Through The Lens Ch. 01

byHarveyMarcus©

The half hour sitting seemed like three as Viktor posed the uncooperative child, all the time explaining to his mother and me what he was doing with lights and positions and props. When the shoot was finished, the mother smiled at us as she dragged her son from the raised platform. "He really enjoyed it."

Viktor escorted the mother and son out. I examined the control panel. Balloons from the ceiling were just one of Viktor's weapons. From the labels, Viktor could have produced a complete circus with animals and clowns from his magical ceiling.

The mom was entirely pleased with Viktor's efforts and signed up for an expensive package of wallets, multiple five by sevens and as many eight by tens. Oh yes, and a two foot by three foot poster.

After they departed, Viktor asked, "Did you learn anything?"

"Lots." Mostly about how to manage the object of the shoot. If you lose control, the session fails.

"I hope so. There's a client on Angelina's list for this afternoon. A bigger challenge than little Johnny."

Viktor walked me to the door. I pushed it open and bumped into something or someone. Whoever it was pulled the door fully open. It was that same pizza girl from A Hot Piece. We both startled. Viktor handed her some money he'd had stowed in his pocket, evidently prepared for the transaction. He had to physically put the bills in her hand and fold her fingers around it because her eyes were on me, just as mine were on her. Only when he said, "Thank you very much. See you next week" did she change her focus. She walked backwards a few steps, still looking at me, then ran the length of the foyer and through the door.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Her? That's Nashta. We order in once a week, as a treat for the staff."

I imagined my staff, being treated by Nashta's pussy. What fairy tales I come up with!

"Beautiful bone structure, hmm?" Viktor handed the flat box to the greeter, who took it back for employee consumption. "I've offered to shoot her, at no charge. She could be a model - I have contacts - but she refuses. Young women today! Ha!"

I'd offer to shoot in her, if she'd pose with her legs apart. Sheesh, why was I so taken by this waifish foreign beauty? I thought about Vonna. "Yeah, no telling what they'll do." Especially if their boyfriend dumps them while they're posing.

"My daughter Angelina will be handling the next customer for an intimate portfolio, like you'll be doing. Listen to her, too. She's a pro. I've convinced her to let you observe. Just keep your mouth shut. Okay? Okay!"

I left Viktor's side after a vigorous handshake. As I approached the door on the other side of the foyer, two women walked through, arms around each others' waists. One was Angelina, Viktor's daughter. The other woman was breathtaking. Literally. Not cute. Not sexy, like a Playboy playmate. Soul-grabbing beautiful, and she looked familiar somehow. I resumed breathing with a gasp as they kissed, mouths open, tongues visibly probing. They gradually pulled away from each other, both dreamy eyed.

"I don't know what to say," said the beauty.

"I have another client scheduled," said Angelina. "I'll send your proofs in twenty-four hours."

Although Angelina had her own earthy charm, I couldn't take my eyes off her client. I was not merely seeing her physically; I was witnessing her humanity, her soul. Was this what love at first sight meant? The customer's expression went from relaxed grin to a piercing stare when our eyes met, and then immediately back to euphoria as she turned away. Swinging her shoulder bag, she strutted to the front door. The town car driver held it open and then scrambled to get the rear door for her as well.

"You must be Mr. Marcus. Call me Angie."

Her voice startled me back to the task at hand. "Yes, call me Harvey. Can I ask, was she a friend of yours?" It sure seemed that way, from the kiss and all.

"No, just a client. A wealthy client, for sure. She just required some hands on." Angie smiled. "And a bit of gentle persuasion. Daddy told me you'd be assisting me. Have you done intimate portraits?"

I nodded. "A few times, and I have a big shoot coming up."

Angie jammed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. "Then the next client will be a perfect learning opportunity. You saw daddy at work, right?"

"Yes, with a young boy. Your father charmed both Johnny and his mother. Made the little tyke look like a saint."

"Our challenge in this case will be to charm the inner woman out of the client. Follow me." I glanced over my shoulder. The black town car had left.

In jeans and a short sleeve polo that matched her father's with their company logo on the breast, Angie walked like a guy. Her brown hair was close cropped, a masculine style. There was no sway of hips. Given her public display of affection with her last client, I was tempted to conclude that Angie liked girls, not guys. But that was a hasty conclusion based on scant evidence. With a client in the studio, there'd be no opportunity for me to test Angie's sexuality. And to be honest, no need. I was there for knowledge, and not the carnal type.

Angie's studio was smaller and open, with no dividing partitions. On my left, a raised platform, carpeted in black with matching backdrop, with dozens of lights overhead. One lone black stool occupied the flat space. On the right, another raised platform, this one for Angie and her camera equipment. The aisle in between led to a curtained area at the far end of the room.

Angie took her position, on a matching stool behind the camera on a tripod. "Ms. Prim called Daddy last week. She claimed her husband ignores her. Sexually, that is. A friend of the studio told her about success she had after we shot an intimate portfolio that she shared with her hubby. Ms. Prim requested a sitting for some pictures to rejuvenate her relationship. But she demanded a female photographer." Angie curtsied. "So I canceled another client and quoted a premium price for my services."

Photos of Harriett in sexual poses wouldn't do a thing for me. "So she believes that-"

Angie cut me off. "You saw my father use surprise and distraction to get subjects to give natural expressions?"

I thought about Viktor's techniques. "Yeah, he used balloons from the ceiling-"

Again she interrupted. "And a bunch of other tricks. Good for children, but not for adults. I have my own ways of relaxing the subject and making them comply with my directions."

'Comply' sounded harsh. Angie bosses the clients around? "Sounds intriguing. So, what precisely do you do?"

"Watch how I work and learn.  Just don't interfere." She directed me to hide behind the changing screen at the far end of the room. "After our preliminary conversation, I'll bring you out as my assistant. Eliminates the up front reluctance against a male helper in situations like this."

I wondered how uncooperative a grown woman could be. After all, these photos were voluntary. No one was holding a gun to her head. On the other hand, if the client wanted intimate portraits and had a female photographer, it was obvious why my presence might be objectionable. Angie's more than friendly demeanor with her last client still bugged me. Would Angie attempt woman on woman sex with me in the room? That might be an extra lesson I hadn't planned on.

As I walked to the far end of the room to hide, I passed a card table holding a crystal punch bowl, filled with a pinkish beverage, and some matching cups. "Leave it alone. That's for the clients." Angie adjusted her camera from behind the tripod. She was a lot bossier than her father.

The changing area was filled with clothing items I expected Angie's clients wore while being photographed. Playing out fantasies in front of a camera might loosen some clients' inhibitions. Long formal dresses, negligees and costumes of all varieties. A bunny suit, not the Playboy kind. Oh, and a Playboy bunny costume complete with fuzzy tail. Cop uniform. Nurse whites. A few super hero outfits, in colorful spandex. Damn, a Wonder Woman costume. Plastic bracelets and tiara in place of forged metal. Gold drapery cord for the lasso of truth. Subtle discrepancies in the chest logo that only a devoted follower would notice. And I did. But the outfit was close enough. Oh boy, the opportunity to see someone in that costume would be a dream cum true, given how many times I'd masturbated to Lynda Carter on TV. How the network censors let her expose herself, breasts and crotch, in that skimpy costume had always been a mystery to me.

Castanet heels clicked on the wood floor. I stayed hidden as directed. The flapping of Angie's sandals told me she was on the move.

The client's voice was quite formal and proper, with the touch of a British accent. I've always found British birds to be quite exciting. "Thank you for seeing me on relatively short notice. And for accommodating my request. Your father has a marvelous reputation. However I knew I'd feel more comfortable with a female photographer. How convenient that you had a cancellation."

"Perhaps just the beginning of your newfound luck." Was Angie planning on getting lucky with Prim? If she didn't want a male photographer, how would Prim react to Angie's attention? "Please, step up on the platform and have a seat on the stool. Now, if you'd briefly recap what you'd like to get out of your session."

The click of heels dulled on the carpeted platform. Without peeking, I knew exactly where Prim was. "It's quite embarrassing, actually. My husband has become quite distant over the last few months. Perhaps our intimacy has gotten too predictable." Prim rambled on about no hugs or kisses, and no interest from her husband in bed. Oh, and that she'd found adult picture magazines under their mattress. Stupid guy, that's the first place a wife will look. And it makes the bed lumpy. I contemplated her husband's taste in porn. Mayfair perhaps? British publication with well built ladies. I was anxious to see how Prim the client stacked up. "After speaking with a few of your satisfied clients, I thought that a set of slightly revealing photographs might spark his interest and allow him to look at me in a different way."

What if Angie tried to satisfy Prim's need for sexual gratification herself? Would the Brit run from the studio, or play along like the last client did?

"We have many customers in the same situation," said Angie. "After their sittings, their sex lives improve dramatically. To be honest, your husband is a very lucky man to have such a voluptuous woman in his bed."

"How you talk! I must be turning red."

"We'll have you out of that suit and on film before you know it."

"Oh, I hope nothing too daring." Daphne sat on a stool with perfect posture. Her breasts were large but not unwieldy - not that I'd ever get the chance to wield them - and the skirt remained demurely covering her crossed knee.

How was Angie going to get this up tight client to strip, especially with me present?

There was the sound of some movement but neither of them spoke. I moved to the edge of the changing area. Angie was at her camera, making adjustments. The room got brighter as Angie fiddled with some slider controls. This was probably her equivalent of her father's distractions panel. The bright lights were making the room warmer. Even I could feel the temperature rise, and the costumes were shielding me from the direct impact of the ceiling and directional lamps.

Prim spoke up. "It's quite warm in here."

"I need the lights to take high quality photos. Would you like a cup of my special punch? It might cool you off?"

"Yes, quite, thank you very much."

"She'd like something cool to drink," shouted Angela.

I didn't know that was my cue to appear.

"Mr. Marcus, would you please get Ms. Prim some punch?"

"Mister?" asked Prim.

I stepped out from behind be curtain, letting my hand drag across the Wonder Woman costume one last time.

Prim was perched on the plain black stool on the raised platform in three-quarter profile. When she saw me, she stood up and faced both of us, pulling the lapels of her suit jacket tight. "Who is he?"

My eyes focused on our client. I swallowed hard. Ms. Prim looked like a middle-fortyish version Lynda Carter, the actress who played Wonder Woman on TV. I couldn't believe it. I'd had a crush on her ever since the TV show aired. Crush? No, more like a lusty fantasy. I even went out and bought Wonder Woman comic books, but the in-the-flesh version was so much hotter. Being in the same room gave me sweaty palms despite the cool temperature of the studio. Prim stood on the edge of the platform in a skirted suit, her hair done up in a Diana Prince-style bun. She could pass for the actress herself, only at a younger age. My dick began a familiar inflation. Her bust was large. Not huge and awkward but maybe even bigger than Lynda's. Her waist was in proper proportion to her hips, broad and inviting. Except I hadn't been invited to do anything except help Angie.

"I thought my requirements were clear." Prim's voice was sharp. "Why do you think I refused an appointment with your father?"

"We have students assist with client posing and wardrobing. It allows us to be much more efficient, which means we can charge less."

Prim's face softened, but she kept her jacket pulled tight. There wasn't enough material to cover her blouse, and the pressure was actually lifting her bosom up.

Angie's voice had the same authoritarian tone as she'd taken with me. "I can't be running back and forth every time I wanted you to lift your chin or straighten your shoulders. Posing you, adjusting your hair or clothing-"

I was going to arrange this woman's clothes? As in, take them off?

Angie continued, "The session would take twice as long. And time is money. He's not a man, he's my assistant."

"But I'll be exposed in front of a complete stranger-"

"You and I just met for the first time. I'm a stranger, too. Consider Mr. Marcus an extension of my hands. He won't do anything I wouldn't do myself."

I'd already seen what Angie would do with a client. Hug. French kiss. Just about anything, I expected. So this customer was in no more jeopardy with me than her.

Prim wasn't buying the argument. "I can't possibly pose with him here."

Angie changed tactics. "Why not? Your husband will see you in the same outfits."

"But he's my husband. The point of the photos is to get him - excited."

"And you don't think he won't show your photos to his buddies?"

Prim turned towards Angie, her back to me. Nice ass. "Of course not. He wouldn't dare."

"If you get what you want, your hubby will be so excited, he'll show off your pix to his buddies. Out of pride. To make them jealous." Angie pointed at Prim. "That's what you said you wanted. Renewed interest." Angie's hands flew up. "This is a good thing. So you see, other men will see you."

"Really?"

Angie nodded. So did I, although she hadn't directed me to.

"I want to improve Carlton's interest, that's all." Prim stood and smoothed her skirt. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"You'll be fine. We are discreet. Let's start slow, with some nice portraits. Remember, you'll have complete control over what photos he sees. Did you bring any other outfits?"

Prim sat back down and shook her head.

"That's all right. We'll start out with what you have on and proceed from there. I have a large selection we can choose from. Why don't you have a seat?"

I took my first steps since appearing from behind the changing curtains, directly to the crystal bowl, where I filled a glass with the cool liquid. I made sure I didn't trip, stepping up on the platform. Prim took the cup from my hand without making skin-to-skin contact. She eyed me suspiciously as she chugged the contents. Her eyebrows relaxed and she licked her lips. "Mmmm. That is quite refreshing." Her grip on the suit jacket loosened. The lapels spread from the volume of her chest. "May I have some more?"

"One more, and then we really need to get started."

I got Prim a refill. She almost inhaled the punch, or whatever it was. She burped, and then smiled as if embarrassed. "Excuse me."

Angie was behind the camera, pacing. "Let's get started, shall we? Why don't you take your seat?"

Prim parked her round ass on the stool. She raised an arm to shield her eyes.

"Arm down please so I can measure the proper exposure. Mr. Marcus, please step clear and adjust the lights for portrait levels."

I came off the platform but then stood frozen. What did that mean? Without lifting a finger, the lights came down in intensity and the color balance changed to make skin tones natural despite bring indoors. I'd seen Viktor do this with his child client.

"Thank you," said Angie.

For nothing. She'd made the changes herself. Was she setting me up as an authority figure? I yearned to be in control of Prim. Horizontal on the carpeted platform, legs spread. No way that would ever happen. I sauntered towards Angie and the cameras, for a better view.

"Lean forward, please."

Prim's breasts pushed the lapels aside. What a rack!

"Great. We're making progress, in small steps. Now chin up."

Prim tilted her head.

"No, no. Mr. Marcus, could you please assist?"

I made my way back to the platform. The lights above were unbearably hot as I reached out and gently nudged Ms. Prim's head up a smidgen. She glanced at me and smiled. I stepped back, out of the frame.

"Perfect. Now a wicked smile."

Prim grimaced.

"Not exactly what I'd call wicked. Dial it back a bit."

"Excuse me?"

"A bit more allure and a little less evil."

Now Prim looked bored or maybe impatient. "It's still awfully warm. Can't you turn down the heat?"

"The heat is a byproduct of the process. I can't do quality work in dim light, and I can't shoot you in the dark." I could have shot, right then, in light or dark, if Prim showed even a bit more flesh. "How about if we take off your jacket?"

"Oh, yes, that's a good idea."

Huh? This was the same woman who'd clutched her jacket like a life vest in a storm just minutes previous. Why was Prim suddenly so cooperative?

"Mr. Marcus, please give her a hand."

I stepped up and walked behind Prim. That close, she smelled like Wonder Woman, despite the fact that I had no idea what the TV show heroine smelled like. But it was fresh, like she'd brought the outdoors and justice into the studio.

She pulled one arm out of a sleeve. I dipped the jacket so she'd have no trouble with the second. I folded the jacket over my arm and stepped down but not before checking out Prim's chest. Big ones filling out her embroidered beige blouse.

Angie took body shots, bust shots and headshots, moving closer each time. I stayed out of view, on the side.

"Back straight, chest out." Angie fiddled with her camera. "You still seem too posed. Too stiff."

Prim and I shared that condition.

"Mr. Marcus, could you take Ms. Prim's hand and massage it?"

Prim held out her right hand. "Daphne. My first name is Daphne."

It seemed only appropriate to drop the formal name-calling if we were touching, even if only our hands. Wait! Daphne Prim? Her initials were the same as Wonder Woman's civilian identity, Diana Prince. There must be a God, or an Intelligent Design with a sense of irony. Too bad Daphne was so up tight. Come to think of it, Diana was pretty cool to her Major Steve Trevor.

"Harvey." I ran my fingers up and down each of Daphne's digits. Her breathing slowed, raising and lowering her chest in slow motion. Maybe she was relaxing, but this simple contact was pumping me up as much as if I was touching her breasts or thighs.

"Good. Very nice. Keep your back straight. Mr. Marcus, step back just a little. Ms. Prim, eyes open." Angie took pictures as I continued the gentle physical contact. I hoped they were close ups, keeping me out of the picture. I tried hard to make myself invisible, just like Wonder Woman's airplane.

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