I can't believe I signed myself up for this. One moment of exhibitionist, Leo, center-of-attention extrovertism and her website made it sooooo easy to book this session. A boudoir session? Me? I have lumps and bumps and squishy flesh and scars and cellulite and crooked teeth and...
No!
This is why I did this. I need to get my confidence back. I want to feel sexy and seductive again. My ex really stole so much more than my money when we broke up. It's time to reclaim my sense of self.
I can't help but overthink whether I prepared appropriately. I got everything waxed a few days ago, so I'm not red and irritated. I got a blowout so my hair falls in soft waves around my face. My bestie, Leanne, came over to do my make up. She's one of those women who made it their hobby to know how to do excellent make up, and her get-ready-with-me TikTok's always do well. Unlike me, where my getting ready consists of a messy bun and an oversized hoody with bags under my eyes. Well, not today. I have a dark smokey eye, false eyelashes that are subtle but fluttery, a red lip that's on the darker side, and so much foundation on I look airbrushed, yet somehow Leanne made it look natural. She is a magician.
I got to the neighborhood far too early. The red brick building is across the street from the parking spot I found, and I see her sign on the door.
"Empowered Photography"
Her website claimed a session of stepping into your femininity, reclaiming your power, feeling sexy for you again. In summary, becoming empowered as a woman. Her photos are soft and sultry, beautiful and sensual without being sleazy. The nudity is never the point in her photos, but rather a way to exacerbate each woman's radiant beauty. They're tasteful and artistic and I fell in love with her vision immediately. Plus, I liked that she blatantly advertises that it's a queer run studio, kink-friendly, trans-friendly, judgement-free zone. Maybe there is a space for me here.
So here I am. I wring my hands nervously. I still have 20 minutes before my session time. Should I see if I can find a coffee shop? I'm not sure I need more caffeine, I'm already shaking like a leaf. But maybe being around other people, being...normal, I'll feel more normal. Ugh, I don't know, I'm regretting everything right now.
The glass door opens and I see her. She's dressed in all black, Vans on her feet, Carhartt beanie on her head. Her entire demeanour is relaxed, comforting, yet professional. She looks over and catches my eye, finding me sitting in my car like a deer caught in the headlights. She waves, recognizing me from the headshot I sent with my session booking forms.
I guess my decision has been made for me. I'm doing this.
"Welcome, Olivia? I'm Elyse! I'm so excited to do this shoot with you! Did you find the studio okay?" she greets me warmly.
"Hi, yes! Olivia, nice to meet you." I beam back at her. "Everything was so smooth, I was just debating getting a coffee before coming up."
"Come in, come in, come in. We have drinks inside, you already paid for them as part of the session. Let's get you comfy and we can talk about what you want to get out of this shoot."
She ushers me up the stairs, and I climb slowly. They're never-ending, but finally we reach the entry door to the studio. I push it open and my breath catches in my throat.
"What an incredible space!" I gasp.
The room in front of me has skylights bathing the natural dark wood floors with soft, natural light. The loft has some props leaning to one side, those movable walls with different backdrops on. There's a clawfoot bathtub in a corner next to an ornate gilded window. There's a swing off to one side, all leather and chains. A St Andrews cross next to it. But the piece-de-resistance is the 4 poster bed in the center of the room. The wooden posts are intricately carved, drapery falling artfully from the canopy. The bedding is so fluffy it looks like a cloud, and there are pillows everywhere. At the foot of the bed, there's a bench with bolster pillows at either side.
"Thank you, I wanted to create a place that felt as feminine and welcoming as the women I get the pleasure of photographing. Let's head over to the couches, you can put your bags down and we can talk over your vision."
The green velvet couches are in a room off the loft, with a little kitchen area and soft lamp light. Her macbook is on the coffee table, with her photos scrolling through as a screensaver.
"Do you have a particular series of photos you want us to create today?" she asks me, and I feel my heart panic slightly. I clear my throat, grounding myself. I signed up for this.
"I've been feeling...less than. I saw you did sessions for finding your sensuality again, and I really want to re-find my confidence. I used to be so sure of myself, it was a running joke in my friendship group that I could walk into any bar and pick out a random person and be able to bring them home with me. I have no idea where that woman went, but I have lost her. I'm not saying I want to hook up with strangers any more, but I miss that level of self-assuredness I used to have."
"Sounds like a lot of changes have buried her somewhere inside. Let's see if we can't bring her out today. What sort of things make you feel most comfortable in yourself?"
I pause, considering her question. I feel most comfortable in hoodies, hiding from sight, not bringing attention to myself. But that's not comfort in myself, that's minimizing my existence.
"I haven't thought about that in a long time. I feel most confident when I feel desired. I couldn't tell you the last time that was though." I eventually respond to her.
"And what makes you feel desired? Is it the dressing up for date night? Lingering looks? Is it when you feel powerful and in charge? Successful at work, commanding respect? Or is it something else entirely? What comes to mind as I say these things to you?"
Panic. Panic comes to mind. I think back to my confident days, how I would prepare for a night out "on the prowl".
"I loved dressing like a tease. Sexy, but leaving enough to the imagination. I loved knowing I was turning heads when I walked across a room. But now...that terrifies me. I don't think I can let myself be in control like that. It's too unsafe."
"Could you do that here, with me? Let yourself be sexy and seductive?"
I look at her then. Her eyes are earnest, looking at me like she cares about me. Within minutes, this woman has me spilling some of my insecurities, trying to find my confidence again. Could I let my freak flag fly in front of this woman I just met?
"Maybe? I want to?" my voice shaking slightly.
"Is that a question, Olivia, or a statement?"
Oh shit, it's going to be like that? My pussy clenches as she calls me out. I try again, and with more confidence "Yes, I can be seductive. I want to be sexy."
"Good. On the forms you filled out you indicated that you were okay with full nudity. Is that still the case?"
I'm already finding my voice. I barely hesitate before answering yes.
After that, we get down to discussing concepts for shots, different outfits I'll wear, all the unsexy logistics. I feel my excitement grow. She makes me feel safe and like this is a space I can explore in.
~~~~~
I draw the curtain back. I'm dressed in a lace bra, thong and garter belt, with a silk robe over the top. On my feet, a very expensive pair of red-soled high heels. I know I look good, with my hair and make up done, dressed like this, I can almost forget about my stretch marks and cellulite.
A gasp comes from the photographer. She's sat on the bench at the end of the bed, looking at me as though I'm an oasis and she's been trekking through the desert for days. The hunger in her eyes quickly passes as she focuses on the task at hand, directing me. If I hadn't been so certain, I'd have thought my mind was playing tricks on me.
Our first concept is going to be me posing by the bathtub, in the set bathroom, pretending to get ready for a night out. Mimicking something I used to do regularly is meant to provide some familiarity and comfort.
She has me place on foot on the edge of the bathtub, one hand lightly resting on my thigh sensually.
"That's it Olivia, beautiful. Now throw your head back, let your hair cascade down your back, close your eyes and think naughty thoughts."
I try to follow her directions but it feels so awkward.
"Try to get out of your head."
I'm still stiff and awkward, but the professional Elyse takes over.
"Imagine someone you're infatuated with, who's infatuated with you coming up behind you, their hand resting on your thigh, another on your neck tilting your head back so they can kiss you."
Her words shoot straight to my pussy. It's been so long since someone touched me. I try to relax into her posing.
"That's it Olivia, run your hand over your chest. Let the gown come undone"
I'm doing my best here, but she wants a sensual goddess and instead she has me. The gown is all caught on my garter belt and I feel like a parody of a boudoir session.
"I'm going to come adjust your gown okay?" I nod.
Her long, delicate fingers undo the thin strap holding my gown together, and brush my thigh as she adjusts the flimsy fabric. My thigh ignites where she touched it, and we look at each other. This is electric. I know I'm not the only one who felt that. I heard her breath hitch. I might be touch starved but I'm not naive.
The camera clicks, and she smirks.
"I might have set a delay. I thought you might be more comfortable if you weren't the only subject at first."
Gosh, this woman thinks of everything.
We settle into this area, taking many shots of me lit by the window, posing around the bathtub. I'm finding my confidence, taking some initiative. With every picture, Elyse comments on how "beautiful" or "gorgeous" or "sexy" I look. I just might be starting to believe her.
Elyse soon comments that we've taken as many pictures as we can is this area. We review them quickly together. The shots are fun and flirty, but I'm ready to be a little bit sluttier. I share this information, and she smiles.
We head back to the green couches. Here, my robe is discarded, and I'm posed on my back. Arching so my head hangs off the seat, legs pointed in the air, Elyse snaps some pictures. Unprompted, I grab my breasts and smirk at her.
Click
"Yes, just like that Liv."
My hands wander over my skin. I'm getting turned on doing this shoot. And her calling me Liv? Yeah, that's doing it for me.
"Turn over so you're laying on your front. Can you undo your bra so we get a hint of nudity? Stick that beautiful round ass in the air for me. Elongate your arms, rest your head between them. No, no, ass up higher. Liv, I'm coming to move you, you can't follow my simple instructions." Her tone is jovial and teasing.
I may be purposefully "struggling" with this pose, I want to feel the electricity when her hands touch my skin again. And I do. Her hands circle my hips, lifting them up into her.
"Stay just like that."
Click. Click. Click.
My breasts are rubbing softly against the velvet couch. I can't help but get turned on. I'm topless, in front of an objectively hot woman, whose sole attention is on me, who keeps telling me how beautiful I am? I challenge anyone to not feel turned on in the same situation.
We take a few more, her coaching me through this slightly uncomfortable position. But I'm not uncomfortable at all. I'm turned on. And if the low husk in her voice is any indication, I'm turning her on, which only proves to turn me on more.
"How do you feel about a little color on those cheeks?"
