This story builds on the foundation created in the story "Cassie" (https://www.literotica.com/s/cassie-12, 9/21/2024). In that story, James' obsession for photography led to a very satisfying relationship with his sister and her efforts to find additional models for James' art.
The doorbell rang before noon. Cassis had reminded me that Sage was coming over as she left for lunch with a friend. She had set it up, but I didn't know who to expect. I recognized her immediately. I knew her as Cat. She had poured dozens of beers for me at the local pub and, while I liked what I saw, I thought she was out of my league.
That's not why she was here.
I'm a camera buff. Since childhood, I'd been developing a significant reputation in our town as a photographer, taking portraits and photographing an occasional party or wedding. I had also developed an appreciation for natural beauty with a focus on the human body, especially women's bodies. In researching the art of photography, I uncovered several references to the similarity between some flowers and the paintings of Georgia O'Keefe. Further research revealed the similarities were specifically between some flowers she painted and women's genitalia.
What I couldn't find was a comparison between O'Keefe's art, flowers and actual photos of women's genitalia. I thought I could bridge that omission.
I had a small photo studio in my parent's basement but no models. Cassie volunteered to be my first model. Over the course of a few days, Cassie's modeling transformed from casual, playful candid photos to full nudity. I was her photographer, not her brother, and the shift occurred naturally and pleased both of us.
I shared my thoughts on the similarities between O'Keefe's art, flowers and female genitalia with Cassie and my desire to document them. Over my anemic objections, Cassie volunteered to be intimately photographed if the photos were anonymous, not showing her face and unable to be traced back to her.
We had a short photo session in my studio with incredible results. Cassie was very open to my photographing her labia in great detail. She also suggested that I should take photos of her while aroused as the pictures would be different from her normal relaxed state.
She masturbated herself to arousal and during the subsequent photo session, I touched her, professionally but still inappropriately. That led to more touching and eventual intense and very personal sex. Our relationship had changed forever and neither of us was upset about it.
Cassie embraced my photo project. She insisted that I needed more intimate photos since all women were different and so were flowers. She began to contact her friends and acquaintances in an effort to draft them as naked models and more. She called them "Beaver" shots.
Sage was the first of Cassie's contacts to accept her proposition. Cassie got Sage here. Now it was my job to get her across the finish line. Cassie also suggested that, if I played my cards right, my relationship with Sage might have other dividends. She suggested that, if it was appropriate, I should touch Sage.
"Sage?" I asked at the front door.
She seemed uncomfortable. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and was holding a backpack in her right hand. "That's me," Sage replied.
"Cassie made it sound as if you were a stranger," I commented. "But I know you. You're Cat, the bartender at the pub," I confessed.
"I am," agreed Sage. "They call me Cat at the pub but everywhere else I'm Sage."
"I bet there's a story there," I suggested.
"There is but I'm hesitant to tell it," she informed me.
"Well, come in and let's talk," I offered.
We sat at the kitchen table. I got both of us a beer, a reversal of our usual relationship. After a sip of our beers, I suggested that Sage tell me the story about her nickname.
"I don't know," she said. "It's embarrassing."
"Sage," I consoled. "If I'm going to take photos of you, I think we should be more comfortable with each other. I'd love to hear your story and telling me is a good way to ease the embarrassment that might come later."
Sage smiled. "Cassie told me a little about the photos but, I have to admit, it took every ounce of courage I had to ring your doorbell after I got on the porch."
"I appreciate that," I soothed her. "Cassie asked you because I couldn't do it."
"Embarrassed?" asked Sage.
"No. I'm not very brave. I don't know if I could have rung the doorbell in your position."
"Oh."
"Help us both," I said. "Tell me the story."
"A couple of years ago, we had a celebration in the pub on our twenty-five years of operation. It was a private party, closed to only the staff and some of the regulars. This is difficult."
I put my hand on top of hers. "I promise no judgement," I vowed.
"Anyway," Sage continued. "The party was pretty raucous. The music was loud and pulsating and the beer was free and plentiful." She took a deep breath. "Three of the girls at the party got up on the bar and began to dance. They dragged me up there with them." Sage paused.
I smiled and squeezed her hand.
"You have to understand," she continued. "We were drunk and just having fun."
I squeezed her hand again.
"Anyway. We were dancing uninhibitedly. Our moves were more suggestive than artistic." Another deep breath. "One of the girls began to take off her clothes and toss them into the audience. The other girls followed her lead." A gulp of air. "Call it peer pressure or whatever, but I couldn't be the only one dancing on the bar not getting naked."
Sage paused and looked at me for my reaction. I smiled gently, nodded for her to continue and squeezed her hand again.
"Well, eventually we got naked and continued to dance suggestively. I didn't feel particularly embarrassed or anything. I wasn't the only one naked." A deeper breath. "But I was the only naked girl on the bar who hadn't shaved, you know,... my pussy."
A longer pause. I just sat across from her, interested and waiting for the rest of the story.
Sage took another deep breath and continued. "Anyway, some asshole in the back of the pub, shouted out that my pussy was pettable and that he wouldn't mind scratching any itch I might have. The other assholes in the pub began to call me 'pettable pussy,' It became shortened to just 'pussy' and it became my nickname."
"Pussy?" I asked. "Not Cat?" I asked gently.
"I managed to get it changed to 'Cat' before the party was over. My boss and the owner of the pub made it clear that 'Cat' was acceptable and anyone who insisted on any other nickname would be asked to leave the bar."
"Interesting story," I commented. "Your boss seems like an upright guy."
"He is," agreed Sage. "I thanked him later."
"Thanked him?" I asked.
Sage laughed. "I fucked him in the pub office after the party."
I laughed with her. "That's an incredible story. Thanks for sharing it with me."
"I've never told anyone the whole story before," Sage confessed. "Especially fucking the boss later."
"How do you feel about telling it to me?" I asked.
"Remarkably good," Sage said. "You're a good listener."
"Do you want to go outside and ring the doorbell again?" I asked.
Sage laughed. "No need. I rang it once and I'm glad I did."
"So, are you ready to take some pictures?" I asked.
"I can't wait," Sage said enthusiastically.
"I have a studio in the basement," I told her.
"Let's go into the basement," Sage suggested.
We picked up our beers. Sage picked up her backpack and we headed for the basement.
I turned on the lights and showed Sage the setup. "Not very impressive," she commented.
"It doesn't have to be," I told her. "I'm going to photograph you, not the studio."
She laughed. "Where do we start?"
I looked at her critically. "Is there a problem?" she asked.
"Sage," I said. "I'm looking to make you appealing, not erotic or sexual. I want the pictures to show the real you. Not who you play when you're with others, especially me and, honestly, a sweatshirt and jeans isn't the image I expected."
Sage held up her backpack. "Cassie gave me some ideas," she said. "I brought some things I thought might be more appropriate."
"What did you bring?" I asked.
"A Summer dress, a blouse and skirt and some pretty underwear," Sage revealed.
"Ah. Good," I said. "Let's start with the Summer dress."
"With the pretty underwear?" asked Sage.
"No. I think the underwear you're wearing now is closer to the real you."
"You think I'm wearing underwear?" Sage asked with a giggle.
"You're not?" I asked.
"No. I am," she admitted. "I was just joking with you."
"I get it," I laughed.
"We're going to have fun," Sage said. She started to pull off her sweatshirt. "Where can I change?"
"Behind the curtain over there," I pointed to a corner of the studio. "There's a rack you can hang your other clothes on."
Her sweatshirt came off over her head. "Is right here all right?" she asked.
"If you're comfortable changing here, then I'm comfortable too," I told her.
I started to set up the camera and lights while peripherally watching her change. I noticed she was wearing a white bra and white brief panties.
A few minutes later, Sage walked over to me. She was wearing a flowered Sundress that buttoned from her waist up the front with a flared skirt and barefoot. "Is this okay?" she asked.
"It's perfect," I told her.
"Okay. What should I do?" she asked.
"Move around the space freely. Any move you feel good about. Don't act. Be natural. I'm not here. Neither is the camera. Don't play to me or the camera. Play with yourself."
Sage giggled.
"That didn't come out right," I confessed.
"I know what you meant," Sage admitted.
Sage began to wander around the small studio space. She stopped frequently to examine the chair, the sofa, the Roman style lounger and a couple of the tables. Eventually, she began to hop in place, her breasts bouncing on her chest despite her wearing a bra. I began to take photos. She skipped around the space and then began to dance in place to a tune that only she could hear. She bounced, squatted, and began to twirl. I kept shooting pictures.
She spun slowly at first, her skirt lifting slightly. Then she experimented with a faster spin. Her skirt flared higher. She seemed pleased with the result and did a rapid turn. I was ready and shot several photos of her as she whirled. She laughed and spun faster, her dress rising and falling rhythmically. I held down the camera shutter button and the pictures accumulated rapidly. I love digital photography.
Sage stopped spinning before she fell over dizzy. I walked over to her and held her hand to stabilize her while she recovered. Breathing heavily, Sage managed to say, "God, that was fun. Did you get any pictures?"
