Having been a professional photographer for nearly fifteen years, I've seen my fair share of strange things. It's quite amazing what some people want me to photograph. Apart from the usual weddings and family portraits, I've also been asked to shoot pets in ridiculous poses, people having lunch and other weird and wonderful things; I was even asked once to preserve a funeral on film!
I also do a little bit of glamour work as well; nothing too heavy, usually just teenagers who want to get into modelling and pose awkwardly in their underwear or try to look sexy in cheap lingerie that rarely seems to fit properly. This sort of work pays quite well, but, as an artist, I am rarely satisfied with the results and so try not to do too much of it. Of course, as a red blooded male it's always nice to see teenage girls in their underwear, but I'm a professional and anyway, these girls are usually accompanied by ferocious looking mothers who almost dare you to try anything underhanded. But occasionally, just occasionally, something happens to change your opinion of these things and such an event occurred in my studio only a few weeks ago.
It was getting late on a Saturday afternoon and I had just returned from covering a wedding up in the hills just outside of town. I had six rolls of film to process and didn't really fancy the idea of two hours in the darkroom.
"You can take off now if you want, Janey," I said to my assistant who had been keeping my studio open whilst I'd been working. "I just got a few of those Jackson family shots to sort out and then I'm gonna hit the road as well."
Jane grunted in the usual form of teenage communication that only other teenagers seem to be able to comprehend and grabbed her denim jacket from the back. I sighed and once again mentally weighed up the virtues of having the young girl around. Usually I preferred to work alone, but with more and more outside work coming in, it was now necessary to employ someone to look after the shop and answer the phone. When she had first joined me I had ideas of training her into my profession and to have her assist me on shoots, but sadly Jane seemed only interested in her spotty boyfriend and which particular club or disco he was going to take her to on a Saturday night. Her work in the studio was obviously just a means to an end!
I was busy checking almost identical proofs with a magnifying glass when, with a little annoyance, I heard a person enter the shop front of my studio.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
The voice was female and sounded sexy and sophisticated. I sighed again and replaced the proofs in a dust-free cover and walked to the front counter.
"Yes, can I help you madam?"
"Oh, hello. Yes, I hope so. I want to get a photograph for my husband's birthday."
I pursed my lips in mild anger. This was a popular misconception. Because I had a shop attached to the studio, people would often call in and want to buy some of the photographs that I had taken over the years and that now adorned the walls.
"I'm sorry madam, I only do commission work. These pictures are not for sale."
"No, you misunderstand me," the woman's voice was almost a soft purr. "I want you to take some photographs of me."
"Oh I see. Sorry. All right, let's see," I pulled out a folder from under the counter and opened it before her. "These are some examples of the type of portrait work that I do. I'm afraid they are not cheap, but I guess you get what you pay for!"
I smiled at her and saw a nice twinkle in her eyes. She was quite attractive with a pretty, heart shaped face surrounded by thick, curly blonde hair. I was pleased. She would be quite photogenic. I was sure that her husband would be pleased with the results.
"Yes, er...these are very nice, but I was thinking about something a little more...um..."
For a moment I was a bit confused. "Sorry, I don't understand. What..."
"A bit more...Glamorous!" She finished quickly.
"Er...well of course I can do...but...well...don't you think..."
"That I'm a little old for glamour pictures?" she finished the sentence for me.
"Er..yes..I mean no...but...." I composed myself quickly. I was digging a big hole and didn't want to get any deeper. "Sorry, madam, of course. What sort of thing did you have in mind?"
The conversation was rounded off quickly and professionally by both of us and I cursed myself for my earlier indecisiveness. We made an appointment for the following afternoon and as she bade me goodbye and turned towards the door, I started to write the name "Mrs. Celia Grant" in my day book.
"Oh, just one thing," she said as she held the door open, "I assume it will be alright for my husband to come along? He may have some ideas on the sort of poses that he wants!"
I nodded quickly and said that I was looking forward to seeing them both the following day.
As Mrs. Grant departed with a sly grin I confess to feeling a little relieved. There was something about her that unnerved me slightly She was most definitely attractive and as a married man with a loving wife I was quite happy for her husband to be around and keep me - and possibly her as well - out of trouble!
By the time the doorbell rang the following day, I had already set up my Pentax on a tripod, turned up the heating a little and positioned a nice Queen Anne sofa against a pastel coloured backdrop. Everything was ready.
Celia Grant may not have been as young as most of the wannabe models that asked for glamour shots, but she was still only about thirty-five. Her husband, on the other hand, was considerably older and as I ushered them both through to the studio I got the distinct impression that cash was not one of their problems; John Grant's immaculate suit would have set me back at least two months profit while Celia's full length fur coat would have covered a small country's national debt!
I gasped as Celia slipped of the coat and handed it to me.
"Oh, I see you have come prepared!" I mumbled as I eventually took in the fact that she had omitted to wear a dress at all and now stood before her husband and myself in an expensive red lace bra and panty set, black hold-up stockings and impossibly high black heeled sandals.
"I hope this is okay?" she asked, "John likes this a lot and we thought it would make a good photograph!"
I gulped and nodded as Celia's broad smile transfixed me. She seemed to find it amusing that I was having trouble keeping my eyes off her.
Trying to compose myself again, I indicated the sofa against the backdrop and suggested that we should get started. John sat himself in a chair to one side, took off his jacket and spread it carefully over his lap while his wife sauntered towards the sofa and lay back with her head on the arm.
"That's nice!" I said as I slipped into professional mode and began to snap off a few shots. "Now, turn your head...that's it..good. Now, look up...smile....excellent!"
Fifteen minutes and a half roll of film passed while Celia struck pose after pose; pouting her full, painted lips and smiling wickedly at the camera. She had an amazing body with a nice flat stomach and long slender legs. Her breasts I guessed to be around 36C, but the way that the bra pushed them up and out made them look much fuller. I found myself wondering what they would look like in the flesh and realised that the thought was giving me an erection. I admonished myself for my unprofessional behaviour and tried to concentrate on the job at hand - it was a difficult task though, as I continued to take more and more shots, Celia's poses were becoming more and more adventurous.
"Can we try something a little more daring?" Celia asked suddenly sitting up and looking at first me and then her husband.
I followed her eyes towards John and saw him nod absently. He didn't seem that bothered so why, I thought, should I!
