I am an amateur photographer and have been one for about ten years. Most of my work has been black and white nature photography and some color work. The outdoors are fabulous to work in and indoors offer some really neat things with light and objects.
A friend, Anne, called me other day and asked if I still had my camera and if I could take a few pictures of their new home before they moved all the furniture in. The new house was their dream home with all the rooms and decks and bathrooms that can be shoved into a 5,000 square foot home. Anne rattled on about how much the window upgrade costs them, the "special" hardwood floors, and the size of their kitchen. I guess size does matter if money can buy everything.
Anne's husband, Bill, was still in China and would be for another two weeks; probably outsourcing some more Americans out of their hard-earned money. I was getting upset thinking what a bunch of spoiled rich kids these two were.
Two days later I am heading out to the new house. I follow the directions and the computer map out into the country, driving and driving. Finally, I nearly missed the gated street complete with guard office. Great, now I have to be announced. Fortunately, the office was still unfinished. Driving down the winding street I noticed all of the other streets that would one day house more rich and arrogant assholes.
I noticed Anne's car in the drive or rather the gravel path. I pulled in behind and started to get my equipment out. I began taking shots from the outside from the get-go. I photographed the house with the woods to the left, the beautiful leaves turning bright red, crimson, and yellow fall foliage. I shot about a roll then I noticed Anne in the window. She appeared to be posing as I shot the pictures. Anne, hand on hip. Anne, looking out the window into the darkening fall sky. Geez.
I made my way up the front path and she opened the door.
She had a wine glass in her hand and a bottle on the step. "Anne, quick a get a coaster!" I shouted. "The wine bottle will leave a ring on your "custom" hardwood floor.
I laughed as I saw her race to the back of the house and come back with a paper towel. "The hardwood is not custom, it's special," Anne corrected me. I thought what a bitch she is in this blot on nature.
Anne began the tour and told me what and how she wanted the rooms and house photographed. This little, annoying tour went on for about fifteen minutes. Finally, I was just about ready to throw the camera through a window when I asked her if she would like to direct a photographic tour of her magnificent new home. Anne squealed with delight like a little girl.
We started in the family room. The room was completely empty except for a gaudy light fixture hanging in the center of the ceiling. I dimmed the lights a bit and she burst out a wheelbarrow of information in thirty seconds.
I tried to ignore and finally interrupted her with the direction, "Take your wine glass and pretend you're hosting a dinner party for your friends," I told her. She stood and smiled in her cashmere sweater, khaki slacks, white socks, and loafers. Her hair was short, kind of in a bob and her earrings were clearly visible on those lobes.
Anne drained her glass and poured another. She never offered me a glass of water, probably since I was the 'hired help'. We worked around the billion square feet on the first floor and Anne, hiccupped and giggled at her social faux paux.
She stood on the fucking stairway and counted the number of steps and spindles. Bending over a bit too much, I could not make out any panty lines and did get to see that she was wearing a very revealing string-type of bra that made her tits jiggle. Looks like Anne was getting shit-faced in her new home.
"Anne, how about I give you some more direction without the narrative from you. I'm sorry I didn't bring video equipment to film the tour and capture all of your wonderful comments," I said. Anne beamed and agreed.
"Follow my direction then please. Do you have any music we can put into the background?" I asked. "Sure. We builted the stereo into the houses," Anne slurred out. The wine was doing its job.
Anne turned to look at the volume setting, I reached over and bumped the thermostat up a few degrees. Warm air began to blow out of the vents and the heat was rising. We moved up the steps to the top of the stairs. "This is the third bath..."
I cut Anne off with a "Shh." "Oh yeah, right," as she bumped into the natural pine door. I positioned her over the register and had her there for about five minutes as we looked at various things. Flash! Flash! Flash! The hot air blowing up and out of the vent at her. Anne's face began to glow wit perspiration.
"Anne you are a natural," I remarked as she stood and acted out my directions. I noticed beads of sweat forming. "Beautiful Anne, keep your legs straight..." Flash! "My, it's hot in here," said Anne.
Taking her cue, I blurted out, "You look a bit warm in here... oh my Anne, is that a stain on your right side?" Sure enough it was.
Anne, horror-stricken raised her arms and looked shocked. Hoping that the wine did its job, I yelled, adding urgency, "Quick get out of that sweater NOW!" Anne grabbed the sweater by the edges and lifted it straight off confirming my earlier suspicions of a very stringy, non-supportive bra. Her tits jiggled and jumped as she took the top off.
"Alright Anne, hold it" Flash! She smiled and absent-mindedly went back to posing sweater in her left hand. I took a few more and remarked what a beautiful hostess she was. "Hold on for a sec, I got to get more film," I said as I ran down the steps taking two at a time to show how important her photo documentary was.
"Alright, hurry!" Anne responded.
I went downstairs and bumped the thermostat up again a few more degrees. I came bounding up the stairs faking that I was out of breath. Anne's sweater was neatly folded on the floor outside of the bathroom. We moved forward to the first guest bedroom. I gave her the bottle of wine for a fill-up and mentioned what a great prop it made for the tour. She nearly drained the glass and held it out for a refill. "It's warm in here. I'm sure glad we bought the higher-more efficient furnace," Anne quipped.
"Alright, let's get down to photo house tour business. Ready?" I asked. Anne nodded and smiled. "Okay Anne, move to the window and show me how fabulous the windows are and will keep the chill out this winter..." She moved to the window. "Stand to the right, 45 degree angle, bend the left knee, hold the wine glass up and sip...move your left hand across your belly... feel the texture, the warmth... move your hand over your right breast..." I was waiting for her to tell me to get the fuck out but she didn't.
"Massage your nipple through the material... great, take another sip of wine..." She drained the glass and the bottle was empty. "Slowly place the glass down on the special hardwood floor...keep your legs straight but spread them while I move behind you..."
"Look through your legs and smile!" She did and winked at the lens. "Slowly straighten up and do not fix your hair, let it hang in your face... put your back to the wall, that's it... massage your breasts, wonderful, pinch them..." She grimaced slightly as her 36 C's were being manipulated. Her eyes were fluttering and her head was lolling back toward the wall.
"Pull the material up, gathering it in your left hand while you massage your right tit...wonderful..." She appeared to be lost in her massage therapy. The material was gathered and dropped to her left. Flash! The pictures continued. Anne stood rubbing, pushing, and pulling her breasts in front of me, naked from the waist up, arching forward in a semi-orgasmic state.
"You are conducting the most descriptive tour of the house. Show me the master bedroom." She stopped rubbing her tits, gather her bra material, folded it, and placed it on the sweater as we walked past the bathroom.
