After the sessions photographing Sarah I was very keen to do more. The only problem was finding more models, because enquiries were now starting to dry up. Maybe it's time to do some proper advertising, I wondered. The only one that looked in the ballpark was a girl by the name of Kate. And even then, she wanted a preliminary meeting before she would be prepared to sign up, as it were. She wanted to make sure she was comfortable with who I was and, in her words, 'the set up I was operating'. It didn't sound promising.
She arrived bang on time. I invited her in and offered her a seat.
"Glass of wine, Kate?" I offered.
"No thank you," she replied firmly, with a slight look of scorn in her eyes. That said, she was very attractive. Moderate height, slender figure, small but nicely shaped breasts. She was a bit different from your average student in the style of her clothing: a classic light grey skirt/jacket business suit that gave her a particular air of elegance. She was wearing a pair of expensive-looking black shoes, with thick square heels, not too high. Her short bob hair style was of a golden blonde hue. Her complexion was very fair; she obviously of northern European decent somewhere along the line.
Very stylish, very business-like, all up a rather sophisticated looking woman. She was also older than Sarah, I couldn't help but notice. Kate had to be in her late very 20s.
"Have you been doing this long?" she asked.
"No, not long at all," I said. Then I gave her a truncated explanation of my motives and intentions.
"Fair enough," she said. "Actually, look, I'm not interested in doing a photo shoot under the terms you're talking about. I'm not here for that. What I would like is for you to take some standard portraits - clothed. Resume kind of stuff. I realize this is not in your, well, how shall we say it, line of work, and in fact as far as that's concerned I suppose you could say I'm here under false pretenses, so if you're prepared to do it as I want, I don't expect to be paid."
"So why me?" I asked. "Why don't you just go to a professional photographer to get done what you want. None of the other students..."
"Oh come on!" she snapped, cutting me off. "Look at me. Do I look like a student? I'm 35 years old. I saw your ad at the university because that's where I work. I'm an English professor."
"Well, I wouldn't have... β you look a lot younger than 35," I said, starting to wonder what I was getting myself into here.
"Gee, thanks for the flowers," she said curtly. Very up front, this one. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. I have seen the quality of your work - one of my students showed me a couple of prints you took of her, and it's obvious you're a very good photographer."
"Sarah?" I gulped, wondering if it was her, and wondering just which shots she had seen.
"Yes, she's in one of my classes. Actually, she spoke to me about you before she came to you. I told her I didn't like the sound of it. I advised her against it, but it was her decision. But I did make sure she gave me your address and details before she came here, just in case.
"You know, David, you're quite well known around campus. You've even been the topic of discussion at one of the student feminist movement meetings."
"Really?" I said, starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable. I had a kind of sinking feeling, as if I was under investigation. "How do you know that?"
"I sit in on some of their sessions, offer them a bit of guidance, keep an eye on them, see what kind of ideas they come up with."
"So, er, what did you think of Sarah's photos?" I said.
"As I said, from what I saw, they're very good. That's another reason I decided to come; like I said, you obviously have a passion for what you do, twisted as it may be, and for what I need I figured you'd be at least as good as any professional, and also I thought that given my position you'd be prepared to do it for the right price, ie: nothing β and I also get to check you out on behalf of the your 'prospective clients', make sure you're not going to be a danger to them or exploit them too much. Kill two birds with one stone. To be honest, I had come here expecting to meet some sad old disgusting pervert. You probably are a pervert; well, of course you are, getting your rocks off like this, it is a little bit sad I have to say, but at least you're not a disgusting old man as well."
This was getting more than a bit tedious. I had no dealings with the local campus feminazis, and I didn't want any. But nor did I want any mad professor bad mouthing me around campus. And I was annoyed with her tone. I didn't particularly want to photograph her at all, clothed or otherwise β even if she did look hot. With her attitude it looked like it was going to be more trouble than it was worth if I wanted to continue shooting girls from the Uni. But then the way she was going on, she just looked like trouble all round.
"Look, relax," she said. "One, I'm here to get some photographs taken. Two, I'm here to see that you're not a threat to the girls. I think I've established that you're basically harmless. And three, what skin off your nose is it to spend half an hour photographing an attractive woman, if it means that that woman might then not discourage any of your potential models should they come to me for a second opinion - like young Sarah did? Don't know about you, but it sounds like a no-brainer to me. You don't have to take the pictures if you don't..."
"OK, OK," I interrupted. "This is just a bit unusual, that's all. And anyway, I've done nothing wrong, I'm doing nothing wrong, and for as long as I'm doing this I won't be doing anything wrong. So, I'm happy to do it. When do you to do it?"
"Now."
"OK, what are we looking at?"
"Like I said, I want professional resume type stuff. I want some good quality headshots, and some portraits while I'm here. This suit looks good, and I might as well get some nice properly-done shots while I'm at it.
"One other thing β you're shooting digital?"
"Yes."
"What brand of camera?"
I told her. "Why do you ask?" I said.
"Oh, nothing, just wondering. Now, let's do it. Where should I stand?"
"We'll do the headshots first. No need to be standing for that. Sit on that chair over there."
I had her framed against the off-white wall, a clean background surface that would do the job fine with the right lighting. I positioned the spotlights to shine directly on her and checked the light meter against her skin. Her eyes followed me around the room as I underwent these preliminaries, like a shopkeeper eyeing off a potential thief.
I set the tripod up and zoomed in on her face. Kate certainly wasn't my type of person, but she was certainly attractive. She had that classic Euro chic look; fine, light-colored hair, green eyes, and a very cute smile β a stark visual contrast with her blunt manners. And the images were coming up a treat, the light from the spotlight flattening out any blemishes, not that there were many. She was indeed a very hot looking 35-year-old.
"Smile!" I said, somewhat meekly, and she did. I rattled off some more shots.
"OK, done," I said.
"Hang on, I want some with my jacket off," she said. She stood up and removed the jacket, revealing a simple but elegant cotton blouse. She sat back down. Then she did something I didn't expect: she began to unbutton it. First the top button then the second and third, till it was undone below the line of her bra, which, now partially exposed, I could see was a lacy little number, low cut, sexy. She wasn't exactly displaying herself β you would on a hot day see classy business-type women, say, in the city unbuttoned this far β but it was still fairly provocative, and frankly the last thing I would have expected from so seemingly bossy and uptight a woman as this, one who seemed to feel nothing but contempt for me.
"OK, now go again," she said. It was more like an order.
"That's a sexy look," I said. "What's with the buttons β I thought this was supposed to be a job resume type thing. Bit risquΓ© for that, don't you think?"
As the words tumbled out, I wondered whether I should really have said them. I didn't want really want to provoke her, or give her an excuse to be even more antagonistic. I really just wanted to get this over and done with. But she'd unbuttoned half her blouse β what the hell was she playing at! But she did look damned hot. She was certainly pushing my buttons.
"Did I say it was for a job application? Anyway, what's it to you?" She paused. "Look, if you must know, one thing I want shots for is for an internet dating service. Everyone seems to be doing it, and it's hard to find a real man these days amongst all the perverts and freaks. So I'm going to see if it pays to advertise. Hence the cleavage. Let's just get on with it, shall we?"
"Well, you do look sexy like that, if you want a male opinion, even if I am a pervert."
"Thank you, Mr Pervert," she replied with a faint smile. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now, I want to get some standing-up shots like this."
"Right oh," I said.
She stood up. I took the shots. She did look sexy like this: the white business blouse was conservative attire, but the buttons were undone and her bra was showing. Looking at her from the side, under the billowing blouse you could clearly see her entire right breast inside its white, lacy little cage.
If I was surprised she'd exposed so much in front a 'pervert', I was shocked by what she did next. As I finished shooting, she reached down and undid the rest of the buttons. She pulled the sides of the blouse across to her hips, revealing a flat stomach and pierced navel, the upper sides of the blouse still falling across her bra-clad breasts. Hands on hips, she looked up at me, smiling. I was aroused and alarmed at the same time. I felt nervous. What was going on with her?
"How's that?" she said. "You like that, Pervert?"
I merely nodded. I wasn't sure what kind of game she was playing here. There was a hostility in her tone of voice, and yet she's taking her God damned clothes off: was she baiting me? I felt like maybe I ought to stop the shoot altogether, because I was finding her a little bit unsettling, a little bit weird, but I also didn't want to piss her off unnecessarily. And she looked hot β if she was baiting me (but why?) I couldn't deny that it was actually working. Best to just play along for the moment, I thought, and don't say too much.
"David."
"Yes?" I replied. Her expression had changed a little. There was still the undercurrent of aggression, but she looked a bit sheepish. She was avoiding eye contact, just glancing up very now and then.
"While I'm here I want to do some other shots," she continued.
"OK," I said, still wondering where she was going with this.
"But I don't want to leave them with you to ogle, or whatever it is you do with the pictures. Here," she said, reaching into her bag and handing me a memory card, "stick this in your camera, and I'll take it with me when I leave."
"Alright," I said. I realized why she'd asked what brand of camera I was using.