A Itchen Fit to Party In

I was surprised that the front door opened as my car drew into the driveway.

Rosie stepped out wearing a lightweight summer dress, white with pink trim. Very girly, and both a bit over the top as a day dress, and for the time of year. It may have been a nice spring day, but there was a bit of a breeze. It certainly was not the hot mid-summer day that such a dress would normally complement.

'I thought I would show you the garden before you start,' she said. 'I know you are interested in Gardens. Emily told me.'

I laughed. 'And what else did Emily tell you?'

This was difficult to play. I needed to appear to be discreet yet needed Emily's help, in her absence, to start the seduction.

'That is why I brought you out here Mr Jones.'

'Please, call me Tom.'

'Very well...Tom. I wanted to let you know that she told me how you seduced her, while working with her. She told me all about it in fact. I also would like to tell you, in no uncertain terms, that, despite any mixed messages you may have got from some of my husband's childish games on Sunday, I am happily married and intend to stay that way.'

I knew that this was a conversation that she did not want her husband to hear on the tapes that no doubt covered the house.

I decided to go on the attack.

'Rosie, let me first suggest that I am very flattered that you would even consider having an affair with me. I am sure Emily told you how I would leave her quivering after multiple orgasms, how she shook with desire as she answered the front door to me naked. Even though she would never know whether I had a friend with me or not. How she became my willing slave the moment I walked through the door.'

Rosie went pink.

'Ah, I see she did not tell you exactly everything then. Or maybe your colouring is down to the fact that just maybe you would like to experience a multiple orgasm at the hand of someone other than your husband. What is it like, forever standing on a pedestal, an object of desire that men just want to touch and hold? Does your body ever reciprocate those feelings? Do you get a little damp as you imagine their hands around your breasts?

Rosie, you will forgive me being so direct, but you and I both know that your husband, your friend, your lover, wants naked pictures of you taken by me. And what Alan wants, I suspect that Alan gets. We need to co-operate or the photographs will be flat and lifeless. Alan will be disappointed, and I personally do not want to experience that disappointment.'

I waited to see what effect that had.

'Well, in answer to your question, maybe Emily did not tell me exactly what had occurred, but is it right that you are so indiscreet to tell me?'

'Now look Rosie, you are the person who brought up the subject and indicated that you knew all about it. In fact those were your very own words. Could it be that you were trying to entrap me into admitting it? Perhaps when I see her again I should tell her that you told me all about it.'

Bluff.

'Look I am sorry I brought it up. Let us start again please. Let me just say that your, shall we say impressive, reputation, and not just as a designer, goes before you. It has probably helped to influence my husband's choice of you as a designer and now as a photographer, but let me say that you will find me a different kettle of fish to Emily. We will get these photographs done, we will get the kitchen finished and that, Mr Jones, is as far as it goes. I will pass on your multiple orgasms and shaking passion, thank you.'

I laughed. 'Touché Mrs Taylor. I am going to enjoy my time with you immensely. You are a witty and formidable debater, and beautiful to boot. Please feel free to say anything to me about any subject at all. I can promise you that in the course of trying to make these photographs vibrant and full of life there will be times when I may try to deliberately shock you to provoke a reaction. I hope that we will be friends at the end of it.'

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small digital camera.

'And while we are on the subject I would like you to hold your skirt up to the waist please. The light is good just here.'

Predictably she erupted. 'Don't be ridiculous. How dare you. Get out of my house and garden, this instant. What do you think I am that you can just tell me to raise my skirt in the middle of the garden?'

I was instantly attracted to her blush. I continued on the offensive.

'What do I think you are? I think you are a frustrated young woman who is frightened by the thought of sex. I think your panties may be damp at the thought of raising your skirts here in the front garden for me. Prove me wrong and let me feel your dry and arid pussy. Shall we carry this conversation on in the house perhaps? I believe your husband alluded to cameras and tapes rolling for his enjoyment. Is this a conversation we should be having there?'

'I should like to show you the back garden,' she said as she started to walk around the house.

I followed, astonished by the change of direction that the conversation had taken.

She walked quickly ten foot ahead of me, all the way round the back to a garden shed near the back door. It was in direct sunlight. She went inside, turned around towards me and raised her skirt six or eight inches, just below her panties.

'Is the light good enough for you here?'

I raised my camera and took a couple of token shots of her legs.

'The light is, but neither the mood nor the ambience is right. Firstly your aggression is killing any passion that may have materialised had you lifted your skirt when I told you to, and secondly, where is the fun of you raising your skirt inside a potting shed where nobody can see you.

You are not enjoying it and nor is anybody else. I might as well give you the camera and ask you to take the pictures through the mirror.

Rosie, seriously, I implore you. Look at your legs in a mirror. Have you seen those legs? They should be on view to the world. They would stop traffic down Oxford Street. I don't want this to sound as a threat, in fact I hope that eventually you will find it a pleasure, but let me remind you that I will be taking naked pictures of you in the kitchen while the workmen are there.

If you do not enjoy it, every moment will be like your longest nightmare, and the pictures will come out badly.

If you can enjoy the thrill and enjoy seeing the reactions that you get the time will pass in an instant and the pictures will be amazing. Which is it going to be?'

'You cannot be serious,' she said, turning straight into John McEnroe. You expect me to, firstly, bare my body to the workmen and secondly, consider that I might actually enjoy it.'

The blush that I was beginning to know so well started again.

I wondered whether it was connected to her lower lips. I did not think that this was quite yet the moment to ask again.

'Please let us start again, for a third time. Let us go indoors and not have any more of these impassioned arguments. Let us talk about the tiles and then I will take just a few early-day photos of you. No skirts raised to the waist, no bare tits, no multiple orgasms. Just enough so that you can tell Alan when you talk to him that I asked you to do some outrageous poses and that you acceded. See what he says and tomorrow Friday I will come round again and push you a little more. Next week you have to be naked. You know what Alan said. Let me do it slowly.'

She knew there was truth in what I had said.

Her head drooped, they were going to be seriously bad photographs.

In fact they would be snaps, not photographs.

We were quiet as we walked back around the front of the house to the front door.

She sheepishly asked me to wait five minutes and then ring the doorbell and pretend that we had not been outside for fifteen minutes already.

I concurred.

She was pretend bubbly when she answered the door to me five minutes later. I could see the worry in her eyes however.

We talked animatedly about the base decorating and I showed her the wall and floor tiles and some blind materials. She quickly agreed with my choice and I sent a note from my phone ordering both lots of tiles to be delivered by Wednesday next week. The blinds would be made up and delivered on the Monday after.

'While I am here,' I said feeling strange that I was talking for the benefit of the cameras. 'Can I just take a few preliminary photographs. I only have my small camera but these will only be for reference.'

I gave her no time to think about saying no and asked her to stand just in front of where the island was going to be. The light streamed in through the un-shaded window. I clicked away.

'That's perfect thanks. You really are so beautiful. You would make any photographers job easier. How can I not give you attractive photographs.

I stood her in various parts of the kitchen, clicking merrily. I could not even bother to have her in the frame for some of the shots. The clicks were for the benefits of the cameras. Her eyes showed her unwillingness to co-operate.

'Okay last few shots today. Can you bend over that table as you did when I measured it on Sunday please. She looked daggers at me but quickly complied. I took the first of the real shots. Firstly her face front on, Aggression and all. Then from the side, and lastly where I most wanted to be, from the back. I ignored the looks she was flashing at me and took a few photographs of the back of her thighs, where even from eye height I could see the bottom bulges of her buttocks. By lowering the camera a foot or two I had a wonderful view of the lower part of her buttocks and her white g-string.

'Thank you that was lovely, another one or two over here where you showed me the skirting board please.'

If looks could kill, my completion bonus would have disappeared through the window.

'Thank you, that's lovely, and lastly up here on the ladder again please. I think you went up about five steps actually not just two. See if you can reach the ceiling. You managed it easy enough last time.'

I clicked away and even took a couple of her while standing close enough to help her down. They would never see the light of day on the wall. They were purely up-skirt shots, for voyeurs only. Rosie looked at me suspiciously when she still heard the camera clicking.

'Are you still taking photo's?'

'Don't be silly,' I said. 'That's what I do I am a photographer. '

'Yes but those last couple...' She went quiet but forbore to look around at her husband's cameras as I knew she wanted to do. In fact I did as well.

'Anyway,' I said. 'I am done for now, I have a dental appointment in an hour so need to go. Would it be possible to help me carry these samples out to the car so I can get away. I will be back tomorrow for a longer session.'

'Of course,' she said. 'I hope the dentist is not TOO painful.'

She stifled a laugh which brought out a big grin on my face. Maybe I was getting somewhere.

When we got outside she appeared angry. 'I thought you said no disgusting poses. What was that all about?'

'Listen you and I both know that I have to have something to show Alan and you have to have something to tell him. How much milder could I have got than only asking you for the same poses you had already shown me.'

I could see by her face that she realised that was actually true.

'Last thing, homework.'

'Homework?' she said.

'Yes homework. Firstly check your panties for moisture before they dry. Prove to yourself that you were just a little bit turned on. Imagine please, what they are going to be like when you are really turned on. And you will be. If I allow you to wear panties, that is.

Secondly take off all your clothes and stand in front of the mirror. Check out your beautiful face, your wondrous hair, amazing tits, fantastic legs, gorgeous arse and, well just check out the other bits I haven't seen.., yet.

Try and see them from the point of view of the rest of the world. When you realise how criminal it is to keep them hidden from Joe Blow in the street, then, and only then, will you be in right frame of mind to have the photos taken.'

I got in the car and left. I had given her a lot to think about.

I erased the first few photo's that I had taken in the potting shed. They were bad and Alan didn't need to know about the conversation out there. It would be just my luck for him to have a camera in there as well but judging by Rosie's actions I did not think so.

I sent him a brief note on email.

'Hard work. Will try again tomorrow. You only need to look at the last dozen.' I sent the photo's as attachments.

About eleven I rang Rosie. I was aware that her end was probably recorded by the cameras. There was even a possibility that the phones were tapped. Still Alan had been pretty specific he wanted me to seduce her. I did not think he would mind late night phone conversations. Providing I wasn't keeping her from him of course.

'Hi. It's Tom.'

'Hello. What on earth do you want this time of night? You could just have sent me a text if you wanted to say you couldn't get in to see me tomorrow.'

'No that's not it. Have you spoken to Alan yet?'

'Yes, I was just turning off the lights to go to sleep.'

'Have you done your homework?'

It went quiet.

'Hello, are you still there? Simple question. Have you done your homework?'

'You were serious?'

'Like a hurricane babe,' my love of bad films surfaces every so often.

'Well?'

'Well sort of. I did think about what you said as I passed the mirror in the dressing room. And I only had my nightie on so I could see quite a lot of my legs. Sure they are straight, and even attractive I guess.'

'Get out of bed and go to the mirror. Take the phone with you.'

'Tom don't be silly, it is eleven o'clock.'

'Rosie just do it, or the poses I will be giving you tomorrow I guarantee you will not enjoy. Do it. Now.'

'I'm here.'

'Take off your nightie.'

'But Tom i...'

'Do it.'

'Okay I've done it.'

'What do you see?'

'Well me of course.' This was going to be hard work.

'Are you naked?

'What sort of question is that to ask a married lady?'

Aha, the first sign of her sense of humour returning. Time to shock her again. After all I wouldn't want her thinking that she had the upper hand.

'Okay I will ask again. Are you naked? You can give me one of two replies. Yes I am naked. No I am not naked. Which is it?'

Yes I have no clothes on.'

'Do you have a problem with being naked or maybe just the word naked. That would highlight a very unhealthy psychological problem.'

'No I don't have a problem saying the word naked.'

'Well say it then.'

'I just did..'

OMG, was this her sense of humour or was she really troubled.

Only one way to find out.

'Repeat after me, I am stark fucking naked. Now you say it.'

'What is the difference between that and just being ordinarily naked?'

'The difference is that you are ready for fucking. Are you?'

'No, she said. 'But I am stark naked standing here, in the bathroom, getting cold in front of the fucking mirror.'

We both laughed until tears fell, at least from my eyes.

'Well done. I thought I was going to have to explain the word. Now describe yourself to me in detail. First hair and face.'

Well I am very proud of my long, almost silver blonde hair. It is soft and falls delicately over my shoulders, half way down my back. My face is good, I think. My nose maybe a little too retroussé, my jaw is good, my eyes are blue, my cheek bones could be a bit higher, but...'

'But what?'

'But on the whole I think it is a pleasant face.'

'Do you have a trouble with the word beautiful as well.'

Silence.

'Say it.'

'I have a beautiful face,' she whispered.

'Good. We can move on. Flick your hair forward both sides of your head. How far does it come down.'

'A short pause and then, 'It falls to just below my...my... bosom.'

'Okay I will allow that word once. I do not want to hear it again. I want to know whether it covers your tits. And I want your answer in words of one syllable. You are a bright girl work it out.'

'Yes.'

'Good but not good enough. I need the whole sentence.'

If I pull my hair fore... to the front, it cov...rests on my tits. Okay.'

'I'm sorry you failed at the last hurdle. Okay has two syllables. But, almost well done,' I said. 'We will try again. Now turn around and describe your bottom to me. Words of one syllable again.'

'It is round and smooth. Pert..'

'What is.'

My bum is pert, round, and smooth, and fun.'

'Fun. That is a lovely word to describe a derriére or a posterior even. In fact we may have a lot of fun with your arse later. Now turn around again. What do you see a little lower? Do you have hair there.'

'Yes' she whispered.

'Tell me. In words of one syllable again please.'

'Yes...I hav...'

'Speak up I cannot hear you.'

'Yes I have hair on my va.. pu...Tom I cannot say it.'

'Yes you can Rosie, my darling Rosie. You can say it with a one-syllable word. You are so close. You see before you the blossoming body not of a young virgin girl, but a still immature emerging lady. You are like a butterfly emerging from it's chrysalis. You are no longer a child. You do not need to use childish words or text-book phrases. Come on out, bring your body with you and join the real world. You can say it.'

'Yes, I have hair on my ...cunt.'

'I'm sorry. That was too quiet. I could not hear you.'

'YES, I HAVE HAIR ON MY CUNT.'

'Welcome darling Rosie, to the real world. Just before we finish. Feel yourself. Tell me that you are wet.'

'I cannot do it in words of one syllable, I am afraid,' she said.

'That's okay, tell me in your own words.'

'Guess. This should give you a clue. I AM STANDING HERE STARK FUCKING NAKED. Got it?'

I laughed again. 'Got it. Last instructions before I go to sleep and dream about you. Tomorrow I want you wearing stockings and suspenders with your prettiest matching undies. See you at eleven. We have a lot to do tomorrow.'

I put the phone down.

I duly arrived at eleven to again find her opening the front door before I could exit the car. I quickly appraised her clothes. If she had done what I had told her there was no sign of it. Oh yes, she was wearing stockings, or maybe tights. She had that long boring blue skirt on again with a light blue long sleeved high necked mans-shirt style blouse.

'I need to talk,' she said.

'Go ahead.'

She went quiet. This may have been important but she didn't want to tell me, whatever it was.

'Look let's make this easy. You want to talk about your relationship with Alan, without him hearing you. Is that right?'

She just nodded.

'Let's do it my way. Start with yourself. Tell me a little bit about yourself. You appear to be happily married, but then not quite happy either. Sexually he pushes you beyond your limits doesn't he.'

'That's why I married him. He was the first man to make me feel anything. Any emotion at all, particularly sex. My parents kept me hidden away from society with home tutoring. I was brilliant but dead inside. You have seen it. After all that furore with the press Alan sought me out at home. I was in my second year at Uni, but still living at home. My parents still smothered me. Alan offered no-strings sponsorship money to complete my course and then eventually work for him. We went out a few times for meals and on one of those nights he stripped me and raped me. I hated it. But the more I thought about it I realised that I felt something. I felt human. I felt wanted.'

Her tears started falling.

'I say raped. He didn't hurt me. Well only for a few moments after he took me for the first time. I had never even masturbated and here I was enjoying an orgasm. Is it rape if you achieve an orgasm? I decided that it wasn't and that I wanted Alan. I wanted to leave home and marry or even live with Alan. My parents were understandably not happy but they did get Alan to marry me. In their eyes that was all right. Since then he has this campaign of trying to make me loosen up, expose myself, get horny, as he puts it. And it is happening. I think about sex a lot. I,... you know, get wet. Alan makes me feel so good I like to take my clothes off for him. But nobody else has made me feel that good. And really I am quite happy that way.'