Fun in the Sun Ch. 03

With the villa now ready to begin operation as a top-class photographic studio and location, I had publicity fliers and business cards made up as part of my promotional drive. Rather than wait passively for business to come to me, through the photo holiday adverts in magazines and such like, one way forward, and more immediate, was to go out and hunt for it, so I set aside a whole week to go out to prospective clients, and make possible contacts in the area. There was a whole coastline to cover, from Malaga to Marbella, a millionaire's playground as the tabloids back home would have us believe, and so I set out to exploit some of these millionaires, and hopefully part them and their lady friends from a miniscule fraction of their ill-gotten gains.

I made up a promotional pack of flyers, business cards, and a sample photo album typical of the kind of service I was offering. I would use the album to show sample pictures of my work if there was any immediate, on the spot interest. By that, I mean if I managed to get face to face access to a woman who may be a possible photo subject. If you can sell the idea to the woman, the man, whether a husband or lover will more than likely fall in behind. The photos in the album were of the more, 'artistic' variety, mainly low level 'soft' glamour, but offering a wider range of services for the more 'discerning,' clientele as it said in the flyer. In other words, you can be as naughty as you want, it's your photo shoot, and I'm here to help you get what you want.

Rather than start on a Monday morning, I reasoned I might be better starting mid-week, and working through the weekend to the next week. My main targets were going to be the yacht marinas, but I would keep an eye open for any other chances that may come my way. The yacht owners invariably had beautiful wives, or mistresses, and there were often young women working as members of the crew. I thought I could find some clients amongst the afore mentioned wives and/or mistresses, while the female crew member were most often quite young, and athletic sporty types. I imagined, or surmised rather, that they would be adventurous and outgoing in nature, and hopefully the type who might go for a modelling photo shoot just for the hell of it.

With that as my intention, I sallied forth the next morning to check out the nearest marina. I found parking quite close to the harbour, and strolled down to the marina, taking in the sight of these million pounds plus floating palaces. There must have been over a hundred sleek, white, yachts moored there, and I decided to walk to the end of the row, and walk back, stopping at each one in turn. I made a note of each yacht's name, to eliminate it from any future reckoning, as I didn't want to canvas the same yacht over and over again. Some of these must come and go I reckoned, so any yacht I canvassed today may well leave tomorrow, and come back in a month's time, or even a week from now.

Quite a few of them were a hive of activity, getting ready to leave I was told, but I left a flyer and business card all the same, they were coming back later in the year was what I kept hearing. Others had just arrived the previous night, and I spoke to a few crew members who took my flyers and business cards, promising to pass them on to wives, girlfriends of the yacht's owners. I also spoke to a few rather nice crew members (female) who were quite enthusiastic, and said they'd think about it, and two said they definitely would. Then I spoke to a rather delicious blonde, sunbathing on the cabin roof. She looked up as I approached, then sat up, and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head.

'Yes, what is it, can I help you?' she enquired, but no smile, just curiosity. So, I explained a little of what I was there for. 'Why don't you come aboard, and tell me more?' she offered, and so I did. Up the short gangplank I went, and walked round the starboard side of the cabin to where she was. Up close she was even more impressive than she had looked from the dock. She looked about twenty-seven or eight, with a very slim figure, long blonde hair as I said, sparkling blue eyes, full and very kissable lips, natural I thought, they didn't look as if they had been created by the use of dermal fillers. She had a nice cleavage, which I could see a fair bit of, since the bikini top she wore was very small, with equally small bottoms. She was lightly tanned, and as I got closer, she turned over on her side, and propped herself up on her elbow. 'I'm bored,' she said, 'so if I find you amusing, I may well take you up on your offer to take some dirty pictures of me,' adding, 'it may be fun.' She was obviously trying to shock me, but it didn't faze me in the slightest.

'Yes, I think you'd look marvellous in some good dirty pictures,' I agreed. 'Unfortunately, I don't have any samples of the really dirty ones with me, but I can show you what I've got,' and I showed her my sample album. She took her time, slowly going through it, studying this one and that.

'Yes, I must admit you have some lovely pictures there. Do you think you could make me look lovely too?' she asked, playing the coquettish spoiled brat to perfection. I smiled at her, and she smiled in return.

'Nah, not a chance,' I said abruptly, her face fell, and her mouth opened wide in surprise as if she'd been slapped, she'd never heard that before. 'You already look lovely, and you know it. I on the other hand would be trying for something more, some portrayal of the real you, not this bratty persona you've put on. Perhaps something a bit more sensual yes, but allowing you to express yourself, be the intelligent woman you really are, not the blonde bimbo you're pretending to be.' She looked at me, no smile now, and I thought for a moment she was going to call someone to have me thrown overboard. She sat up and swung her long, beautiful legs over the side of the cabin. She looked at me again and smiled.

'How very astute of you, Mr photographer. Leave me your contact details, and I'll get back to you when I've a mind to, and we'll take it from there, okay?' I assured her that I would look forward to hearing from her, and perhaps photographing her too, and I was confident we'd get some amazing photos. There was more information on my website if she wanted to follow up on what I had told her, and she said she would, so I turned to go. 'Can I do some topless pictures?' she asked me, reverting to her act, and when I turned back to answer her, she lifted the tiny bikini top, displaying her naked titties. 'I'd like to get some pictures of these puppies before I grow too old. What do you think?' I didn't even look at them directly, just looked her straight in the eyes, she smiled wickedly, I smiled back. I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of looking at her tits, but I have excellent peripheral vision, and could see they were absolute perfection. And besides, this was southern Spain, topless women were ten a penny here. I gave her a wink and a smile, and left.

I met quite a few more bikini clad beauties that morning, some were wives, some who's status wasn't quite so clear, 'companions,' or as they used to be called, 'mistresses,' and some who were neither. Daughters and nieces of the 'money men' and of course, more female crew members. Most of these female crew members had something in common, especially amongst the British fraternity. Most of them had been very active in sailing while at school, I learned in my conversations with them that morning, which told me they had probably gone to a private school. There aren't a lot of sailing clubs in council run state schools, and the private schools told me they were most likely middle class, the daughters of judges, lawyers, doctors, and such like, or even from minor aristocracy. They were on the whole a fine collection of healthy young women, but since 'crewing' doesn't pay a lot, they were almost all interested in earning extra cash, so I left the dock with more than enough telephone numbers to tell me I'd hit a rich seam of potential modelling talent.

However, I'm getting ahead of my own story again when I mention leaving the dock. That was much later in the day, and although the willing crew members were a great boost, I was really looking for women who wanted to be photographed, and willing to pay for the photos and guaranteed confidentiality. That meant the aforementioned wives and mistresses, and I found me a few.

Grace was lying on a sun lounger, reading a book, on the aft deck behind the bridge. It wasn't one of the super luxury yachts, but it was 'money' all the same, and Grace looked like she belonged with money. She was another blonde, and I was beginning to get the feeling that blondes and yachts went hand in hand. She looked as if she were slightly older than me, maybe around forty, but very attractive, well, no, beautiful is nearer the truth. As I strolled along the dock towards her, she looked up and I smiled, she automatically smiled back, and I stopped to speak to her, launching into my well-rehearsed sales pitch. She put the book down as I spoke, so she looked as if she was listening and may be interested, then held up a hand for me to stop, and invited me to come aboard, which of course I did.

'Sorry to stop you in full flow, and it all sounds very interesting, but I wouldn't want the world and its aunty to hear all the details,' she explained, indicating that I should pull up a chair and sit very close to her. 'Now, carry on, tell me more, my husband's birthday is coming up soon, and you've just given me an idea. It's always so difficult with him at Christmas and birthdays, it's a case of, "what do you give the man who has everything?" and quite often I'm stuck for ideas.' I gave her one of my flyers and a business card, both of which she tucked between the pages of the book. 'Wind, she explained, 'blows everything away if you're not careful on a boat.' I nodded, then carried on. I showed her my sample photo album, which she looked at with interest. 'Mmm... oh my, do you think I could do that, I wouldn't look rather silly would I, at my age?' and I assured she most definitely would not look silly.

'You're a beautiful woman, and from what I can see of your figure, you look after yourself and probably go to the gym regularly, and you're tall, I can tell by the length of your legs even though you're lying down, and they are seriously great legs. So, the answer is no, I don't think you'd look silly, and if you really want to do it, why not. I think you'll enjoy creating the photos just as much, maybe even more, than your husband will get in receiving them.' She nodded along with me as I spoke, and I could see she was already, 'sold,' on the idea. Now it was just a case of trying to, 'close,' the deal and get her booked for a shoot, but first she had some more questions.

Basically, these were around the worries of confidentiality, which I went through with her, and then she asked about cyber security - she was clued up okay. Later on, I was to discover that she was a high flyer in the city of London, and made an absolute fortune every year, with her bonuses running into millions. Not only that, but she was the one with the money, not him, although in comparison to me, he was stinking rich too. Having said that, she was easy to talk to, no airs or graces.

On the question of cyber security, I assured her that I downloaded the pictures from my camera straight to a computer, but not just any computer, one that I had bought exclusively for that purpose. It had never been connected to the internet, so it couldn't be hacked from an external location. Once I had edited the photos, they weren't kept on the computer - I immediately downloaded them to an external hard drive, which was kept in a secure location. That way, if the computer was stolen, in the event of a burglary, there was nothing to be seen by any prying eyes. She seemed impressed.

'Okay, that sounds good to me, when are you free, and what do I need to take with me?? I offered her that very same evening. I reckoned I could cut the sales trip short for today, get back to the villa, set up the lights, etc, have a little siesta, and be fresh and ready for when she arrived. After a moment or two of thought she agreed that tonight would be suitable, so, I then told her that I liked to start with the subject fully dressed before she stripped down to lingerie, then topless and nude if she wanted to take that option. Bring stockings, shoes, and she would have to do her own hair and make-up, as I had just recently moved here to Spain, and I hadn't found a make-up artist I was willing to entrust my clients to just yet. As I spoke she was reading my flyer. She looked at me and asked me what I meant by 'more discerning,' clients, 'did it mean what she thought it meant?' she wondered.

'Well, I have to speak in generalities in publicity literature,' I explained, 'but hopefully people will be able to read between the lines, and realise it means you can do just about anything you find exciting in front of my camera, and I won't judge you in any way.' It's seems we were reading off the same hymn sheet, because that's what she thought it meant too. 'You just tell me what you want, or bring along any props or whatever, and we'll incorporate it in the shoot. It's your photo shoot, you are paying for it, so whatever you want, as long as it doesn't involve children, is fine with me,' I concluded.

'I suppose I'll have to get dressed then, and go do some shopping,' she said. 'It's always nice to have an excuse to go shopping, especially for nice lingerie, stockings... or whatever,' she winked at me. 'One last thing,' she asked, 'cash or card?' It was cash every time for me if possible, and so the deal was concluded. She'd be at my place at 7pm arriving by taxi, and I promised I would drive her back, 'home,' when we were finished. She got up off the sun lounger, and I was right, she was tall, about five foot eight, superbly well proportioned, with long and very beautiful legs. I took my leave of her, pleased with my mornings work.

I was excited, but then I'm always excited when waiting for a new model or client to arrive. I always think it's an enormous privilege when a woman who is a virtual stranger, someone I hardly know, comes to me looking her beautiful best, and proceeds to undress and show me her most intimate and secret places, while I photograph her. It's not only in the revealing of her body, but the revealing of her mind too. During an intimate photo shoot a woman will more often than not, confess things to me that she may never have told another single person in her life. I just love it when they confide that they like this and that sexually, but they've never dared say it before. I had a hunch that Grace was going to be like that.

She arrived pretty much on time, and I went out to meet her as she got out of the taxi, taking a small suitcase from her, and escorting her into the house. I offered refreshments, wine coffee, spirits, and as I expected, she chose white wine, and we sat and chatted for about fifteen minutes, just to settle her in case of nerves. It takes a lot of nerve to do what she was about to do, and I like my clients not to feel rushed in any way. When I asked her how she felt, she told me nervous, but excited, and I gave her my usual spiel about nerves and excitement being very similar feelings, shaky, nervy, shortness of breath, and she agreed. I promised we'd soon turn her nerves into excitement, and assured her, she'd forget about the nerves almost as soon as we started. She smiled and took a sip of her wine.

'Are you married?' she asked. I told her I was divorced and had been for some years now, and that I was free and single, not that I was currently looking. It takes a very special woman, I explained, to marry a man who photographs other women, mostly undressed on a regular basis. She agreed and smiled again. 'Still, you must meet a lot of women through your job, so you're probably not short of female companionship?' she suggested. I agreed, smiling.

'Okay,' I eventually said, taking charge, 'let's go and get ready. We'll be chatting throughout the evening and you're going to discover a lot of my gory secrets, just be discreet' I warned. She laughed, saying that was rich coming from me when I was just about to see her half naked.

'Only half?' I flirted. 'What a disappointment that will be - which half, do you have a preference?' I continued as we went up the stairs. She was laughing, but that was good, it helps settle any nerves as well. Of course, she was also looking at all the photos presented on the stairs, and she made a few approving comments.' Soon my pretty one, soon...' I said in my best Victorian melodrama voice, and she made some unwarranted suggestion that I was nuts.

When we got into the bedroom, she had a good look at the lights, and as I went round switching them on, the room got brighter and brighter. She seemed fascinated by the lights and soft-boxes, and voiced her approval of the décor too. I thanked her and I pointed out the shower-room and toilet, and suggested, she take her lingerie, etc, out of the suitcase and put it on the bed to see what she had brought. Once it was all spread out, we went through it together, and chose what she would wear for the first set. I was intending to shoot her in various lingerie sets, and give her a good variety of looks to choose from. I asked if she would like another glass of wine, and when she said she would, I went downstairs to fetch it, leaving her to get ready, and give her a few moments to herself.

When I returned, she had changed into a sheer black blouse, almost perfectly see through, and wore a black bra underneath. Her skirt was knee length, and clung to her legs, black stockings and black shoes completed the ensemble. She looked fabulous.

'Oh, my Grace,' I gulped, 'You look incredibly hot,' I said with obvious approval. She was very pleased, positively beaming. I got her to sit on the edge of the bed and cross those long, fabulous legs, and as I hoped, the tight skirt rode up a bit, showing even more of her thighs. 'Oh, dear god,' I moaned, 'You look so good, I think I'm in love already.' She gave a little laugh and told me to get on with it, but I could see she was loving it. I did a few more shots featuring the legs, then got her to uncross them, and open them slightly, and show of the stocking tops. She opened them quite wide, wider than I intended, and I could see the black lace panties too, they were very small, and a bit see through. After a couple of shots, I got her to sit up and open a few buttons on the blouse, photographing her as she did it, to reveal a lovely bit of cleavage. I then suggested that I wanted her to play the woman, 'home alone,' who is feeling very horny, and pretend that she was being very sensual with herself. Run her hands over her breasts, slowly and sensually through the fabric, close her eyes, open her mouth a little, so she would look as if she were really having fun in the photograph. After a moment or two of this, I knew by her breathing that she really was enjoying it, and not pretending anymore.

'Okay Grace, that's fabulous, you look so damned horny doing that, let's open a few more buttons,' and she very obligingly followed my instructions, and pre-empting my next suggestions, she slid her hand inside the blouse caressing her skin, then rubbing and squeezing herself through fabric of the bra. Now her breathing was noticeably out of control. 'You're being very naughty Grace,' I said quietly. Her eyes opened languidly.

'Really? I thought I was just being, "discerning," like the flyer suggested,' she joked. We both smiled, and she closed her eyes again.

'Well just you go on being as "discerning," as you want Grace, you look absolutely wonderful, and very exciting too,' I said approvingly. She unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it out of her skirt, letting it slip off her shoulders, but not fully off, the sheer black material being a foil to the light tan of her skin, and all the time I was talking to her, telling her how beautiful she looked, and it was no lie, she did look beautiful. Her hands were now massaging both breasts, and she began to make little whimpering sounds deep in her throat, suddenly she shimmied out of the blouse and reached round behind, unhooked the bra, and her gorgeous tits were there for me in full view. They were a good size, a 'C' cup, possibly a 'D' and a lovely shape too, tipped by two rosy-pink nipples fully erect as you would expect after she had been molesting them for the last five or ten minutes. She sighed a deep sigh of relief now that she could feel the better sensation of her fingers on bare skin. It was wonderful to see, but time to take control again I thought after a minute or two, and sadly I interrupted her fun, but only so I could move her on to the next stage.