I needed a small break from Women's Studies so I wrote this. I intended it to be a quick, one page stroker, but apparently I can't do that. Two pages was the smallest I could manage.
This story contains Brother/Sister Incest.
A special thanks to Skye4Life for her editing and feedback.
bou•doir
noun-French
-
a woman's bedroom or private room
-commonly used as a term for a style of intimate photography
*** *** ***
Boudoir
Scanning the set, I checked and double checked the placements of the furniture and decorations. It all came down to the details. One small thing out of place could detract from the photographs. If every details was perfect, it would all come together, enhancing the final image. It was something that had taken me a long time to figure out, but experience bred perfection of one's craft.
My life of photography started as a fluke really. When I was nineteen, I had a girlfriend who was obsessed with garage sales in the valley, and on one particular trip I found an old 35mm camera that she insisted on buying for me. Developing film for it was expensive and not very practical in the burgeoning digital age, but she loved to have her picture taken, and she was a real beauty.
She had that kind of presence that refused to take a bad picture. I began to love photographing her, and after a lot of trial and error I became very good at it. When she eventually left me, and all I had left was a camera and the joy of photography. When the heartbreak ended I began taking odd jobs doing Prom photos for parents and bar mitzvahs and the like, and Tyler Denning Photography was born.
Looking back, the years seemed to blow past me until I was where I am now, a twenty nine year old living in Pasadena, and a well known name in the industry with almost six months of solid bookings. I don't know what ever happened to my old girlfriend, but despite the heartbreak, she was the reason for the life I had now.
After taking a few sample shots of the space, I checked them on my computer that I had set up in the corner. The lighting looked good on the tests I'd taken, and everything looked ready to go. With everything in place, I climbed the stairs back up to the main floor to grab a beer.
I tried to avoid drinking on the job, but today was supposed to be my day off after all. Weekends are where my bread is buttered, but my Mondays are supposed to be sacrosanct. Here I was though, prepping my home studio to take some professional photos for my little sister. The things we do for family. All things considered, I didn't think she would mind me wetting my whistle.
I cracked open a cold bottle with my key chain, while thinking about Emily. It was still hard to believe that my little sister was getting married. The same little girl who called me Tigger because she couldn't pronounce Tyler. The one who always followed me around, and wanted me to help marry off her barbies to my old G.I. Joes. Our five year age gap left a lot of distance between us, but I always thought it was so cute how she wanted to be around me. Now, that little girl was all grown up and getting ready to walk down the aisle.
As soon as the cold glass touched my lips, the doorbell rang, immediately followed by an incessant banging.
That must be her.
Taking a long pull from my beer, I went to let her in.
"Hold your horses!" I yelled as the banging continued.
"Jeez, what took you so long?" My sister Emily asked, stumbling inside just as the door opened. "This shit weighs a ton!"
She quickly brushed past me to set her things down. Emily's small stature was overwhelmed by all the things she was carrying. She had a large black makeup case, a shoe box, a gigantic garment bag along with her purse and a couple smaller bags. The primal male inside wanted to ask why she brought so much stuff for a photo shoot, but as a photographer, I'd been here before. Instead, I just gave her a hand.
"You should have called me when you pulled up," I said, helping her drape the garment bag over the back of a chair. "I would've came out to help you."
"It's okay," she said, finally taking the chance to look at me as she rubbed her sore arms. "It wasn't that bad I guess. Thanks so much for doing this. I know it's a little last minute, but I was thinking, and I wanted to get some good pictures before hand. On the day, there won't really be much of an opportunity do it right, ya know?"
"I understand completely," I said gesturing to put her at ease. "I've been to plenty of weddings, and while it's nice to have a photographer there, there's only so much you can do about the lighting and distractions."
"You're awesome," she sighed, giving me a tired hug.
"So are you," I said moving to return her hug.
"Not the hair!" she squealed, tensing up at the slightest touch. "I just spent over an hour paying to get it this perfect."
Mindful of her hair, I gently placed my hands around her waist for a brief moment before she pulled away to make sure she had all of her things.
Leaning against the back of my couch, I watched her. She was right, her hair was perfect. Soft dark brown curls fell perfectly down her shoulders to just below her breasts, framing her beautiful heart shaped face.
It had been a few weeks since I had seen her last and whatever diet she was doing was really working. Even in her jeans and top she looked great. She had never been out of shape, but looking at her now...her enhanced form was noticeable.
"Well, I have a set made up downstairs in the studio if you want to get ready." I offered, hefting the large garment bag gently.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," she said wryly. "First it's
let's go down to my basement so I can take pictures of you,"
she began, "then it's "
put the lotion on your skin!"
"You know me too well," I replied dryly, walking away from her with her dress over my shoulder.
Emily took a long time getting ready for the shoot, so while she changed I hung out watching a little ESPN to catch up on what I'd missed on Sunday and worked on my beer.
"Can you help just a little with these laces?" she asked as I came back down the stairs. "It's the only thing I can't reach."
"Sure," I said, setting my beer down by my computer.
The laces she spoke of were for the back of her dress. It was a corset style top with a sweetheart neckline that dipped gently into her cleavage. She didn't require much tightening, it was just snugging up the intricate lacing and tying it off that she couldn't manage on her own. Once I was finished she gave a little spin to show off for me as she giggled.
"How do I look?" she asked smiling. "Every time I try this on, I feel like a princess."
She was all done up beautifully in her white wedding dress and veil. Her make up was perfectly applied and she looked breathtaking with an air of innocence and elegance. She was by far one of the best brides I had the pleasure of photographing.
"You do look very princess-like," I commented, reaching for my camera to get this show started.
I put on some music and walked her through some poses, snapping shot after shot of her as she moved. She was a little awkward when we started, not being entirely comfortable being the sole focus of a camera. To help her relax, I began talking to her and catching up. I had found long ago that even simple conversation could ease a nervous subject.
"So has James seen the dress yet?" I asked.
"Not a chance," Emily replied. "I'm not superstitious, but I just want there to be a
