A Beach Bums Luck Pt 02

Glenn finished his brief morning exercises and took a long hot shower. The beach had its own scent, but he always wanted to start fresh just the same. He put on a clean swimsuit and a nifty Hawaiian hula shirt from his collection. The beach was a fun place, after all. His beach stuff was just where he left it last night - including his camera. He didn't even look at the pictures of young Susan he met yesterday from his camera's memory card. He'd seen her in person, peered into her deep, blue-green eyes and smelled her scent on the crisp ocean breeze yesterday. Even a great photograph couldn't be better than that.

He arrived at the beach and set up his beach chair. He screwed his beach umbrella into the sand in his usual place. The morning fog was lifting as the sun was now rising 45 degrees above the horizon ready to glow through the remaining haze. He'd thrown his watches away years ago. Only the weather told him what to do these days. No more crazy art directors, prima-Donna models and wardrobe directors who always wanted to be noticed by somebody in the most flamboyant ways. He was glad to be looking at that career in the rearview mirror.

Photojournalism work was much easier. Find a tragedy, discover the pathos, get a good exposure and it becomes front page news for tomorrow's edition. Tomorrow was a new challenge. As the newsroom editors said, "If it bleeds, it leads". Even that work became tedious. These days, it was just fun to get the camera out and shoot for his own pleasure and enjoyment. Last week on the fishing dock, he photographed a large water bird looking for fish handouts. He had yellow legs and webbed feet that looked like the tennis shoes the kids were wearing these days. Stuff like that. His images would be his comfort in his old age - whenever he decided he was at that age. After that, all his images and experiences would be lost to time. Having little importance in the records of history. They remained a collection of reminders of his own life and times. They were keys to unlocking his memories. Nobody else cared. He'd been carrying some kind of camera around since he was 14-years old. Why stop now? His Nikons were an extension of his heart, mind, and soul in hardware format.

Glenn clicked his beach chair to a comfortable position to read his novel yet again. He also scanned the horizon for interesting activities. The air was still chilly, and the fog was lifting, but it wasn't warm enough yet to take off his shirt. He opened the book where the bookmark had formed a permanent indentation between the pages then flipped backwards a few pages to see what the heck he'd been "reading" all these years. Oh yeah, "Baa-Baa Black Sheep" about WW-II Marine flying Ace, Gregory Boyington. He already knew some of the stories but had never read the entire biographical novel. As he re-read those few pages before the bookmark to reacquaint himself, SHE came walking up the beach and she had a friend with her. Glenn would never get that paperback book read. Major Boyington's story would have to wait... yet again for another time.

He replaced the bookmark where it was and tossed it on top of his beach bag. He wanted to enjoy the poetry of Susan's walk in purely feminine motion as long as he could. Interestingly, the other girl had a more normal walk... like an ordinary woman might walk... no swish, no sway, but a sweet floating glide without bouncing. Both were barefoot wearing swimsuits with cover-up. Susan's was lacier, while the other girl wore more of a cotton shirt type cover. The new girl was about an inch taller than Susan, but equally beautiful from this distance. As they approached, Susan waved her hand, and Glenn returned it with a smile and stood up to greet them as any old school gentleman would.

Both girls smiled as they came closer, but Susan's smile was wider. She had already met Glenn, but the other girl seemed a little apprehensive, but still cautiously smiling. Throwing the new unisex handshaking protocol to the wind, Glenn extended his hand first to greet Susan with a handshake. In his world, the offering of a handshake is a friendly gesture, not a prelude to a sexual advance as some people proclaim. Susan responded likewise and introduced the taller brunette as Sonya. Glenn shook hands with Sonya, too. Her handshake was surprisingly firm.

"Sonya and I have been inseparable friends since we were college roommates. We know everything about each other." Since he had been in the modeling world, he knew what that phrase meant. Susan and Sonya were lovers. Why not? They really looked stunningly good together.

Glenn began, "Well, Susan, you called this meeting. What can I do for you ladies?"

Susan began, "Glenn, I told Sonya what you told me yesterday about your photography career and how you felt about what you used to do, so she wanted to meet you."

Sonya spoke with a foreign accent that Glenn couldn't exactly place. It was obvious that she had worked very hard to lose her old one. "I wanted to meet you because from what Susan told me about you, you seemed like a nice, decent type of person,... for a man." (That clinched it.) There was no guesswork needed now. They were lovers. "Susan and I have been together for many years, and we wanted to celebrate our upcoming anniversary together in a special way. Susan and I have talked about it before, but after she met and talked to you, we wanted to talk to you together about one of our special ideas."

Sonya was not shy at all, and it was clear that she wore the pants, so to speak, in their love relationship. "What is your idea, Sonya?"

"We would like you to take photos of us... "

"I'd love to." Glenn jumped in.

"We want these photos to be of us... how shall I say... making love to each other and in black and white instead of color. Then, we want to have some printed for a framed display on our bedroom walls. You can do this for us, yes? I should say, will you do this for us and how much would be your price?"

"First of all, ladies, have you considered a female photographer for that request? Ladies, such as yourselves, seem much more comfortable in front of a female photographer's lens, especially for this type of assignment. Some of the best modeling photographers these days are women. Being comfortable in front of the spying eye of a camera is the number one way to reveal your true selves to each other in portraits.

"That is the correct response. Susan told me this you would say. It appears she has judges you correctly." Sonya looked at Susan and nodded. Susan agreed. "Will you do this for us? You can name your price, and we will pay."

"Ladies, ladies. I am so highly honored, and I thank you for that. However, I have no studio and no workspace to set up special lighting and so forth. I sold all of that equipment years ago when I quit business." In sort of a reverse-sales pitch, Glenn was throwing out all the reasons he could to discourage the ladies from this idea of a photo shoot. It was his way of determining their true resolve or were they just tinkering with an old man's mind for their own amusement?

"It does not matter, this lighting thing. We will use candlelight, and you will do this at our house. Yes? It is just down the beach from here. You will come and take pictures. Yes?" Sonya was insistent and she was going to have it her way.

"When would you like to begin?" Glenn asked. He only brought his telephoto lens to the beach. Seagulls do some interesting things. For close-in work, that job would take a more normal-view length lens, but one that would not warp their images such as a wide-angle lens might. Sonya and Susan wanted serious portraits not degraded perspective art. "If I could make a few suggestions, your hair, makeup and nails, jewelry items even clothing elastic pinches in your skin will show quite prominently in your photos, so attention to those details along with your wardrobe selections might need attending at your discretion, of course. I leave those details to you."

"Of course. You will do this for us Saturday. Yes?" Sonya asked.

"May I see the workspace you have in mind so that I can be sure to have all the appropriate equipment with me to do a proper job?" Too little room inside and Glenn could be shooting up against a wall, awkwardly knocking over bric-a-brac and everything else.

Sonya commanded, "Say you will do this for us on Saturday and we will take you there so you will know."

Glenn had to add, "I have one more request, but I hope we can still work together on this project."

"What is it you require?" asked Susan, this time.

"Since I will be working alone with two very lovely women in a supremely intimate setting, I would request a silent female observer to be present during our photo session. Her only duties will be to safeguard your persons and witness that I stay only behind my camera as required during the primary photography session. Is that something you can provide?"

Sonya didn't bat an eye. "Susan told me this you would say this also. She knows a good deal about your industry. We trust you, but if you must have this person, we will do this. It seems she has done very well in judging you. You should be glad. She is very selective."

Today's suntan session on the beach would have to wait, but these plans were going to be very special. In all his years as a pro photographer, no photo shoot ever went off without a glitch. Plans could be made months in advance and all preparations finished and delivered on-time, but something happens in the mix. Sometimes, it's only a pimple on a chin that must be hidden with makeup and shot away from camera or touched-up in post-production. Sometimes it was much worse. One thing was certain, it took a lot for these girls to even ask a male photographer to capture these private images of them without asking to see his portfolio first. This would perhaps be one of the more important photo shoots of his career. It wouldn't be for the money but for his reputation.

End of Part 2

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