She stood in front of me in a short tight skirt and sleeveless shirt tied in front, mid-drift. Her legs covered in fishnet stockings and the tight skirt extenuating her round supple legs and buns. Her name was Argemone, an old Greek word meaning flower, as she'd once told me, but she liked to be called Damsel.
"Shoot the picture," she said. She arched her back looking back at the camera, pouting slighting for me as I shot away three more. It was no secret she was driving me crazy, but I dare not touch her. Not if I wanted to see my money.
She was a good client, always paid me well for my time, always insisting on multiple copies of the photos, sometimes even if there was no difference; she wanted every one of them. I always gave her exactly what she wanted only keeping a few for my portfolio.
We shot in her basement, which she used as her studio for her work at home projects. I think she did some kind of customer service or marketing. I don't know, she made good money and paid me well.
We did all matter of shots – artistic, historical, gothic, horror, sexy, even sleazy at times. She'd call me with a new idea and flirt with me on the phone to book an afternoon shoot. I always gave her my absolute best work, and upon her insistence the bad shots, either lighting gone or blurred – she took all of them.
My best work - was actually more of a testament to how crazy she made me. She was in my dreams and all my fantasies. Her gorgeous brown eyes, her beautiful smile, and her goddess of a body! Fuck! I couldn't hold a regular job; I'd always think about her with enthusiasm and some hopelessness and never get a fucking thing done. She wasn't a model or some skinny rail with giant tits that was a marvel as to how she even walked. No, she was a real flesh and blood – beautiful, desirable woman. I took her pictures because I wanted her and a picture was the closest I could get. The money was just to pay the bills and for the film.
"Rob," she said sweetly. Her deep seductive voice was like a symphony to my ears and I felt like one of those little winged cupid-bastards dancing around as two lovers walked together in the artwork of years past. "Shoot the fucking shot, ROB!"
I took the picture, looking down to see the memory card was full. I looked at my watch and saw nearly 2 hours had past. I couldn't believe how fast time flew and I was now sitting on over 1000 new pictures.
"We're done," I said.
"Change the card."
"Your two hours is up," I said, beginning to pack away my camera and turn off the lights.
"Rob, I have some other ideas for our shoot."
"I have another shoot across town," I said. I was a bit taken by how quickly the time had passed, was I really so obvious? Had I been so enamored by her I couldn't even focus on shooting nearly 1000 shots?
"Rob, cancel the other shoot," she begged. "I'll pay you extra," she bit her lip, saying this. She won. I would have pulled my heart from my chest had she asked for it.
"Damsel," I said. "I have other clients and I do run a business. I'll cancel my 4 'o'clock, but I have to be at the 6 'o'clock – wedding pictures, and they booked me three months in advance."
"I'll make it worth your while," she said as she smiled. "Just give me a few seconds, change your memory card or something."
It didn't matter what I said at this point, it wasn't at all intelligible. She did this to me. It made me a complete blob of jelly to even speak to her. Once she flashed her smile and I got caught in her gorgeous brown eyes, my thought process was done. What's worse, I think she secretly enjoyed having that power over me.
Not that I'm complaining about being able to serve and having the attention of a good-lookin' lady, mind you. Definitely not, Damsel was a goddess of desire and beauty. But I'm pretty sure she could tell me I was a roast beef sandwich and I would nod my head in agreement.
"Rob," she said from the other room. "Can you give me maybe a softer or darker light, maybe a blue backdrop?"
"Sure thing, hon." I changed the lights out and pinned the blue floral pattern background. She came out in her robe and set a barstool down in front. Everything was lit. The shoot was on. Damsel sat down in her robe and began to remove it slowly. "Start shooting," she said. I began hitting the button, 2, then 5, then 7 shots in, making my way slowly up to 30 and 40.
The first flashes of skin were her legs; I loved her legs and could probably spend an entire day kissing on them. They were shapely and fit, naturally beautiful running up her back leg to her butt. Damsel had an amazing butt and I often had to make myself not stare at it.
