Interlude: Sean and Sheila Richards 25th Anniversary
Nanny CC is an interesting case. Mom calls her a gift from Dad. Dad says he just gave her a better job. Aunt Frannie says Mom asked her to show CC the ropes. Naturally, CC says nothing on the subject.
Chapter 1: Order Up
I am Christine Collins, commonly known as CC, and I did not want to do my job. I was a waitress for R&T's Coffee Shop, also known as the 7th Street Diner. It was a dead end job at a greasy spoon, but it almost paid the bills. I had already been through two other jobs, and was looking, quietly, for another. If Mr. Fredricks found out, he would fire me on the spot.
I was 19 years old, less than a year removed from high school. At 5'8" and only 110 pounds, I am a bit thin, but have the tits to fill out a uniform. It gets me interviews, but I have trouble when someone wants me to talk. It has always been like that.
I am neither pretty nor beautiful. In spite of my tits, I have had only a handful of boys show interest and could count the physical encounters on one hand. I suppose it was partly because I did not understand how to dress or use make up, but mostly it was because I was painfully shy. As dead end as this job was, it would not be easy to find another one, much less a better one.
That day was slow. I had already had a regular old geezer, getting his daily soup and sandwich. My next table was another guy that came in occasionally. He was not big, but came across as solid, dangerous and ex-military. With him was a shortish accounting type, who did not give a shit if anyone knew he was gay.
After I served the geezer his lunch, I picked up the plates for the other table. As I approached, I quit worrying about serving the food, getting a tip, or paying my bills. In fact, I did not want to do much of anything, except listen to the conversation at my last table:
Guy 1: "Save the last one for a moment. It is a female subject, and I want you to view it separately. What do you think about the others?"
Guy 2: "Hot. Really hot. There are things that could be better. For example the lighting is all passive. None of these used a flash. The camera is good, but not studio grade. That said, the composition is excellent. Every shot looks completely unstaged. That is odd too, since the kiss mark is central to each shot. Where did you get these?"
It was the reference to a female subject that caught my attention. It sounded like they were talking about pictures. The way Guy 2 said "Hot. Really hot." told me he was not talking about the weather. The lust was almost tangible.
Guy 1: "Not yet. Turn to the last shot, the one with the female subject. Tell me about it."
Guy 2: "This is fine work too, exceptional in fact. I have done thousands of female nudes in the last year. Dozens of them are in this vein. I would stack this torso shot with any of them. The framing is outstanding. In this case the face would distract from the interest. At the top, you get these fantastic shoulders, but it takes a moment to notice that the arms are bound. The hair forward is inspired. The line leads you down to a glistening pussy, with just the hood of the clitoris poking out. That is very difficult to stage. The pubic hair could be shorter, or removed, but here it looks very natural, as if this were a candid shot."
The part about "arms are bound" sent electricity through my body. The line about "glistening pussy" could refer just as well to me. He went on.
Guy 2:"But, there is still more. The asymmetry, caused by the hair, draws attention to the perfection of the breasts. The shape is very nice for breasts this heavy, almost as if they were never subject to gravity, yet the skin says a woman in her mid to late 20s. The cherry on the sundae is the little curl of hair framing the nipple of the covered breast. That kind of touch is often purely chance, again making the whole image look spontaneous.
"That last shot is an award winner if it ever gets entered. The others would have a dozen publishers pounding on the door. If you can get the photographer that shot these, why do you need me?"
Guy 1: "You clearly respect the artist. As you might guess, she is the owner of the lips. She staged each of the shots, save the last one. It happens, I staged that one. Is this woman someone you could work with? You would still be behind the camera, but she would have artistic control?"
What lips?, I thought. What the hell was he talking about?
Guy 2: "Holy Moses, Sean. You sure know how to drop a bomb. If you had asked me without showing me the pictures, I would have told you to fuck yourself. Better yet, I would have told you to lean over the table so I could do it without lubrication. But, as you clearly intended to point out, you have me over a barrel. I would do a lot to finish this project, and she clearly has the talent to help get that done. So yes, I can work for this woman, if she can work with me. Humph, she probably does half her work with closet gays as it is. I might let her stage me, or have you do it."
Guy 1: "OK. Here is where things stand. I have a lunch meeting with her tomorrow. We are friendly, but I also know that her schedule is packed. Hopefully, Helen can help shift some of that load. One way or another, we will know by one o'clock tomorrow. So, go to Mass. See a movie. Take some time for yourself. Either I land her at the meeting, or I am well and truly fucked. If it makes you feel better, I consider her to be replacing me, not you."
Guy 2: "That's a point. If she has artistic control, we might get a coherent theme, finally. That is one area where you well and truly suck. As a sucker of no mean repute myself, that is my highest praise. But, there is something you have not told me. Give."
Guy 1: "What I did not tell you is that she did not shoot any of those pictures. They were taken out of video. It was really good quality video, but she never took a shot."
Guy 2: "Are you telling me she cut all these prints out of digital video recordings? That would explain the lighting and the spontaneity. And the kisses. It was bull's eye cropping. Holy Freaking Moses, she got professional grade prints out of video. Yes, Sean, I want to meet this woman. In fact I could line up twenty people that would want to meet this woman."
Guy 1: "Don't bother. I am already dating her."
Guy 2: "That is what the lipstick on the last picture was about. She loves your work. That was her in the last shot, and she loves your work, and gave you a prize winning picture as proof. Congratulations Sean, that is one hell of a woman. She makes me wish I was straight, and better looking than you."
He was not the only one that wanted to meet her. I was ready to throw myself at the woman's feet.
Guy 1: Now, where's my lunch? It should..."
Suddenly, my face felt like it was on fire. I was caught standing there, listening to a private conversation, long enough for their food to get cold. The owner had fired girls for less. I tried to turn away, but it was too late. Guy 1 motioned me over. Steeling what was left of my nerve, I took their plates to the table. Guy 1 took them from my hands. Then he took my wrist and pulled me closer.
He whispered, "Do you want to see it?"
I was unsure what "it" was, but it had to have something to do with what they were discussing. I found myself nodding. The other man opened a folder, showing a picture of a woman. It was just as they had described it: bound arms, great hair, glistening pussy, incredible tits. My face got warm, then hot, but I could not look away.
Guy 1 said, "Justin is a photographer. He could make a lot of money shooting pictures of you in situations like that. I am not going to ask him to do so. Here is why." He released my hand, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. He said, "Call the number on that card. Ask for Helen. My name is Sean. Tell Helen that Sean told you to call about the job. Do not tell anyone else. Just finish your shift, and call Helen in the morning. Got it?" I nodded.
Guy 1, Sean, went on, "Remember, do not tell anyone. I will leave you a nice tip when we go. Now shoo. I think your boss wants to know why you are still over here. Tell him that Justin is a famous photographer and you wanted an autograph. He did not give it to you, but he gave you a sneak peak. Now go."
Mr. Fredricks would be all over anyone famous, so I hurried to bus another table. With luck, no one would ask any questions. Not long after, I went to the bathroom and frigged off. I never had a boyfriend, at least in the sexual sense, though a couple had tried. Instead, I had a fantasy life. It was a rare day that did not bring at least one self managed explosion. Nothing I had ever done came close to the orgasm I had, while thinking about the picture.
Then, I came out and had another table to wait. A short time later, Sean and Justin paid their bill and left. I found $21, folded to look like $2, left as a tip. Whatever else, Sean Richards was not cheap. I wondered if he was the Richards in Richards Imports. From what I had seen, it was possible.
The next morning, I called the number on the card and asked for Helen. She went, "What?"
I said, "Sean Richards said to call and ask for you."
Helen said, "You're late. Go to Personnel." Then the phone was dead.
.... There is more of this story ...