them before, but it was a new introduction for Ronda and Patricia. There was still one I’d never met. Adrienne, while not friends with any of them, was known by most of the people in the club. She was much in demand as a dance partner.
I allowed that as I had my hands full with three other dance partners, each of whom were called upon to dance with someone else. At midnight, however, I had all four girls in my arms for a delicious kiss with each, just as they each kissed the others.
Adrienne was hyper-conscious about time spent in our apartment with ‘the family.’ She always went to her hotel at night, usually with one of us for a little private time with our mistress. New Year’s Eve, though, was an exception. We insisted she come home with us, each of us whispering in her ear that we were sneaking her into our apartment and not to tell the others. It made it seem a little wicked.
Once in the apartment, though, we stripped her and used her mercilessly. Meaning we took turns making her come and she, in turn, got at least one orgasm from each of us. There was a bit of a competition regarding who would get to eat her after I’d left a good-sized deposit in her, but Anna won the toss as Adrienne ate out Ronda and I fucked Patricia.
It was a great New Year’s orgy and continued in the morning. Patricia needed to get ready to get Toni from her friend’s house and Anna went with her. While they were gone, however, Ronda got Adrienne in a sixty-nine on top of her as I fucked Adrienne’s bottom. For some unknown reason, watching me penetrate Adrienne’s ass as Ronda licked her clitoris was an unbelievable turn-on for Ronda. And I think Adrienne found the secret of treating Ronda’ clit and asshole in such a way as to give her multiple orgasms until Ronda passed out.
We did manage to wake up and get cleaned up before Toni got home and we watched the Parade of Roses on TV. One day, I supposed, we’d get a color TV and see what all those roses really looked like.
Adrienne went back to her hotel Saturday night after dinner. Sunday morning, we picked her up and headed for the airport. My flight was first and all four girls, plus Toni, escorted me to the gate where I had delicious kisses with each of them. Well, Toni’s was mostly just slobbering on my cheek. I headed down the jetway to the 727 waiting to take me to New York as the girls escorted Adrienne to her flight to Los Angeles.
It was 1972 and I was in the air to another country.
The 727 to New York looked familiar. I guess there isn’t much difference from one to another. I was in seat 2A and enjoyed flying over eastern states rather than western states for a change. The flight was only a little more than two hours, so the meal served was light. I did enjoy a glass of champagne, but I didn’t want to mess it up by getting too tipsy to find my connecting flight.
There were shuttles running all over JFK airport in New York. I caught the one to the World Port and in a couple of hours was on a 747 for the over-the-ocean part of my trip.
What a treat it was to find Valerie hosting the first class cabin.
“Oh boy,” she said as she escorted me to my seat and helped with my camera case and trolley. “I hope you aren’t too worn out from the party Friday night to have fun tonight.”
“It was a good time. Nice to meet your new husband,” I said.
“He’s a good man and I’m glad I tied him down. He’s giving me two more years in the air before I start breeding and giving Papa a new heir. If I don’t get busy by then, Papa is likely to make you his heir and cut both Beth and me out.”
“I don’t think Jordan would do that. We’ve reached the point where we’re just good friends now.”
“That’s what you think. All I heard New Year’s Eve was how disappointed he was that Beth hadn’t stuck with your family. The drunker he got, the more he talked about your little girl, Toni. Dropping broad hints that I should get busy and reproduce.”
She laughed and went to get other passengers seated and start serving drinks. I didn’t order anything, but she brought me a Manhattan anyway. It was good and I was ready for a drink, I guess. It takes a long time to board a couple hundred passengers. Eventually, doors were closed, we got our pre-flight instructions from the stewardesses, and the plane started to roll. Valerie came by my seat during her check and reached below my seat belt. She tugged on it, but let her hand slide down between my legs.
“Just want to make sure your belt is tight,” she giggled. So, it was going to be that kind of flight.
We had a nice meal served soon after we took off. I had a steak that was cooked perfectly. First class had a chef that prepared everything fresh in the galley. Nice. I was seated in the second row on this aircraft, too, which had weird numbering. I was in seat 2J. There were two seats on either side of a wide aisle as the plane got wider aft. Behind the center bar, there was a pair of center seats. I guess you didn’t fill in the full ten seats across until you got all the way back in economy class. There was no one seated in 2H and there was only one seat ahead of me in row 1.
Lights were turned down as soon as dinner was over and things were pretty quiet for the overnight flight. We’d get into London around nine o’clock in the morning. There was another 6-hour time change, I think. Valerie brought me another drink and settled in the seat next to me. She brought a blanket.
“I have a two-hour break,” she whispered. “Have anything you could fill it with?”
Her hand was already between my legs and she was leaning over the center console to kiss me.
“Valerie, you’re married now. Are you still playing around in the air?”
“Daren says what happens in the air doesn’t count. And I know for a fact that applies to both of us. That’s why I have to stop flying before I get pregnant. Daren doesn’t want a slip-up in the air. But right now? You can fuck me for two hours.”
I kept kissing her as I explored her chest under the uniform jacket. Valerie was intent on making me as hard as possible. The couple across the aisle were keeping our games under surveillance and I was responding less enthusiastically to Valerie’s ministrations.
“I don’t think I can do this here,” I whispered as I pulled her away from unbuttoning my shirt. “Too many people are watching.”
“Yeah. That happens a lot up here. Come with me.”
Valerie led me up the circular stairs to the lounge area. That looked familiar from when I photographed her bridesmaids. I hadn’t seen a narrow door behind the bar—kind of between the bar and the cockpit. She keyed in a code that unlocked the door and pulled me through. We were in a narrow chamber with bunks on either side.
“We don’t use the crew bunks on flights less than ten hours, so there should be no one here to disturb,” she said as she started stripping off her clothes.
I joined the process and, in a moment or two, we were both naked. Naked Valerie was just as tempting as she’d been the last two times we were together. Another of Mom’s sayings was ‘I can resist anything but temptation.’ I didn’t even attempt to resist. It didn’t take much time until I’d gotten Valerie off by licking her sweet pussy. And soon after that, I had a condom on and my cock in her pussy.
Having sex in a crew berth was even more crowded than sex in the microbus—something I hadn’t done in quite a long time, and kind of missed. It was more like sex in the back of the station wagon. The roof was so low that one or the other of us was constantly hitting our head. That didn’t slow us down any, though. Valerie was bent over the side of the berth while I pounded into her from behind and filled another condom. She really had a fine backside to bounce against, and when I pressed a thumb into her asshole, I was sure people in the cockpit or in the lounge would hear her scream.
A light like a call button in the cabin lit up with a chime and Valerie hurriedly pressed it to say she was up and getting ready. We both hurriedly dressed and made our way out of the little chamber. Valerie went downstairs alone and I ordered a drink at the bar.
“Did you have a nice nap?” the stewardess manning the bar whispered.
“Mmm. It seemed like there was a lot of turbulence in there,” I whispered back.
“I bet if you visited me in my hotel, we’d have turbulence on the ground, too.”
I looked at the typically petite stewardess. She was raven haired; might have been ethnically Middle Eastern. Her eyes were almost black. I could just see a photo set with her.
“What time do we land?” I asked.
“Nine-thirty. I’m off for two days before I fly back.”
“I don’t need to check in to my hotel until five for my dinner this evening. I’m a photographer. If I come to your room, I’ll want to take pictures of you. Nudes. Will you release them?”
“Oh, shit! I thought you were just a player, not a pervert. Forget I even mentioned it. I’m not doing porn. I just wanted to have as good a time as Val obviously had. Pictures? Disgusting.”
I decided not to argue with her or to try to convince her otherwise. I went back to my seat and in twenty minutes was eating breakfast. That was when I realized that I’d had dinner and breakfast but no sleep between the two. It was going to be a difficult day.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
