My Ten Best Studies

When she told me this she seemed almost bitter, perhaps because freckles did not show on her dark skin. If she did have a freckle spot, she had been unable to find it, and she was one of the most sensuous people I ever had the pleasure to photograph. You could not leave her alone without her hands slipping between her legs, and emerge, glistening and wet. Often I would stop to reposition a light, and turn to find her writhing on the floor. She was truly insatiable.

SKIN TONES

I appreciate the beauty of women, from whichever part of the world they come. There is a difference between the senorita with her gentle, gasping climax, the passionate oriental who wails and shrieks from the moment she is undressed, the mademoiselle who does not shout until the moment of pleasure, or the frauline, who falls silent when aroused. I base these observations on my own experiences, and hesitate to make claims for their accuracy. The English rose, however, is the most beautiful woman in the world. I do not wish the disrespect models who did not have the good fortune to be born within our shores. Turn again, if you will, and consider Kitty in Plate 10. Which other nation could produce such a beauty?

When one is faced with a model of darker hues, I recommend a book by Mr Timothy Richards, entitled 'Skintones' which should serve as your bible on this matter. Mr Richards describes the most effective lighting for each skin tone to achieve your desired effects. A bright light on a dark skin will give the effect of lightness, to put it in its most simple terms. I have little to add to Mr Richard's excellent work.

POSING

I realise now that I have left the Duchess and the beautiful young Dorothy hurrying to my studio for four o'clock and neglected them. As I hope I have already made clear, the model should be the focus of the photographer's attention as well as his camera's, so I will open the door and welcome them inside. The Duchess sits on a straight-backed Victorian chair, and Dorothy stands at her side. Dorothy still wears a shapeless skirt, but a well-tailored white shirt emphasizes the shape of her upper body. She is gorgeous, but I will not let such things cloud my judgment.

"Madam," I asked, "what exactly do you want from the photograph?"

The Duchess's husband, she explained, had gone to India three years ago, and was so caught up in financial matters that he had not returned. On seeing the photograph in my portfolio, she conceived the notion of sending him a photograph of herself, to remind him of the pleasures that he was missing. I realised it would be a difficult job, not only to create a picture, but to create one to produce the desired effect.

"Would you slip your clothes off Ma'am -- behind that screen." She disappeared behind the screen, and emerged, smiling, moments later. The mirrored screen had done its trick.

"If you were my wife, I'd come back from India every day to see that," I said. It was flattery, but it worked. You may consider it unprofessional, but any man in my position could see that her confidence was the most important element for a successful shoot. And although my statement was an exaggeration, it was not a lie. She was robust but slim, her breasts were type three, perky, with lovely type one nipples. There was no need for ice or warm water. Her buttocks were round, and pleasantly yielding to the touch. Both her arms and both her legs were long and strong and slender.

"Sit down," I said. She sat. I have learnt that 'sit down' is a far better instruction than 'pose' or 'sit naturally' as it ensures that the model remains natural in her movements.

"Which part of you did he like best?" I asked, flicking on the lights. With some women it was obvious where the camera should go, but the Duchess had no particular feature that outshone the others: she was equally good all over. She indicated her bottom and stood up, her back to me. I moved a black backsheet behind her, turned on a soft light, and focused the camera.

"Now, look at me, over your shoulder... that's lovely.. wiggle your bottom... breathe out... fucking gorgeous..." It was a good photo, I knew as soon as the shutter closed. "That's gorgeous... now, over the other shoulder... stick your bottom out." After five minutes she was relaxed and laughing. I had at least ten good shots, and I knew it was not her who had driven away her husband. I photographed her in every standard pose, unsure exactly of what she wanted. Little Dorothy was watching from the temple columns, seemingly fascinated by the Duchess' breasts.

Pose is an essential consideration. You must consider the body type and personality of the model, the lighting, and the resultant placing of shadow on the figure. I cannot provide you with any clear rules on the subject except that your model should be relaxed and comfortable, and the pose should come naturally. Plate 5 shows the Duchess looking coyly over her shoulder and offering her buttocks to the viewer. One can almost imagine slipping into that soft flesh and indulging one's most animalistic desires, but Miss Tite again implores me to stop.

In summary, there are two types of poses, the sexual and the non-sexual. A sexual pose places the model within a narrative of intercourse. As plates 6, 7 and 8 show, she need not be in flagrante, Plate 6 shows Miss Mullins on the bed, pouting at the camera and spreading her slender legs. In plate 7 we see her face and upper body at the moment of climax and in plate 8 we see her lying naked and exhausted, careless and tousled, with a wisp of cigarette smoke curling from her lips.

Contrast these, if you will, with the photograph of Kimberly Sterne (Plate 2). This is not a sexualized image in any way. The model kneels, staring into the distance but does not implicitly acknowledge the camera. She does not appear to be in a situation before or after intercourse, (although moments after this photo was taken, we were at it like dogs on the tigerskin rug). She is a sensitive and accomplished lover, and a skilful model. These two skills are rarely found together.

FRECKLES

I met Kimberly Sterne at a party. It was not long after Saskia had been arrested, probably a film premiere, I forget now. The room was full of actresses and dancers, and actors, writers, artists and producers. Pretty waitresses floated around with trays of champagne glasses, a band played on the stage, and a general hubbub of conversation filled the room.

Kimberly was wearing a dark blue velvet dress, cut so low at the back that another inch would have revealed her bottom. Midway up her back, slightly to the left of her spine, were three freckles. I walked behind her and brushed my hand against them, as if by accident. Even if Saskia was correct there was no certainty that these were the freckles, but Miss Sterne's sudden interest in me suggested that Saskia had been right. During our conversation it was impossible to touch the freckle again, but when I had persuaded her that she had the tone and finesse for modeling that I had the opportunity to test the theory further. With the pretence of wiping away a stray hair from her naked back, I discovered that it was the highest of these freckles that had the desired effect.

A photographer should endeavour to identify the freckle that produces this reaction, and use it to his advantage. There are many occasions when worried models have been calmed by applying light pressure to this point, and in three of the plates in this text, the magic freckle has not been retouched.

Miss Tite, my typist, recently expressed doubt about the existence of this point on her body, but with an examination of the visible portion of her body I located it behind her left ear. This information is not gratuitous, as it serves to prove that even doubters can be convinced. For two or three minutes Miss Tite will be floating on a cloud of sexual ecstasy, and I fear her refusal to type sordid detail may be momentarily relaxed. I will attempt to remain focused on technical photographic analysis and censor any material that may be considered inappropriate.

ALCOHOL

One of the most importance substances in my studio is alcohol. Not only the solutions used for cleaning the equipment, but the cupboard full of gin, port, whiskey, sangria, champagne and vodka. Relaxation is vitally important, and a tod of spirits will improve the performance of any model. It is vital that the drinks chosen are of the highest quality, as models have been known to complain if the drinks are unsatisfactory. Early one morning Lucinda Lane claimed that the gin I had poured for her was too cold to be enjoyed, and nearly flounced from the studio in a rage. I instead poured her a large glass of vodka, which she drank very quickly before she stripped and climbed into the bubble filled bath. She was a gorgeously spirited young lady.

Ellie, my informal assistant, drank vodka like a Russian and was seemingly immune to its intoxicating effects. Miss Mullins drank gin, Kimberly Sterne drank white wine, and Saskia preferred a full-bodied red. The Duchess insisted that I opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate her first foray into pornography. She insisted on sitting naked to drink it, crossing and uncrossing her legs with unnecessary frequency. If little Dorothy had not been present, I'm sure the Duchess would have tried more. She claimed she enjoyed the freedom of being unclothed, and would not imprison herself within her dress until the last possible moment. It was while we were sipping our champagne that we discovered we would both be attending the theatre later that evening. Miss Mullins (the model with the bruised buttocks) was in the show, and had insisted that I attended.

It is always fascinating to see your model outside of the studio, and I recommend that aspiring photographers should endeavour to see the model in her natural surroundings if they wish to understand her full potential. As I say, a well-stocked drinks cupboard is vital.

BREASTS

Kitty and Maria, the models in figure four, have the most photogenic breasts I have ever had the pleasure of working with. They are, by my understanding, type three breasts; large, well-defined, and seemingly impervious to the irksome effects of gravity. If Newton had ever set his eyes on Kitty or Maria he would no doubt have torn up his work and turned his attention to riper apples. There were not hideously large, but firm and well proportioned, with soft rosebud nipples on each, positioned little cherries on a cake. In figure four the pair are depicted in a mirror, showing a total of eight perfectly identical breasts. From any angle they looked gorgeous, but I learnt that it quickly becomes easy to take bad photographs. Even from a bad angle, it is impossible to make good breasts look bad.

Maria had auditioned after responding to an advertisement for models. We had completed three shoots together, and I was negotiating the sale of the photographs to a reputable men's magazine. Out walking one evening, I saw her on a street corner -- selling her body to the night -- as the poets would have it. She pretended not to recognise me as she led me to her room, undressed me, and pleasured me in ways I had only dreamed of. I found her special freckle, nestled conveniently between her breasts, and I was wondering how I had failed to see it in the studio when Maria walked in.

"WHAT ARE you DOING to my SISTER?" she shouted.

The answer was not difficult. She slammed the door, and left us. It was only when Kitty was wiping herself down that I saw the artistic potential of two such beautiful ladies. I knew Maria was desperate for money, and not camera-shy, and Kitty's special freckle nearly guaranteed her involvement -- she was such a brazen whore at work I hoped it would transfer into the studio. I also began to form other fantasies, of an entirely unprofessional nature. Their time would come.

When photographing breasts it is important to select the best possible angle. As plate 3 shows, Saskia had enormous breasts when shown in profile, but when photographed from the front they looked small and flat. Lighting the breast is important in defining its overall shape and texture. In plate 9, Dorothy coyly draws together her shoulders, emphasizing the perfect roundness of her breasts and the dark shadow of cleavage between them. In contrast, Lucinda Lane's breasts always gave me a great deal of trouble as they appeared slightly uneven, but Ellen's skilful makeup usually succeeded in balancing the imperfection.

Ellen has a way with breast makeup. She has the uncanny ability to increase or decrease the appearance of a breast. Flat-chested models will have judicious shadows applied and emerge with full busts. Ellen will not tell me how she achieves this effect, it being a technique that she devised herself.

In my notebooks I have a simple numerical system for grading breasts. Type 0 denotes an entirely flat chested model, entirely devoid of rotundity. To decide whether a small-chested model is type zero or type one, imagine her engaged in frantic intercourse. If her breasts bounce or jiggle, she is type one. If there is no movement, she is a zero. Type two is slightly larger than type one, but it is not advisable for type one or type two girls to wear costumes designed to make a feature of the breasts. Type three are my favourite sort. If a decision must be made between types two and three, imagine an average sized man laying his penis between the breasts. If the breasts fully surround it when they are pushed together, the model is a three. Both Kitty and Maria were threes. I was sure of it.

A four is larger. Saskia, for example, is a four. Type four denotes breasts that keep bouncing long after their mistress has stopped. At type five or above, breasts become unpleasant caricatures. Two and threes are the most pleasant to photograph, but each man will have his own preferences. Nipples will be covered, (or perhaps uncovered), in a later chapter.

BUTTOCKS

I have already included the story of Miss Mullins' bruised buttocks, and now seems an opportune moment to add a footnote to this tale. Immediately after photographing the Duchess I arrived early at the theatre, and went backstage to see Miss Mullins in her dressing room. When I arrived there the door was slightly open, and I could hear two voices inside, Alana was evidently talking to a man. "I can't do this," she was saying, "I can't play this. I don't know how any virgin could be expected to really understand how she feels. You don't mind, do you? I just can't be confident when I'm like this." I walked away. Actresses make better whores than whores.

Buttocks are most difficult to categorize than breasts. The most important characteristic of a bottom is that it is a organ separate from the leg. If it is merely an extension of the thigh, she will never succeed as a model. The Duchess (Plate 5) had a wide bottom, with a pleasant roundness to it. Kimberly Sterne had small rounded buttocks, with pleasant dimples in each cheek. Ellen, my assistant, has small flat buttocks. Beautiful in their way, but difficult to photograph. Dorothy had the most perfectly proportioned buttocks I have ever seen, but they are not pictured in this book. Again, the canny gold prospector does not share his most treasured possessions.

But at this time, Dorothy's buttocks were merely vague shapes beneath an awkward blue skirt. She arrived at the theatre with the duchess and sat on the far side of the auditorium. Once the lights were dimmed the pair became invisible. Alana's performance was sadly lacklustre, but I imagine her earlier exertions against the dressing room mirror had exhausted her.

Dorothy was unimpressed by the performance. When the Duchess retired to her toilette during the interval, I spoke to Dorothy in the bar. After a few brief pleasantries, she told me she was the daughter of a Duke, and had been forced to work for the Duchess. One day she would inherit a vast fortune, be restored to her rightful place, and rule over most of an English county (I forget which one). She was either telling the truth, or entirely insane, but either way I was entirely captivated.

"I saw noble blood in your features," I told her, "you just don't move like a serving girl, there's something about you. That's why I was going to ask you to model for me."

"I couldn't pay you," she protested. She had been present when the Duchess and I discussed the price for the photographs.

"I'd pay you," I said, "I'd pay you for modeling."

"I couldn't do that, she wouldn't want me to work for anyone else."

"Well, we could go and see how suitable you are."

At that moment a bell rang to call us back to the auditorium.

"Shall we go now," she said, "it's not far to your studio from here." I agreed, and the Duchess watched the second half alone.

Once we were in the studio, Dorothy's attention turned to a photo of Alana Mullins, the 'virginal' actress. I had retouched the crimson welt across her buttocks, leaving them smooth and white and perfect.

"Can you make me look as good as her?" Dorothy asked.

"You'll look even better," I assured her, "now will you undress for me? behind the screen." She emerged, beautiful.

Dorothy's buttocks are like Kitty's breasts. They look astonishingly beautiful from any angle, firm and round and inviting. On a normal-sized woman they would have been beautiful, but on a petite girl like Dorothy, they were absolutely astounding. The same could be said of her breasts.

BODY TYPES

I am not a scientist, and have no formal training in drawing distinctions between bodies, but I have a wealth of personal experience, and surmise from this that there are four types of woman. I will begin with the Amazon, the tall wide women, strong and powerful. Saskia and the Duchess fall into this category. Next there are slim women, the Willowies. Alana and Miss Sterne fall into this category: category two or three breasts, small buttocks, between 5'6" and 6'. Bouncy women fill the third category with their curvy bodies, large breasts, and well-rounded buttocks.

Kitty and Maria fall into this group. Once we had cleared up our misunderstanding, they eventually agreed to pose together. They were both, I learnt, ladies of the night, and often a rich customer would be offered the opportunity to experience both of them in one evening. They were fantastically tactile models, and were extremely comfortable together. One begins to wonder why women need men at all when they can pleasure each other so readily, but that, as they say, is a different story. There is something infinitely more pleasing about watching two women in the throes of passion than watching a woman and a man. Miss Tite has advised me that she will hand in her notice if I do not return to the point, but I will leave you with one piece of advice. If ever you get the opportunity to work with insatiable, nymphomaniac, teenage, lesbian, twin sluts, it is not an opportunity that you should refuse. After four days I could identify them by the sounds they made at climax.

The forth category are short girls, usually large breasted and beautiful, the sort of gorgeous headstrong beauties like Dorothy who stepped from behind the screen with all the grace of an angel. She floated to the table and seized the half-finished bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. She took a mouthful, sat down, then offered the bottle to me. I took a swig and handed it back.

"I've always wanted to do this," she announced, holding the bottle at arm's-length above her head and pouring champagne all over herself. I forever wish I had captured that moment on film, as the sweet liquid cascaded down her arm, her hair, her face, her breasts, her nipples, her stomach. I know not whether she had planned the moment, but her legs were held together, so the champagne pooled in her lap.