Chapter 18: Picture Perfect
Walking to class early Friday morning, I found myself wishing I had put on a hoodie because even though yesterday I had enjoyed the early summer weather, I didn't realize that the mornings were still crisp. Since I am not usually up early, I tend to miss the transition from the night to the dawn. So I was dressed in a tight tank top and a pleated skirt, hugging myself to keep warm and walking briskly to generate some body heat. I decided to take a short cut through a meadow in the open space part of campus since it was such a pretty morning and no one else was up at that time. Or, almost no one.
About halfway across the meadow, there was a guy who was crouched down on the trail with his back to me. As I got closer, I realized that he was taking a close-up picture of a wildflower. He was so intent on focusing that he hadn't noticed me approaching. I leaned over beside him to see what he was looking at.
Click
, the shutter opened and closed with that satisfying "kodak" sound. "Shit," said the guy. Then he looked up at me. "You blocked the light."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize... Here, let me step back. I didn't mean to. I apologize." I stood up, and he looked back in his viewfinder. Then I heard another
click
. "Did you get the picture you wanted?"
"Yeah." He stood up and turned to look at me.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your shot."
He didn't answer. He just stared at me for an awkwardly long moment. "Do you mind if I shoot you?"
"I hope you're not
that
mad at me," I joked.
He looked me up and down, examining me. Being checked out so blatantly made me stand up straighter and fix my hair. "Turn around." It was a bold request, closer to a command, and it surprised me. But I did as he asked, and gave him a little twirl, causing my skirt to flare out.
"You're perfect."
"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," I continued to joke, trying to lighten his serious tone. Actually, he wasn't so bad. He had long dirty blond hair, a cute face, with stubble on his chin, and was dressed like an artist might, with an old Bauhaus t-shirt and ripped jeans. He was tall and well-built, making me wonder what he would look like without the shirt.
"Turn toward the sun." I rotated my shoulders and turned my head. He looked at me through his lens. "May I shoot you?" he repeated.
"Go ahead and shoot your shot, big boy," I answered in an exaggeratedly coquettish voice. He didn't laugh or answer. He just started clicking away.
"Dip your left shoulder." I did as he directed.
Click
. "Rotate your shoulders toward me, but keep your hips turned toward the shadow. Good."
Click
. "Lean your head back."
Click
. "Now run your fingers through your hair."
Click
. "Beautiful. The sun highlights your hair."
Click
. "Now face me. Put your hands on your hips and spread your legs apart. Yes, just like that."
Click
. "The sunlight penetrates your skirt, outlining the shape of your legs and the void in between them."
"Oh," I said, not sure how to respond. I think he meant it as an artistic comment, but to me it sounded suggestively erotic.
"Look directly at me." I did. "Part your legs more." I took another step apart. "Now part your lips." I opened my mouth slightly, assuming he meant the lips on my face. I was conscious that my skirt might be translucent. "Gorgeous."
Click
. He stood up, keeping his eye on his camera, and moved in close. "Turn your chest to the right." He zoomed in close on my breasts.
God, this guy is bold!
I couldn't decide if he was annoyingly rude, obliviously artistic, or assertively hot. Maybe it was all three simultaneously. Either way, I complied with his demands, which in itself felt erotic.
Click
. "Nice. Turn ever so slightly toward me. I want to capture the shadow of your nipple on the lit curve of your breast."
"What?!" I exclaimed.
He looked up from his camera. The shocked tone of my voice finally broke through his intense focus on his art. "Your nipples are erect and they're casting dark shadows on your breasts that are brightly illuminated by the low morning sunlight. It's a captivating contrast of light and dark. It echoes the contrast between the hard shape of the nipples with the soft shape of your breasts. It's stunningly beautiful..." His voice trailed off.
I think he was finally hearing how charged his description sounded as he spoke. But as he was realizing how inappropriate he had become, I, in turn, was realizing how lost in his art he really was. And, if I'm being honest with myself, I was also realizing how much I was enjoying him looking at me and admiring me. I liked how he was bossing me around and telling me to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I was getting turned on by the way he stared at my boobs and peered intently at the gap between my thighs. I also liked the power exchange. I wanted him to order me about and I wanted to do what he said, but I also enjoyed the power my appearance had to capture his attention.
"I'm sorry. I got carried away." He looked down sheepishly as he apologized. "It's just that the morning light is fleeting and you're so perfect." He stared at his shoes. His contrition was adorable, and I really didn't mind what he was saying that much. It had just surprised me.
"It's okay. I was just caught off-guard is all. It's fine. You can keep shooting. I like posing for you."
He looked up hopefully. "Really?"
"Yes, but on one condition." He looked at me apprehensively. "You better make me look good."
He smiled broadly. "That will be easy! You're stunningly beautiful." He picked up his camera again and aimed the lens at my chest.
I thrust my boobs forward. "Now what were you saying about my nipples?" I smiled and he blushed. "It's cold, you know. That's the only reason." I laughed partly at my inappropriate boldness, but also because I think he might be able to tell that I was lying. He clicked away, muttering about how perfect I was.
"Bend over at the waist, and smell the flower that I was shooting earlier." As I did what he directed me to do, I realized that he must have a generous view down my top.
Click.
"Wow. That is a good shot."
"You like what you see?" I asked.
Click.
"Yes, now kiss the flower."
I puckered up against the dainty petals. I squeezed my arms against my chest, forcing my boobs up and out. "How's that?"
Click.
"Yes. Gorgeous. You're a natural."
Encouraged by his response, I decided to keep going in that direction. "Yes, they are all natural." I arched my eyebrows as he laughed. "What if I lick the flower, like this?" I stuck out my tongue lasciviously.
Click.
"Yes. Wow. Yes."
"You like that?"
"Yes, I love it."
I decided to go all in. I was going to turn the tables on this bossy artist. Him telling me what to do had gotten me worked up, but now that I was hot and bothered, I was going to do the same to him. I was going to call the shots to get him equally hot and bothered, with each pose more risqué than the last.
"And would you like it if I put the flower between my breasts?" I plucked the little wild flower and stood up. I placed it in my cleavage and thrust my boobs toward his camera.
He zoomed in for a close up. "Yeah, I do. Very much."
Click.
"Make sure you get the curve of my breasts."
"I will."
Click.
"I don't think you're really getting the full effect this way." I pinched the flower from my chest with my fingers, and then pulled my tank top over my head. He looked up from his camera, wide-eyed. I placed the stem of the flower in the support band of my bra, much lower between my breasts. "There. Is that better?"
"Uh huh. Much better."
Click. "
Are you a model?"
