After awhile, all location photo shoots look about the same. You've seen them all, done them all, and are bored silly. Half the time, you're just going through the motions, wondering when you will get to go back home this time. Now and then, however, you hit one that stands out in your mind for a very long time. So far, this wasn't it.
In days past, this gig would have been one of my favorites. Photography of one of the most beautiful gardens in the south in absolutely perfect weather. Usually, the PR department just turned me loose for a few days and they got enough photos to last them a year or two. This time, they had hired an ad agency to put some "zip" into their ads. Attendance had been down and the board wanted to see a change soon.
I hate working with agencies because they are all the same. None of them really gives a rat's fanny about their clients. All they really want a series of ads to do is show how great and creative they are. If by some freak chance, their client's product shows an increase in sales, the victory dances and chest thumping begins big time. If, on the other hand, the product's performance stays the same or completely tanks, obviously it was doomed before they took the job and their fantastic ads were wasted on that piece of shit. Think about it - how many times have you seen a great ad on TV and can't remember the name of the product 15 minutes later.
Today, instead of knocking myself out to get some really incredible shots, I had a twit of an art director, two assistants, and a couple of "suits" from the agency. Every angle was second-guessed and evaluated by "the committee". They had even trotted out the Southern Belles (a group of area young women dressed as ladies of the Old South - hoop skirts and all - who were used as guides for special events). That was good for an hour's delay on every photo as they argued about which Belle was to be positioned where.
When the lunch break rolled around, we had completed a rousing two setups. The twit and his associate flits were "emotionally spent" after the ordeal and decided that we would just have to stop for the day while they got their "creative juices" refreshed.
I breathed a sigh of relief as they sashayed back to the parking area. Grabbing my regular camera gear, I headed back into the gardens to get some "real" photos done. I certainly wasn't certain that I would even bother coming back for Round Two with the agency but I felt an obligation to have something good to give the client.
That's when I spotted one of the Belles still hanging around. "What are you still here for? I thought Twinks-Are-Us had released you for the day?"
"They did, but I thought we had been booked for the day. My ride won't be here for another three hours. Those other bitches wouldn't let me ride with them. So I'm stuck here."
There was just something about her that caught my eye. Before I knew it, I asked, "Well, why don't we do a few more photos? Without those agency fucks around, we just might get a few decent shots."
She grinned, "HMMM, no competition from those other tight ass twats! Sounds good!"
Intros all around and soon Ann and I were trooping around like old friends. She was an absolute natural and the camera lens loved her.
Before lunch, "the committee" had only cranked out two setups. After an hour, Ann and I had put a dozen great shots in the bag and were taking a break.
The usual small talk revealed that Ann had just turned 18 and was on summer break before heading off to Alabama for college. This was the only job she could find that paid decent money for part-time work. "I really just wanted to hit the beach and work on my tan, but my aunt said I had to get a job. It's not too bad - just a couple of days each week wearing the outfit and acting shy."
"I'll bet you're about to melt with that hoop skirt in this weather."
Ann looked at me with a twinkle in her eye, "Not really. We all have a little battery powered fan mounted to the hoop under our dresses - and I'm only wearing a bikini under here."
My dirty old man's mind went into sensory overload and I nearly choked on my Coke.
I had booze older than this little hottie so I forced myself back on track and stammered, "I guess we really ought to get back to work."
The last tour group for the day had already passed through and even most of the stragglers were already back at the gift shop on the other side of the gardens. When that realization hit me, my dick overloaded my brain once again, "You know, the agency is wanting to jazz up things a bit. They really want to bring in a younger crowd and I don't think that group is really into hoop skirts and shy smiles."
Ann nodded, "I know it bores the shit out of me."
"You already have a bikini on, right?"
"Yeah, but there's not much too it - just a little white thing. Oh well, what the hell!"
Moments later, the Southern Belle was gone and HOT BOD was in the house! Ann dumped the costume on an azalea bush and twirled for me, "What do you think - is this OK? My boyfriend got it for me through the mail and made me promise not to wear it on the beach unless he was with me. I figure this doesn't count."
Standing in front of me was a vision of true Southern beauty - and lust! Ann's body was perfect and the little suit did nothing to hide any of it. She was all natural too - nice firm tits with rigid nipples trying their best to poke through the fabric! The suit bottom wasn't a thong, but something looked familiar about it. That's when I saw the famous "WW" tag. Her boyfriend had bought her a Wicked Weasel suit! No wonder he didn't want her near the water without him. As soon as that bikini hit the water, it would be virtually transparent.
I couldn't help myself, I had to look at the crotch of her suit - sure enough, her pussy must have already been soaking wet because I could clearly see every little fold and crease. Ann had no idea what she was really showing.
