Alexa’s Boudoir Photography Experience, by escriterra
The advertisement was tasteful, no hint of salaciousness. “Boudoir Photography” was the featured phrase. “Create a keepsake for your partner,” it said, and there was a picture of a pretty woman, made up beautifully, dressed in a lovely camisole, and gazing into the camera with a look mixing lust and love.
Instantly taken with the idea — a tall brunette with green eyes and lovely features, Alexa Montclaire had been asked on more than one occasion if she had ever modeled — she did not act the first time she saw such an advert. But the seed had been planted.
Two months later she happened on another pitch from a different vendor. The wording hinted that pictures taken could be a bit more risqué. “Romantic Photography” was the heading. The woman, again in lingerie, this time with a fetching, slightly daring, décolletage, beckoned with the tagline, “Spark your partner’s fantasies with a special photograph.”
Oooh, wouldn’t that be cheeky fun to show to the right partner at just the right moment, she thought.
A tingle accompanied the thought.
Could I really pose in a skimpy wisp of something? In front of a stranger taking pictures of me?
Hesitantly, she turned to the next page in the local paper.
A minute later she turned the page back, scrutinizing the image of the woman smiling seductively into the camera.
Could I do that?
Pulling a pen from her purse and fishing out a business card recently accepted at a lunch meeting, Alexa wrote down the number in the advert.
For the next several months, the business card remained in a drawer in the dressing table in Alexa’s bedroom. Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of it as she rifled through the drawer’s contents in search of the small scissors she kept there or some other thing in what seemed to be a permanent home to a collection of odds and ends.
But the tingly thought of being naked in front of a stranger — all with a respectable yet private purpose, of course — and then sharing the photos with someone who would appreciate them (and her!) . . . well, it was great fun to entertain the notion.
On a couple of occasions the thought had launched satisfying masturbation sessions.
And sometimes the thought intruded at decidedly inopportune moments: during a boring meeting at her job as an advertising executive, once in church during a frustratingly long sermon, and in one instance when the thought lingered, absolutely refusing to go away, during the wedding of a cousin.
Alexa imagined the new husband shocked on their wedding night to see some very, very racy photographs the bride had taken as a surprise wedding gift.
They would arouse him.
But even more fun to think about was how aroused the bride might have become during the photo session. Then, as she showed them to her new husband, she would become really wet as she watched his eyes scan each photo, his gaze lingering on her hardened nipples, on the curve of her breasts and butt, and — in the very explicit shots — on her exposed pussy, even the peek of her crinkled, pink opening.
The ceremony, as most weddings go, was brief — thankfully! Alexa’s mental movie of a nude young woman splayed open for the photographer’s lens had her squirming by the time the officiant announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. and Mrs. Reston.”
That night Alexa fished the business card from the drawer, determined to call the photography studio the next day.
***
“We find our clients are always more comfortable in their own lingerie,” said the woman on the phone, “but we do keep a supply of sexy things on hand. Sometimes it’s immediately clear to a woman that what she brought just isn’t creating the effect she wants in the photograph.”
The phone voice was pleasant. The person behind the voice didn’t seem bored; she was actually helpful. This reassured Alexa.
“You can understand we have to add a charge for any garments selected from our assortment, yes?”
Alexa murmured assent.
“But we charge only the cost we paid. It’s not our intent to be Fenwick’s, only to be helpful to our clients, many of whom have little experience in knowing how to create the best impression on camera.”
This made eminent sense. The vendor was winning points with Alexa.
“Our photographers are top-notch, we have excellent make-up artists, and you can select from several different sets as backdrops in your photographs.”
It sounded like a pampered day at a pricey spa — people tending to you, the establishment trying to anticipate your needs.
“When would you like to schedule your session?”
The price was high, but Alexa agreed. These pictures will be so sexy!
Without consciously admitting it to herself, Alexa knew she would love having the pictures taken.
She did not, however, anticipate her reaction to what happened at that photography session.
“We’ve set up your choice of backdrops, Ms. Montclaire,” said the photographer, a tall, slender man with a short ponytail, one earring, a tattoo on his wrist, and in every other way a stereotypical artistic type, including a hint of bad boy clearly broadcast through pale brown eyes. “The set will send the message of comfort and elegance.”
And indeed it did: four-poster bed, candles which would be lit for the photography, and a sumptuous coverlet of dark brown that would contrast nicely with the slight pink overtones in Alexa’s skin.
“Emma here,” and he gestured toward a young woman, maybe late twenties, short blonde hair, in black jeans and a gray t-shirt obviously given as part of attire for the annual walk to support a local non-profit, “will do your make-up and help you get ready.”
Emma smiled at her and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Montclaire. You’ll make a lovely subject.”
The phrase jarred a bit. Subject? thought Alexa. Then, Oh, my — I actually am a subject today!
A nude subject.
Alexa had indicated earlier to the photographer — in sometimes tortuously euphemistic descriptions — that she wanted some rather explicit pictures, hinting they would be a Valentine’s Day present for a special paramour.
And thus was Alexa Montclaire, who would never have imagined such a thing before seeing the intriguing advertisement, in short order nude, legs spread, gazing into the photographer’s camera as she lay on the lovely coverlet on the four-poster bed.
But the photographer — Roger — seemed somehow unsatisfied with the pictures as he checked them on the small display screen of his camera.
“Emma, bring Ms. Montclaire’s robe so she’s comfortable. We need to confer a moment.”
With that he walked to a table at the side of the set. Hanging on the wall above the table was a large display screen. As Emma retrieved Alexa’s robe and brought it to her, Roger hooked a cable to his camera.
The image of Alexa, nude, her bare pussy clearly visible as she smiled into the camera, sprang to larger-than-life proportions in rich, high-definition color on the big screen.
Alexa blushed all the way down to her toenails.
Oh, my god! she thought.
It didn’t faze Roger or Emma, though, as they considered the picture from professional eyes.
Her own gaze riveted to the image as worried thoughts raced through her mind, Alexa’s estimation was hyper-critical: There must be a better position to hide that wrinkle right there! What would anyone think about me, spread open like that and smiling about it while my picture is being taken! I don’t look relaxed, dammit!
Roger interrupted her self-critique. “Based on our conversation about what you’d like in these pictures, Ms. Montclaire, I’m missing something in these shots.”
Alexa’s expression told him she had no clue what he meant.
Emma helped with the explanation. “As a woman, I know the visible signs of arousal when I’m getting in the mood.” She winked at Alexa. “It’s always different for everyone, but hard nipples are pretty common as signs of either a chilly breeze or some sexy thoughts rolling around in one’s mind.”
Emma’s statement about the state of Alexa’s nipples took her aback, but she tried to hide it. For some odd reason, she wanted these professionals to be impressed with her as a model.
Maybe the fact that any woman likes to have everyone think she’s sexy was the reason for Alexa’s eagerness to make a good impression on Roger and Emma.
“What Emma is getting at, and pardon my bluntness,” Roger continued, “is that the sexiest shots will be ones in which your nipples are erect as an indication you want the person looking at the pictures to know you’re wet and ready for sex.”
The conversation was becoming increasingly personal. Intimate.
“Ms. Montclaire, we’re very cognizant of the prices we charge and realize our clients need to maximize their time here in the studio, given our hourly rates. Let’s agree to talk frankly in service to your pocketbook,” Roger said.
Alexa nodded assent, wondering how much more frank the conversation could get.
“Your nipples are not erect in these shots.” He pointed to the screen, then flicked through several shots on his camera, each picture in succession on the screen demonstrating his point.
“Do your partners like your nipples?” Emma asked.
Though Alexa didn’t believe it possible, she felt even more warmth creeping up her neck, and she knew she must be blushing into a dark pink.
But she was enormously flattered that Emma would think she had multiple partners.
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Do they comment on them because they like seeing them hard and erect?”
Emma continued with her intimate questions in spite of Alexa’s obvious embarrassment. Fearing her ability to speak without sounding as embarrassed as she knew she looked, Alexa simply nodded.
Yes, her partners loved her prominent, erect nipples.
Emma stepped to a small refrigerator a short distance from the table and retrieved a soft drink can. “Don’t worry, Ms. Montclaire. Inexperienced women modelling nude for the first time often find that their nervousness gets in the way of a more natural physiological reaction. A little shock of cold will help get your nipples ready for the camera,” she said, smiling conspiratorially.
“A necessary photographer’s trick in our line of work,” Roger said, unhooking his camera. The huge image of Alexa vanished from the screen. “Everything about you, Ms. Montclaire, is very photogenic. You’re doing fantastic, luv, and our little trick will make a big difference in how sexy you look, how much the pictures broadcast the message that you’re randy and ready for sex. Let’s resume.”
Good grief! thought Alexa. Does he have to say it out loud?
But somehow Alexa liked hearing it in spite of her nervousness and inexperience as a nude model.
Emma trailed her to the set. Taking Alexa’s robe, Emma said, “Please get back into position as you were before — that was a very sexy pose, if I do say so myself.” The young woman looked directly into Alexa’s eyes. “You are an attractive woman. Your partners will love these pictures.”
Holding Alexa’s gaze for an extra second, Emma then retrieved the soft drink can from where she had placed it when taking Alexa’s robe.
There it was again: the young woman intimating that Alexa was sexy enough to attract multiple partners.
How delicious! Alexa thought.
“Here, just like this,” Emma said, reaching for Alexa’s breast.
In truth, the conversation that had just ensued had done a fair job of bringing Alexa’s nipples to attention already.
Then Emma pressed the cold can against one of those nipples.
Alexa gasped at the shock, her shoulders hunching up as she jerked her breast away from the cold metal.
“I know,” Emma soothed. “It’s not pleasant, but look,” she said, pointing to Alexa’s nipple, “it does seem to have had an effect.”
Alexa’s aureola had pimpled into tiny nubs, and her nipple was erect, pointed.
“That’s showing up wonderfully in the camera,” Roger commented.
Steeling herself for what she knew would come next, Alexa said, “Yes, that does do a good job of getting me perked up, so I guess we need to do the other.”
Emma placed the can back on the floor and began vigorously rubbing her palms. “I realize it’s an unpleasant shock to the system,” she said as she rubbed her hands, “so I’ll try to temper the shock this time.”
Alexa didn’t know what she meant.
Emma’s meaning became clear in the next few seconds. The young woman retrieved the soft drink can with one hand then reached across Alexa’s chest to her other breast and gently cradled it in her palm.
“Forgive me, Ms. Montclaire,” she said softly, “this helps.” Pressing the can briefly against the nipple, Emma’s grip gently but firmly remained on Alexa’s breast, trapping it against the cold metal of the can. “An extra second or two is always good for keeping a lady’s nipples erect.” With that, Emma did the same thing to the other breast, the one that had first experienced the shock of cold.
Alexa could smell Emma’s hair. The young woman must have used an herbal rinse. Lilac?
It was inevitable. Alexa’s nipples were now erecting in response to something other than cold.
Then Alexa noticed the flecks of green in Emma’s lovely blue eyes. The make-up artist/photographer’s assistant held Alexa’s gaze with as much authority as she held Alexa’s breast.
“Let’s see how that works,” Emma said finally, breaking the gaze she had fastened into Alexa’s eyes.
“Lovely. Just lovely,” Roger said as he peered through his camera.
Turning to step away from the set as she carried the robe and the soft drink can, Emma’s smile was something Alexa didn’t see.
The session resumed, and Alexa’s nipples remained erect.
Hidden from Alexa beneath Emma’s t-shirt and bra, the young assistant’s nipples were also erect in arousal.
Alexa’s mind was racing. She barely registered the photographer’s directions, managing to get into positions he requested almost as an afterthought while her mind tried to process the reaction of Emma’s firm grip on her breasts and the look the young woman gave her before retreating to the side of the set.
The cold soft drink can was no longer needed as the thoughts chasing themselves through Alexa’s mind invariably mixed surprise, arousal, denial, lust.
“That is just lovely,” Roger said, pausing momentarily to look up from behind his camera. “This is so much better, Ms. Montclaire. The visible signs of your arousal are much better defined. Whatever you’re thinking is definitely working. Thank you.”
Thank you? thought Alexa. Oh, my god!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emma. With the photographer quickly back at his task, his focus was only on Alexa.
Emma knew that.
The assistant was looking at Alexa, barely chewing her bottom lip.
And Alexa noticed a motion, Emma’s hand moving to pull some lint away from the front of her t-shirt.
But the hand lingered at the young woman’s breast.
She’s caressing her breast! Alexa realized. The expression triggered by the thought obviously showed on her face. The photographer paused. Emma’s hand dropped to her side.
“Let’s take a break for a moment,” Roger said.
Alexa exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath for the preceding few seconds.
Emma retrieved Alexa’s robe and walked to the bed to drape it over her shoulders.
“There,” she said, adjusting the robe into position. “We know this is difficult for our clients, ladies who are not professional models and who have to summon up the courage to put themselves into very suggestive poses while completely nude.”
Can this woman’s voice be any sexier? thought Alexa, now almost fearful of even looking into Emma’s eyes.
But she could not avoid it.
As Roger tinkered, deciding on a different camera, Emma held Alexa’s gaze.
“And having a client as beautiful and sexy as you are hear us request certain things, suggest certain things, to get the best pictures . . .” Emma paused to let her gaze travel slowly down Alexa’s neck to her breasts, which remained partially visible through the opened robe, “well, we understand the difficulties,” she concluded, slowly raising her eyes to challenge Alexa with an open, inviting expression.
Then the most amazing thing came out of Alexa’s mouth.
“It is difficult,” she said, clearing her throat. “I believe I may need the cold again for the best effect in the pictures.”
Emma smiled slowly, recognizing the veiled invitation. She glanced down, and Alexa straightened reflexively.
The motion brought Alexa’s breasts up and forward slightly, more on display.
It was clear to both of them that there was absolutely no need for the soft drink can.
“I think you’re right,” Emma whispered. “I’ll get the can.”
Alexa’s nipples tingled at the thought of what was about to happen. Emma would again touch her breasts, cradle them, lift them.
Oh, my! thought Alexa. That dependable electric current that shot from nipple to clit and back again in advance of intense arousal coursed through her. It caused her to catch her breath in anticipation.
Roger, ever the photographer, was changing lenses, scrolling back through pictures just taken, checking the lighting — a dozen activities that kept him occupied.
Emma returned with the chilled soft drink can.
“I so apologize,” she said, placing the can on the small table at the side of the bed. Rubbing her palms together briskly, she looked into Alexa’s eyes. “I don’t want my hands to be cold, too, when I hold your breasts.”
Alexa was entranced by those words.
“This time, why don’t you take the can,” Emma said, lifting it from the table gingerly with only thumb and forefinger. As Alexa took the can from her, Emma continued in a quieter — sexier? — voice: “That way, I can place both hands around this breast-”
And Alexa experienced the warmth, the gentle touch of Emma’s hands around her left breast, encircling it, drawing it up and forward, then sliding one fingertip back and forth across her nipple.
“-and get your nipple ready.”
Alexa’s hardened nub was pointed and taut, in need of absolutely nothing to make it as erect and aching as it had ever been.
Emma lightly squeezed her hands around Alexa’s breast, eliciting a very quiet, but unmistakable, “Mmmm,” from her subject.
“Your breasts are lovely,” Emma said softly.
Alexa quickly nudged the cold can against the nipple being offered up by Emma’s grip. “That should do it,” she said, nervously glancing away from Emma’s eyes.
Emma smiled. “Shall we do the other?” She released Alexa’s left breast slowly, carefully. The young assistant searched with her eyes to again lock Alexa’s gaze on her own.
Finally surrendering consciously to all the messages her subconscious had been screaming at her since Emma’s first touch on her breast, Alexa looked confidently into Emma’s eyes and said, “Yes. I definitely think you should hold my right breast so I can make sure that nipple, too, will look good in the photos.”
Her eyelids fluttering slightly as Emma’s hands encircled her breast, Alexa exhaled quietly but then quickly drew in a breath as the girl’s palms settled into place.
“Let me prepare your nipple,” Emma said, leaning in close.
Can my nipples possibly be any more ready? Alexa marveled, a little shiver running up her back.
Keeping the hand underneath her breast in place, Emma moved the other down slightly, immediately pinching Alexa’s nipple between thumb and forefinger. The hardened nub reacted instantly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down into Alexa’s tummy.
Then Emma began rolling the nipple, teasing it, pulling it taut then backing off.
Oh, my god! Alexa thought. I might actually come if she keeps playing with my nipple.
But Emma did not stop.
“Please forgive me, Ms. Montclaire,” Emma said, bringing her gaze up to Alexa’s face. “I fear I will have to work a bit to arouse this nipple,” she whispered.
Alexa swallowed and drew in a shallow breath. She shifted in place.
“Yes, you probably . . . um, you most definitely will need to . . .”
Moving her own hand up to Emma’s, Alexa trapped Emma’s thumb and forefinger between her own and squeezed harder than the young girl had thus far dared.
“Oh, my-” Alexa’s whispered exclamation of lust caught in her throat. Emma understood immediately. She clamped Alexa’s nipple in a tighter grip and tugged forward.
“Oh, damn, Emma, oh, damn,” Alexa whispered through gritted teeth.
Emma leaned close, her grip now tight but teasing as it extended Alexa’s nipple forward. She spoke softly, not a whisper but a sexy, barely audible murmur: “Will your nipples remain hard in the next series of shots, Ms. Montclaire, if you think about me sucking them to stiffness?”
Alexa’s eyes snapped open from their half-lidded trance of sexual arousal.
Emma leaned back, and in a strong voice said, “Now the cold can, for this breast, Ms. Montclaire, and I think we’ll be ready for the next several shots.” She held Alexa’s gaze for a beat then glanced at the can in Alexa’s grasp.
Roger finally looked up from fussing about with his camera equipment. “Ready?”
Emma’s grip remained firm yet gentle on Alexa’s breast as the cold can made contact with her aroused nipple. The touch seared, so taut in excitement was Alexa’s nipple. Jerking the can quickly away, she glanced nervously at the photographer.
“Yes, ready.”
Emma released Alexa’s breast and reached for the robe she had draped across her shoulders when the break in shooting began, leaning her mouth close to Alexa’s ear in the process.
“You’re wet, aren’t you, Ms. Montclaire? Don’t worry. That’s good for the pictures.”
Alexa held her breath, wanting some other comment, yet worried that it would, indeed, come.
Emma did not disappoint.
“I would love to taste you,” she whispered, the rustle of the robe muffling the comment from Roger’s ears. Emma motioned for the soft drink can, taking it from Alexa while smiling sweetly.
Alexa’s juices threatened to soak the pretty coverlet on the bed.
“Emma,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “I think I’ll need the robe or a towel or something before we begin shooting again.”
Stepping back to the bed as she made a show of gathering the hem of the robe between her hands, Emma smiled. “Please, don’t be embarrassed, Ms. Montclaire.”
Emma paused at the side of the bed after setting the can on the floor out of frame for the pictures. “Congratulations on being such a wonderful subject in these shots. Whatever you’re thinking is doing an excellent job of keeping you ready for us to get those sexy pictures for your partners. The camera will capture the wetness your imagination is producing. It’ll look so-o-o sexy.”
Making a show of gathering the robe in her hands in order to hand it to Alexa to dab away the excess moisture between her legs, Emma cleverly positioned things as she extended her hands and the robe to a spot in front of Alexa’s crotch.
Alexa had drawn one leg underneath her and dangled the other over the side of the bed in the process of repositioning herself before the shooting would resume. Emma took full advantage, and with her body shielding Roger’s line of sight, she lingered just enough in handing the robe to Alexa, positioning it at her crotch, to insinuate one finger briefly, lightly against Alexa’s slickened pussy, dragging it upward slowly, transferring a light sheen of wetness to the pad of her finger.
Alexa’s body shuddered from the unexpected touch,
But she did not draw back.
An intensely naughty thought sparked across Alexa’s mind.
Yes! I would! I would lie back right now and spread my legs for this young woman.
“Are we ready?” Roger asked.
Emma took the robe after Alexa had delicately dabbed away enough of the moisture between her legs that she no longer risked a wet spot on the coverlet.
Emma took the robe with one hand, not two.
It was not the hand she had perfumed with a small dab of Alexa’s juices.
“I believe Ms. Montclaire is set to go,” Emma replied, turning to look at Roger. “Sexy thoughts running through her mind and cold on her nipples means you should get some really good shots this go-round.”
Emma, you tease! You damned minx! You know what you’re doing, what you’re saying! Alexa thought.
“Super. Then let’s begin,” Roger said.
The clicking of camera shutter and popping of electronic flashes settled into a staccato rhythm as Alexa moved through poses at Roger’s direction.
And during those pauses when she readjusted something suggested by the photographer, Alexa cast furtive glances at Emma.
The young woman kept an enigmatic smile in place as she slowly drew her fingertip back and forth across her lips, looking to any casual observer as merely someone paused in a quiet, reflective moment.
What is she thinking? thought Alexa.
What is she tasting?
The advertisement was tasteful, no hint of salaciousness. “Boudoir Photography” was the featured phrase. “Create a keepsake for your partner,” it said, and there was a picture of a pretty woman, made up beautifully, dressed in a lovely camisole, and gazing into the camera with a look mixing lust and love.
Instantly taken with the idea — a tall brunette with green eyes and lovely features, Alexa Montclaire had been asked on more than one occasion if she had ever modeled — she did not act the first time she saw such an advert. But the seed had been planted.
Two months later she happened on another pitch from a different vendor. The wording hinted that pictures taken could be a bit more risqué. “Romantic Photography” was the heading. The woman, again in lingerie, this time with a fetching, slightly daring, décolletage, beckoned with the tagline, “Spark your partner’s fantasies with a special photograph.”
Oooh, wouldn’t that be cheeky fun to show to the right partner at just the right moment, she thought.
A tingle accompanied the thought.
Could I really pose in a skimpy wisp of something? In front of a stranger taking pictures of me?
Hesitantly, she turned to the next page in the local paper.
A minute later she turned the page back, scrutinizing the image of the woman smiling seductively into the camera.
Could I do that?
Pulling a pen from her purse and fishing out a business card recently accepted at a lunch meeting, Alexa wrote down the number in the advert.
For the next several months, the business card remained in a drawer in the dressing table in Alexa’s bedroom. Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of it as she rifled through the drawer’s contents in search of the small scissors she kept there or some other thing in what seemed to be a permanent home to a collection of odds and ends.
But the tingly thought of being naked in front of a stranger — all with a respectable yet private purpose, of course — and then sharing the photos with someone who would appreciate them (and her!) . . . well, it was great fun to entertain the notion.
On a couple of occasions the thought had launched satisfying masturbation sessions.
And sometimes the thought intruded at decidedly inopportune moments: during a boring meeting at her job as an advertising executive, once in church during a frustratingly long sermon, and in one instance when the thought lingered, absolutely refusing to go away, during the wedding of a cousin.
Alexa imagined the new husband shocked on their wedding night to see some very, very racy photographs the bride had taken as a surprise wedding gift.
They would arouse him.
But even more fun to think about was how aroused the bride might have become during the photo session. Then, as she showed them to her new husband, she would become really wet as she watched his eyes scan each photo, his gaze lingering on her hardened nipples, on the curve of her breasts and butt, and — in the very explicit shots — on her exposed pussy, even the peek of her crinkled, pink opening.
The ceremony, as most weddings go, was brief — thankfully! Alexa’s mental movie of a nude young woman splayed open for the photographer’s lens had her squirming by the time the officiant announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. and Mrs. Reston.”
That night Alexa fished the business card from the drawer, determined to call the photography studio the next day.
***
“We find our clients are always more comfortable in their own lingerie,” said the woman on the phone, “but we do keep a supply of sexy things on hand. Sometimes it’s immediately clear to a woman that what she brought just isn’t creating the effect she wants in the photograph.”
The phone voice was pleasant. The person behind the voice didn’t seem bored; she was actually helpful. This reassured Alexa.
“You can understand we have to add a charge for any garments selected from our assortment, yes?”
Alexa murmured assent.
“But we charge only the cost we paid. It’s not our intent to be Fenwick’s, only to be helpful to our clients, many of whom have little experience in knowing how to create the best impression on camera.”
This made eminent sense. The vendor was winning points with Alexa.
“Our photographers are top-notch, we have excellent make-up artists, and you can select from several different sets as backdrops in your photographs.”
It sounded like a pampered day at a pricey spa — people tending to you, the establishment trying to anticipate your needs.
“When would you like to schedule your session?”
The price was high, but Alexa agreed. These pictures will be so sexy!
Without consciously admitting it to herself, Alexa knew she would love having the pictures taken.
She did not, however, anticipate her reaction to what happened at that photography session.
“We’ve set up your choice of backdrops, Ms. Montclaire,” said the photographer, a tall, slender man with a short ponytail, one earring, a tattoo on his wrist, and in every other way a stereotypical artistic type, including a hint of bad boy clearly broadcast through pale brown eyes. “The set will send the message of comfort and elegance.”
And indeed it did: four-poster bed, candles which would be lit for the photography, and a sumptuous coverlet of dark brown that would contrast nicely with the slight pink overtones in Alexa’s skin.
“Emma here,” and he gestured toward a young woman, maybe late twenties, short blonde hair, in black jeans and a gray t-shirt obviously given as part of attire for the annual walk to support a local non-profit, “will do your make-up and help you get ready.”
Emma smiled at her and extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Montclaire. You’ll make a lovely subject.”
The phrase jarred a bit. Subject? thought Alexa. Then, Oh, my — I actually am a subject today!
A nude subject.
Alexa had indicated earlier to the photographer — in sometimes tortuously euphemistic descriptions — that she wanted some rather explicit pictures, hinting they would be a Valentine’s Day present for a special paramour.
And thus was Alexa Montclaire, who would never have imagined such a thing before seeing the intriguing advertisement, in short order nude, legs spread, gazing into the photographer’s camera as she lay on the lovely coverlet on the four-poster bed.
But the photographer — Roger — seemed somehow unsatisfied with the pictures as he checked them on the small display screen of his camera.
“Emma, bring Ms. Montclaire’s robe so she’s comfortable. We need to confer a moment.”
With that he walked to a table at the side of the set. Hanging on the wall above the table was a large display screen. As Emma retrieved Alexa’s robe and brought it to her, Roger hooked a cable to his camera.
The image of Alexa, nude, her bare pussy clearly visible as she smiled into the camera, sprang to larger-than-life proportions in rich, high-definition color on the big screen.
Alexa blushed all the way down to her toenails.
Oh, my god! she thought.
It didn’t faze Roger or Emma, though, as they considered the picture from professional eyes.
Her own gaze riveted to the image as worried thoughts raced through her mind, Alexa’s estimation was hyper-critical: There must be a better position to hide that wrinkle right there! What would anyone think about me, spread open like that and smiling about it while my picture is being taken! I don’t look relaxed, dammit!
Roger interrupted her self-critique. “Based on our conversation about what you’d like in these pictures, Ms. Montclaire, I’m missing something in these shots.”
Alexa’s expression told him she had no clue what he meant.
Emma helped with the explanation. “As a woman, I know the visible signs of arousal when I’m getting in the mood.” She winked at Alexa. “It’s always different for everyone, but hard nipples are pretty common as signs of either a chilly breeze or some sexy thoughts rolling around in one’s mind.”
Emma’s statement about the state of Alexa’s nipples took her aback, but she tried to hide it. For some odd reason, she wanted these professionals to be impressed with her as a model.
Maybe the fact that any woman likes to have everyone think she’s sexy was the reason for Alexa’s eagerness to make a good impression on Roger and Emma.
“What Emma is getting at, and pardon my bluntness,” Roger continued, “is that the sexiest shots will be ones in which your nipples are erect as an indication you want the person looking at the pictures to know you’re wet and ready for sex.”
The conversation was becoming increasingly personal. Intimate.
“Ms. Montclaire, we’re very cognizant of the prices we charge and realize our clients need to maximize their time here in the studio, given our hourly rates. Let’s agree to talk frankly in service to your pocketbook,” Roger said.
Alexa nodded assent, wondering how much more frank the conversation could get.
“Your nipples are not erect in these shots.” He pointed to the screen, then flicked through several shots on his camera, each picture in succession on the screen demonstrating his point.
“Do your partners like your nipples?” Emma asked.
Though Alexa didn’t believe it possible, she felt even more warmth creeping up her neck, and she knew she must be blushing into a dark pink.
But she was enormously flattered that Emma would think she had multiple partners.
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Do they comment on them because they like seeing them hard and erect?”
Emma continued with her intimate questions in spite of Alexa’s obvious embarrassment. Fearing her ability to speak without sounding as embarrassed as she knew she looked, Alexa simply nodded.
Yes, her partners loved her prominent, erect nipples.
Emma stepped to a small refrigerator a short distance from the table and retrieved a soft drink can. “Don’t worry, Ms. Montclaire. Inexperienced women modelling nude for the first time often find that their nervousness gets in the way of a more natural physiological reaction. A little shock of cold will help get your nipples ready for the camera,” she said, smiling conspiratorially.
“A necessary photographer’s trick in our line of work,” Roger said, unhooking his camera. The huge image of Alexa vanished from the screen. “Everything about you, Ms. Montclaire, is very photogenic. You’re doing fantastic, luv, and our little trick will make a big difference in how sexy you look, how much the pictures broadcast the message that you’re randy and ready for sex. Let’s resume.”
Good grief! thought Alexa. Does he have to say it out loud?
But somehow Alexa liked hearing it in spite of her nervousness and inexperience as a nude model.
Emma trailed her to the set. Taking Alexa’s robe, Emma said, “Please get back into position as you were before — that was a very sexy pose, if I do say so myself.” The young woman looked directly into Alexa’s eyes. “You are an attractive woman. Your partners will love these pictures.”
Holding Alexa’s gaze for an extra second, Emma then retrieved the soft drink can from where she had placed it when taking Alexa’s robe.
There it was again: the young woman intimating that Alexa was sexy enough to attract multiple partners.
How delicious! Alexa thought.
“Here, just like this,” Emma said, reaching for Alexa’s breast.
In truth, the conversation that had just ensued had done a fair job of bringing Alexa’s nipples to attention already.
Then Emma pressed the cold can against one of those nipples.
Alexa gasped at the shock, her shoulders hunching up as she jerked her breast away from the cold metal.
“I know,” Emma soothed. “It’s not pleasant, but look,” she said, pointing to Alexa’s nipple, “it does seem to have had an effect.”
Alexa’s aureola had pimpled into tiny nubs, and her nipple was erect, pointed.
“That’s showing up wonderfully in the camera,” Roger commented.
Steeling herself for what she knew would come next, Alexa said, “Yes, that does do a good job of getting me perked up, so I guess we need to do the other.”
Emma placed the can back on the floor and began vigorously rubbing her palms. “I realize it’s an unpleasant shock to the system,” she said as she rubbed her hands, “so I’ll try to temper the shock this time.”
Alexa didn’t know what she meant.
Emma’s meaning became clear in the next few seconds. The young woman retrieved the soft drink can with one hand then reached across Alexa’s chest to her other breast and gently cradled it in her palm.
“Forgive me, Ms. Montclaire,” she said softly, “this helps.” Pressing the can briefly against the nipple, Emma’s grip gently but firmly remained on Alexa’s breast, trapping it against the cold metal of the can. “An extra second or two is always good for keeping a lady’s nipples erect.” With that, Emma did the same thing to the other breast, the one that had first experienced the shock of cold.
Alexa could smell Emma’s hair. The young woman must have used an herbal rinse. Lilac?
It was inevitable. Alexa’s nipples were now erecting in response to something other than cold.
Then Alexa noticed the flecks of green in Emma’s lovely blue eyes. The make-up artist/photographer’s assistant held Alexa’s gaze with as much authority as she held Alexa’s breast.
“Let’s see how that works,” Emma said finally, breaking the gaze she had fastened into Alexa’s eyes.
“Lovely. Just lovely,” Roger said as he peered through his camera.
Turning to step away from the set as she carried the robe and the soft drink can, Emma’s smile was something Alexa didn’t see.
The session resumed, and Alexa’s nipples remained erect.
Hidden from Alexa beneath Emma’s t-shirt and bra, the young assistant’s nipples were also erect in arousal.
Alexa’s mind was racing. She barely registered the photographer’s directions, managing to get into positions he requested almost as an afterthought while her mind tried to process the reaction of Emma’s firm grip on her breasts and the look the young woman gave her before retreating to the side of the set.
The cold soft drink can was no longer needed as the thoughts chasing themselves through Alexa’s mind invariably mixed surprise, arousal, denial, lust.
“That is just lovely,” Roger said, pausing momentarily to look up from behind his camera. “This is so much better, Ms. Montclaire. The visible signs of your arousal are much better defined. Whatever you’re thinking is definitely working. Thank you.”
Thank you? thought Alexa. Oh, my god!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emma. With the photographer quickly back at his task, his focus was only on Alexa.
Emma knew that.
The assistant was looking at Alexa, barely chewing her bottom lip.
And Alexa noticed a motion, Emma’s hand moving to pull some lint away from the front of her t-shirt.
But the hand lingered at the young woman’s breast.
She’s caressing her breast! Alexa realized. The expression triggered by the thought obviously showed on her face. The photographer paused. Emma’s hand dropped to her side.
“Let’s take a break for a moment,” Roger said.
Alexa exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath for the preceding few seconds.
Emma retrieved Alexa’s robe and walked to the bed to drape it over her shoulders.
“There,” she said, adjusting the robe into position. “We know this is difficult for our clients, ladies who are not professional models and who have to summon up the courage to put themselves into very suggestive poses while completely nude.”
Can this woman’s voice be any sexier? thought Alexa, now almost fearful of even looking into Emma’s eyes.
But she could not avoid it.
As Roger tinkered, deciding on a different camera, Emma held Alexa’s gaze.
“And having a client as beautiful and sexy as you are hear us request certain things, suggest certain things, to get the best pictures . . .” Emma paused to let her gaze travel slowly down Alexa’s neck to her breasts, which remained partially visible through the opened robe, “well, we understand the difficulties,” she concluded, slowly raising her eyes to challenge Alexa with an open, inviting expression.
Then the most amazing thing came out of Alexa’s mouth.
“It is difficult,” she said, clearing her throat. “I believe I may need the cold again for the best effect in the pictures.”
Emma smiled slowly, recognizing the veiled invitation. She glanced down, and Alexa straightened reflexively.
The motion brought Alexa’s breasts up and forward slightly, more on display.
It was clear to both of them that there was absolutely no need for the soft drink can.
“I think you’re right,” Emma whispered. “I’ll get the can.”
Alexa’s nipples tingled at the thought of what was about to happen. Emma would again touch her breasts, cradle them, lift them.
Oh, my! thought Alexa. That dependable electric current that shot from nipple to clit and back again in advance of intense arousal coursed through her. It caused her to catch her breath in anticipation.
Roger, ever the photographer, was changing lenses, scrolling back through pictures just taken, checking the lighting — a dozen activities that kept him occupied.
Emma returned with the chilled soft drink can.
“I so apologize,” she said, placing the can on the small table at the side of the bed. Rubbing her palms together briskly, she looked into Alexa’s eyes. “I don’t want my hands to be cold, too, when I hold your breasts.”
Alexa was entranced by those words.
“This time, why don’t you take the can,” Emma said, lifting it from the table gingerly with only thumb and forefinger. As Alexa took the can from her, Emma continued in a quieter — sexier? — voice: “That way, I can place both hands around this breast-”
And Alexa experienced the warmth, the gentle touch of Emma’s hands around her left breast, encircling it, drawing it up and forward, then sliding one fingertip back and forth across her nipple.
“-and get your nipple ready.”
Alexa’s hardened nub was pointed and taut, in need of absolutely nothing to make it as erect and aching as it had ever been.
Emma lightly squeezed her hands around Alexa’s breast, eliciting a very quiet, but unmistakable, “Mmmm,” from her subject.
“Your breasts are lovely,” Emma said softly.
Alexa quickly nudged the cold can against the nipple being offered up by Emma’s grip. “That should do it,” she said, nervously glancing away from Emma’s eyes.
Emma smiled. “Shall we do the other?” She released Alexa’s left breast slowly, carefully. The young assistant searched with her eyes to again lock Alexa’s gaze on her own.
Finally surrendering consciously to all the messages her subconscious had been screaming at her since Emma’s first touch on her breast, Alexa looked confidently into Emma’s eyes and said, “Yes. I definitely think you should hold my right breast so I can make sure that nipple, too, will look good in the photos.”
Her eyelids fluttering slightly as Emma’s hands encircled her breast, Alexa exhaled quietly but then quickly drew in a breath as the girl’s palms settled into place.
“Let me prepare your nipple,” Emma said, leaning in close.
Can my nipples possibly be any more ready? Alexa marveled, a little shiver running up her back.
Keeping the hand underneath her breast in place, Emma moved the other down slightly, immediately pinching Alexa’s nipple between thumb and forefinger. The hardened nub reacted instantly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight down into Alexa’s tummy.
Then Emma began rolling the nipple, teasing it, pulling it taut then backing off.
Oh, my god! Alexa thought. I might actually come if she keeps playing with my nipple.
But Emma did not stop.
“Please forgive me, Ms. Montclaire,” Emma said, bringing her gaze up to Alexa’s face. “I fear I will have to work a bit to arouse this nipple,” she whispered.
Alexa swallowed and drew in a shallow breath. She shifted in place.
“Yes, you probably . . . um, you most definitely will need to . . .”
Moving her own hand up to Emma’s, Alexa trapped Emma’s thumb and forefinger between her own and squeezed harder than the young girl had thus far dared.
“Oh, my-” Alexa’s whispered exclamation of lust caught in her throat. Emma understood immediately. She clamped Alexa’s nipple in a tighter grip and tugged forward.
“Oh, damn, Emma, oh, damn,” Alexa whispered through gritted teeth.
Emma leaned close, her grip now tight but teasing as it extended Alexa’s nipple forward. She spoke softly, not a whisper but a sexy, barely audible murmur: “Will your nipples remain hard in the next series of shots, Ms. Montclaire, if you think about me sucking them to stiffness?”
Alexa’s eyes snapped open from their half-lidded trance of sexual arousal.
Emma leaned back, and in a strong voice said, “Now the cold can, for this breast, Ms. Montclaire, and I think we’ll be ready for the next several shots.” She held Alexa’s gaze for a beat then glanced at the can in Alexa’s grasp.
Roger finally looked up from fussing about with his camera equipment. “Ready?”
Emma’s grip remained firm yet gentle on Alexa’s breast as the cold can made contact with her aroused nipple. The touch seared, so taut in excitement was Alexa’s nipple. Jerking the can quickly away, she glanced nervously at the photographer.
“Yes, ready.”
Emma released Alexa’s breast and reached for the robe she had draped across her shoulders when the break in shooting began, leaning her mouth close to Alexa’s ear in the process.
“You’re wet, aren’t you, Ms. Montclaire? Don’t worry. That’s good for the pictures.”
Alexa held her breath, wanting some other comment, yet worried that it would, indeed, come.
Emma did not disappoint.
“I would love to taste you,” she whispered, the rustle of the robe muffling the comment from Roger’s ears. Emma motioned for the soft drink can, taking it from Alexa while smiling sweetly.
Alexa’s juices threatened to soak the pretty coverlet on the bed.
“Emma,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “I think I’ll need the robe or a towel or something before we begin shooting again.”
Stepping back to the bed as she made a show of gathering the hem of the robe between her hands, Emma smiled. “Please, don’t be embarrassed, Ms. Montclaire.”
Emma paused at the side of the bed after setting the can on the floor out of frame for the pictures. “Congratulations on being such a wonderful subject in these shots. Whatever you’re thinking is doing an excellent job of keeping you ready for us to get those sexy pictures for your partners. The camera will capture the wetness your imagination is producing. It’ll look so-o-o sexy.”
Making a show of gathering the robe in her hands in order to hand it to Alexa to dab away the excess moisture between her legs, Emma cleverly positioned things as she extended her hands and the robe to a spot in front of Alexa’s crotch.
Alexa had drawn one leg underneath her and dangled the other over the side of the bed in the process of repositioning herself before the shooting would resume. Emma took full advantage, and with her body shielding Roger’s line of sight, she lingered just enough in handing the robe to Alexa, positioning it at her crotch, to insinuate one finger briefly, lightly against Alexa’s slickened pussy, dragging it upward slowly, transferring a light sheen of wetness to the pad of her finger.
Alexa’s body shuddered from the unexpected touch,
But she did not draw back.
An intensely naughty thought sparked across Alexa’s mind.
Yes! I would! I would lie back right now and spread my legs for this young woman.
“Are we ready?” Roger asked.
Emma took the robe after Alexa had delicately dabbed away enough of the moisture between her legs that she no longer risked a wet spot on the coverlet.
Emma took the robe with one hand, not two.
It was not the hand she had perfumed with a small dab of Alexa’s juices.
“I believe Ms. Montclaire is set to go,” Emma replied, turning to look at Roger. “Sexy thoughts running through her mind and cold on her nipples means you should get some really good shots this go-round.”
Emma, you tease! You damned minx! You know what you’re doing, what you’re saying! Alexa thought.
“Super. Then let’s begin,” Roger said.
The clicking of camera shutter and popping of electronic flashes settled into a staccato rhythm as Alexa moved through poses at Roger’s direction.
And during those pauses when she readjusted something suggested by the photographer, Alexa cast furtive glances at Emma.
The young woman kept an enigmatic smile in place as she slowly drew her fingertip back and forth across her lips, looking to any casual observer as merely someone paused in a quiet, reflective moment.
What is she thinking? thought Alexa.
What is she tasting?