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20
End of the Beginning
“Brittany” by Belovodchenko Anton, ID234476374 licensed from Shutterstock.com
“WHERE WERE YOU GUYS?” Karen hissed at lunch.
“We went camping,” Anna giggled.
“After prom?” Andy asked.
“That was brilliant,” Pris said. “Did you really convert the whole bus?”
“It was really comfortable,” I said. “I could almost live there. The tent addition was cool.”
“Didn’t you freeze?” Lonnie asked. He’d taken only Pris to the prom this year instead of both Pris and Debbie. Pris sitting was as close to him as school rules allowed.
“It’s amazing how much body heat you retain under the blankets,” Anna said simply. Everyone looked at her and giggled.
I went into Huntertown on Friday to return my dinner jacket outfit and order a black tux. The guy at the rental place looked at me and nodded.
“Most of the high schools still use dinner jackets for prom, but I’ve been seeing a trend toward black tuxes starting. You’ve already been to your prom and returned your dinner jacket. Got a wedding coming up?”
“Oh, no, sir,” I said. “I’ve been invited to a prom in Chicago. I think it’s a little fancier than ours out here in the west.”
“You go a little farther west than we are and get into Iowa and the boys are wearing cowboy boots and western jackets with a bolo for prom. Have no idea how to dress formally.” He wrote down the measurements from my previous order and went to get a black jacket for me to try on. “Where’s this prom taking place?”
“The ballroom at Navy Pier,” I said.
“That’s a nice place. Must be a really big school.”
“Fifteen hundred in my girlfriend’s graduating class,” I said.
“Well, now, you should check Miss Manners for proper seating and what silverware to use at dinner,” he said. “I’ll give you a single tip, though. Getting in and out of a car—even a limousine—is an awkward situation for a girl, especially if her dress is at all tight and her heels are high. Make sure you open her door and stand right in front of her so no one can see her awkwardly standing to get out of the car. Of course, hold her hands to help her up and watch her head. And if you are driving your own car to this event, spring for valet parking. Never, ever, leave your date standing on the street while you go park your car.”
“Thank you for the advice. I guess my car is staying in the parking garage and her driver will pick me up at the hotel before we go to pick her up. I’m a little nervous because it’s the first time I’ve officially met her parents.”
“I’m sure there’s a story there. Okay, let’s try this other jacket. A lot of rental places don’t have the tailored look you get from a bespoke jacket. Proms are done and weddings haven’t really gotten started yet, so I have time to make sure of the fit of this Italian cut tux.”
“Wow! This is nice. Can I afford it?”
“I’ll make you a deal. Don’t worry.”
“A full vest instead of a cummerbund?” I asked.
“It’s called a waistcoat and pulls attention away from the high contrast of your shirt. If you are dancing, it covers a world of costume problems if your shirt comes loose.”
“I’ve had that happen.”
“We’ll get you a long shirt. I don’t think you’ve been wearing long enough sleeves anyway. You have long arms.”
It was a very congenial shopping trip and the tailor chatted non-stop and made me a very good deal on the rental, even when I told him I’d be gone for ten days.
“This suit will look perfect on you, but remember why we take such care to make it perfect.”
“So I’ll look good?”
He shook his head. “So your date will look good. Remember, you are never supposed to draw attention away from her. When people take notice of what you are wearing, their first thoughts should be, ‘Of course, he has to look good in order to be with her!’ If you are walking, eating, dancing, or standing at the bar, you always need to make her look good.”
“Thank you for the advice. I will definitely follow it.”
In a way, it was exactly the same as the studio. When I took pictures of a model, my purpose was always to make my model look good. Perfect. I’d definitely keep that in mind about dating.
I also picked up flowers while I was in town. Sunday was Mothers’ Day. I’d hesitated before I ordered them and Dad said he would pay for the flower for Mom if I’d just pick it up for him. It was a special time for them. He always got her a red rose corsage. He suggested it would be nice if I got a flower for my sister and I agreed. It was easy to choose pink carnations for her. My hesitation wasn’t over that. My hesitation was in the other flower I bought.
Patricia was due the 20th of July. She would become a mother. I talked to Miss Ludwig and she looked up the flower for that month from one of the huge reference volumes she had at hand. I’d ordered a Larkspur corsage for Patricia and asked if I could pick her up for church on Sunday morning.
She was thrilled that I’d take her to church and truly looked beautiful in a jumper dress that was fitted at her shoulders and bustline, but fell in a kind of A-shape from there over her baby bump. It came only to a little below mid-thigh, showing her beautiful legs down to her three-inch pumps. She wore white gloves and a little white bonnet.
“I know if he were here, Tony would have given you a flower for Mothers’ Day,” I told her. “So, don’t think of this as being from me. I’m just doing this on his behalf.”
“Thank you, Nate. It’s so beautiful. Uncle Sam took my husband away from me, but God gave me a wonderful friend.”
Dad had prepared dinner and Patricia joined us. Kat tried to wait on her hand and foot, but Patricia giggled and had her sit down so they could talk. She wanted to see Kat’s latest paintings and Kat proudly displayed them as we sat on the couch. I looked over Patricia’s shoulder and caught my breath when we saw Lady Godiva.
I knew the horse well. In fact, the scene was in Kat’s room, as much of the background as was filled in. The emphasis was on the beautiful nude girl sitting side-saddle on the horse with long hair falling to conceal obviously budding breasts. And it wasn’t a self-portrait. Patricia and I could both recognize the model as Christine’s little sister, Julie.
“It’s not like a photograph,” Kat explained. “Julie sat for me for the longest time. She’s such a good model. But I don’t need a model release and there is no penalty for painting a picture of a girl who is underage.”
I couldn’t help but think of Sandra, just a year or so older than Julie. Julie would be a freshman next year. I’d seen enough and went to help Dad put dinner on the table.
“Your sister is turning into quite an artist,” Patricia said when we reached the studio.
“Yes. That picture was quite a surprise.”
“If Julie is sitting like that for what must have been hours to paint a portrait like that, I’m sure she’d sit for you to photograph her.”
“No. Oh, no, no, no. Not only no because she’s Christine’s sister, but no fourteen-year-old in my studio unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. No, no, no.”
“My. That sounds like a sensitive topic. I won’t pursue it. It was only kind of a joke anyway. I can hardly wait to hear what Chris says when she sees it, though. You know, there is going to be a small section in the gallery devoted to your sister’s paintings, don’t you?”
“No! I didn’t know that. I mean, that’s fine. I’m good with it. Kat deserves to have her paintings seen. I hope she’ll enter one or two in the fair this summer. I just didn’t know there was a section of the gallery for her. That’s great!”
“It was suggested by your art teacher when she found out what we were planning for your exhibition. Miss Sullivan was all over the idea. Help me out of the jumper. I feel so helpless sometimes.”
I took a couple of pictures of her in her Easter dress and then gladly helped remove her clothes. I spent a while just massaging her back before we started taking the usual photos of her progress. Then she wanted a photo holding her Mothers’ Day flower over her baby bump. It was one of the first of her progress photos in which she was truly smiling.
The last two weeks of school included final exams and a mad flurry to get the display of photos and paintings ready in the studio. None of this work, sadly, took place in the nude.
I did, however, have a photo reservation from Chicago for Saturday the eighteenth. Brittany Fleck called in a rush to get photos for her portfolio. Chris and Anna agreed to help. I have to say my attitude wasn’t great going into this one. We still had a week of school and Miss Sullivan was working with Donna, Grace, and several other girls to hang my photos in the second floor gallery. Dad and Jim Kowalski had built display boards that would be in the center of the room, creating an aisle on either side. Chris and Anna wanted to get down there as Chris had been in charge of the captions and Anna was my yearbook coordinator.
I suppose Brittany was no more difficult than any other of the models I’d had from Chicago. I just felt rushed the entire time we were working. My own attitude probably reflected on my opinion of her.
“Hi, I’m Brittany Fleck. Abe Lawrence told me I needed to see you and you’d turn me into a work of art,” she said by way of introduction. She’d carted at least a dozen outfits and a suitcase up the stairs with her.
“Well, that all depends. I’ll try to find the work of art within you, but it comes by inspiration, not by demand. Sometimes there just isn’t a work of art to reveal.”
“You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you!” she said.
“No. I’m just the guy who pushes the button on the camera. I’ll try to make sure you’re in focus.”
She grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face her. I flinched, expecting a slap on the face. Instead, I got a face full of face as she pressed her lips against mine and insisted on entrance with her tongue.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now,” she said as she broke off the kiss. “But maybe now you can focus you on me.”
“You should know that I don’t mix sex with the studio and I don’t screw around with models,” I said.
“So I’ve heard. When I showed my portfolio to Abe, he told me it was flat and uninspiring. I’d just paid three hundred dollars for it and was pissed. I brought it along so you could see what the other so-called photographer did. Then Abe pointed me at another model and told me to look at her portfolio. It was stunning. Her name is Lori Reynolds and she said she was one of your girls. Apparently, you have more than one girlfriend, huh? Abe said he planned to work with you when you move to Chicago, but if I wanted to be considered to model for his agency, I should come to Tenbrook and get the Attic Allure treatment,” she said.
“Lori isn’t my girlfriend. She showed you her portfolio?” I asked.
“Yeah. I almost cried. I’d done young teen modeling for the Law-Reims Agency and to have Abe Lawrence tell me my portfolio was flat and wouldn’t get me adult jobs there, ripped me up. You and I both have a lot riding on this. I need a portfolio like Lori’s. And you need to show Abe that you are really who he wants to work with in Chicago.”
Well, that certainly put it in perspective. I shook my head.
“Really, Brittany, I’ll do my best. But making artwork is more than just lighting and exposures. It’s based on the kind of connection we can make. How we work together. It took Lori and me months to put her portfolio together. A dozen sittings. You’re asking me to do it in a day. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“We should get started, then. For the record, Lori said to just put myself into your hands and let you work. Literally. So, I accept your hands as part of the deal of working with you.”
“We’ll start with a good portrait,” I said. “Chris, can you touch up Brittany’s makeup and hair for a portrait shot? Anna, we’ll start with the light blue backdrop.”
“Yes, Mr. Hart,” both girls chimed. I honestly don’t know how they managed to do that without busting out in giggles. Ten minutes later, Brittany was seated on the stool and I took a full range of portraits, including going for a more dramatic serious pose with high contrast.
From that point on, we got in a flow of working together. Chris and Anna helped in more ways than getting scenery and makeup. They talked to Brittany as much as I did.
“How is Lori?” Anna asked at one point.
“She said it had been a slow start, but she’s getting jobs pretty regularly now. I just loved the high contrast picture of her looking down at her boobs. Um… If Nate isn’t her boyfriend, who is? She said she had a boyfriend in Tenbrook.”
“I didn’t know Lori had a boyfriend here,” Chris said.
“Oh, yeah. I broke up with Nate over that picture of Lori’s boobs,” Anna said. “Terrible decision. I’m glad he let me come back to work at the studio. Let’s undo another button before this shot. We’re getting into the sexy Attic Allure style now. Here. Hold this like you just won it.”
She shoved the little porcelain goddess statue into Brittany’s hands and the look of puzzlement on her face as she looked at it was priceless.
“I’ve been getting little hints of your breasts and legs all the way to your waist. Are you ready to take it further?” I whispered to her as we reset.
She pulled my hands to her breasts and took a deep breath, which really filled my hands.
“I’m in your hands,” she said. “Whatever part of me you want to touch or photograph. Mold me.”
I did. I undressed her right there in the studio as Anna and Chris looked on. I directed the black backdrop be brought out. I’d taken a dozen photos by the time I had Brittany naked and I stopped to change film. She was a little bewildered, standing in the middle of the drop naked while I ignored her.
“One of the things about Nate is that he does focus. I’ve seen where this is going and he’s not going to use any props for this next roll of film, I’m sure of it,” Chris said. “You are beautiful and he is going to capture every curve of your body like no one has seen it before.”
“No one’s ever seen my body like this before,” Brittany said. “About the no sex in the studio thing. Is that for real or is he going to crawl between my legs next?”
“No sex,” Anna said firmly. “But if he crawls between your legs, you can bet what he photographs will be a work of art.”
“I should dry off a little so I don’t drip on the backdrop.”
I tried a few different positions on the black backdrop, kneeling, standing, lying on her side, lying on her stomach. I wasn’t getting the kind of depth and contrast I wanted. I asked her to sit. In my experience, most girls flatten out a bit when they lie on their back. Most teens who haven’t lost a lot of weight don’t suffer too much from breast flattening because they’ve just grown there and the breast is only barely large enough to contain the fat cells within it. Brittany was definitely in the upper percentile in terms of breast size, but they only sagged a tiny bit. Inspiration hit me.
I sat beside her and looked into her eyes to see if the trust I thought we had built was really there. I liked what I saw. I put my arms around her, much to her surprise.
“Just lean back into my arms,” I said. “I’m going to lay you back and I want you to put your elbows down to support yourself when they touch the floor.” I kept one hand behind her back and moved the other under her thighs. “Now let’s raise the knees. Bring your legs back. Keep your toes on the floor. Nice. Nice.”
I ran my hand up and down the back of her thigh and then down the front. I continued across her breasts until I had a hand behind her head. I leaned in to give her a little kiss, holding our lips together, but not getting our tongues involved. When I pulled back, she smiled at me.
“That’s it. That smile. Hold this position and keep your focus where my face is now. Where your imaginary lover is.”
I moved to the camera and took a shot, then adjusted the lights. I lit the backdrop under her well enough that I could see her shadow against a not quite so black floor. I moved a light behind her head with the beam shining down her body and took another shot. It still wasn’t quite right. I went back to her and sat next to her.
“How are you doing?” I asked as I supported her in my arms again. “Too tiring?”
“I can hold the position okay. It’s hardest holding my head up and not looking like I’m straining. I assume I look like it since I am,” she laughed.
“Let’s do something about that. Chris, hairbrush,” I said. She was right there. “Brittany, I’m going to lean your head back. Just relax into my hand as we go back. Chris, smooth the hair so it falls straight to the floor. Right there, Brittany. I won’t keep you in this position too long.” I started to move away as Chris finished arranging her hair. Then I moved back. “We’re going to put your full weight on your elbows, not your forearms,” I instructed. I lifted her hands and placed them over her breasts. They barely reached the nipples, but obscured them so they weren’t obvious. “Light touch,” I said, demonstrating by lightly rubbing her nipples between her fingers. She moaned. “Hold it! Right there!”
I moved to the camera and got the first picture. I had to adjust that downlight slightly so it accented the curves of her chin, breasts, and thighs. I had to bring the temperature down and lengthen the exposure time. Each adjustment I made, I snapped another picture until I finished the twelfth exposure. I rushed to her and slid my hands under her and behind her head as I lifted her back to a seated position and held her against my chest.
She worked her neck around a little and then lifted her lips to mine. I let this kiss get deeper and dared to caress her breasts as we kissed.
“Well done,” I whispered. “I think we got the shot.”
“If you’re not going to fuck me now, you should let me go get dressed. I don’t think I can stay like this without wanting more.”
I lifted her up to her feet and she rather dazedly headed for the dressing room. Chris went with her to help support her as she dressed. I handed the last roll of film to Anna and she labeled it.
“I could see it taking shape,” she said. “Poor girl. Even I wanted to come. Do you think you got it?”
“I think so. Only the darkroom will tell.”
It did tell. While Chris took Brittany to the second floor to tour my exhibit being installed, Anna came into the darkroom with me and helped process the film as I started printing the proof sheets as quickly as she had the film developed. We worked well together and shared a lot of kisses while we worked.
Brittany loved the proofs and chose enough to completely replenish her portfolio. I promised her that I would get them printed and sent to her yet this week, which disappointed her. She’d been hoping she could take them all with her. I’m just not a machine. Besides, that last art piece was going to take some special work in the darkroom to really bring out what was there.
She took off, saying she had a motel room in Fulton for the night so she wouldn’t be driving late. She gave me a deep and soulful kiss before she left and said she’d look forward to seeing me in Chicago. If this Abe fellow was serious about using me for some shoots, I supposed it was possible.
As soon as she was gone and Chris and I could get free, we hopped in the bus and took off south. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Peoria and we stopped for dinner along the way. It was almost dark by the time we reached Bradley University, where Christine planned to study in the fall. I was impressed.
“They’ve got a new school of business and I’ve been accepted. I’m going to learn something and I’m going to make a difference,” she said proudly.
“I believe in you, Christine. I believe you will make a difference. You’ve already made a huge difference in my life,” I said.
“Hmm. There’s a big park a couple of blocks from here. I’m sure there’s someplace we can set up the tent and sleep and stuff.”
“I’m big into the stuff part,” I laughed.
“Yeah! Stuff me!”
We found an out of the way parking area that looked like no one would bother us and quickly set up the tent next to the bus. There were restrooms up a little path and then we just snuggled into our cozy bed and attempted to screw our eyes out. Anna and I had three nights and two full days to make love in the bus and Chris wanted to have just as much in our one overnight. We didn’t succeed, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time I thought about sliding into Christine’s hot pussy, I started to stiffen again. I don’t think anything actually came out the last time I came.
When we broke camp at eight o’clock in the morning, we hadn’t really had much sleep. We went back to the campus and toured around some more, then headed north for the two-and-a-half-hour trip back home. We stopped at a roadside rest area about halfway home and after making love one more time, we slept for an hour before we resumed the trip. Even with all that, we made it home by two and I went straight to the studio for my Sunday afternoon session with Patricia.
I spent a lot of time after our photos were finished just massaging her back and legs. Of course, I massaged everything, but I wasn’t capable of rising to making love again after my night with Christine. Patricia didn’t mind that. She still liked being massaged—especially when it included me massaging her clit with my tongue.
I spent my available time Monday and Tuesday after school in the darkroom. I got a beautiful print of Brittany’s art photo and sent the entire set to her on Wednesday morning. A second copy, I printed in a 16x20 enlargement, matted it, and took it to the display area on the second floor. Chris got the caption label on it and Miss Sullivan got it hung in the right place.
Friday night, I spent the evening holding Chris’s tummy as she went through her monthly cramps. It was obvious that they weren’t as bad as they’d once been. She was very talkative and after her parents and siblings went to bed, she fished me out of my pants and gave me a spectacular blowjob. When I threw my head back as I came, I was sure I saw Julie on the stairs watching us. Then she disappeared.
And then we were there. All fifty-six of us who managed to graduate from Tenbrook High School in 1968 donned our caps and gowns and processed to ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ to receive our diplomas and sit to listen to our mayor give the commencement address and tell us all how proud he was of us.
I was singled out and everyone was invited to the grand opening of the Attic Allure Gallery exhibition on Sunday afternoon. I would need to get Patricia’s pictures out of the way before the gallery opened at two o’clock.
We threw our hats in the air and were graduates.
Parents really needed to coordinate when and where parties were going to be held. It was really nice that Deborah had driven up with Cameron for my graduation, but that meant my room was in use for a few days. Naomi couldn’t make it, but Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace had driven out from Chicago for the event. They were going to stay at the Hill Motel, so planned to be around for church in the morning and the gallery opening in the afternoon. Better yet, Elizabeth hitched a ride with them and was there to see me graduate.
Several members of our church stopped in at the parsonage for a while. Our open house stretched on from five o’clock until eight o’clock Saturday. Elizabeth, however, having been to Tenbrook before, left after about an hour and made her rounds to the other girlfriends’ houses to celebrate their parties as well. At eight o’clock, my family waved me away and told me to drive carefully. I pulled up to Chris’s house and was invited in for another cup of punch and a cookie. I got congratulated by their family and then Chris and I left to go to Ronda’s.
Ronda’s party was still going strong, but Ronda was ready to leave. Her parents had a lot of friends who had come to congratulate them for surviving another graduation, rather than to congratulate Ronda. We headed to the bus and went to pick up Patricia at her house. She’d gone to visit Judy and Janice, then returned home for a quiet meal with her parents and Tony’s parents. When we got there, Patricia got the front seat and Chris and Ronda piled onto the bed in back.
Anna and Elizabeth were ready to go when we got to Anna’s house. Of course, her parents wanted to congratulate all of us and reminded Anna to be safe and not to start drinking. We hadn’t even considered drinking. The girls had, however, all participated in packing the bus early in the day. Anna got in beside Patricia up front and Elizabeth rolled onto the bed in back. Then we headed out to the RV park where I’d reserved our space.
It had started to rain by the time we arrived. The temperature hadn’t quite reached sixty during the day. That didn’t stop the girls. It looked like we were the only ones in the park, so before they got out of the bus to set up the tent, they all took their clothes off. So did I. For the next hour, we ran around naked in the rain, setting up our tent and getting everything ready for the night.
That included spreading out a stack of sleeping bags in the tent and getting all the girls dried off. Drying each other with big towels led to a lot of caresses and then kisses. It seemed like my cock was supposed to be some kind of good luck charm and the girls each spent time rubbing it or sucking it. I noticed that we all spent time rubbing Patricia’s tummy, too. Everyone was chilly, though, and getting into sleeping bags was deemed the right thing to do. That was for Anna, Christine, Ronda, and Elizabeth. Patricia and I slipped into the van and got in bed. We were still all close enough that we could talk late into the night.
I was cuddled up behind Patricia with my hard cock resting comfortably between her butt cheeks. She kept moving slightly to keep me hard as we talked. Elizabeth looked up and sputtered when she saw the motion under our blankets.
“I wonder what’s going to happen up there tonight,” she speculated, pointing at us.
“If the van’s a-rockin’, don’t come knockin’,” Patricia shot back.
“But I’m only here for a night,” Elizabeth pouted. Then she giggled to let us know she was only kidding.
“You’re going to have Nate for nine days in Chicago starting next weekend,” Anna rebuked her. “Patricia is even going to miss her fix next Sunday while you’re doing whatever you do after your prom.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be doing the same thing you did, Anna. Only we’ll have a bigger bed at the Palmer House.”
“Is that a fancy hotel?” Chris asked.
“The best,” Elizabeth affirmed. “Nate will check in there as soon as he gets to town Saturday and will have to get dressed all by himself. Deke will pick him up there and bring him to pick me up and meet my parents.”
“Oh, I remember that part,” Ronda said. “My father organized a family dinner for all of us last year before we could go to the prom.”
“I was afraid I’d splash something on my shirt all through the meal,” I laughed.
“The only reason we’re spared that embarrassment is because the prom includes dinner. Hopefully, something good,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t count on escaping dinner with my parents later in the week, though. After the prom, at midnight, Deke will be in the line of limos picking up partiers and taking them wherever. He’ll take Nate and me back to the Palmer house. I’m taking a page from Anna’s book and we’re staying Saturday, Sunday, and Monday nights, but I have to be back at school Tuesday. Two teachers have left scheduling finals for the very last week before graduation.”
“I’ll head to my uncle’s house then and spend a few nights on his couch and days at Attic Allure Chicago. He says he has enough work lined up for me to keep me from pining after Elizabeth until Saturday. I’m hoping to entice her to spend the night in the bus after her graduation. Then I’ll head home Sunday morning,” I concluded.
By that time my cock had been moved to between Patricia’s legs and I was sliding through some of her juices as we continued to rock gently together. The girls turned out the lanterns and in a few seconds, my rocking back and forth succeeded in taking place in Patricia’s juicy pussy. We’d been teasing at this for over an hour and the slight change of connection only sped things up a little. We petted and kissed and fucked for maybe half an hour before we made it to our climax and I filled her pussy with my sperm.
Surprisingly, we were all up and dressed in time to make it to church Sunday morning. We were dressed a little more casually than usual, but Mom was impressed that we made it at all. We all filed into the last row of pews and managed to stay awake through the entire service.
Sunday dinner was at Ronda’s house. I think the parents held a lottery to see who had to feed the six of us our graduation luncheon.
Dr. and Mrs. May seemed happy to have us, and served up a dish of porkchops with potatoes and gravy that doubled as breakfast and lunch for us. We hadn’t eaten much at the park before we got ready for church. I might have been a little busy with Elizabeth in bed. The other girls closed the van doors and got themselves ready for the day in the tent, running to the shower building and hoping it didn’t rain before we got packed up. We were becoming pretty proficient at setting up and breaking camp. Each of the girls wanted to know as much about how to set up the tent and take it down as possible, since they all intended to go camping with me this summer.
In fact, we’d be trying it out this week. I’d had a little special time with Patricia and with Elizabeth Saturday night and Sunday morning, but Chris, Anna, and Ronda each expected a little overnight with me during the week before I left for Chicago.
After lunch, everyone had to hurry home to get changed for the grand opening of my exhibition. I needed to be in my suit and tie, I was told. I also had to rush to the studio to get Patricia’s week 30 photo and have things set up for tours during the open house at two o’clock.
When Patricia and I were finished and I managed to get her dressed again, we went down to the second floor where my girlfriends and models were already gathering. Donna and Grace were there and a placard next to a table where people could sign a guestbook read “Sponsored by the 1968 Oracle Yearbook.” That was nice, but it covered more than just working their naked tails off to clean the room. They also served coffee and tea, cookies and nuts with girls from the yearbook staff acting as hostesses. The exhibit would be open for a month, but the fancy reception and studio tours were only Sunday afternoon.
Dad and Jim Kowalski had followed what Levi suggested for display racks in the middle of the floor. They were painted the same color as the walls and had spaces where people could walk through between the units. Each was set at an angle so it didn’t look like you were just entering a tunnel of photos. The displays were 4x8 sheets of wallboard in 2x4 frames and had casters on the feet. The legs brought the top of the boards up to about seven feet. After my exhibition closed, the racks would be donated to all the local churches to use as bulletin boards and dividers in their Sunday Schools.
The welcome table was near the head of the stairs leading up from the Center Marketplace store, which was open on Sunday just for the exhibition, thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Barkley. Left of the reception table was my sister’s exhibit of a dozen framed watercolors, including the beautiful painting of Julie Evans, Chris’s sister.
Miss Sullivan had done a terrific job of guiding all the people involved in organizing my photos. There were several collections, especially featuring my regular models. Pris’s book covers were very popular. So were Janice’s Vargas girls, Debbie’s French postcards, and Judy’s War Widows series. People stopped and stared for a long time at the long single photo that showed fourteen weeks of Patricia’s pregnancy. It was displayed next to Judy’s War Widows and people just went directly from the picture of Patricia by Tony’s grave to the sequence of her pregnancy.
I noticed that my oldest sister was spending a long time in front of the display of the war widows and Patricia, but I didn’t have a chance to check on her right away.
I received many congratulations. Teachers and classmates were constantly spotting friends in photos and exclaiming over the two years of yearbook photos Miss Sullivan had contributed. Mr. Grossman and his wife attended and congratulated me.
“I see several pieces that would make an excellent entry into the competition this year,” he said. “I suppose by August, though, you will have another entire selection of prize-winners.”
Uncle Nate joined us and I pulled him aside to talk about my progress and thank him for mentoring me. I was tugged a different direction and saw Lori standing near the section of her photos. I went to give her a hug.
“Did you see the picture of Brittany that we came up with last weekend?” I asked. “I understand you sent her my way.”
“I did, and I’m already jealous. She described her sitting to me in graphic detail. I’m just glad you’ll be in Chicago soon. Abe has promised that he will make sure that Attic Allure girls get to continue working with Nate Hart,” Lori said.
“What’s this I hear about you having a boyfriend in Tenbrook?” I asked. “Brittany was sure it was me!”
“Oh, well…” Lori glanced down and for the first time I noticed that Stoney, standing just behind her, had hold of her hand. “This just sort of happened this past year when I was visiting home.”
Stoney chuckled. “I had to practically beg her to spend a little time back here,” he said. “It’s a little difficult handling a long-distance romance, but we’re managing to get together at least once a month.”
“I had no idea!” I said. “Congratulations to both of you.”
“Well, we have a long way to go in this relationship,” Lori said. “My work, thanks to you, is all in Chicago. Stoney’s is here in Tenbrook.”
“I like law enforcement, but I’m not willing to become part of Daley’s gestapo,” Stoney said. “I’ll commute to see Lori.”
I moved on to greet other guests. Our mayor was standing conspicuously near his portrait in the exhibit of “Our Town,” which featured photos of the ministers, merchants, officials, and other important people of the village. It was a very popular part of the exhibit and people had been leaving names of others who should be included.
And the prize-winning photos I’d exhibited in the fairs were a major focal point. They, along with their ribbons and certificates, occupied one complete panel of the center display. I overheard Mr. Grossman explaining that the only reason there weren’t more pictures with ribbons and awards was because of the lack of exhibitions for photography in our state. He wanted to sponsor a “Land of Lincoln Art Photography Competition” and was promoting the concept to anyone who would listen.
My girlfriends and models conducted people on tours upstairs to the studio so people weren’t left to just wander around. The girls had worked on tour speeches they each gave that told how she’d become involved as a model and what it meant to her growth and maturity as she worked with me in the studio. Some people toured the studio two or three times with different models.
Christine had composed paragraph-long captions for each of the images, written right on the matte. We’d debated a long time about that, but I wanted the caption associated with the image. Only the photos that were displayed “by special arrangement with the model” were exempt from having the caption on the matte.
There were quite a lot of those. Of course, the picture of Amy that won the State Fair Award was a major attraction. But several students had approved display of their Attic Allure photos, even though they weren’t officially models. Elizabeth’s clown picture was approved by her. Ronda had even approved the display of one picture of her with Christine. They were reclining against each other on the day bed in nighties, but no naughty bits were exposed. You just knew they would be soon.
I saw price tags on several pieces that were offered in 8x10 or 10x10 or even larger archival copies for exorbitant amounts. I thought Anna and Miss Sullivan were dreaming when they set a $25 price on most and $50 on the truly artistic pieces that I had rights to, like Avery’s streetlamp photo and Lori’s first breakthrough art piece. The largest pieces were priced at $100. One of the most popular was the photo of Janice working on Henry’s truck.
“Burt, I hate to mention it, but your daughter is a beautiful girl and in that series of Vargas girl pictures, she really is displaying everything,” a viewer said.
“I know,” Janice’s father said with a shake of his head. “I did the best I could, but you know how it is. Dangle a boy in front of that girl and her clothes just fall off. Fortunately, I think one of them has taken the bait and she’s reeling him in.” Burt nodded toward where Janice was getting a little kiss from Pete before she took another tour up to the studio.
As I circulated around the room, I saw my sister back at the exhibit of the war widows, looking at it with a magnifying glass. I decided I should join her for a minute.
“It’s a touching display, isn’t it?” I asked softly. “Judy did a remarkable job conceiving of the whole thing.”
Deborah turned to me and tears were running down her face. She pointed at the picture of Patricia at Tony’s grave.
“Private TK,” she said. “Second Battalion, Thirty-fourth Infantry, Company B.”
She broke down crying and couldn’t go on. I put an arm around her and she sobbed into my shoulder. A couple of people paused near us. I saw Patricia returning from a tour upstairs. She looked at us and started our way.
“John’s group. He wrote to me about the horrid ambush in the middle of the night on New Year’s. He’d become friends with Private TK, who was always showing pictures of his wife and telling the guys she was a Playboy bunny. He’d just gotten new photos that week and was showing them all around.”
My God! Tony and John had been in the same group. They’d known each other. More than that, John was in the same battle that took Tony’s life.
“Mortar fire opened on their platoon and Private TK jumped to push John out of the line of fire. He was hit instead. That poor young woman,” she said pointing at the picture of Patricia at the grave. “How can I tell her that her husband died saving my husband’s life? Thanking her seems trivial. And I can’t be sorry he did it, because John would have died. That poor woman!”
Deborah was a mess, standing in front of the exhibit. But she didn’t need to tell Patricia anything else. Tony’s pregnant wife was standing right beside me. When their eyes met, both women broke down in tears and hugged each other. I looked around and saw a lot of that going on. The whispers spread through the exhibit. Stoney stepped up to the women and began to whisper to them. Their tears began to subside as he put an arm around each and led them away from the photos that had set them off. Deb pushed Miss Sullivan’s magnifying glass into my hand before she was led away. I raised it and looked at the photo. The engraving on Tony’s stone was clear.
I put the glass back on the welcome table and Miss Sullivan put it quickly in her purse. I saw that Mary Lamonte joined the little group mourning Tony’s death. Billy stood near his captain.
Once again, I didn’t know whether I should be glad or sad about what my photos had shown.
“I hate to spoil things,” Uncle Nate said at about five o’clock, “but we need to hit the road in order to get back to Chicago at a reasonable time. That means I’ll have to pry your girlfriend away so I can get her home. She has two weeks of school left and her father made me promise to get her back.”
“I wouldn’t want to create problems for you, Uncle Nate,” I said as I made a show of removing Elizabeth’s hands from around my waist where she’d attached herself when she saw him approaching.
“Most of the Chicago people didn’t want to be caught here in the middle of the crowd. You can expect they’ll trickle in to see the exhibit during the month. I’ve talked to Barkley, and he’s agreed to arrange to have one or two of the girls act as a docent if the visitor calls in advance. Those girls have done a terrific job on the studio tours.”
“I couldn’t have had this show without them,” I said.
I kissed Elizabeth with the promise that I would see her Saturday and Uncle Nate left.
The exhibition officially closed at five o’clock, but people hung around until we finally announced we were locking the doors at six.
We all headed to our own homes and I had two bowls of ice cream and chocolate syrup before I crashed. Deborah had three.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
