A Night Outside Ch. 08 - The Photo 01

Authors note: This is a prequel to the night outside series, although it is not necessary to read any of the previous chapters to enjoy this one.

Alison -- Spring Semester Junior year of college

"Wait, wait, wait!" Alison cried out as she did her best job to speed toward the closing door; she was still rather clumsy on a set of crutches. Between the backpack and camera bag, her balance was askew, further challenging her. The student in front of her either couldn't hear Alison or didn't care as the door slammed shut right in front of her nose. Sara had volunteered to help her get to class, but her pride wouldn't allow her to take up her girlfriend's offer.

The semester had started so well, with so much promise. The basketball team had finished an improbable run by winning the conference title for the first time in a generation. Herself and Sara had been named first-team all-league. Over the winter break, she, Sara, and their best friend Samantha had moved into a new two-bedroom apartment, just off-campus. It was a hell of a lot cheaper than the three one-bedrooms they had been staying in the prior semester. Especially since they all seemed to hang out at Samantha's most of the time, Sara lived on a pull-out couch in the living room if asked by one of the girl's parents. Sara had yet to sleep a night on the sofa, slumbering every night curled up beside her.

Through spring break, school had been outstanding. The course load had not been too grueling, which was advantageous as basketball had consumed so much of the possible study time Alison had. Alison had managed to juggle high-level mathematics, educational pedagogy classes, and an art elective, all with aplomb. Then at the end of the quarter-final game in the national tournament, with seconds left on the clock and the contest decided, she came down wrong on her leg. Something popped, and she couldn't walk. Alison had to watch the semi-final game on the sideline; Sara had almost succeeded in willing her wounded team into the national championship. Unfortunately, Sara fouled out on a bad call with thirty seconds left on the clock. They both had to watch from the sidelines as the last-second three-point shot fell for the other team.

After that, it was time for the hospital; tests confirmed that she had torn her ACL and MCL. Surgery and some complications with an infection meant that her stay in the hospital lasted an entire week. Sara had practically lived on the chair beside her bed. Her conspicuous presence, as well as the fact that their relationship had not been a secret to her teammates that stopped in to visit a few times, meant that a much-anticipated conversation with her family came a little earlier than she would have liked. Alison had already come out to her parents as bisexual her freshman year, but when the amorphous liking of both boys and girls suddenly had a face and a name, things got a little awkward.

On the positive side, it seemed they just needed some time to come to their senses. Alison's parents had known and liked Sara for years when she was her best friend and teammate. Why had it changed everything when they found out that they were sleeping with each other?

Between a week in the hospital and back loaded semester, she was now struggling to keep her head above water. After a couple of tough weekends, she had mostly caught up in her coursework. Then she realized that she had neglected an entire unit in her advanced photography class. It was a tight squeeze between calc three and a doctor's appointment, but if she could make it to Professor Gipson's office hours, perhaps she could work out a plan to get caught up. Alison's Calc class had run long; she only had a couple of minutes before Dr. Gipson would close office hours and teach. The door slamming in her face seemed to be a sign that hope was running out for this semester.

Before she had the chance to struggle with the door too long, a boy came out the door, a pair of headphones on and loud beats booming. He startled momentarily as the door almost struck one of her crutches. "Oh, sorry about that; I should pay better attention." He held the door open for her with a sight bow.

"Don't worry about it. Thank you." Alison Trundled into the interior of the art building. The hallway of this wing covered with large photos, some framed and others printed directly on metal. Accompanying each image was a small metal plaque with the student's name who took the picture and their graduating class. In a few cases, the model featured in the photo or an editor was also credited. At the bottom of each of the plaques was a list of accolades that the picture had won. The first of the photos dated 1961, five years after the university started the photography program. The images covered a wide gamut of subjects; landscapes, fine art, photojournalism, and macro photography seemed to be the most common. Every few years, a student's photo would join this hall of fame, and the hallway would get just a little more cluttered.

In the 90s, the college saw multiple winners; the photos threatened to spill out into other building wings. The famed professor, under whose tutelage the winning streak occurred, passed away in the early 00s. Between not finding suitable candidates and a shaky move to teaching the now prevalent digital photography tools and techniques, there was a gap of ten years with no winners. There had been substantial rumors that the college was going to drop the program. It didn't seem like they could compete any longer.

That was when Dr. Gipson joined the faculty. He was a student of the prior famed professor, who had two photos in the walls of honor. During the tumult of the early 00s, Dr. Gipson had spent his time in the middle east as a photojournalist. Often embedded with military units, he met the man that would become his husband, a marine, and a computer specialist in the nation of Afghanistan. It would have remained just an energy and an attraction had the two not found themselves enrolled at the same school, working on their respective master's degrees. As he worked on his dissertation, he returned to the area when his husband accepted a state school position across town. By chance, a job at his Alma Mater had opened.

The pair were credited together in several journals, coupling Dr. Gipson's love of photography and his husband's computer science know-how to advance the field of computational photography. Dr. Gipson had modernized the curriculum and recently started a winning streak of his own; four years running, a photo was added to the hall of fame. Dr. Gipson loved to remind them of the photography basics and to take the time to set up the perfect image; he had learned on film and embraced the digital medium. He just wanted all his students to know how a photo was set up, not just spray and pray, hoping that one of the hundreds of photos a winner. The cameras were capable of it, but having too many images to cull would slow down the editing process and lead to student burnout.

Dr. Gipson had taken an interest in Alison's work almost immediately when the grad student teaching her introduction to photography class sent the best pieces of the course to the professor. Walking by the classroom, her heart raced as the memory from her first semester in school, when she got a note on her project portfolio to see the professor resurfaced in her mind. Earlier in the semester, a pair of students had a similar message on their portfolios and never returned to class. The persistent rumor was those students had gotten caught plagiarizing. She knew her photos were her own but hoped that there had been no mix-up.

"You have a natural eye for this, Ms. Jensen. With a little effort, I think you have the talent to have a photo join our hall of honor." Alison had only taken photography on a whim, needing a fine art elective. Alison used her father's beat-up old SLR, instead of one of the department's old camera bodies, to complete the course. Intro always took photos on film and edited those photos as scans on the computer. This handicap forced the students to calm down and make each shot count. "I understand that you are an education major?"

"I am, Secondary mathematics in particular."

"Outstanding, if you can combine a mathematical mind with your natural talent, you can go far with photography."

"I want to be a teacher, sir."

"That is certainly a noble pursuit; I have no desire to dissuade you from your chosen path. I would just hope that you could fit some more photography classes into your schedule."

From that conversation, Alison had taken a couple of other photography classes. She found that she loved a creative outlet, an excellent release valve from the stress of being a student-athlete, and her high-level mathematics classes. Today, however, it was the source of her anxiety. If she couldn't get something worked out, she may fail the course she took as stress relief.

Reaching the end of the hall, she glanced up at the clock; it looked like she may have just missed office hours. The light was still on in Dr. Gipson's office, but she could see that he was packing his things to head across campus for a class. Crap, guess I'll have to make the office hours tomorrow, She thought but desperately wanted to remove the gnawing stress that caused her to toss and turn at night. He must have seen her standing in the hall because he looked up and smiled. Opening the door, he motioned for her to come in and have a seat. "Ms. Jensen, please come in, I can text my grad assistant to get the class started, and we need to have a conversation."

"Thank you, professor."

"I am so sorry for the bit of a quagmire your semester has become. Are you feeling any better?"

"Not physically, but I am getting used to it. I'll make it."

"I assume you wish to talk to me about advanced photography?"

"Yes, sir."

"The work for the first three units of the semester is remarkable. I was hoping that you would be able to finish the semester strong."

"As was I, sir, but then-" she pointed at her braced and bandaged knee.

"Ah, yes, I am going to chance a bet that you are concerned about the clause in the class that all of the units must be completed to pass the class."

"Correct again, I am finally back on my feet and have no doubt I can take care of the assignment in the fifth unit. But..."

"Unit four was due yesterday, Alison." Dr. Gipson's speech became soft, and a slight sadness became evident in his voice.

"I am quite aware." She held back tears that were welling up inside her. "It's just, well, I missed the first session due to us making the tournament, which was okay because I should have made either of the other two. I had not planned on my week in the hospital."

"I am sorry about that, but the issue remains. How I dearly wish it were any unit other than unit four. You can make any of the other units up on your own time."

"Yeah," Alison conceded, feeling a little defeated. Dr. Gipson had the reputation of a hard-ass, well earned in the eyes of the underclassmen, whether it was his deep voice or the physique that he had honed from his time embedded with the military. Or, more likely, how Dr. Gipson had to act as the disciplinarian for the classes taught by the grad assistants. He was always tough and fair to the students.

"Normally, if a student loses a week to something out of their control and cannot make up the unit during the semester, I can give them an incomplete. I don't think that is going to work for you, though."

"Why is that, sir?"

"Well, again, had it been any other unit other than four, we could have you make it up of the summer or next fall. Unit four takes prior planning due to having to find and schedule willing models. Though it is not completely necessary, I also like to have trusted individuals doing the projects' printing due to the unit's sensitive nature. If I were here this fall, again, it would not be a concern. Next fall, however, I am on sabbatical so that Joseph can spend a semester teaching out in Silicon Valley. That would push your make-up to next spring. Therein lies the problem; I doubt you will have time at all between student teaching and another tournament run."

"Of course, and that was all spelled out in the syllabus and normally sounds reasonable." Alison acquiesced. A sinking feeling taking over, her GPA may soon suffer a severe blow.

"But..." Upper-level students knew better; Dr. Gipson would do everything in their power to help them succeed. Both pushing students to achieve more and giving them a helping hand when necessary.

"Is there anything I can do this semester?"

"I can't bring in an extra modeling session; we don't have the budget this year. Hmm, let me check something." He sat back on the other side of the computer and brought up the calendar. "Okay, this might be something; it isn't a lot."

"Anything, sir."

"I do have one more printing session for unit four due to a broken machine. They will be in to print two more students' projects on Monday. That gives you the weekend. I can give you the modeling agency's number. If you can get anything set up over the weekend, you might be able to get something to me on Monday at 7:00 am."

"What happens if I can't find any models this weekend?"

"As I said, it's not a lot. But it is the best I can do; I am giving you an extra week. I will tell you that we had students miss out on the models before, and they got creative. They had friends that volunteered."

"Really? That seems like a lot to ask."

"It certainly can be, but don't start panicking yet. Call the agency. See what you can set up. I don't have any studio time available, but I have some spare lighting equipment that you can check out. You may need some help picking it up, but we will be here until 5 pm tomorrow; give us a call if you need anything. If you must resort to volunteers, remember, having a model release signed is imperative."

"It has to be two models? I can't just do a study of one person?"

"It is all about how you would pose and bring the most personality to a given body. It must be at least two models. It is all about comparing and contrasting two bodies."

"Does it have to be one male and one female?"

"No, not at all. A lot of students go in that direction, but it is not a necessity. If you can contrast two males or two females adequately in the study, that may be better. I can't tell you how many times I get pictures comparing a male chest to a female chest. It is to the point of cliché."

"Okay, got it, I will do my best. Thank you, Dr. Gipson."

"I can't go flunking my best students, especially when they get dealt a bad hand. At the same time, I must be fair to others. Everyone has issues to overcome. You have talent; that natural eye could lead to something special. I am still a little sad that I can't convince to give photography a try as a major."

Alison blushed instinctually; she had a hard time accepting praise. "I enjoy it as a hobby, but if it wasn't a creative outlet... I would hate to lose the fun."

"I thought the same before I dove into it as a profession. But I am not here to try and convince you. So, how's the knee?"

"Well, better, it still hurts like hell if I move wrong. When the infection hit, there was talk that I could lose the leg."

"Oh, my. I did not realize it had become that serious. I am sorry to hear that."

"They got it under control. I have to hobble over to the campus hospital. Hopefully, it is good news. Even with the best possible news, I probably won't be able to get back on the court until January. Surely, Sara and the girls can make a strong start to the season without me on the court."

"She's quite the firecracker, isn't she?" Everyone on campus knew the girls. Before they had come to campus, their girls' basketball team had been a perennial also-ran. Now they attracted some national attention. Sara was more of the team's face, her boisterous personality making her a darling in the local media. Alison had the workmen's reputation, driving the team to great heights, but her stats rarely jumped out.

Alison was confident that her smile betrayed how head over heels she was over Sara. "She has been called worse."

"I will not keep you too much longer; I do have a class to teach. Here are the phone numbers for the modeling agency. Remember, Monday at 7 am is a hard deadline."

Alison placed the literature in her bag and then carefully got back onto her crutches.

"I will have something for you on Monday."

"See that you do, Ms. Jensen. I hope you get good news at your appointment."

Dr. Gipson escorted her to the building exit and helped her out of the building. He flagged down a student assistant golf cart to get her to the teaching hospital on campus, then took off at a brisk pace to get to the rest of his class. It wasn't going to be an easy weekend, but at least now, she had the possibility of passing all her classes and getting the semester back on track. If only she could find a couple of nude models to finish the project before the following Monday.

Sara -- About the same time.

Sara's legs shook as she powered through the last of her squats for the day. She could already tell that her thighs and glutes would be sore tomorrow. Basketball season was over, and although they had gone so far beyond where they had imagined, the way the season ended weighed heavily on her. She needed to be stronger, faster, and more agile to make an honest run their senior season. During Alison's time in the hospital, Sara had slacked on her training. Spending all her time worrying about her love and trying to stay caught up on her kinesiology and biology classes left precious little time to hit the gym.

Sweat stung her eyes as she toweled off. She was pushing herself not only because she was back in the sports gym for the first time in weeks but also because Sara couldn't be where she wanted to be. Alison should be at the doctor's appointment just about now. Due to rules concerning student privacy and a couple of incidents where students were not in as committed relationships as they said they were, only spouses could be in the room with the patient. Sara was not quite ready for that level of commitment. She certainly would not argue that she was deeply in love with Alison. It was either push herself in the gym or sit at home a worry about Ally.

Aubrey, a pretty little freshman teammate who had redshirted this season, walked into the weight room. Her choice of a bright yellow racer-back sports bra and green booty shorts accented her dark brown, a hue somewhere between milk and dark chocolate skin nicely. The advantage of the girls' sports programs having their weight room was that they often dressed less conservatively than they would if they had leering male eyes on them. She could certainly stand to put on a little more muscle before next season; her drive and speed on the court were unquestionably going to be an asset to the team. Sara secretly hoped that she would step up as a team leader after she and Alison graduated; Aubrey's skillset had the potential to match her own. The four or so inches she had on Sara in height should give her better reach.

"Sara! Good to see you in the gym again. How's Alison doing?"

"Better, she is at a doctor's appointment now; here is hoping for some good news."

"Indeed, we are going to need her next season. We won't be sneaking up on anyone then. How's she doing with school? She must have lost some serious time with that hospital, and we only have a couple of weeks before finals." Aubrey asked while she was stretching out her long sinewy legs. Sara couldn't help admiring her flexibility. A lingering horny feeling was not helping things. Emotionally Sara understood that Alison might not be ready to have sex for a while, and she was good with that, anything to support the woman she loved. Physically, she needed something more than self-love; her fingers and a vibrator couldn't satisfy her the way Ally could.