Chapter 3

A couple of days passed before we did any more work on her portfolio. She had stuff to do and so did I.

The next thing on the list was called an editorial fashion shot, which was supposed to show how you expressed yourself in photos. She was supposed to move around, jump, run or dance. You see some of that in TV ads about clothing for young people. The models in those ads are smiling as they get all energetic and show off the clothes, like wearing those clothes is the best thing they ever decided to do. In the case of a portfolio, however, the idea is to make the viewer look at the model, not what she’s wearing.

This was really hard to do because it isn’t natural to pause while you’re smiling and having fun, so somebody can take a quick picture of you that looks like you didn’t pause at all. In the end I told her to do whatever she was going to do and ignore me and I’d just take pictures. Hopefully one of them would do what needed to be done.

There was an old tire swing in the back yard, and she swung on that. I happened to get a shot of her when she leaned back, basically making her body into a straight line on top of a round tire. Her eyes were closed and her hair was flying out. It was just beautiful. I still have that photo in a frame in my office today. She remembered an old Hula Hoop in the garage, and got that out. She tried riding her bike, but that moved her too fast and the images on the phone blurred. She danced for a while and I got another boner.

In the end, we chose one of the tire swing shots. I got it while she was spinning around. I had told her to look at me each time she came around and try to make it look like she didn’t hate me. She was smiling in the picture and looked excited, vibrant. We had no idea if it was the right kind of shot for that page, but that’s what we ended up with.

You’ve probably figured out by now that she actually should have used a professional photographer, who knew how to do all this stuff and probably had sets and could do stop-action and all that. We were both just ignorant teenagers who thought we could do anything we wanted to. I have to say, though, that I think I took some pretty good pictures. I’m not saying her portfolio was worth a crap when it got done, but some of the shots in it were good. My opinion. And other people eventually agreed with me, too. But I’m jumping the gun and need to move on.

Next was a commercial shot, which is the same concept as the editorial fashion shot except the idea is to convey some kind of emotion consistent with advertising a product. If you leaf through a magazine you’ll see basically two looks on the model’s face. One is a smile or grin, indicating how incredibly much fun the person is having while engaged in/using some product. The other is a thoughtful look. It’s not too bad in print, but on TV they get ridiculous. I especially like (hate) the ones where somebody brushes his teeth and then grins like that’s the best thing that ever happened to him in his whole life. Look at yourself in the mirror next time you brush. Trust me, you’re not grinning like an idiot. I bet you don’t lick your teeth, either.

I read up on this shot and was relieved that you didn’t have to do a commercial. All that was required was capturing the kind of expression that might be used in a commercial: anger, happiness, pain, constipation, hope, distrust and so on.

The problem is that it’s pretty hard to convey something you aren’t actually feeling at the moment. That begs the question, though, since that’s the whole point of modeling. A model’s talent is projecting what the client wants you to feel like, instead of what you actually feel like.

I took some pictures of her frowning and smiling. She tried to look anguished and thoughtful, but all of those shots looked like just what they were, some kid taking pictures of his sister while she made faces at him. Neither of us was happy with the results.

Then I had an idea. I had no clue as to how it might turn out, but I thought it might generate some real emotion in her and I hoped that emotion would be visible on her face. I know that’s not how this is supposed to work. I know the idea is for her to show her talent at expressing any particular emotion on demand, but then again that’s something that can be learned, practiced and worked on in the future. The idea was to get people’s interest.

As I said, I didn’t know how she’d react to my idea. I was just hoping she would react.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

“Go ahead,” she said. She looked a little grumpy, but grumpy wasn’t what I was looking for.

“When you asked me if I sneaked a shot of your ... um ... breasts, and I said I didn’t, you had a funny look on your face. What were you thinking about?”

She just looked at me. Her face was completely blank. Then she sat down on her bed.

“Let me ask you a question,” she said.

“Okay.

“Did you look?”

“At your breasts?”

“No, you incredibly stupid boy, my elbows!” she snapped. “Of course I meant my breasts!”

Her face displayed annoyance, but it still wasn’t what I was looking for.

“Yes, I looked,” I said.

Her face calmed.

“Did you want to take a picture?”

“Of course I did,” I said. There was something on her face now that was interesting. She looked a little afraid, maybe anguished. I figured she was worried about just how perverted I was. I snapped a shot.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Annoyed again.

“I’m just taking pictures. Ignore that and just talk to me.”

“You wanted to take a picture of my naked breasts,” she said.

“Sure I did. I didn’t get much of a look, but I could tell they were sweet.”

“So why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“You mean try to get you to face me, so I could take a picture?” I didn’t have to imagine the look on my face at that moment. It was one of pure shock.

“I don’t know,” she said. Her face fell and I snapped a picture. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you?”

“I don’t understand why I like it so much when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like guys at school look at me ... undressing me with their eyes.”

“I thought you’d be mad if I looked at you like that,” I said.

“I should be mad!” Now her face really did display anguish, as she looked off to one side. I took a picture.

“But you’re not.” I have no idea why I was pushing this. I was just trying to get something undeniable on her face.

“No,” she said, softly. “Why do you think I posed for you like that in Megan’s swim suit?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was a little confused about that.”

“I felt like such a slut,” she said. I couldn’t identify the emotion showing on her face, but it was stark and I snapped a picture.

“You’re anything but a slut,” I said.

“Like you’d know,” she said. She almost sneered, but it was there and gone too quickly to catch in a pic.

“I know how sluts act, Hannah, and you don’t act that way.”

“I did for you,” she argued.

“That was different. We were trying to work up to getting something hot. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to run out and tell all my friends,” I said.

“You’d better not,” she warned. “Not if you ever hope to see them again.”

That was interesting. I didn’t have to ask her what “them” meant. She had just suggested that me seeing those creamy, dark-nippled mams again could actually happen.

“Are you sure there are no nude shots needed for this portfolio?” I asked. I swear I was just trying to break the tension. Her face was showing the tension, but it wasn’t anything specific enough for what I was looking for.

It did break the tension. She smiled. Then she got an impish look on her face. I got the picture.

“If I show you mine, you have to show me yours,” she teased.

“Can’t,” I said, taking more pictures. “You’d scream bloody murder.”

“Why?” she asked. The look on her face was avid interest and I took a picture. I honestly wasn’t thinking too hard about what was being said. I was looking for something special on her face and that took the majority of my concentration.

Her eyes dropped to my groin. Then they widened in shock. I got that picture.

“Oh my gosh!“ she squealed. “Do you have a boner?“

“What?” Again, being honest, I wasn’t actually aware of whether I had a boner or not. I dropped my hands and looked down at the front of my pants. I saw the normal lump and felt a little tingle there, but not what she was suggesting. “No. I do not have a boner.”

She covered her face with her hands.

“I am such a slut,” she moaned.

I went to sit down beside her. I wanted to put my arm around her, but didn’t.

“Look,” I said. “I’m just as confused about this as you are, okay?”

“Such a slut,” she muttered through her hands.

“Are you saying you wanted me to have a hardon?” I asked. It was pretty blunt, but finesse wasn’t in my tool bag that day.

The hands came down. She looked outraged. It would have been a great shot, but the camera was on the bed beside me. Then she crumbled. I saw a tear form and run down her cheek.

“Talk to me,” I said. I didn’t know what else to do.

“You can never tell anybody what I’m about to say,” she said. “Never!”

“I promise.”

“When I go out with guys and they get that way, it’s awful. Even Steve. It just makes my skin crawl, and I feel like something bad could happen and I want to run away.”

“I can understand that,” I offered.

“So why, when I think about that happening with you, do I feel different?”

“Different how?” I asked.

“Different like it doesn’t seem scary. Different like I get ... turned on.” She frowned. “What’s wrong with me, Bobby?”

All I could do was grasp at straws. I had the same problem she did. I’d had a fantasy about her and me being naked ... in bed ... doing the things I’d had hazy fantasies about doing with other girls, and the women in those magazines. I’d gotten extremely turned on by Megan’s swim suit displaying my sister’s pouting pussy lips and stiff nipples. I thought she’d been teasing me then, having that kind of fun, as opposed to having the same kind of fun I was having.

“Maybe nothing,” I said. “You know I love you, for real, I mean, and would never do anything to hurt you. So you feel safe letting those feelings come out.”

“I don’t think so,” she sighed. “I’ve never wanted to see Steve’s ... dick. I’ve never wanted to see any guy’s dick.”

The inference was clear. She wanted to see mine. Wow. What a mind bender!

“Maybe it’s just curiosity,” I said.

“Are you curious about me? About seeing me, I mean?”

“Want me to be honest?”

“Yes!”

“Desperately,” I said. I held my breath.

“Really?”

I let it out. She didn’t sound mad at all.

“The reason I don’t want you to see me that way is because if you ever do, I will have a boner,” I whispered.

“Because of me,” she whispered back. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been taking pictures of you, Hannah. I know how hot you can look. It ... affects me.”

She looked over at me.

“Thank you,” she said, softly.