The Photographer's Wife

I hadn't seen Dave in about ten years when I ran into him at this art event in Manhattan that was showcasing iconic album covers from "the new millennium." Dave happened to shoot photos for a few local bands who hit it big after the 2000 switch, and as fortune favors the guy standing in the right place and/or the right moment in time, several of Dave's photos were on display at this particular exhibition. Though these days I never see the guy, you couldn't miss his pictures - they were everywhere. I'd see his name next to almost every music related article I'd read in the past ten years.

The funny thing is, I met Dave at a karaoke night long before that. He was this incredibly awkward kid who dragged his camera around with him everywhere. Two of my close friends owned a shitty little dive bar on the Lower East Side, that had karaoke every Tuesday night. Although I've never seen Dave sing, he never missed a Tuesday. Those days I was notoriously broke and my friends were incredibly nice to me, so I rarely paid for drinks at their establishment. As thanks I'd help out whenever I could, checking IDs at the door, playing music from the house laptop, or even carrying kegs down to the basement. I was a permanent fixture there, and Tuesdays were no exception. On any given night the whole underground music scene in NYC could be found in this tiny little dive bar. I'm sure lots of people claim that happens at plenty of spots in the city, but it's a pretty incredible sight to watch members of your favorite bands hamming it up, while drinking cheap, canned beer, and outright butchering pop hits through a karaoke speaker. Dave was always right there to catch the action. He wasn't the biggest drinker, but I'm sure you could write a book about all the famous people who've spilled their beer or whiskey on that camera, before anyone knew their names.

I was supposed to meet a couple friends at the art gallery the night I ran into Dave. It was pretty crowded when I arrived, so I had some looking around to do. I grabbed a cup of wine and strolled through the gallery, keeping my eyes open for any familiar faces. The walls displayed large prints of album covers, and a selection of photos (or designs) from the artist who created each one. As I made my way through the gallery, sure enough I saw Dave's name. I quickly scanned the room to see if there was anyone to whom I could extend a "Hey I know that guy..." but my friends we nowhere in sight, and I didn't see any familiar faces in the vicinity. I took a swig from my plastic cup of red wine and a hand reached out from the crowd, tapped my shoulder, and pointed at one of the photos. I heard a familiar voice exclaim, "Hey, I know that guy!" I spun around to see Dave with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh yeah?! Me too!" Laughing, I gave him a congratulatory hug and stepped back to greet his tightly knit entourage.

"Have you met my wife, Diana? I believe you guys have some friends in common..."

There was something familiar about her, but we definitely never met. I would have certainly remembered meeting this woman. She was gorgeous. She had on a tight fitting sequin dress as if she were going to a film premiere for the Academy. It had a high neck, but an open front, like a little window, that displayed her cleavage perfectly - and goddamn did she have cleavage. The size of her boobs was emphasized by her tiny waist, then countered by the way her hips cut back out just enough to her well-toned ass. There was a slit that ran down the side of her dress that went almost too high for her to be wearing anything underneath. I was definitely taken aback.

This was in stark contrast to Dave. Don't misunderstand me, Dave was dressed nice, and looked good this night, but I was half surprised he wasn't wearing sweatpants. To reiterate: he used to be awkward (really awkward), so he'll always be in my head that way. He gives off strong "little brother" vibes, which is probably why so many famous people feel comfortable around him. It's pretty cool seeing him with some confidence even if it feels so amazingly out of place.

Oddly, Diana looked kind of nervous meeting me, as if I were one of the rockstars they're always surrounded by - and I'd imagine that they were always surrounded by rockstars. My brain was scrambling, trying to frantically place just how I knew her.

"Diana? I'm sorry, I don't believe we have met..." As I said this I recognized her - not from meeting her, but from one of his photos. There was a picture of her on an album that came out several years back that was a staple in every record collector's collection, whether you liked the music or not. She's fully nude in the photo, but it's tastefully art directed so you don't really see everything. In fact, it's definitely on the wall at this very show! Holy fuck, she has a body to die for. I tried to not skip a beat, "...though I'm familiar with your work. I believe that's you over there, right?" I pointed to the album on the wall, and she smiled and blushed.

"My work? That little thing?" She teased. "That wasn't much work at all. I was perfectly relaxed and that man over there did all the heavy lifting." She mimed snapping a photo as she winked and motioned over to Dave.

"Okay then... So, besides that workhorse, what friends do we have in common?"

"You're friends with Charlene Kimura. She and I were roommates when I first moved to New York!" She had this bubbly exuberance when she spoke.

"Woah! That's pretty random. You know, she was my first girlfriend? We're still kinda close, but I never really get a chance to see her. I guess a husband and kids will do that to some people." Charlene Kimura, 'Charlie K' or even 'Sharkie' as most people knew her, was a few years older than me, so when I was in high school I felt like a superstar for dating a college girl. She was light years ahead of me in every way - an absolute dynamo. Everything I learned about music, politics, and sex I learned from Charlie. She was my first everything. She married some skateboarder guy in a band, and then divorced him a few years later to tour the world with a woman she fell in love with, who gave lectures all around Europe about theoretical physics, or something equally fantastical. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if her husband is the physicist's ex boyfriend or some insane nonsense like that. Complicated, I know, but we can all learn something from Charlie.

"Sharkie used to talk about you a lot. I've seen so many pictures of you two together, and heard so many stories. It was like I knew you! Oh wow! This is kind of weird, actually meeting you in person!" Diana blushed again behind an incredibly cute, but awkward smile. The two of them probably would've lived together around the time that I was just scraping by, and wasn't really talking to Charlie much. It took a while to get back on my feet after that. Though I eventually came into my own (to some degree), I definitely don't have the credentials as any of the people in Dave's circle. It was funny seeing this drop-dead gorgeous bombshell get so nervous around me while standing in a room filled with some of the decade's greatest recording artists.

"Oh lovely! I've gotta say... I'm completely humbled that the notorious Charlie K had anything to say about me at all. Good things, I hope." I tried to sound suave, without looking like I was flirting. It would be bad form to hit on the woman married to Dave, while he stands by in the background.

Well... then again, considering Dave was casually chatting to a guy who's been pumping out hits since the 90s, surrounded by supermodels, I really don't think I was in danger of sounding too cool.

"Of course! She said SO many nice things! Lots of stories and pictures!" This was her second mention of "stories and pictures." Now I think I blushed. We had lots of stories, and some of those stories were well documented in photographs. Though I have no love for the political arena, many of those photographs could be the real foundations of why you'll never hear the words "Senator" or "President" before my name.

At this moment, a group of four young women approached us excitedly. Before their presence could even register, one of them immediately threw her arms around Diana and let out an exuberant squeal as they hugged and bounced for a moment together. She was a little bit of a thing, wearing the tiniest little bit of a top, held on by strings that barely looked strong enough to support the minimal amount of fabric that was there. Below that she wore the shortest of short skirts that rode up high enough during her hug, that I could easily see the littlest bit of her black lace panties that she wore underneath. I stepped back and just drank in the view. The other three were dressed similarly, but were more reserved in their introductions, exchanged tamer hugs, flipped their hair, and smiled to get Dave's attention.

Still holding her friend, Diana turned towards me, "Oh my god, you definitely need to meet my friend, Lydia!" Our eyes made contact and suddenly I recognized her as well. Only this was a different kind of recognition... I met her at a hotel party a few years back - a very sexy hotel party. "She's been doing some modeling for Dave. We're working on a photo book. She's one of our main subjects!"

I'd actually met Lydia a couple times, but this was the first time I'd seen Lydia in any clothing at all.

At first I couldn't tell if she was hiding her recognition, or honestly didn't remember me, but she smiled wide and re-introduced herself. Then she turned to Diana and broke off the act, "Are you kidding me?! We've known each other for years! Wow! Small world, huh??"

"Oh my god, that's so crazy!" Diana looked at me with genuine surprise, "There is just no underestimating you!" I'm not exactly sure how much she knows about Lydia's extracurricular activities, but I feel like my pretend-celebrity status just went from rockstar to pornstar. Diana turned to Dave as he stepped in and gave Lydia a hug. "Did you know that these two already knew one another?!" She said as she gestured to Lydia and I.

"Whaaat? Well, that IS crazy." Dave turned to me excitedly, "Did Diana tell you about the book we're doing? It's gonna be nuts. Come by the studio some time and I'll show you what I've got. I'd love to hear your thoughts!" He then shook his head as though having an incredible revelation, "Wait, you've actually never seen my new studio. So, you've gotta come! Are you around this week at all?" Even in a nice suit Dave can't really shake that little brother vibe.

"Oh nice. I'd love to check it out. My Thursday and Friday are both flexible."

Lydia perked up, "Oh you can come by for MY shoot! Dave's shooting me Friday afternoon!"

Dave looked at me for confirmation, "Would you be comfortable with that? Word of warning, some of the photos might have some tasteful nudity." Lydia covered her mouth as she laughed.

"Text me the address, and if I can make it, I promise I'll be on my best behavior." I smirked.

My week was way more hectic than I had anticipated and I almost completely forgot about the studio invite. Friday morning came and my phone chimed with a message from a number I didn't have saved. I was on another call, so it took me a while to even check it. It happened a couple more times during the call so I put the phone on silent. Just as I hung up, the phone illuminated once more and the same number messaged me again.

(11:45am)

"Here's the address!"

(12:02pm)

"Be HERE at THREE (3:00) pm!!"

(12:03pm)

"...if you want."

(12:14pm)

"Oh shit! This is Diana, btw! Dave told me to text you!"

(12:21pm)

"Saveeeeee myyyyy nummmberrrrrr! (Please)"

(12:22pm)

"Pretty Please"

(12:22pm)

"...and thankyou!"

It was kind of adorable. These messages actually removed the stress from the whole week in one glance. There was no way I wouldn't show up. I've seen Lydia in many compromising situations, and she seemed genuinely happy to have me along for her photoshoot. It would be my absolute pleasure to see her "tastefully nude" once again. Still, Dave is a friend and this is his job. I did not need to remind myself to act professionally and like a gentleman. Though, I continued to remind myself that the whole ride there.

I stepped out of the cab in front of an old factory/loft building, on a dead end street, between two once forgotten (or newly hip, depending on your knowledge of NYC real estate) neighborhoods on the Brooklyn/Queens border. I pressed the buzzer and waited a minute or so before a loud clanging rang out that proceeded the opening of the heavy, steel door in front of me.

Diana poked her head outside, "Yay! Come in!"

I followed her through a dark, brick hallway, up a set of cold, cement stairs, and to another heavy door that existed on a pulley system, which she rolled open, to the side. We walked into the huge, mostly empty room. It felt like an airplane hangar. It was nice and warm inside, but relatively dark. All of the lighting in the room was in a far off corner with seamless edges that wrapped around the walls like the bottom of a swimming pool. There was a desk with a computer there, an antique folding screen with some clothing draped over it, as well as two red, velvet couches, a lounge chair, and a couple folding chairs. Dave was standing at the desk, with his camera slung around one shoulder, while scrolling through some photos on the computer.

As we moved closer to the light source I could see Diana better. She was dressed in a short, gray, tennis dress, sneakers that matched perfectly, and a visor. Her chestnut brown hair fell out of the top of her visor, and hung just above her shoulders in heavy curls. She caught me staring.

"What?" She smiled, "It's my photo assistant uniform. I need to be able to be active, in case I have to move lights or props or something!" This smile was very flirtatious as she held eye contact. "It's very versatile. I also need to help with wardrobe and makeup, you know."

"I'm not saying a thing. Sounds like a lot, but I'm sure you know exactly what you're doing. I'm out of my element, here." I flirted back.

"Good." She turned and continued to lead me to the far end of the room.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his company!" Dave jokingly shouted as we made our way towards the photo setup. Just as I reached out to shake his hand, Lydia sprung out from behind the curtain in a silky bathrobe, and gave me a big hug. She stepped back allowing me to greet Dave, and her robe swung open. Aside from a garter belt that suspended a beautiful pair of black thigh highs, Lydia was completely naked under that robe, and she made no attempt to cover her bare body. Her figure is a work of fucking art, too. I swear it looks like she tans nude and runs 15 miles a day, all year round. She has a tight, sporty physique, with perky boobs, and an ass upon which you could crack open walnuts.

"Hey! I'm so happy you made it!"

"Me too." Dave chimed in, while clicking through settings on his camera, "I could definitely use another pair of hands, if you don't mind doing some work."

"Not a problem at all. Whatcha got in mind?" I was all too happy to agree.

"I'm just gonna change setups a lot, so I'll need help moving lights, dressing the set, and occasionally the model. Cool?"

"Absolutely." This should definitely take the awkwardness out of me being there while everyone else was working.

The first setup after I had arived was pretty basic: Lydia was lounging seductively on the couch in various poses. She kept the silky robe on for a bit and offered the viewer some sneaky, yet scandalous peeks inside. It didn't take long until she was fully on display, tastefully, but still in all her glory. Throughout the shoot, Dave would make camera adjustments, and Diana would make adjustments to the lighting. They had a pretty good working dynamic. You could tell they'd done this before. Occasionally, Dave would ask me to hold a stand, a flag, or a reflective board to bounce light towards Lydia.

"Hey man. Can you get as low to the floor as possible, so that I could shoot over you? If I shoot from here you'll be in the shot." I laid down on my back, and angled the bounce board toward Lydia as she leaned back on the couch waiting for Dave and Diana to finish prepping the shot.

"Diana? Could you please gel that light?" Dave pointed to a light stand that was right next to my knee. As I lay still on the floor, Diana went through a box of multi-colored cellophane sheets, and pulled one out.

She then stepped over me with one foot, while keeping the other planted next to my legs. She hovered over me and I remained as still as possible. I looked up and to my absolute surprise, I had a clear view up her little tennis dress to her completely bare, perfectly pink pussy. I was transfixed for a moment. I tried to look away but immediately looked back reassuring myself that Dave's beautiful wife was standing above me without any panties, and casually fastening the colored plastic to the light mount.

I turned my head away, in the only direction I could, which was right towards Lydia. When we made eye contact she knew exactly what happened, so I instinctively snapped my head back to my original position. She could see the look of shock and awe on my face and she tried to cover a laugh. Diana finished affixing the gel to the light as Lydia chuckled, alerting Diana to the direction of my gaze. I was caught looking right up Diana's dress - first by Lydia, and now Diana. She just looked at me and smiled, knowing very well that I had a clear view of her tight little pussy. Then, without breaking eye contact, she slowly stepped back over me and out of the way of the shot. None the wiser, Dave snapped off a few more photos as Lydia got into position.

Now there was a weighted tension in the room. Perhaps I didn't notice much before, but if felt like Diana was looking for excuses to bend over in front of me, or squat down, right in my line of sight, spreading her legs ever so slightly - not quite exposing herself to me, but showing just enough to remind me how very little that tiny tennis dress covered. Everything was a tease.

As Dave snapped away, Lydia began to up the ante. Her poses started to get racier by the second. Her fingers caressed her body more and more with every snap, until those fingers were rubbing her clit - pinching her nipples - then parting the folds of her pussy - and finally until she had two fingers buried deep in her soaking wet hole, and two up her ass. Dave didn't slow down. He just snapped away, egging her on.

"Beautiful! Okay, now lift that wrist a little higher... fantastic! Shift your weight to your elbow... that's so fucking hot. Can you spread your legs a bit more, and lift your ass a bit higher? Great!"

Dave directed Lydia through a myriad of positions. Her fingers moved faster in and out of her dripping pussy and copious amounts of fluid began to trickle down her wrist. I was still on the floor, basically right beneath her. Dave moved in, almost as close as I was when the dam burst. She began to shake and her cunt sprayed forth a gush of liquid, dousing the lens of the camera, while simultaneously soaking my face and shirt. Dave snapped away excitedly while Lydia shook through the final stages of her orgasm. Even though I was in the line of fire, there was no denying hot incredibly fucking hot that was.

"Oh my god! That was incredible! You squirted all over him!" Diana squealed. "Dave! Tell me you got that!"

"I even got a few shots with some of it on the lens." Dave cleaned the lens with a soft cloth from his pocket. "Those are gonna look siiiick!"

"Fuck! I'm so sorry! I just got carried away! I couldn't help myself!" Lydia laughed her way through her apology, as Diana leapt into action with a few towels. She handed one to Lydia, Dave and myself, as she tended to the small puddle on the floor.