'My God, she's hot!'
Derek Slade peered through the viewfinder of his brand new Nikon D3 digital SLR. He had landed the dream assignment of his young career -- a photo shoot at the Big Sky Movie Ranch with one of music's rising young stars, Michelle Branch.
And she was drop-dead gorgeous.
'Steady, boy,' he cautioned himself. 'Stay on task.'
The lens sharpened into critical focus, and Derek drank in the beauty of the young woman. Michelle was a dark-haired, sultry, smoldering, sloe-eyed temptress who projected an air of deceptive innocence. Her smile radiated a 'come-hither' aura that Derek found quite distracting. His big cock twitched and bulged under his tight jeans. He hoped she couldn't see.
Her outfit didn't help either.
Michelle Branch was the sexiest cowgirl Derek had ever seen.
She wore a white Stetson and cowboy boots, and a red bandana around her slim throat. She had rolled up the sleeves of her flannel shirt, which was tied up under her breasts, baring her midriff, and was unbuttoned all the way down the front to the knot. Her full, round breasts threatened to burst out of their precarious confinement.
She was, very obviously, not wearing a bra.
Her blue jean cutoffs were tight and short and rode up in the crack of her plump ass. The undersides of her cheeks spilled out around the denim fabric. He fly was open, and tufts of thick, black pubic curls peeked over the top of the zipper.
She was, very obviously, not wearing panties either!
She sat on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, cradling her vintage Gibson Hummingbird guitar in her lap. She propped a slim, tapered leg over the edge of a horse trough. Her cutoffs rode up, exposing her vulvae.
"How's this look?" she asked innocently.
Derek swallowed hard.
"Th-that's....great, Ms. Branch."
It came out as a squeak.
Michelle's silvery laugh sent a shiver of delight through him.
"How many times do I have to tell you, silly -- call me Michelle!"
He snapped a few more shots, wondering if any of them would be suitable for public consumption.
She stood up and lovingly, carefully placed the Hummingbird in its case and latched it shut. She glanced around, smiling like a kid in a candy store.
"Isn't this great?" she enthused. "All those great old TV Westerns and movies that were shot here! 'Gunsmoke.' 'Little House on the Prairie'..."
He zoomed in for a head and shoulders closeup of her beatific smile and rattled off a half dozen shots. All of them were keepers.
"And this neat old saloon! I can just imagine Miss Kitty in here...."
Michelle strolled inside, carrying her guitar case, disappearing between the swinging doors.
Derek followed. He still had to pinch himself, unable to believe that he was out here taking pictures of this luminously beautiful young vixen. Just the two of them. He had managed to get an assignment to do some publicity shots of Michelle in her recording studio as she began to work on her first new solo album in several years. It was shortly after she and her friend Jessica Harp had put their band "The Wreckers" on hold so they could pursue solo projects. If Derek hadn't known better, he could have sworn she was flirting with him that day -- despite the fact that her husband Teddy and their little daughter Owen were not too far away.
And the next day he had gotten the call to do this location shoot with her.
She had picked him up in her brand new Mercedes and driven him out to the ranch. She had rented it out for the day. They had been given the run of the place; it was closed to the public.
His cock hardened reflexively as he thought of what lay under the flimsy, skimpy costume she wore.
He could easily imagine himself being with her. He was a good-looking guy -- blonde, blue eyed and tanned, trim and well-muscled. At twenty-seven, he was only three years older than she was. Her husband was at least forty-five.
But he wasn't kidding himself.
She was married and had a little girl. Michelle was a sexy young woman, and if she liked to show off her taut body for the camera, that was her business. No sense reading any more into it than that.
He strode inside the saloon.
Michelle was nowhere to be seen.
"Ms. Branch...I mean, Michelle?"
He heard a playful giggle from upstairs.
Chuckling, he climbed the polished staircase with its breakaway banister.
"Okay, I give up," he called. "Where are you hiding?"
"In here."
