Amateur Photographer Ch. 04

After the sessions photographing Sarah I was very keen to do more. The only problem was finding more models, because enquiries were now starting to dry up. Maybe it's time to do some proper advertising, I wondered. The only one that looked in the ballpark was a girl by the name of Kate. And even then, she wanted a preliminary meeting before she would be prepared to sign up, as it were. She wanted to make sure she was comfortable with who I was and, in her words, 'the set up I was operating'. It didn't sound promising.

She arrived bang on time. I invited her in and offered her a seat.

"Glass of wine, Kate?" I offered.

"No thank you," she replied firmly, with a slight look of scorn in her eyes. That said, she was very attractive. Moderate height, slender figure, small but nicely shaped breasts. She was a bit different from your average student in the style of her clothing: a classic light grey skirt/jacket business suit that gave her a particular air of elegance. She was wearing a pair of expensive-looking black shoes, with thick square heels, not too high. Her short bob hair style was of a golden blonde hue. Her complexion was very fair; she obviously of northern European decent somewhere along the line.

Very stylish, very business-like, all up a rather sophisticated looking woman. She was also older than Sarah, I couldn't help but notice. Kate had to be in her late very 20s.

"Have you been doing this long?" she asked.

"No, not long at all," I said. Then I gave her a truncated explanation of my motives and intentions.

"Fair enough," she said. "Actually, look, I'm not interested in doing a photo shoot under the terms you're talking about. I'm not here for that. What I would like is for you to take some standard portraits - clothed. Resume kind of stuff. I realize this is not in your, well, how shall we say it, line of work, and in fact as far as that's concerned I suppose you could say I'm here under false pretenses, so if you're prepared to do it as I want, I don't expect to be paid."

"So why me?" I asked. "Why don't you just go to a professional photographer to get done what you want. None of the other students..."

"Oh come on!" she snapped, cutting me off. "Look at me. Do I look like a student? I'm 35 years old. I saw your ad at the university because that's where I work. I'm an English professor."

"Well, I wouldn't have... – you look a lot younger than 35," I said, starting to wonder what I was getting myself into here.

"Gee, thanks for the flowers," she said curtly. Very up front, this one. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. I have seen the quality of your work - one of my students showed me a couple of prints you took of her, and it's obvious you're a very good photographer."

"Sarah?" I gulped, wondering if it was her, and wondering just which shots she had seen.

"Yes, she's in one of my classes. Actually, she spoke to me about you before she came to you. I told her I didn't like the sound of it. I advised her against it, but it was her decision. But I did make sure she gave me your address and details before she came here, just in case.

"You know, David, you're quite well known around campus. You've even been the topic of discussion at one of the student feminist movement meetings."

"Really?" I said, starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable. I had a kind of sinking feeling, as if I was under investigation. "How do you know that?"

"I sit in on some of their sessions, offer them a bit of guidance, keep an eye on them, see what kind of ideas they come up with."

"So, er, what did you think of Sarah's photos?" I said.

"As I said, from what I saw, they're very good. That's another reason I decided to come; like I said, you obviously have a passion for what you do, twisted as it may be, and for what I need I figured you'd be at least as good as any professional, and also I thought that given my position you'd be prepared to do it for the right price, ie: nothing – and I also get to check you out on behalf of the your 'prospective clients', make sure you're not going to be a danger to them or exploit them too much. Kill two birds with one stone. To be honest, I had come here expecting to meet some sad old disgusting pervert. You probably are a pervert; well, of course you are, getting your rocks off like this, it is a little bit sad I have to say, but at least you're not a disgusting old man as well."

This was getting more than a bit tedious. I had no dealings with the local campus feminazis, and I didn't want any. But nor did I want any mad professor bad mouthing me around campus. And I was annoyed with her tone. I didn't particularly want to photograph her at all, clothed or otherwise – even if she did look hot. With her attitude it looked like it was going to be more trouble than it was worth if I wanted to continue shooting girls from the Uni. But then the way she was going on, she just looked like trouble all round.

"Look, relax," she said. "One, I'm here to get some photographs taken. Two, I'm here to see that you're not a threat to the girls. I think I've established that you're basically harmless. And three, what skin off your nose is it to spend half an hour photographing an attractive woman, if it means that that woman might then not discourage any of your potential models should they come to me for a second opinion - like young Sarah did? Don't know about you, but it sounds like a no-brainer to me. You don't have to take the pictures if you don't..."

"OK, OK," I interrupted. "This is just a bit unusual, that's all. And anyway, I've done nothing wrong, I'm doing nothing wrong, and for as long as I'm doing this I won't be doing anything wrong. So, I'm happy to do it. When do you to do it?"

"Now."

"OK, what are we looking at?"

"Like I said, I want professional resume type stuff. I want some good quality headshots, and some portraits while I'm here. This suit looks good, and I might as well get some nice properly-done shots while I'm at it.

"One other thing – you're shooting digital?"

"Yes."

"What brand of camera?"

I told her. "Why do you ask?" I said.

"Oh, nothing, just wondering. Now, let's do it. Where should I stand?"

"We'll do the headshots first. No need to be standing for that. Sit on that chair over there."

I had her framed against the off-white wall, a clean background surface that would do the job fine with the right lighting. I positioned the spotlights to shine directly on her and checked the light meter against her skin. Her eyes followed me around the room as I underwent these preliminaries, like a shopkeeper eyeing off a potential thief.

I set the tripod up and zoomed in on her face. Kate certainly wasn't my type of person, but she was certainly attractive. She had that classic Euro chic look; fine, light-colored hair, green eyes, and a very cute smile – a stark visual contrast with her blunt manners. And the images were coming up a treat, the light from the spotlight flattening out any blemishes, not that there were many. She was indeed a very hot looking 35-year-old.

"Smile!" I said, somewhat meekly, and she did. I rattled off some more shots.

"OK, done," I said.

"Hang on, I want some with my jacket off," she said. She stood up and removed the jacket, revealing a simple but elegant cotton blouse. She sat back down. Then she did something I didn't expect: she began to unbutton it. First the top button then the second and third, till it was undone below the line of her bra, which, now partially exposed, I could see was a lacy little number, low cut, sexy. She wasn't exactly displaying herself – you would on a hot day see classy business-type women, say, in the city unbuttoned this far – but it was still fairly provocative, and frankly the last thing I would have expected from so seemingly bossy and uptight a woman as this, one who seemed to feel nothing but contempt for me.

"OK, now go again," she said. It was more like an order.

"That's a sexy look," I said. "What's with the buttons – I thought this was supposed to be a job resume type thing. Bit risqué for that, don't you think?"

As the words tumbled out, I wondered whether I should really have said them. I didn't want really want to provoke her, or give her an excuse to be even more antagonistic. I really just wanted to get this over and done with. But she'd unbuttoned half her blouse – what the hell was she playing at! But she did look damned hot. She was certainly pushing my buttons.

"Did I say it was for a job application? Anyway, what's it to you?" She paused. "Look, if you must know, one thing I want shots for is for an internet dating service. Everyone seems to be doing it, and it's hard to find a real man these days amongst all the perverts and freaks. So I'm going to see if it pays to advertise. Hence the cleavage. Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

"Well, you do look sexy like that, if you want a male opinion, even if I am a pervert."

"Thank you, Mr Pervert," she replied with a faint smile. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, I want to get some standing-up shots like this."

"Right oh," I said.

She stood up. I took the shots. She did look sexy like this: the white business blouse was conservative attire, but the buttons were undone and her bra was showing. Looking at her from the side, under the billowing blouse you could clearly see her entire right breast inside its white, lacy little cage.

If I was surprised she'd exposed so much in front a 'pervert', I was shocked by what she did next. As I finished shooting, she reached down and undid the rest of the buttons. She pulled the sides of the blouse across to her hips, revealing a flat stomach and pierced navel, the upper sides of the blouse still falling across her bra-clad breasts. Hands on hips, she looked up at me, smiling. I was aroused and alarmed at the same time. I felt nervous. What was going on with her?

"How's that?" she said. "You like that, Pervert?"

I merely nodded. I wasn't sure what kind of game she was playing here. There was a hostility in her tone of voice, and yet she's taking her God damned clothes off: was she baiting me? I felt like maybe I ought to stop the shoot altogether, because I was finding her a little bit unsettling, a little bit weird, but I also didn't want to piss her off unnecessarily. And she looked hot – if she was baiting me (but why?) I couldn't deny that it was actually working. Best to just play along for the moment, I thought, and don't say too much.

"David."

"Yes?" I replied. Her expression had changed a little. There was still the undercurrent of aggression, but she looked a bit sheepish. She was avoiding eye contact, just glancing up very now and then.

"While I'm here I want to do some other shots," she continued.

"OK," I said, still wondering where she was going with this.

"But I don't want to leave them with you to ogle, or whatever it is you do with the pictures. Here," she said, reaching into her bag and handing me a memory card, "stick this in your camera, and I'll take it with me when I leave."

"Alright," I said. I realized why she'd asked what brand of camera I was using.

With that, she slid the blouse off her shoulders and neatly folded it over the chair. Jesus, I thought, she is serious. And she did look sexy – very tasty indeed in that skirt and heels, with nothing on up top except the lacy little white bra. I realized now that she was also wearing stockings, skin colored. Just as I prepared to take some more shots I noticed she was fiddling with the zip on her skirt.

"Wait," I said. "No need to rush. Obviously you want to get some more revealing shots, but for now you look great just like that. Wouldn't it be nicer to take it slowly rather than..."

She cut me off.

"Nicer for you," she bristled. "Look, let's get this straight. I'm not here for your gratification. Understand? My body still looks good, but it won't forever, and you obviously like looking at half naked women, so just shut up and let's get on with it!"

With that she unzipped and the skirt fell to the floor. Now all she had on was sexy white knickers and bra, her heels and light colored stockings. If it wasn't for her personality, I'd have really been enjoying this – she was beautifully proportioned, with such pale colored skin. What a babe!

But all this was messing with my brain. I was happy to take the pictures, whatever pictures, but why the hostility? This woman seemed to have no manners. But at the same time she looked so damned hot, and here she was taking her clothes off - and I absolutely wanted to see much more of her. In a way I felt trapped.

"Should I stand up or sit down?" she asked, as I stared back at her impressive curves.

"You want me to direct the shoot?"

"Well, yes. You're the one with the camera, aren't you."

"OK, Kate, you want to look sexy? Sit on the chair, on the edge, and push your legs out straight. Hold on to the seat of the chair to balance yourself."

"How's that?" she said. She had done as asked. She had great legs, and in this position her upper thighs were prominent, her clenched ass cheeks thrusting forward, as though she was offering herself to me. It's amazing that as much of a drama this woman was to deal with, she was still as hot as hell to look at; I wanted nothing more than to wrap my mouth around that lovely curved V-shape between her legs. She was giving me a hard time; she was giving me a hard time all round. She was making me hard.

"That's good, Kate. You look good. Now, move your legs apart."

"You'd like me to spread my legs? Sooo predictable."

"Yes, but if you don't want..."

"Alright," she chimed back, in a disinterested, bored kind of way.

She looked at me slyly. Shifting her torso forward to maintain balance, she bent her legs so that they came back towards the chair, and then opened them. Wide apart. She gazed across at me, wisps of blonde hair across her face, which was framed between her opened knees and thighs.

"How's that, Mr Pervert? Does that make you as hot as your young bitches do?"

I felt like saying to her that that wasn't such a nice way to talk about her students. I thought better of it.

"If you're asking do I think you look hot," I said, "the answer is yes."

"Getting you off, is it?" she said, softly rubbing her hands up and down the silky fair skin of her inner thighs. Was this making me hard? The question was totally rhetorical: she'd have to be half blind not to notice she was making me hard.

"Right, I want you to stand up now," I said. "Face me, like that. Good. Now take off your bra."

"She glared at me scornfully.

"Why don't you take off your shirt first, you fucking weirdo. Give me something to look at! Go on, show me what you've got and I might show you my tits."

She was really pissing me off now.

"Kate, I don't need this. You've got some shots, let's call it a day."

"Oh come on, don't you want to see my tits?" she said, her tone softer now as she brought her hands up to gently fondle them. She was taunting me. Did I really even want to see them if she was going to be like this about it? The truth was I did want to see them. Badly. Especially with her rubbing her hands all over them, gently tweaking her nipples. She knew how to put on a show. She was running the show. I put the camera down and pulled off my shirt.

"Umm, nice," she said, looking me up and down. "Good boy. Good body!"

"Thank you. Now take the bra off." It was like we had completed some kind of transaction.

Her hands went around her back and fiddled with the clasp. The garment sprang forward, and as she peeled it off and tossed it to the ground and her round, firm little breasts sprang free. Lovely little handfuls with hard, pointy nipples.

"I want you to take some shadowy figure shots, like you did with Sarah," she said.

I knew the ones she was talking about, with the spotlight from behind her, the light facing into the camera. I opted for some silhouette shots, one leg pulled up slightly, toe pointed down. She complied with that request. At this angle her protruding nipples were the focal point, as it were. These were stunning shots, the outline of her nipples prominent, utterly unmistakable.

"OK, enough of that," she said. "What should we do next?"

I was relieved that her attitude had softened a little. Not much, but I could tell she was getting off on this in some form – she was enjoying herself, whether it was displaying herself or humiliating me or both, a lot of the former hostility seemed to have drifted away. What should we do next, I wondered to myself? She's asking, and if we've gone this far I wouldn't mind seeing her out of those white panties before this was over, I thought. Why not just bring it to a head.

"Kate, take off your panties."

"Oh God," she said with obvious sarcasm. "How surprising... I never would have expected that."

Jesus, I thought, I've had enough of this. I put the camera down and walked off to the kitchen. I needed a drink.

"Oh come on," she said, slumping onto the chair. "Don't be so sensitive. Don't you want to see more?"

As if to emphasise the point, she opened her legs and began rubbing her clit through her panties, gently, up and down, up and down. My cock, which had begun to soften, was now pulsing with blood once more. God yes, I wanted to see more. She began to rub herself harder, faster; no lack of self confidence with this one, I thought to myself as I watched, transfixed by the way her body arched against the back of the chair, her leg muscles tensed to the sexy rhythm of her fingers. God, she was sexy, so brazen. Totally shameless, she'd have to be the kind of girl that would do just about anything in the bedroom.

"Well?" she said, suddenly stopping.

"Well what?" I said.

"Do you want to see me? Don't you want to see my pussy?"

I paused.

"Yes."

"I thought so. Well, you better give me some incentive. Get yours off."

I just stood there, half frozen, not really knowing what to say or do. I didn't want to be naked in front of her. I didn't like her. She was scary. This had become humiliating. She was humiliating me. She knew it, and she seemed to be enjoying it.

"Well?" she said.

I reached down and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them off. I watched her smile in approval as I reached for waistband of my shorts and pulled them over my protruding hard on. My cock sprang free as I stepped out of my final item of clothing. I stood before her, exposed, hard as a rock.

"Mmm, nice cock," she said, eyeing me up and down, one hand resting on her mound. "Good body too. You know, David, you're a good looking guy with a reasonable brain – you must be some kind of pervert to be resorting to this photo caper to get your rocks off with women."

"Well, look who's talking, Ms Internet Dating Service," I said, inwardly pleased with myself at having come up with such a stunning comeback so quickly, even though I felt particularly foolish standing there naked in front of a person I didn't like – but someone who had caused me to have a hard on.

"Well, hardy har har, very funny. Now, where were we?"

"You're about to take off your panties."

"Oh yes, how could I have forgotten?"

Very funny, I thought, as she got to her feet. She stood in front of me, staring at my hard cock as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties and bent forward, sliding them quickly down over her hips. She stood naked before me, legs spread slightly, hands on hips. Her lips were bare, with a small tuft of wispy blonde hair above her clit.

For a moment we stood facing one another, a few feet apart, eyeing each other off, both of us naked, apart from the heels and the thigh-high stockings she was still wearing. She looked hot. She really was such a cute girl, beautiful eyes, sexy body, naked right here in front of me.