It was New Year's Eve, and I had a big job to do. A local hotel was having a big bash and I was to photograph the partygoers. Yeah, it meant I would be photographing a bunch of drunks, but the money was good and it helped fill a financial void right after Christmas. Besides, I was getting a room for the night at the fanciest hotel in town for free, and I was invited to the party itself. I, and my assistant, would take pictures of the couples and/or groups between 9 and 11:30. Then, we would get to go to the party and snap a few pictures there and then it was party time!
The hotel had agreed on giving me someone from their staff to help with the paperwork, but I had to supply the backgrounds, decorations and the help I would need taking the pictures. Between the hotel and I, we figured that we would be taking about 200 sets of pictures. Figuring that each set would average about $50 that would be roughly $10,000 for two-and-a-half hours of work! Not bad, but it was still work. If you've never been a photographer, it might be hard to understand, but performing for a direct audience for two or three hours is hard work! Plus, we had all of the set-up and teardown, too, which is real, physical labor. Add to that the fact that we were working on New Year's Eve and with a bunch of drunks, and suddenly it's not all that lucrative!
Knowing the parameters of what I needed to do, I knew that not just anyone could do the job, so I asked my friend, Lou, if she could help me. She knows her way around a camera and people somehow instinctively like her, so she is always my first choice as an assistant. She'd worked with me on proms and other things like this, so I knew she would not be weirded out by my rather manic behavior. She agreed, and she meet me at the hotel around 7 and set up our two sets. Then, we would change in to our working clothes and do our job.
Now, by working clothes, I don't mean clothes you would wear to a factory. I was going to wear a tux and Lou would wear what Lou would wear. I mean, I wasn't too worried about what she would wear, but I couldn't guarantee that it would be what I would have expected, this being such a fancy party and all. Lou is, well, unpredictable would be a good word.
You see, Lou is short for Lulu Annabelle, and if you call her Lulu, or Annabelle, or anything like that, you're liable to lose your head. Her mother gets away with it only because the only time she and Lou talk is by telephone, and you can't kill someone over the phone. Not yet, anyway. I think Lou is trying to figure out a way to do her mother in by telephone. Lou is very feminine, but she is always trying to hide that part of her. She keeps her hair very short, except in the middle of her head where it is very long and flops over her eyes. She has a couple of tattoos; nothing vulgar, but they're there and some people look at her a little strangely because of them.
Lou's manner of dress is sometimes a little different, too. Seldom is she out of cargo pants or jeans, and she's always in t-shirts, at least in public. When she's at home and in no danger of interruptions, she'll wear pajama bottoms and light t-shirts, but never any underwear. Don't ask how I know this. You wouldn't believe me.
She's not short, nor is she tall, about 5' 8" tall, with a nice, lithe body. Her breasts are the right size for her, about a B cup, and she has long legs that mould into a butt that most women would kill for. She knows that's her best asset, no pun intended. If she were to wear dresses, she'd have men falling all over themselves as she walked by, but that's not her thing. She's not exactly a feminist, but she does believe in the principles they stand for; you know, equal pay for equal work. All in all, though she looks tough, she is a real sweetheart underneath it all.
Anyway, she agreed to help me, and because of her usual style of dress, I was just a little skeptical of what she'd wear that night. We drove separately because after the party she was going back to her home. She didn't have much use for fancy hotels and such, and since we didn't have the kind of relationship that would let her stay in my room, she figured to go home afterwards. If only we had known...
When she arrived at the hotel, I was already inside and so did not see her until she came into the breakout room we were using for our photography session. She was dressed as I expected, in jeans (very tight, I might add here) and a jacket over a muscle T. She had a garment bag that she hung on a doorknob, took off her jacket and started helping me get things set up. With her helping, we were set up around 8 and we set off for the front desk to get the room. Even though we weren't on sleeping terms, we were close enough that we could share the room for changing purposes.
When we got to the room, it turned out to be a suite with two whole bathrooms in it. Much more luxurious than what I was expecting. We both stood there, in the door, our mouths open. I almost called down to the front desk to inquire, but Lou said, "If it's a mistake, don't bring it to their attention! Let's make use of it while we can!" I happened to agree with the sentiment, and so, did not make the call.
While Lou went into one part of the suite, I took over the other and turned on the TV. Of course, there was a football game going on; what else is new? I took my tux out of my garment bag, took my travel bag out and headed to my bathroom. I showered and shaved and then got dressed. I was just tying the bow tie (no clip on for me, thank you, very much!) when I heard Lou call to me to zip her up.
I walked over to her part of the suite and when I arrived you could have knocked me over with a feather! Here, I was expecting my buddy, Lou, to be in, at best, dress slacks and a black t-shirt and a jacket. I wasn't prepared for what I saw.
She was definitely a she, tonight! Her dress, what there was of it, was black. You know, the ubiquitous little black dress that every woman is supposed to own, only this was ... well, I'll try to describe it, but I know I won't do it justice.
As I said, it was black, but it also sparkled. The front was a kind of halter that plunged, well, way down, almost to her navel. The expanse of skin I was seeing was incredible, at least from where I was standing. Her breasts obviously did not need support, but swelled gently from her chest. The more than slight bumps in the fabric only enhanced the effect of the clingy nature of the material. The hemline was quite short, almost to the point that if Lou sat down, her panties might show. She was holding the back of the dress' halter, glaring at me.
"I can't get the button on this dress done," she said. Are you going to help me or just stand there gawking?"
That brought me out of my stupor. Lou is not someone you want pissed off at you. "Turn around," I said, and walked up to her. Again, I was surprised by the plunge of the back of the dress. It didn't show the crack of her ass, but only just. What did show was the one tattoo I'd never seen. It was of a woman with her arms gracefully extended above her head with what looked to be electricity flowing between her outstretched fingers. The body flowed downward, the torso covered in a top, the lower body in a diaphanous drape. All around the body were stars and what looked to be ivy going up the legs. I didn't know who the tattooist was, but this much I can tell you about him (or, maybe her): that person was an artist. It curved up her back several inches. I was mesmerized by the softness of her skin, the curve of her spine, the sight of the tattoo.
"Well," she demanded.
I cleared my throat and took the separate straps, tempted to "accidentally" drop them to see her front. However, I was much smarter than that and clumsily buttoned the two parts together. I stepped back and gave her some room to finish dressing.
She smoothed the dress down around her hips with a little wriggle, and bent down to pick up her shoes, which were strappy little heels.
"Well," she said, her eyes downcast. "What do you think? Will I pass inspection at this fancy ball?"
"Wow," was all I could get out, choking on anything else.
She chuckled, deep in her throat. I vowed, silently, to get her to sound like that as often as I could. It did interesting things to my libido. "I guess I will pass," she said. "Didn't know I had it in me, did you?"
"To be perfectly honest, no," I replied. "Damn, girl. If I'd known you'd look that good, I would have booked a bunch of these wing-dings!"
"A compliment. How rare," she said; again with the chuckle. "You don't give those out very often. I must look good." She turned to the chair and sat down and daintily put on her shoes. I couldn't do anything except stare. I was looking to see the color of her panties, but couldn't. 'Maybe, ' I thought to myself, 'I'll get a chance later.' Yeah, I'm a dirty old man who likes to look up pretty women's dresses. So, sue me! Here I was, in a very luxurious suite, in the fanciest hotel in the city, with a beautiful woman I liked, and all I could think about was looking up her dress. Yeah, I am a dirty old man. I shook myself and went back to my room to grab my jacket.
"You ready?" I called.
"I'm coming," she answered. She met me at the door, and took my arm as I opened the door. "I think," she said, "we're going to have a good evening. I'm planning on having some fun!"
.... There is more of this story ...