by Lexy Timms
I turned around and saw Kayla sitting in one of my chairs, legs spread across, and arms behind her back.
“We never really got to use the chairs on that stage much, did we?” she asked. “You’ve got me on a table. Don’t you want a nice set?”
Chapter 12
Kayla
Since improvising worked well for me before, I decided not to overthink how I was going to seduce him. Instead, I decided to just enjoy myself and hope it would do something for him.
My simple pose in the chair was enough. I’d made some variation of this ‘pose’ thousands of times throughout my life, so I barely considered it worthy of a photograph. Yet, as I stood still facing him in the chair, it seemed like he saw something that I couldn’t. I lost count of how many times he hit the button on his camera. The clicking was incessant and extremely flattering.
“Don’t move,” he said, walking around behind me.
It was exciting to see nothing and hear only the sounds of his camera. In a way, it felt like being blindfolded. I knew he was only taking pictures, but I wanted to know what was going through his head. Not knowing was driving me crazy.
There was still plenty of times when our new situation felt surreal to me. I’d been with attractive guys before, but Justin was on an entirely different level. I was still in disbelief that he was behind the camera and not in front of it. So, I barely let myself contemplate why he would be interested in me and not someone like Natalia. Instead, I played along and chose to believe he was sincere. At first, it was difficult believe, but it became easier the more he expressed his attraction.
Suddenly, silence fell over us. The clicking stopped and I moved my head slightly, still unable to see him. I chose to break the silence by changing poses.
I turned myself around, now facing my photographer and holding onto the back of the chair.
I opened my legs and scooted myself close to the chair’s back. I felt an impulse to grind my lap into the chair for him, but I resisted the urge.
I was wearing a long skirt and a slightly revealing blouse. He’d been looking at my chest a lot, but I wanted to see him try to discover what my skirt concealed. I was wearing panties, but holding my legs open was all he seemed to need. He was taking pictures, occasionally mumbling to himself incoherently.
“What’re you saying?” I asked, arching my back and heaving my chest out.
“I’m really not saying anything, I promise,” he said. “I’m just saying stupid shit under my breath… You’re too perfect… I don’t know…”
“Oh, please!” I cried with a laugh.
He moved to the right, but he wasn’t taking as many photos as before. Daringly, I wrapped my legs around the back of the chair, gripping it with my hands as well. Quickly though, I could see it wasn’t working for him. It wasn’t working for me either.
“Yeah, this is uncomfortable,” I said.
With improvisation continuing to dominate, I tried a few more poses I knew would either come across as sexy or silly. Fortunately, whenever they were silly, we were both able to laugh about it and keep moving forward. Nothing felt forced or uncomfortable.
Eventually, I got off the chair and laid it down on the floor, trying to brainstorm more sexy poses. While I pondered, he continued to take pictures. Sometimes I would look up at him, but he never stopped.
“I’m not doing anything,” I said. “You don’t have to keep taking my picture.”
“Kayla, I’ll fill this entire memory card with pictures of you if I could,” he said. “You know, you’re the only model I’ve ever encountered who doesn’t want her picture taken. It’s unheard of in the modeling world.”
“I’m not a model, Justin.”
“You could be.”
I looked around the room to avoid his gaze. I noticed two tables, one was covered with papers and photographs, while the other held his computer.
“I wish we had a table…” I said quietly, more to myself than Justin.
“Forget the set or props,” he said. “You’re enough.”
“I know,” I said with confidence. “I was just hoping… maybe we were going to fuck in here as well, you know?”
He finally lowered his camera to look at me directly.
“I’ve a bed in my room…” he said quietly.
“I assumed that,” I nodded. “But, I want it in here… This is where you’re creating. This is one of your favorite rooms in the apartment. Dreams and interesting thoughts and… all sorts of incredible things happen right here. I want to add hot, passionate sex to the reasons why you want to keep coming back in here.”
His smile turned into a sly grin. It was one that promised promiscuity and it sent chills of desire cascading down my spine.
“I’m going to clear off the table right here,” he said, noting the stacks of pictures and papers. He handed me his camera. “Take selfies while I clean the table.”
“I can’t do that with like a real camera,” I said as I inspected it.
“Sure you can. Face the lens, turn the viewfinder around so you know what you’re doing, and… be creative.”
As he worked frantically to clear off the table, I consented to his request. I put the chair back up and sat in it, angling it so that the lights from his computer would hit me just right. I wasn’t as fast as he was and I didn’t take nearly as many pictures as he would. I deleted a lot of the photos I took, unhappy with how I looked. Nearly every time I looked at my work in the viewfinder, I grimaced with displeasure.
Once the table was clear, I happily returned the camera to him. We stared at each other for a few moments, both wondering who was going to speak first. The longer we waited, the more tense it became. Our breathing grew heavier by the second.
“Want to take a few more pictures?” I asked him.
“I’ll never say no to that,” he said.
I walked over to the table, quickly plotting my moves while he continued to take pictures behind me.
“Are you taking pictures of my ass?” I asked playfully.
“Hell yeah I am,” he answered. “I haven’t gotten nearly enough of them so far.”
I leaned down on the table, holding onto the edge and keeping my head down. My ass was up in the air, inviting him. He paused and I wondered if he was going to put the camera down and finally come take me. I wanted him to do just that, but I loved the buildup. Most of the men I had a sexual history with tended to go straight for intercourse and everything was over in minutes. With Justin, I knew we could have played around for hours before any sort of touching began…
I didn’t want to wait that long for him, but it was refreshing to know I could. I looked over at him, with my head and arms still on the table, my body bent over. He didn’t take as many photos as I anticipated, but I suspected he was distracted by my position. In the darkness, it was hard to tell, but I knew he was hard.
“You want it?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he growled.
I stood up and leapt up onto the table, scooting back just enough that I would have plenty of legroom. He approached me, keeping one hand on his camera, while the other reached down and gently stroked my legs. His hands never moved above my knee, but they got a few centimeters higher up my leg with each touch. I could feel goosebumps erupting all over my body. I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me.
“These photos are only for you, right…?” I asked cautiously.
“And, for you,” he amended.
I trusted him. I began a slow striptease as I sat on the table. I started by removing my blouse, taking my time unbuttoning each button. He was snapping away on the camera. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the idea of Justin taking nude photographs, but I was determined to please him.
Once my blouse was off, I went for my skirt. I started to pull it down, but to my surprise, he stopped me.
“How about… why don’t you leave it on for now?” he suggested.
I giggled. Instead of pulling my skirt down, I decided to pull m
y skirt up high, showing him my laced panties. I got on my back, keeping my skirt up, moving my legs around aimlessly for his amusement. He took many pictures, inching closer to the table with each click.
I wanted him to take his hands and run them all the way up my legs this time, but they were busy with his camera. I thought about his strong hands, the swift and inspired hands that held the camera. I remembered how it felt when he touched me and I closed my eyes with desire. I was getting off on everything he did and all that he didn’t do. He was unlike any other man who had ever paid attention to me.
He was close enough to the table that I could feel warmth emanating off his body. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him close to me, but not all the way. I moved my feet down to his tight, fine ass and caressed it slowly.
I removed my bra, making sure my hands were covering my breasts once they were free. He took a picture every second (no exaggeration) once my bra was gone. I kept expecting him to tell me to move my hands, but he didn’t. I kept massaging my breasts, waiting for his command to let them go…
He lowered the camera and looked at me without obstruction. He put the camera on a chair and pushed the chair away. He threw off his shirt and gave me a nice view of his strong chest and intriguing tattoo.
Before he could take off his pants, I raised myself up and did it for him. As I slid his pants and boxers to the ground, he kept his hands busy with my chest. He pinched and rubbed my nipples with ease. My body shivered from his touch. I felt a condom in his pants pocket and took it out. I kept one hand gripped firmly around the base of his dick, while the other pulled the condom down his impressive shaft. I laid back down on the table and he ripped my skirt off in one motion. Finally, he grabbed my thighs with a deep hunger in his eyes.
“Get inside me, Justin… Give it to me however you want…”
He waited for only a second and then, I felt him. I forgot how deep he could go and I could tell by the look on his face that he was going to bring more intensity now than he had before.
I was on the edge of the table with his arms holding onto my legs. His cock never stayed completely inside me for long, he was busy going in and out with speed. At times, I feared that it might be too much…
My moaning was becoming louder as time progressed. Our position didn’t change, but we were fine with that. It was more than enough.
“You okay?” he asked me, panting.
“Fuck yeah,” I whispered. “You’re just… you’re big…”
“You want it slower…?”
“Don’t slow down…” I muttered. “Don’t stop…”
Even though our sexual position didn’t, the position of the table did. With each powerful thrust, the table was pushed slightly. I noticed it, but it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was his tan body desperately holding onto mine.
I wrapped my legs back around his ass, pulling him in closer to me. Now, his hands were gripping my sides and his face was close enough for me to taste his breath. Our mouths were hanging open, the sounds of ecstasy constantly escaping our lips. I kept expecting us to kiss, but we didn’t… A part of me felt disappointed, but another part was simply enjoying being close to him, our lips occasionally grazing… I loved being teased during sex.
Before we knew it, the table had slammed into the wall of his darkroom. It wasn’t long after that, that he collapsed my walls, bringing me to a climax I felt sure echoed across his entire neighborhood.
We moved to the couch in his living room. I was lying on the couch, with my head in his lap. We were watching TV, but my mind was racing and I barely knew what was on. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The uncertainty kept my mind spinning.
“I want to take you out on a real date,” he finally said.
I chuckled. “You don’t have to feel obligated, Justin. I’m very happy with what we just did. You don’t need to behave like a gentleman. Just misbehave like a man, that’s all I want.”
That line seemed to do something for him. He nodded and flashed his sly grin again. He began to play with my hair.
“I’m not just saying that because we had sex,” he said. “I’m serious. Let me take you out sometime.”
“Look, it seems like a good idea right now,” I said. “And, it seems like a great suggestion right after we’ve had… well…”
“Fantastic sex?” he suggested.
“Yes,” I agreed enthusiastically. “But… no. No, this has to be professional… sort of.”
“What is ‘sort-of professional’?” he asked.
“We know each other through work,” I said. “And really, one could argue that what we did before sex was… practice. I was wearing the underwear I made for this new business venture.”
“Yeah, I wondered about that.”
“I want to have benefits,” I said, rubbing my head against his lap. “But, we should be careful. And really, you don’t want to go out with me.”
“Even though I’m the one who keeps asking you out,” he said. I could hear frustration in his voice.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go out with him. I was afraid he would be embarrassed to be seen with me in public. His behavior didn’t indicate that I should expect him to be ashamed, but I’d been wrong about men before. I didn’t want Justin to give me some of the looks I was used to getting from strangers.
“I think it’s for the best, though,” I said. “Is that… are we cool?”
“Yeah, of course we’re cool,” he answered. “But, just know that I’m not asking out of sarcasm or obligation. I think you’re cool. And, sexy. If you’re ever up for going out, just let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” I said without emotion.
I didn’t stay much longer. I took the photos I originally came for and took my leave. I kissed him on the cheek and wobbled over to my car, still feeling weak from the orgasm he gave me.
I sat in the car, pondering his offer. My mind raced with the possibility, but I quickly shut it down.
“Why would he want to take me out to dinner?”
Chapter 13
Justin
Donnie T. gave me a lot of rein during the next photoshoot. It was Friday, so I got the sense that said they just wanted to get some good, quick stuff and then get out fast. Everyone needed to prepare for their Friday night antics and weekend shenanigans.
I heard pieces of conversations between models and crew that seemed to suggest there was a big shoot going on the next day with Vicki Verelli and their models. I wasn’t going to be one of those people who tried to attach themselves to a project he wasn’t invited to, but I did have a secret wish that the shoot coordinator (or someone in charge) would like my work and ask me to join them on Saturday.
But, since it was mostly me running the show, I didn’t anticipate any surprise job offers. I was grateful I had been asked back at all, even though the work wasn’t as stimulating as I hoped. The models were terrific, took orders well, and looked gorgeous.
But, their outfits and clothes were… ‘normal.’ They were nice, but exactly like anything you’d see in a ‘typical’ fashion magazine or website. The set and props were good, but again, it was stuff I’d seen countless times before. I wanted different. Special. I was craving inspiration, something that would get me excited to work…
The feeling I craved was the one I had every time I photographed Kayla. She wasn’t just gorgeous to me, she was stimulating, voluptuous, and interesting. Whenever she was in a room, she was all that mattered. My focus was entirely occupied by her presence.
I overheard the marketing manager mention Kayla at least twice during the photoshoot. I couldn’t discern the context or tone, but each time I heard her name, I hoped she might suddenly appear on the stage. Even though she would have come for work, it would still give me inspiration to fuel this long Friday.
I kept things running quickly and efficiently. The coordinator and marketing manager kept saying aloud, to no one in particular, that I was an exceptional asset. The models were def
initely giving it their all, there was no doubt that I was obtaining some of the best results anyone at Donnie T. had ever seen.
And yet, it was still not enough to satisfy me. I wanted to keep photographing my model. It was hard to focus on the Donnie T. models when I knew what it felt like to truly be inspired.
* * *
“You’ve been doing a terrific job, Justin!” said Marci, the marketing manager. “Honestly, I can’t believe we haven’t had you shoot with us before. How long have you lived in Jersey?”
“Most of my life,” I answered. “I haven’t been in the professional photography scene for that long, though.”
“Oh good, I was feeling like a total ditz trying to figure out why I couldn’t remember you,” she said. “So, how long have you been a professional photographer?”
“…Two- three years?” I answered, unsure of the exact time. I couldn’t remember when I first referred to myself as a ‘professional.’
“Well, the photos you took today look phenomenal,” she raved. “Really, and the way you are with the girls? You’ve got them melting in your hands.”
“Do I really?” I wondered curiously.
“Oh yes, they’ve all got their eyes on you, mister,” she said. “Trust me, if you wanted to bang one of them, you could.”
She threw in a wink, which I was unsure how to interpret.
“Well… I’m glad they can take directions well enough,” I said.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” I said, ready to put a stop to whatever she was thinking. “I’ve worked on some sets where nobody pays any attention and there’s constant miscommunications and tension. It’s nice to be in such a professional work environment.”
“Hey, there’s misunderstandings and tension on our shoots too, hun,” she said.
“Yeah, but everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to,” I said. “It’s how I wish most photoshoots would run. Thanks again for having me back.”
