Emma is a beautiful woman. I've known her since childhood and she's an eclectic mixture of fun, wit, charm, appeal and sex. We've never been intimate. I've always been a 'friend and brother' to her even though she's consumed most of my private moments. I've never let her know of the deep attraction I feel and the affection I hold for her. We've double dated several times, and double date 'parked' a few times. Whenever she's making out and I can see and hear her, my mind juxtaposes her for my own date and I yearn. We are close friends and have gone on a few day trips together, but things have never gelled. It seems that everytime I'm available, then I'm too afraid to comment or suggest, and she's usually committed elsewhere anyway, and running all the time it seems
I have a good paying job, and I'm a college graduate, but photography has always been my passion. I have a secret drawer filled with photo's of Emma. Gratefully, they include a few quite suggestive ones although I've never seen her nude. I know them all by heart, but I still take them out often. When I was first learning photography she'd let me practice with her as my model. She was flighty, spontaneous, and fun. Those were our most intimate moments.
Over the years she's asked me to take pictures of her to give or send to her current boyfriend, and so it didn't seem out of place when she asked me again. This is where my story really begins.
I was leaving the building we live in and as I walked to my car, she was returning home and pulled in and parked beside me. I waited for her to leave the jeep with its fringed flat top, and then I said hello. She smiled at me with that deep alluring way of hers and said hello back. I told her I was running down to the grocery store and she said that she'd meant to stop on the way home and it'd slipped her mind. She asked if she might tag along. Of course I wouldn't miss the chance to sit next to her and walk with her at the store. She twirled a string tied garish pocketbook around her finger opened the door and got in.
On the way, she mentioned that her new boyfriend had asked her for pictures. She also said that what he really wanted were highly suggestive poses, and asked if I thought it would be alright for her pose that way. Why not, I thought, after all that's the way I've wanted to see her. This is where the surprise came in. She asked me if I'd take them, and my heart went to my throat and I had trouble responding for a moment. Finally, she said that it would be alright if I didn't want to.
With difficulty breathing, I apologized for my delayed response and told her that I'd feel honored to be her photographer. We agreed to meet Saturday morning at my place, where everything was already in place. I don't remember much else about our shopping that day, except that my feet didn't seem as heavy.
On Saturday I was up early and arranging everything. My place is small so I frequently use my bedroom for a workplace. I made the bed and put on a bedspread. I checked my newest toy. It was a new Canon professional model digital camera that was advertised to be equal to the best film cameras, and in many ways it was better. I'd stopped and bought extra memory cards on the way home, knowing that any good photographer takes lots of pictures knowing that apparently minor lighting shifts can make or break a good photo. I had memory cards for approximately fifteen hundred photos without downloading.
I wasn't sure that I'd need a tripod, but I set it up and placed three stands of floods around the room. I'd planned that she sit in a chair for the photos so I rigged a plain white screen behind it and a pair of various colored sheets in easy reach in case it seemed better to change the backdrop. The sheets could be easily draped over the white screen or even at an angle or hung like a pullback curtain for variety. I have four white umbrellas that I use to provide even lighting and reduce shadowing.
I'd fixed myself a simple bowl of oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon when the doorbell rang. She was early and as she sat at the table, she commented on how good the cereal smelled. She hadn't eaten that morning and so I offered to 'nuke' some more. She declined, but asked if she might taste mine. I pushed the bowl toward her and insisted. She finished the bowl as we talked. I've always felt it best to put someone at ease before beginning the 'shoot'.
We talked quietly for a few more minutes, as I tried to form an idea of exactly what kind of suggestive pictures she needed. She showed me some stuff she'd brought for the occasion and asked if I thought they'd be okay. There were two transparent sequined Teddies, two transparent mid-hip length robes with ersatz fur fringes, three funny thongs, three bras of different design and color including one with the tips fully removed and one of a large open weave yarn forming one inch squares that hid absolutely nothing, two sets of mismatched slippers, two sets of high heels and one had a flashing LED display in the heels, three different bikini panties with one that had no string on one side, two pair of pantyhose that were the wrong size, and a few pieces of stuff I didn't know what to name. A woman's undergarments do not occupy a lot of space. The shoes were the largest in the entire bag -- and it was a small scarred-leather bag.
I longed to see her in any and all of them and I told her any of them would be fine. She surprised me by asking if maybe she could get photos in all of them. "At the same time?" I asked mischievously. She smiled and asked if she should change right here. I merely pointed toward the bathroom.
I was in the bedroom fussing when she came out and called to ask where I was. She followed my voiced response and came into the bedroom. I'm afraid that my mouth dropped, my breathing stopped, my heart wasn't sure of its rhythm when I saw her. She was wearing the scarlet pair of bikini panties missing a tie on the left side but pulled high on the other and magically still managing to cover, a strapless scarlet bra with sequins, and one of the trimmed robes with her red high heeled shoes.
Everything was transparent and I could see everything as the shadows of the robe ruffled as she moved. Her breasts were more and nicer than I'd imagined. They were not huge, but ample. Her nipples made the red net of the strapless bra form in amazing relief. Her nipples were long and surrounded by perfect dusky pink areoles. As she turned, I could see her, I usually don't use this word with a lady, I could see her marvelous ass. Her cheeks were full and softly rounded, as they accented every other part of her body.
When she sat I could see that she'd shaved and yet the outline of her lips were still faintly visible through those panties and just below that missing string. The material was lightly gathered at the edges and they were lacy, but still the material was drawn taughtly over her pubis and her lips. I hadn't said a word since she entered. I don't think I could have. Finally, she looked up at me and blushed. She asked if there was something wrong or if she should change what she was wearing. I managed to breathe a negative answer and turned to find the camera.
In frustration, I finally asked out loud where my camera was, and she giggled softly and told me it was in my hand. I felt like a complete fool knowing that her affect on me was traumatic. I excused myself and left the room, where I managed a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself. My voice was almost normal when I returned and started taking pictures.
After a few shots, up close, I remembered the lights and turned them on. I checked the light levels and adjusted the umbrellas. All of this time she sat demurely in the chair watching. Finally I turned and began again. I took pictures from behind and on each side, and then walked to the front. I took pictures at extreme closeup and at various distances showing part and all of her body in that chair. Finally, I lay on my stomach and scooted toward her, snapping the shutter at each movement. I moved sideways, first left and then right, and then up the middle.
She was sitting half off the chair when I noticed her lower lips again. Pardon me, but I went from an aroused state to full attention instantly. As quickly as I could, I finished those shots and rolled over onto my back and sat up facing away from her. Slowly, I stood and excused myself again. As I waited for it to relax, I knew that it would happen again and again. I tried to think of a way to control it, but finally gave up and pulled a pair of Dockers out of the hamper that I'd worn three days earlier. I slipped them on and went back.
She didn't seem to notice that I'd changed and I continued with the photos. Finally, I suggested that she could make a costume change if she liked. I'd wanted to reach out and adjust bits of clothing during the first shoot, but couldn't.
She returned in the torn black robe, sans bra, and with a black sequined thong. The robe had a single bow below the throat and hung draped to each hip. Instant arousal, again. She asked about her costume, again, and then surprised me by asking if the bed would be a good place for the next photos. I had decided much earlier that it would be too suggestive of me to even contemplate the idea, and had decided not to suggest it. But in my confused state of mind, I dumbly shook my head in acknowledgement. The spread was wrong and I removed it and folded down the blanket and stacked the king sized pillows on top of each other and she climbed into the center of the bed with her back to them. I was at the end of memory in just a few shots and quickly changed cards. I rearranged the floodlights again, and the umbrellas. I tried to concentrate on my work and not look at her.
