Over the telephone, Karlie told me she wanted some pictures of herself for her boyfriend. “Someone I know at school said you did some like really good stuff for her for the yearbook and all.” Karlie seemed a little nervous. She seemed even more nervous at her house.

“Are your parents in?” I asked first thing.

“No, ah, they’re in Las Vegas for the weekend,” Karlie said, glancing at the stairway which curved upward to the second floor of the handsome Colonial house.

“Okay, so what kind of photographs do you want? Formal? Casual? Sexy?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “Not too formal. My boyfriend’s going overseas next month, so I want to give him something really special.”

“Something intimate?”

“Well, ah, I guess so, but not, you know, not...”

“I know,” I said. “That’s a pretty outfit you’re wearing.” My button-down shirt would have covered more of her legs than the short pink dress she had on. A pink belt with a silver buckle hung sassily about her hips. Eight small snap buttons swooped down the front of the dress like windblown raindrops. “Very smart,” I said. “Very snappy. But what a nice soft pink. It goes with your skin tones. With your beautiful complexion.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorta studying fashion and design. If I go to school, that’s what I want to major in.” She glanced at the stairway again.

“How about I start with one of you here, just inside the door?”

Karlie stood there, apparently unsure how to pose, so after I measured the light, I took several shots just to get her used to the click of my Nikon. “I like the belt and the buttons,” I said. “And also the jewelry and the sandals. It’s good you don’t wear too much jewelry.”

“Thanks,” Karlie said. “I don’t believe in overdoing it.”

“That’s a good motto,” I said. “Less is more. More or less.”

Karlie smiled weakly at my lame joke.

“So now why don’t you show me how these buttons work?” I said. “Do they make a noise when you snap them open?”

“Not too much of one,” she said. “Maybe a soft noise.”

“Unsnap one,” I suggested.

With trembling fingers, she unsnapped the top button.

“Yeah, I kinda hear a little noise,” she said.

“Soft,” I said. “Just like the pink dress. Just like your skin. Do a few more. Let’s see if they all sound the same.”

Karlie bit her lip and did a few more. I worked the camera.

“Should I keep going?” Karlie asked.

“Sure, why don’t you keep going?”

She unsnapped the buttons all the way down to the pink belt. I continued to work the camera. She stopped. She looked at me. Her breasts were still covered by the dress, even though it was as unbuttoned as it could get. “That’s very sexy,” I said, “the way you can see some of your breasts but not the nipples. Your boyfriend is going to like that. What color are your nipples, by the way? Pink or brown?”

Karlie glanced into her dress, as if unsure of her nipple color. Then, as if caught doing something naughty, she looked back at me. I grimaced for missing the picture of her peeking at her nipples.

“Go ahead, tell me,” I said.

“Um, pink, I guess. More pink than brown. Or in between?”

“Could I see?”

Shyly, Karlie moved her dress aside, showing me her right breast. Sure enough, the nipple was more pink than brown but pretty much in between. It was a cute nipple, soft and slightly upturned. Karlie’s breasts weren’t overly large, certainly not large enough to need a bra, but they weren’t tiny, and they had a nice soft swell. “You have very beautiful breasts, Karlie. And nice nipples, too. They’re just a little larger than the dress snaps. Karlie looked down at her breasts, and this time I got a nice picture of it.

“But maybe if you could do the other one? Just to make sure?”

Obediently Karlie bared her other breast.

“Wonderful!” I exclaimed. “Do you like having your breasts sucked? I know I’m being bold and naughty,” I added quickly, “but I wanted to get your reaction. I wanted to see if my question gave you goosebumps on your breasts and nipples. Sometimes when girls get excited, they get goosebumps.”

I took several pictures of the goosebumps on Karlie’s skin, especially on and around her nipples. “Of course it could be because it’s cold,” I said, “or because you’re scared. Is it because you’re cold, Karlie? Or do you think it’s because you’re scared? Or is it that you’re excited?”

Karlie looked at me warily.

“There’s no wrong answer,” I said. “I was just curious.”

“Maybe all three,” Karlie said. “Maybe a little sacred.”

“There’s no reason to be scared,” I said. “You can trust me on that.” I clicked the camera. I clicked it again and again, aiming at Karlie’s nipples, and with each click, her nipples erected perceptibly.

When Karlie’s nipples seemed to be fully fattened, I said, “You know where else goosebumps really show up good? On your bottom.”

“I didn’t know that,” Karlie said.

“Shall we see?”

“I guess so,” Karlie answered.

“Then I guess you’ll have to take off your dress. You don’t have to take off your panties. Not right away.”

I took several photos of Karlie taking off her dress. She was careful to drape it neatly over the banister. She wore pale pink panties.

“Very pretty,” I said. “You have good taste in underwear. Why don’t you turn around so I can get a good shot of your bottom?”

Slowly, Karlie turned around. Her panties were not what you’d call a modest cut. Nor was Karlie’s ass. Girlish but decidedly womanly. I snapped a few photos.

“Yes, very nice goosebumps,” I said as I worked. “Spread your legs just a little, would you, Karlie? There, that’s perfect.”

What I found especially alluring was that the panties were caught in Karlie’s ass crack. She couldn’t have planned it any better. The line of demarcation ran almost from the small of her back to the pouch of her cunt. Her panties were snug enough that I could see a hint of her sex lips. I moved in for some close-ups. I was curious if I’d discern any hint of dampness. She seemed to be dry. But there was a faint meadowy aroma. I breathed more deeply.

“You’re very pretty back here,” I said. “You’ll see when you see the finished photos. Do you call your pussy “pussy,” or do you call it “cunt?”

She hesitated, and then in a small voice said, “Pussy.”

“Ah,” I said. “That’s nice. You have a very nice pussy, from what I can see of it so far, under the underwear. But cunt isn’t a bad word—not when it’s used the right way, at the right time. Not when it’s used properly. You should try it sometime.”

“It makes me nervous,” she said.

“Why is that, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “It just does.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

When she shook her head, her hair swayed slightly, but her firm little bottom jiggled not the tiniest bit.

“It’s just a word. It doesn’t bite. Why don’t you give it a try?”

There was another hesitation. Then Karlie said, “Cunt.” She said the word softly. Experimentally. But nicely. I could imagine her swallowing. I could imagine her soft full lips remaining slightly parted after letting the naughty word into the real world.

“Very good,” I said. “Try it again.”

“Cunt,” she said. This time with a little more force, but still a bit of a question mark at the end of it. “Cunt,” she repeated. This time no question mark.

“Good girl,” I said. “You see? Doesn’t it feel nice to say it? Try it in a sentence. Try saying, ‘I have a very nice cunt.’”

“I have a very nice ... cunt,” she said, with a delicious bit of hesitation before the strong word at the end.

“You do!” I said. “You do have a very nice cunt. Are you a virgin? Have you ever been fucked?”

Karlie shivered. “Um, no,” she said. I couldn’t help but notice a wee bit of jiggle to her butt this time, as if she’d clenched herself.

“No?” I said. “You mean no you’re not a virgin, or no, you’ve never been fucked.”

“No, I’m not a virgin,” she said. Again that little bottom clench.

There was a long moment of silence.

“Yes, I’ve been fucked. Once.”

More silence, except for the click of my camera. I wanted to give my erection some time to subside, but it was hopeless—I might as well have been wearing a baseball bat. I said, “Why don’t you turn around now, Karlie? Let’s see your front.”