tagErotic CouplingsExposure Compensation Factor Ch. 03

Exposure Compensation Factor Ch. 03


I had several readers request more from Dierdre and Ken, so here it is.

When I posted my last story, I asked, as usual, for Comments, Feedback, and votes. I received very few...so let's try some reverse psychology. Don't tell me what you think, or what you like. ;-)

Are you laughing? Good, because I'm kidding. Come on folks! Votes are like applause to writers, and you don't get an encore unless you ask for it.

Thanks for reading. Enjoy.


Ah Didi. My darling, Didi. Those four and a half days together changed my life forever. Hers too. I can say that with relative certainty, and all due humility. It showed on her face every morning.

We had been together nearly two years now. In that time we had become quite the team.

Didi still did her own thing, and had been quite busy in the wake of her cover appearance. She was very grateful for my help in making her an overnight sensation, after years of trying. She expressed that gratitude often, and physically. There was much more to it, of course. Two years takes more than just sex.

I loved her. I knew it quite early, but it took me a while to actually say it. Once I did, the floodgates opened. She had been holding back, defending herself from pain, but now, the only thing missing was an actual marriage certificate. We had become 'us'.

As far as team Winslow-Hendricks was concerned, we were doing very well. There were times when work schedules had us going in opposite directions, something that helped our bank account, but I still hated. If we weren't spoken for separately, we usually went together. I was there on set for her as moral support if she was the talent before the camera. She was by my side as an assistant when I was behind the camera.

Let me say...and I know my opinion is biased by the fact that I love her, am sleeping with her, and find her the most beautiful woman I've ever know... but, she's one hell of an assistant, with a very good eye. She often anticipates my instructions for whatever model we are working with, and can translate for me when my words fail. Despite years of learning, 'model' is an ephemeral language, constantly changing. Sometimes, I was in need of an update. She took care of that quite nicely, being current on the lexicon.

She also learned quickly. I had gifted her with a decent, high resolution DSLR, and told her to use it. She would learn the way I did, by shooting lots of pictures, and getting corrected. Of course, I learned on film, so it was a longer and more expensive process. For her, it became part of our bedtime ritual. She would cuddle up beside me, and we would go through whatever she shot that day. I would offer tips to make the images more pleasing. Believe me, at first there were plenty of those, but she got better with astounding speed. Before long, my suggestions were purely artistic.


We were in day one of a shoot for Didi. I was just watching, anonymously to all but one person on the set. The photographer running things was some guy I'd never heard of, a shorter, younger guy who supposedly was a genius, according to him. He had an English accent and a bad attitude.

I was standing aside, watching him set up, yelling at his assistants, and generally being an asshole. For a genius, and an English speaker, he seemed to have a lot of difficulty communicating his intent and instructions. I just met him, and already I didn't like him. A voice behind me made me turn.

"Ken Winslow? What are you doing here?" Apparently, two people on set knew me. It was the client, and I had done work for her, and with her, in the past. Her name was Becky Nightly, a name I always found funny. Sounded like a porn star. She was pretty, and blonde, and well constructed. It was only her petite stature that had scuttled her career in front of the camera. She had used her contacts, and perhaps her feminine wiles, to get a foot in the design world. Since then, things had taken off, and now her company was growing exponentially.

"Becky! How are you?" I laughed, as she hugged me.

"Just great. I had no idea you were available. If I had, well, you wouldn't be available," she said quietly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Just being a supportive partner," I answered. She did the math.

"Really? You and one of the girls?" she laughed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "I thought you had a strict 'no models' policy? I thought that was smart, by the way. Even when it applied to me." She winked.

Several years ago...over ten, actually...Becky had spent some time in front of my camera. She really was a cutie, and made it known that she would be willing to spread her slender legs and surrender herself for my pleasure. All I had to do was ask. I didn't.

Later, when I had shot one of her earliest catalogues, she was no longer offering. She was demanding. Three hours of passion followed, which she viewed as a tip for doing such a good job on the images. What wasn't clear was how her husband would view it, so we mutually decided it should never happen again, and never be spoken of. I felt guilty for months, but there was no fallout.

That was then. This is now.

"Yeah, but she changed my mind," I smiled.

"Hmmmm. Made you an honest man, did she?" Becky asked. "Don't tell me which one...let me guess."

The girls were filtering out of wardrobe. Dresses. This catalogue was for dresses. Didi looked yummy in hers.

The asshole, otherwise known as Ian, chose a petite blonde as his first victim. She was young, and cute...and didn't deserve the treatment he was giving her. He was abusive, and reduced her to tears quickly.

"Get the fuck out of 'ere! You cow!" he bellowed.

I glanced at Becky, and she rolled her eyes.

The scene was repeated. This guy didn't know how to direct his talent, and when the girls didn't somehow just 'know' what he wanted them to do, he freaked out, and got nasty.

I looked over at Didi, who was sitting patiently, waiting her turn. She saw me looking, and smiled.

"Ah! There she is!" Becky whispered from beside me. "That smile made it too easy." All the other girls were looking nervous, worried they'd be next, but Didi was confident in herself and her abilities. She wasn't worried about some snotty English prick.

"Deirdre Hendricks, huh?" Becky added. "Good choice. She's gorgeous. How long?"

"Two years," I replied, holding up two fingers.

"Congratulations," she smiled, then gasped, "Uh oh..."

Didi was walking onto the set, and Ian was eyeing her like a piece of meat.

"I'll talk to Ian," Becky said. I touched her arm and shook my head.

"He doesn't know what he's up against," I grinned. "Let him learn the hard way." We looked back, toward the set, where impending doom, in the form of my tall, busty darling, was waiting to be unleashed.

Didi was wearing stilettos, and towered over the little fuck. He was looking straight at her boobs, and the cleavage the dress revealed.

"I'm up here," she said quietly, "and if you treat me like you've treated the other girls today, I quit."

"So quit, you fucking whore! You really think I care?" Didi glanced at me, a wry grin on her face. She let him rant. "You're just a pretty piece of tits and ass, and there are millions more where you came from! I'm the artist 'ere, you cunt, and I don't need your fucking useless threats! Get out! Who's next?"

Didi smiled, and crossed her arms. While we watched, the other girls...all six of them...formed up behind her. They looked at Becky.

"I speak for all of us," Didi said steadily, "when I say, if he's still here in five minutes, we all won't be. We're not telling you your business, but if you want to shoot a catalogue today, you need to use a photographer who treats women with some respect, not as objects."

It was a mutiny, and I loved it. So did Becky, apparently. She looked over at me.

"Ken, are you committed to the 'supportive partner' role, or are you willing to work?" she asked.

"Just say the word," I replied. She smiled, and didn't even look away when she said her next line.


He started to reply, but knew it was too late, and gave in, walking sullenly off the set.

"Do you have your gear?" Becky asked. I shook my head. "No problem. I'll make some calls and have a full kit here by noon. Until then, I guess we're wrapped." She turned to face the models. "Ladies, I apologize for my choice in photographers. I think you'll find working with Ken much more enjoyable, right Deirdre?"

"Right," Didi smiled. "He's the best."

"Okay. Ken, Deirdre, I'd like to talk to you, please. The rest of you...we'll start up again at, oh, call it one o'clock."

The models applauded, and dispersed happily.

"Ken, I need to know what you need, exactly, then I'd like to take the two of you to lunch. My treat, for ridding me of that asshole," she said. "If you hadn't been here, I'd be fucked right now."


Becky made her calls, and we jumped in her car, heading for lunch. She drove a nice Mercedes sedan, with all the bells and whistles, and we sat in the back while she drove to the restaurant of her choice. The girls chatted about dresses, and the catalogue, until we parked.

A few minutes later we were seated at a table with a very nice view, in a private corner of the deck. Ocean view. Seafood. Didi at my side. Oh yeah.

"So, Deirdre..." Becky began, but Didi interrupted her.

"Please, call me Didi. I have a feeling we're friends now," she laughed.

"Indeed we are," Becky smiled. "Okay...Didi...Ken tells me you've been together two years now?"

"Yes, that's right," she smiled back, taking my hand in hers theatrically, with a glance in my direction. "Two wonderful years."

"Well, what are you waiting for, girl?" Becky laughed. "Why no ring?"

"We've talked about it," Didi grinned. "On hold until I no longer need my footloose and sexy image." She winked.

"Ah, understood. Well, there's a couple of reasons I wanted to us to have lunch together today. First, of course, I'd like to say thanks for saving my ass, Ken. I'd also like to ask you a favour," Becky smiled.

"Sure, Beck," I replied, "What's up?"

"I need you to plan for six shoots a year for us. Set your schedule around our stuff first. We have the four seasonal catalogues, plus swimsuits, and specials. I guess what I'm saying is...I don't want any more situations like we had this morning. I can't take any more chances on unknowns with a flashy portfolio, and no people skills. I know you. Your work is exemplary, you have a great eye, and, if Didi is any indication, you haven't lost your ability to relate to women. If you'll accept, I want to make you our official photographer, for as long as you'd like to be." She took a sip of her drink, then added, "I know I'm asking for special treatment, so I'll sweeten the usual deal for you." Oh boy...more money, and a staff job, too? Does it get any better?

She turned her attention to Didi.

"And you...well, don't think I'd steal your man without making it worth your while. You come with him. I want you to be our face. It's nice to have a consistent presence from catalogue to catalogue, and we could do a whole lot worse than you, but hardly do better, especially with that smile you seem to save for him," she jerked her thumb in my direction. "And, I thank you for your actions this morning. I spent a few years in front of the camera myself, and never had the guts to stand up like that. What Ian did was wrong. Thank you."

Becky sat back with her drink, and let her offer hang in the air. Didi looked at me. She was still holding my hand, and her grip got tighter. A subtle nod.

"On behalf of both of us, I accept," I replied.

"Great!" Becky beamed. "We'll hammer out the details before the shoot is over. For now, I'm starving. Let's eat."


After lunch, which was very delicious, and very expensive, but on my new employers credit card, we drove back to the set. Waiting for us was a big crate, that contained a bunch of camera gear in separate protective cases. Becky knew exactly who to call to rent equipment, and even had a few lenses I didn't ask for. It was Christmas, come early, and I was one happy kid in the candy store.

The actual camera body was identical to my own, so there was no learning curve. The assistants that Ian had spent the morning berating were back after lunch, and doing a fine job. My 'special assistant / star pupil / lover / lead model' was also there, ready to do her thing on both sides of the camera. We were ready to go.

We started over, from the top, beginning with the petite blonde that Ian had destroyed this morning. Her name was Connie, and she was obviously still gun shy, visibly nervous. I didn't even need to say anything, as Momma Didi stepped in to talk to her, looking into her eyes, and whispering encouragement. The fear visibly left her, and in a minute she was smiling, and ready to go. Didi patted her on the back, puffed her hair a little, and stepped back over toward me.

"What did you tell her?" I asked quietly.

"I told her you were great in bed, and that all this was keeping me from getting laid, so to suck it up and smile," she giggled. I laughed, too. "No, I just told her to forget about this morning, that she was pretty. I told her you were a great photographer, and that you always treated your models well, and not to worry. Just to listen, and do her best, and that everything would be fine."

"I guess we should add psychologist to your list of attributes," I smiled, and kissed her. "Thanks, baby."

We got started, and Connie did fine. As soon as she relaxed, and realized that I wasn't expecting more than she could give, her smile lit up, and the images practically took themselves. Didi stood by, but her input was limited to demonstrating a few minor pose corrections.

Moving on, each model did their job flawlessly. During a small break while we were waiting for Didi to freshen her makeup, Becky, stepped over for a word.

"I've been watching. You really are the best. Everyone is happy, and the pictures are great. You can work with anyone. I knew I made the right choice," she smiled. Didi walked back in. "And she makes you even better."

Of that, there could be no doubt. Didi made me better in every way, and now it was her turn to strut her stuff. With her dark, sultry looks, expressive eyes, and incredible curves, she made anything look good...and nothing look even better. The dress she was wearing fit her like a glove, showing a few inches of delectable cleavage in the neckline. Catalogues of this type weren't supposed to be as blatantly sexy as ones for lingerie or swimsuits were, but Didi's sexuality was difficult to turn off. She smouldered through the viewfinder at me, and I had to remind her to tone it down a notch.


Despite the early difficulties, day one went well, and while we were behind schedule, I felt sure we could make up the lost time. Three days should still be enough.

Didi and I had another brief meeting with Becky before we left, working out some details for our new arrangement. We also made some plans for tomorrow, then drove back to our hotel.

When we left in the morning, she was working, and I was just a spectator. Now, as I unlocked the door to our suite, I was on the payroll, too. Even more interesting , our lives had taken a serious turn for the better, as we now knew that both of us would have a steady source of work for the foreseeable future.

Apparently, that change was exciting to Didi, because we were barely inside the door before she attacked me.

"So, here we are again...working together," she purred, pressing her body against mine, "and now we'll get to do it six times a year!"

"Really?" I laughed, "I was hoping to...do it...six times this week!"

"Only six times?" she giggled, leaning up for a kiss. "We might nearly get there tonight."

She took my hand and led me over to the bed, where she sat me down on the corner. With that sex kitten look in her eyes, she stepped back, unzipping her warmup jacket, and tossing it aside. Underneath, there was only Deirdre, and Victoria's Secret, offering her breasts for my viewing pleasure. She reached behind, and the bra dropped away, leaving only skin. She shook her shoulders, wagging those magnificent boobs in my face, then pressing them together with her forearms.

"I couldn't help thinking, all day long, about the last time we worked together like this," she purred, leaning over me. "Our first night together...and our second, third and fourth. God, you just had me head over heels in no time." Her lean had become a lay, as she pushed me back, and rested her body atop mine. Her face was inches away. "I love you, Ken."

"And I love you, honey," I smiled, pulling her the rest of the way down for a kiss. We embraced for a few minutes, before she lifted away.

"Okay, I think we should go get dinner, because if you let me do what I want to do right now, we won't be eating tonight. Thinking about you watching me through the lens all day got me so hot! If I start, I won't be able to stop!"

"Well let's go then, so you don't have to restrain yourself any longer than necessary," I laughed.

"Right! I'll get dressed," she giggled, and hopped off me, grabbing her bag and racing into the bathroom. "I'll only be a few."

At the risk of sounding sexist, I had found that when most women said they'd only be 'a few', you could go for lunch before they were ready. Models in particular were famous for that. Didi was different. She actually meant it, and about five minutes later, she stepped back into the room, looking gorgeous...and I mean GORGEOUS. Her hair, her lips, her eyes...beautiful as usual. It was the dress that stopped my heart.

"My god, honey," I gasped. "Where have you been hiding that?"

"Becky gave it to me. She said she thought you'd like it. I'd say, if your open mouth is any indication... she was right!" She did a slow twirl. A little grin on her lips, she added the kicker. "And I'm not wearing anything under it."

It reminded me of a type of gown you'd see in a movie about ancient Greece. Soft, flowing, feminine. Low back, draped neckline, bloused to the waist, where a sash drew it tight. Then cascading to the floor. Except those dresses were usually white, and long, whereas this was a silvery material, and cut just above the knee.

While I was gawking at her, she put on her black stilettos, and was now waiting for me.

"You're going to tease me all through dinner, aren't you?" I breathed.

"Yup," she smiled. She bounced a little on her toes, jiggling her breasts at me. The fabric transferred even though slightest motion, making it obvious. Her nipples poked tiny tents in the silvery field. "Just providing motivation. As for myself, I don't think I could get much wetter. Any more, and it will start running down my leg."


We were fortunate to have a very nice restaurant within easy walking distance. With her arm in mine, we walked casually toward it. With the heels she was wearing, and the bra she wasn't, I watched as every eye that approached us, male and female alike, opened wider to view Didi's bouncy breasts under their veil of silvery concealment. I was just getting the side exposure, and it was making me crazy. The full frontal must have been spectacular.

Once seated, we took care of the immediate requirements, that being food. With that out of the way, we sat back to relax, and talk. Conversation didn't really happen, though. Didi knew from the look in my eyes that I was distracted. Since she was the distraction, she could hardly complain.

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