"Oh ... yeah!"
"That would make a great image."
His quiet entrance had passed her by and she was startled by his voice. She made a conscious effort to wipe the surprised look from her face as he approached with two glasses of wine, but really wasn't quick enough.
"Huh?"
"You—sprawled out on that seat—it would make a great photo."
"Oh, okay."
The room was suddenly so hot and she was horrified to notice a tremble to the hand that reached for the proffered glass of wine. She was equally horrified at the thought that he might have some clue as to what she had been thinking. He didn't reveal anything to demonstrate that he had any clue about her thoughts but that didn't stop her embarrassment.
Her self-consciousness led her to continually play with her 30
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hair, running her fingers through it at regular intervals as if some non-existent breeze was playing havoc with it.
"So..."
Pulling up a low stool, he positioned it in front of her before raising his leg over it to sit down, momentarily losing his balance and automatically putting his hand out in an attempt to steady himself. It landed on Amanda's knee. It happened so quickly that her breath caught in her throat as he squeezed her leg for the briefest of moments.
"Oops, sorry. Clearly I'm a bit of a lightweight."
She chuckled out of politeness more than amusement, but she still sounded like a giggly teenager with a crush.
Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice that she would prefer that he was sitting next to her rather than in front of her.
"So, how long have you been a writer?"
"I wouldn't even really call myself a writer," Amanda replied shyly. "I just wrote that story for fun."
"Gentleman that I am, I'll refrain from asking how true to life your story is, but maybe this could provide you with some inspiration for your next one."
"Maybe it could," she agreed, nodding softly as she looked down at her wine.
The timidity she felt as she sat there in front of him was to a much greater extent than she could ever recall feeling before. It was incredibly ridiculous but it was how she felt and it threw her.
He remained silent until she met his gaze.
As soon as she did so, he clinked his glass against hers.
"Here's to an evening of enjoyable research."
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"Indeed."
Leaning forward on the stool, it gave her the perfect opportunity to consider his face and was drawn to the warmth of his eyes.
They sat and talked a while longer, him revealing details about his background and his work. Clearly, he was a creative type even though he didn't look like a stereotypical artist. The way he spoke made it obvious that he was knowledgeable about lighting and shade and poses and he appeared to be quite the professional. She trusted him. She trusted that he would make her look good and that she would be safe in his hands.
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Chapter Four
After showing her into the neighbouring reception room, he left her alone as he prepared the studio and the equipment.
In an attempt to put her at ease, he confirmed that she could initially start in her underwear. Although she wasn't entirely sure why she had chosen it, she was very pleased that she had chosen to wear the burgundy lace bra and knickers set that she currently had on. Though there wasn't a mirror in the room, she knew she looked good. At least, she hoped that she did.
She didn't have any time to worry about it when his dulcet tones accompanied a knock at the door. "Alright to come in?"
"Yes," she replied after a quick deep breath, steeling herself for his reaction to her half-naked figure. "Of course."
Watching the door slowly open, she stood with one leg crossed in front of the other and her right hand gripping her left wrist, seemingly attempting to take up as little space as possible.
There was no need for her to have worried: a satisfied smile quickly spread across his face the instant he saw her.
"You look fantastic," he nodded, as if answering a question.
She could feel the schoolgirl giggle rising in her throat but she managed to suppress it and react with a smile. "Thank you."
"Great little figure."
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Little? She was elated. She had always been someone who the politically correct would say had a curvaceous body and—
like most women—she had done battle with it for much of her life before finally accepting it. Getting a compliment on it boosted her confidence no end.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He held the door open and watched as she walked toward him from where she stood by the sofa at the far end of the room. Walking around in her underwear in the home of a man she just met felt very strange, but he seemed so relaxed that she made an effort to follow his example. As she passed him to return to the studio, her bare thigh brushing against his own clothed leg, she wondered whether he was looking at her bottom. He followed directly behind her so he had the opportunity, but she stopped short of turning around to check.
Advancing a few steps into the studio had the effect of making her feel awkward again, as she had no idea what her first move should be. The room had changed a little in that a tall freestanding light had been switched on and its beam focussed on the chaise lounge, which had been moved slightly, and a large, circular dull silver contraption hung from a stand close to the desirable piece of furniture.
"I think we should start with your idea and take a few shots of you lounging on the chaise."
The fact that he made it out to be her idea made her smile; thinking it to be a ploy to put her at ease she did nothing to refute the allegation. As she sat down, she couldn't 34
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remember ever feeling more at odds with her own body—how was she supposed to pose? Where should she put her limbs?
How could such a simple situation make her feel so out of place?
"Simple pose first of all," he said, depositing his glass on the mantelpiece and picking up the camera from it. "Just lean back, keep your knees together and spread your feet apart."
Doing as instructed, she kept her eyes on his face, looking for confirmation that she was doing it correctly. However, with him already looking through the eyepiece, the camera obscured his face and—for a few seconds—she had no idea whether she was doing what he wanted.
"That's fantastic."
The words were uttered so quietly, he could have been speaking to himself.
Though she knew to expect it, the camera flash startled her and she flinched slightly.
"Erm, should I be smiling?" she asked quickly, hoping that he hadn't noticed.
"You don't have to."
As he spoke, the flash went off again. It was only then that he lowered it, showing no indication that he had done it accidentally, but the slight smile on his lips did make him look rather cheeky. "I like the sultry look you've got going on."
She laughed. Flash, flash.
"Hey!"
"Didn't I tell you?" He raised his eyebrows, attempting a look of innocence. "I like candid shots, too. Besides, you've got a great laugh."
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The temperature suddenly shot up. What was he trying to do? She wasn't used to this sort of treatment and she was sure that no man was so complimentary without good reason—he had to want something in return.
"Thanks."
She wanted to be a good model—to make a good subject—
but she had no idea whether she was supposed to alter her pose or await his instructions. Deciding that it was be
st not to change the status quo, she held the pose and attempted to revive the sultry expression that she had apparently previously been utilizing.
"I think we should get you in a pose that's as sultry as your expression."
Struck by his ability to be both cheeky and charming at the same time, all she could do is smile and wait for him to instruct her on what a sultry pose was.
Holding the camera at his side, he looked at her thoughtfully before walking toward her. The thought that he might be about to touch her, to manipulate her into the position he wanted sent a shiver up her spine. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat as she awaited skin to skin contact. However, Benjamin only appeared to require a closer look as he merely let his hand hover in the air in line with his instructions of how to arrange her legs on the chaise.
Sighing quietly, she followed his directions as he stepped back, again looking at her through the camera eyepiece to check whether the picture was as he envisaged.
"Nice."
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The fact that she had done well with her pose almost made up for the fact that he hadn't touched her.
"Although your hair is partially covering your eye."
Lowering the camera, he walked toward her again—more purposefully this time—focused on her hair as he approached and leaning forward once he was standing directly in front of her. "May I?"
"Of course," she replied, nodding her head to flick her hair as if he needed to be shown where it was.
Softly brushing his fingertips across her forehead in the process, he hooked her hair behind her ear before letting the length rest on her shoulder. It was unclear as to whether it was his proximity to her or his gentle touch that made her eyelids fall, but that is what happened. She happily acquiesced to him running his fingers through her hair to enable him to create the image he wanted. It was strange that something so minor could feel so nice, but she didn't think too hard about it, preferring to just enjoy the brief thrill.
She shouldn't be craving the touch of the man who was only being professional and she promised herself to stop letting him affect her—it was ridiculous: she didn't even know him!
"That's better."
She opened her eyes to find him looking directly into them. "I want the camera to see both of those beautiful eyes."
Although he was apparently finished with her hair, his hand lingered in her silken tresses for several seconds after she had opened her eyes but she certainly didn't complain. It 37
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was almost as if he was doing it on-purpose—trying to entice her before breaking the spell just as he began to succeed.
When he finally withdrew his hand, the pads of his fingers lightly grazed her neck and jaw, which made her desperately search his face for something to demonstrate that it was a purposeful act. There was nothing.
He merely smiled at her before moving back into a good vantage point to capture the image before him.
The game that she considered him to be playing was quickly becoming maddening. Maybe it was the method that he used for nervous subjects, to make women feel good about themselves so he could get the best photos possible.
Selfish moron!
Remaining still, apart from her chest rising with a deep breath, she gazed into the camera and made a conscious decision not to flinch as she waited for the flash.
"That's a nice one."
He muttered, speaking to himself, so she didn't reply.
Instead, she concentrated on maintaining the 'one leg straight, one leg bent' pose as well as an expression that she hoped would make her the most photogenic, without being sultry. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
A grown woman didn't respond to schoolboy tactics so she would let it all go over her head. You just needed to look at him and spend a minimal amount of time in his company to know that he was usually successful. Obviously, he'd become complacent and Amanda took it upon herself to take him down a peg or two, to show him that not every woman was quite as easy as those he'd known previously.
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Not being a professional model didn't mean she couldn't act as if she was one—take direction without being distracted by compliments from handsome strangers and get the job done.
The flashes came quicker so that, without even realising, she got used to them and pretending that she regularly took her clothes off in front of people was rather effective. The fact that she was lying there in her underwear in the home of a stranger didn't bother her so much.
It didn't even faze her when he asked her to keep one leg on the chaise and let the other fall over the side, splaying her legs so that just her toes touched the floor. It was so obviously a sexy pose that she was disappointed not to have thought of it herself.
"Put your hand on your knee ... that's it. Now turn your head more toward me."
Without hesitation, she did exactly as he asked, eager to get the best out of the shoot and showing him how capable she was in the process. It was quickly becoming easier. When he directed her to kneel and twist her fingers in her hair for an ever more sultry look, not only did she do it but slightly swapped her position after each burst of light from the flash bulb in order to give him more without him having to ask.
The continuous praise and words of approval he offered were great—she couldn't ignore them even though she pretended to—but they paled in comparison to how much confidence she was gaining from the experience itself. With every moment that passed, she felt more sensual and sexy—
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even more desirable—and there she was with a man on whom she couldn't use her newfound spirit. What a waste!
"That's fantastic."
More flashes. They seem to be feeding her, making her more daring. It was entirely the fault of the inanimate object that she arched her back as she kneeled on the sumptuous seat, offering herself as she looked directly into its single eye.
It made her do it.
"Right..."
Benjamin lowered the camera to his side as if he was finished, enabling Amanda to see the neutral expression on his face as he looked at her intently.
"...time for you to get naked."
His lips twitched after he stopped speaking but, apart from that, his expression didn't change. He was serious.
Looking back at him with the same intensity that he used with her changed nothing. He didn't break out into a cheeky grin that gave way to a fit of giggles, he didn't correct himself and say he actually wanted to take some shots of her standing.
Nothing. Apart from an eyebrow being slightly raised, creating an expectant look.
Panic prickled her skin as she was unceremoniously dragged out of the role of lingerie model—a role she had mistakenly gotten comfortable in—and thrust into that of the nude variety.
Why was she not prepared? It was the very reason she was there in the first place and, yet, it still came as a surprise.
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"You want me to take off my underwear?"
The fact that it was a futile question caused her no embarrassment. She swung her legs to the floor as she waited for his response, continuing to look at him closely.
"That's the idea," he smiled, however it wasn't the smile of a prankster, it was a smile of mild bewildered amusement.
The idea of calling the whole thing off became a serious consideration for several long seconds before he ended the impasse by leaving the room after excusing himself. Though he didn't explain the reason for his departure, she took the opportunity to at least get to her feet. Despite the fact that he would be seeing her naked in any case, she somehow felt happier about undressing when he was out of the room.
Though she had what she wanted, she
felt safe even though he could come back in at any moment, there was still some hesitation. Was it his intention to give her some privacy? Why would he? By now, he must be used to women taking their clothes off in front of him. Maybe her reluctance had been enough to scare him off and make him alter his normal routine.
Looking about her provided no assistance and she knew she had to come to a decision. After a deep breath, she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. He re-entered the room just as the lace cups slipped down her breasts and she caught them just in time to stop him from seeing anything.
Grinning triumphantly, he held up a large chiffon scarf which shimmered even though he stood in a relatively dim 41
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part of the room. "Something to hide your modesty until you're more comfortable."
The sheer material wasn't capable of covering anything and the suggestion that it could made Amanda laugh.
"I knew you'd love it."
Advancing a few further steps into the room, he gave the impression that he was going to hand her the prop. In fact, he stopped short and tossed the scarf so that it floated through the air and landed on her head before the silky material promptly slipped off. Putting her hand out to stop it falling to the floor, she inadvertently let go of the bra, which did fall.
Arranging the scarf in front of her like a sheer boob tube, she didn't look up but could feel his eyes on her.
Flash.
Remaining silent, he gave no indication of what he wanted her to do and she presumed that he was just taking another candid shot whilst waiting for her to complete the task, to take off her knickers.
Idly standing there, attempting to keep herself hidden, made her feel faintly ridiculous and the sensation only worsened when the chiffon slipped as she hooked her thumb over the lace waistband of her knickers.
It was at that point that it suddenly occurred to her how nonsensical she was being. The fact that he would see her naked no matter what she did prior should have been at the forefront of her mind but it always managed to gravitate to the back somewhere, trying to stay hidden.
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