Freeing Kirsty Ch. 05

SO FAR: Divorcee Merrick Jamieson (35) visiting New York comes into contact with the moll of the mysterious Spiro. The spirited Kirsty Fallon has reason to fear if she so much looks at another man but after a brief association with Merrick, Kirsty (25) finds she has become attracted and follows the photo-journalist to his homeland and begins working with him. Merrick deals with a retriever sent to return Kirsty and goes to New York and wins her freedom from Spiro. The couple plan to marry in Los Angles in a couple of months which begins an exciting and eventful countdown.

*

Driving to the Auckland CBD in drizzle to collect his transparencies Merrick wished he and Kirsty were back in the south enjoying Queenstown's cool but fine alpine weather. The counter assistant read a note on the job bag and asked Merrick to see the manager.

"Hi Merrick," greeted Fred Sharpe, a former newspaper photographer. He'd often worked alongside Merrick, then a reporter, in 'the good old days'. They chatted and finally Fred revealed the reason for the meeting.

"As you know, our staff peruse every tranny and print passing through this place, looking for any foul-ups by us, any grossly unacceptable stuff such as porn or mutilation and, of course, for the pic of the day, week, month or decade. You must have had a boring time down in Queenstown mate. No porno on you films."

Merrick said, "Wouldn't say it was boring; there was this hot Austrian bird..."

"Seen her mate, she's on most of your exposures. Wouldn't mind getting a leg across myself. But the one I really would pay big money for the privileged for going camping with for a week was that six foot blonde with those magnificently shaped compact boobies. She was only in a few shots; who is she?"

"My fiancée."

"Oh gawd, mate. Sorry about what I said. I didn't know."

"Take it easy, Fred. She'd be really flattered by your interest. She likes to be admired and I know it sounds odd, but I rather feel proud when I see the look of admiration in the eyes of men and women."

"Women?"

"Yes, most guys don't appreciate even women like perving at a good looking or well constructed babe. But carry on; I guess you want one of my pix?"

"Yes - a shot of the jetboat roaring up Skipper's Canyon with those Jap tourists waving at you in the helicopter. You were flying so low that the blades must have been almost striking the canyon walls."

Fred flicked through a couple of pages of his jotter pad, "Here it is, film seven, frame twenty-one."

While Merrick dug through his packets of trannies for the Film Seven exposures, Fred pushed a button and a screen came down through an enclosure in the ceiling. Merrick found the appropriate strip and Fred said, "Give it here and I'll bring it up on the projector."

Shots of bright red, water splashing jetboats roaring up through Skippers Canyon near Queenstown are old hat because of sameness, but not like this shot. It was superb. The jetboat was on a lean, spray was flying everywhere, it was only inches away from the canyon wall and everyone was looking up waving at the heli-photographer, even on this one frame the skipper had obviously taken a quick glance and was waving.

"A classic shot, but so what?"

"Look at their faces," said Fred. "Obvious someone aboard thought your chopper was going to hit the canyon wall and they were warning him off. That's near terror on some of those faces."

"I see what you mean," Merrick grinned. "But we weren't as close that we sometimes were in the old days in search and rescues hovering between the masts of pitching ships and going into mountainous country to winch guys out of crevasses. My pilot here was Joe Mapper, ex-Army and ex-search and rescue. He's one of the country's best chopper pilots. I saw where we were and had no fear knowing he was the pilot."

But Fred had more to add. "Look, all of those guys in the jet are in suits and because of the lean of the boat they're all holding on with their right-hand and waving with their left hand; even the skipper is with his right hand hard down on the wheel turning away from the cliff face."

"That's quite remarkable," Merrick agreed.

"Yeah, and to cap it all off there's the incredible lighting – the sun is shining just at the right angle to penetrate fully into the canyon and to brighten the cliff face – look how it has brought out the colors, and there is even lighting bounce back on to the cliff from sunlight hitting the water. It's a stunner, Merrick. One of those one-in-a-decade shots, I feel."

"So, you want it for company promotion purposes. You can have it in return for you and Elle taking Kirsty and me out to dinner on the company tab."

"That's very generous of you mate, but I want to sell this shot and to destroy all five directly associated shots to make it a unique exposure."

"OK, it was just a shot I took as our target was the next boat up the canyon. Would a grand be asking too much?"

"Mate, this is a giant Japanese corporation, and these suits in the boat include the company's chairman, chief executive officer and their top agents from around the world. If asked to pay a grand they would suspect something wrong with the tranny."

Merrick cocked his head and suggested ten grand.

"A bit steep, but I could give it a go."

"Make it eight grand then, no eight grand, eight hundred and you take eight hundred as commission."

"That's pitched about right in my opinion. The director of corporate public affairs is coming in tomorrow for some other stuff we commissioned photographers to take for them at other resorts."

"Tell him it's eight and a half, take it or leave it."

"Oh he'll take it all right, I've already met him and he's a real pro. He'll see this shot on the cover of the company's most important publication of the year, and they'll send a publication on the New Zealand tour featuring this photograph to their suppliers and clients around the world."

As Merrick was leaving, Fed called, "We'll still have that dinner mate, I want to get a close-up of your honey-pot."

Merrick arrived home an hour later than estimated. That was ignored by Kirsty but she noticed his expression.

"So that's what the cat looks like when it's got the cream?"

The grin went even wider: "I may be paid eight grand less tax for a single exposure from Queenstown."

"What, one of my shots?"

"No, one of mine in Skipper's Canyon."

"Ah, yes. When you returned you were raving about the light in the canyon. It must be a pretty big spender to pay that amount for a single exposure."

"Yes, a multi-national Japanese corporation."

"Oh," Kirsty said, losing interest. "What do you fancy for lunch," she asked wickedly, cupping her right breast.

"Nothing I can think about for the moment," Merrick said, straight-faced.

After sex and lunch, he began the long task of looking at 697 exposures shot on the Queenstown trip. The original tally was 703, counting the five to be destroyed by Fred at the film processing studio and the one to be sold.

"How many do we need to look at?" asked Kirsty, in a thin robe, having just come from the bath.

"Six hundred and ninety-seven."

"My God, what a tremendous waste of film. How many will you submit to 'Dream Resorts Magazine'?"

"Twenty."

Kirsty attempted a mental calculation.

"So that's one film for each exposure you will email to them?"

"More than one and a quarter films actually as the 120 films are only twenty-four exposures. The twenty we select will be couriered as the job specification calls for transparencies as they prefer to do their own scanning."

"But why the high wastage ratio?"

"I had explained that to you – we were in high altitude where reflections are rampant especially off snow and water; we were mostly capturing the facial expressions or freezing body movements of four people in usually quite difficult circumstances and on top of all that we were working at a fast clip. Those pressures induce mistakes and general foul-up, which is why we bracket shots and also take them at different exposures. Film and procession is dirt cheap compared with the real cost of not getting a required shot of excellent quality. But that's enough of this. Drag that pretty butt of yours over here to this light table. I've got a couple of things to show you."

On film seven Merrick choose a strip of the foursome on the jetboat in Skipper's Canyon and then he selected another strip from another film.

"This is the shot of the foursome on the second run they had up the canyon. If you remember on the first day I was on the boat with them but we were offered a freebie on that second day. I had them at the rear of the boat. We were hovering in the canyon as they came thundering up and at the skipper's signal they stood up and everyone waved. Here it is."

"It's a lovely shot, and the lighting is fantastic. Oh the colors and patterns on the canyon walls; the colors are so rich."

"Yes, a lovely shot, but not the greatest shot."

Merrick then described his shot-of-the-decade, actually it was his best shot ever.

"I would like to see it."

Merrick made a phone call. Kirsty heard him saying that he promised to comply.

"Just in time; Fred at the film processing bureau has retrieved one of the five exposures going off to the shredder. I can have it so long as we do not show it to anyone within the next six months. I promised I wouldn't. He will personally present it to you when we go out to dinner; Fred rather fancies you."

"Does that worry you?"

"Nah, his wife will be there and she watches him like a hawk. Anyway, he's only around five-five."

"Good God, while would a short man like that take an interest in me?"

Fred is a tit man. He knows you are over six foot which makes your breast roughly at eye level for him. I bet he makes you stand up for the presentation. His wife won't catch on to that and he might even manage a sneaky touch."

"Yuk, men like that need putting away."

"Fred's a good guy; a little quirky, but a good guy. Now, take a look at this."

On the light box was Kirsty's shot with a wide-angle lens of the helicopter hovering for the photograph. She'd managed to get in a bit of the Skyline Restaurant with lake and snow covered peaks in the background.

"Look – look how clear the faces are inside the helicopter," she trilled. "How did I manage to do that?"

"I persuaded the helicopter company to wire in a flood light and I was crouched down out of sight holding the lamp covered with a piece of cheese cloth to cut back the strength of illumination to light the faces of pilot and passengers. We'll choose the shot we want and will give the rest to the chopper company with our thanks, They went extremely close to breaching regulations in placing me in the optimum positions in Skipper's Canyon."

"What! You took extreme risks just to get a lousy picture."

Merrick stroked her cheek, telling her that she better stick to being a writer rather than trying to become a photo-journalist.

"People who take the risks usually get the best pictures which is what magazine photography at the leading edge is all about."

"Well, if you get yourself killed, there will be no more sex. You better keep reminding yourself of that – and no baby and no big daughter and no loving wife to be at your side."

"Baby? Are you pregnant?"

"I don't think so, but I'm feeling incredibly horny, which is why I jumping you all the time."

"Darling, just allow me recovery time between bouts and you may have me as much as you wish. Why don't you take a nap while I sit here generation a powerful batch of tadpoles. When you wake up you may wish to present us with a candle light dinner over which we shall sweet talk and when we are ready we shall slope off to bed, leaving the dishes."

"All right, except you can do the pots and pans while I'm attending to the desert and then serving up."

"OK, and please wear my favorite little black dress – no bra."

"Certainly, and will you please wear your full dinner suit. Just seeing you in that makes me swoon."

While Kirsty was having her nap Merrick slipped out and bought a dozen white roses for the dinning table.

Beginning work at 6:00 next morning, Merrick was joined a little over an hour later by his still sleepy partner who was particularly welcomed as she arrived with a coffee pot and two mugs.

"How are you progressing, lover," yawned Kirsty, pouring.

"Better than fair, in fact I'm rather pleased."

Merrick took his coffee from her. "Ah, the first fix of the morning is one of the day's best."

"I don't understand why you wait for me to make the coffee if your addiction is so great."

"It's the servitude factor, it adds to the drinking experience; the impatient wait that ends with delivery by a pretty face. You can't beat it."

"I'll beat those sexist remarks out of you if you continue to harbor them. I'm miffed that you regard me as a kitchen wench."

"Nothing could be further from the truth, my sweet flower. Come here and let me stroke your petals."

Kirsty failed to hold back a grin.

"You can be such a chump at times. I'm not here to be petted. I want to learn. Tell me, why is it that my trannies are those small oblong ones and at least half of yours are those much larger ones that are square?"

Merrick sighed, thinking she should have cottoned on to this unassisted. She'd picked up his larger format Bronica SQ-Ai several times.

"Smaller film cameras – that is, the majority of film cameras – use standard film referred to as 35 millimeter whether it's the regular negative used to produce prints or so-called slide film also know as transparency film. The not so common, larger and therefore heavier cameras use a variety of film sizes.

"I was using my Bronica which, when using 120 film, produces an image 55.6 by 55.6 millimeters which is 3.5 times larger than the 24 by 35 image of the 35 millimeter camera. I can also run 35 millimeter and even Polaroid film through the Bronica by switching film holders."

Kirsty indicated that she understood those explanations but she had another question. "If that Bronica is so flexible and opticially superior – I gather that's what its called – why use a smaller camera?"

Pleased at that glimmering of insight, Merrick mentally patted her on the back.

"The more compact cameras are easier to carry around and point and shoot. I use the Bronica for portraits and group shots. For example, you may remember I used it when our adventurers came down that steep incline four abreast. I would expect to get a sharper image with greater detail for enlarging than using a 35 millimeter camera because of the much larger image captured on the 120 film."

Kirsty smiled her understanding.

"Now, be aware of this – every type of camera has its optimum use. Thirty-five millimeter cameras come closest to performing most roles with distinction and now they are being challenged even in the cheaper mass market by better quality digital cameras. If anyone wanted to capture a stunning scenic shot for a calendar they probably would use a medium format camera in preference to their 35mm. For portraits the well equipped photographer would use the medium or even a larger format camera. But having said that, some of the greatest photographs in the world were taken on 35mm cameras at a 5.6 exposure using film brought from a neighborhood pharmacy. They say a classy golfer can play excellent golf using steel-shafted clubs borrowed from old Uncle Bert. Likewise a classy photographer can pick up Aunt Maud's beaten-up camera and take shots that when developed will amaze her that they came out of her camera. They do that through their understanding of light, composition, camera settings and timing, and make decisions that help them to be in the right place at the right time to be lucky."

Merrick stood up and kissed her in one of her favorite snap-kiss positions – just under her right ear.

"Come over here; I've set up my old light box for you here, with a swag of the Queenstown trannies for you to examine. Note the film number and exposure number of any exposure you believe is worth considering for the final selection and put one of these small stickers on the edge of the film like this – you use blue, I'll use white. We will then compare notes and debate which ones should go into the final twenty, with me retaining the power of veto because I'm boss. Usually it is fairly easy to glance at them to sort the wheat from the chaff, but still look closely at every image as even apparent rejects may just have something that can appeal – and remember defects can be cropped out or upon scanning digitally edited and enhanced."

Kirsty topped up his coffee.

"For exposures that look similar or worth taking a closer look, use this magnifier - it's called a loupe. This one magnifies times six. This is how you use it. Try it."

He blew into her ear as she used the magnifier as instructed.

"Good, well off you go. Don't worry about making a mistake. I'll go through the whole lot anyway as I like to examine my 'chaff'. Have fun."

"Thank you master, you explained that very well."

Just short of an hour later, with her eyes feeling a little 'pulled', Kirsty went and made coffee and called Merrick out to join her on the back patio, where they sat under a leafy climber curled out over the wood 'egg-crating'. He arrived rubbing his eyes, but said that would be OK within minutes.

"You'll find you will suffer eye-strain from long sessions, but one gets used to it, just like you do when reading under candle light."

Kirsty looked puzzled so decided to challenge that statement.

"Who reads under candle light these days?"

"Nuns for one."

"What a ridiculous thing to allege. You'll have no idea whether that is true."

"Okay."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

He nodded, she called him a chump. Life with him was never going to be boring!

Merrick went out and returned with a folder which he handed over.

"What's this, more South Island shots of excellence?"

Opening the folder Kirsty's body stiffened and she whispered "Oh God." She was looking at the winning photograph in a 1988 International Photojournalism Competition, still photography, photographer Merrick Jamieson, New Zealand. It showed two nuns reading facing each other at a small table against a stone wall. Their illumination was a single candle.

"Will you accept sorry as an apology, or do you want something else?"

He just grinned.

With her guilt dissipating, Kirsty asked, "What have you decided as the heading for our submitted article?"

Merrick scratched his head, watching a thrush on the lawn with its head cocked, listening for worms working their way to the surface. At least he presumed the bird was listening for that rather than conversational titbits from the table.

"Something along the lines of an adventure Down Under. Northern Hemisphere travellers know that means down this way somewhere, though they probably think of Australia."

"Right - 'Adventure Down Under' it is."

"I wasn't suggesting that as the title."

"Well I am, unless you have something better."

Rubbing the corners of his tired eyes by sliding a thumb and forefinger up and down the top of his nose, Merrick thought why not. It had everything but the location, but neither New Zealand nor Queenstown were words that looked particularly good in headings.

"Readers will focus first on the lead picture anyway, and finding out where is this fantastic place where one can jetboat wildly up a canyon, they will be encouraged to start reading the article, achieving the editor's goal."

He told Kirsty to write her draft story to that theme, and use 'Adventure Down Under' as the heading. As he said that he saw the thrush swallow a worm, pause for a second and then fly off.

Thank God New Zealand doesn't have snakes, he mused. "That worm had looked rather large."