Chapter 8

I set my drink down on the little plank I’d designated as my “barn desk.” Propped on two hay bale stacks, it was strong enough to hold all my equipment while keeping them out of the straw.

I took a deep breath.

Then I started lighting kerosene lamps.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t photographed Katie nude before. It’d just been ... more than a decade. And Caroline had been there with me the entire time, either in front of the camera or serving as my assistant.

So why was I nervous?

I didn’t have an answer for that, so I pushed the question aside.

I got the lamps set up and my camera ready. Then I finished my drink while I waited for Katie.

She came out in one of the model’s robes. She had indeed styled her hair, in a way that caused me to blink. She’d added waves and looked even more like Caroline than ever before. Her make-up was subtle, which I appreciated. I’d done some heavily made-up shots of models in the past, and while it was interesting, it detracted from her form.

Katie gave me a calm smile and gestured toward the hay bale covered with a Western blanket. “Here?”

“Mmm hmm.”

She nodded and removed her robe. Then she sauntered to the bale and turned. “How do you want me?”

“Seated, slightly turned from the camera, legs together, hands in lap.”

She took the pose while I started looking for the right angle for the first set of shots. Her nipples were hard in the cool evening air, and with the flickering lamplight, her full breasts looked divine. I focused on them for a handful of pictures, and then did torso and full body shots. I had her turn sideways to the lamps for some good shadows and then I moved them around so they were illuminating her chest more directly. The whole time, Katie smiled and posed her hands and head like she’d been a professional for years.

I soon got into the flow, just as I’d done all those years with Caroline.

Katie posed in multiple sitting positions. I moved the lighting around. Then she stretched out on her back. She looked a lot like her mother as she did. She crooked one leg, raising her knee, and I got some great photos of the light and shadows on her upturned thigh. She lowered her leg and rolled, just a bit, casting a deep shadow that hid her cleft.

Wow, she was beautiful.

And when she smiled...

Like Caroline, twenty years ago.

I had her turn and took several pictures from behind. With her face out of view, she looked even more like Caroline. I moved the light around to get the warm flickers off her hips and the curve of her back. I had her stretch and extend her arm, and captured the sensual flow and move.

These were perfection.

Then I had Caroline—Katie!—roll onto her stomach. I took a few shots, but I wasn’t happy with them. All her curves disappeared and she looked squashed against the blanket.

I had her lift up to her knees and elbows. I moved around—shots from the left, the right, and behind. Caroline—Katie! I chided myself—looked best from behind. The flickering light over her full pussy lips straddled the border between erotic and obscene.

My cock stirred. I took several shots. Then Katie wiggled her ass, just like Caroline used to do.

I sucked in my breath.

Then I lowered my camera.

For a moment, I saw Caroline in front of me.

Then the ghost image cleared and it was just Katie.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ve got enough. We should call it a night.”

Katie turned and smiled at me. “I look forward to seeing them.”

I awoke with a cottony mouth and a pounding headache. As I stirred in bed, I ached. Clearly, I’d drunk too much the night before.

I hoped I hadn’t done anything stupid.

Well, I was in my own bed instead of a jail cell, so it couldn’t have been too stupid.

And, actually, I had most of my memories of the photo session with Caroline. No, Katie.

My memories insisted I’d been taking pictures of Caroline. My chest tightened as I thought of her.

But that was impossible.

Katie had merely posed, like she’d done many times before.

I hadn’t done anything stupid.

I eased myself out of bed and went in search of water and ibuprofen.

I started coffee in a very quiet kitchen. Katie had taken to streaming music while she cooked or cleaned, but her iPod wasn’t there. It was reasonably late, so more power to her if she was still asleep. Of course, she could’ve just run to the store. There wasn’t a note, though, and I didn’t feel like looking for her.

So I sat at the table and quietly sipped my coffee.

The more I replayed the events from the night before, the more I realized I really hadn’t done anything stupid. I needed to see the pictures, but the ideas and the poses had all been pretty much normal for any model. I hoped they’d been really good, but even if they weren’t, I’d have learned something about lamp lighting and my new “barn studio.”

Yeah, everything was just fine.

The kerosene lamplight was a marvel. Not all the shots came out, but enough pictures were good enough for me to consider it a successful experiment. Especially because some were phenomenal.

Katie and I had the laptop on the dining room table as we reviewed them. She often insisted we page back and forth. I had to grin. She had the intensity of some of the best photography editors I’d gotten to know over my years. She found every little flaw, and pointed out some elements I’d seen, but not been truly conscious of. But in the end, she agreed with me. Many of the pictures were outstanding.

“Have you thought about exhibiting again?”

“At the University?” I’d done plenty of shows there.

“Mmm. Outside of Lincoln.”

I furrowed my brow. “Not really. Why?”

“Nebraska’s gotten too conservative.”

I shrugged. I didn’t think they’d have a problem with artistic nudes, but I could see her point.

“These really are good.”

“Getting there.” I gestured at the pictures. “I captured the light, but not the soul.”

“Mmm. I don’t know about that.”

She took over the laptop and paged to the ones of her from behind. “I think you did here.”

I blanched a little. It felt surreal to be looking at photos of Katie’s pussy with Katie sitting by my side.