Chapter 12: New Models

People were getting kind of squirrelly at school as we got closer to our first real break of the year for Thanksgiving. The halls had been decorated—especially down in the elementary section. The junior high choir had a concert. And I got a really sweet photo of Anna helping a kindergartener who had wandered upstairs and got lost. Seemed like everyone was looking for her. There was an announcement over the PA asking everyone to check their classrooms and closets. We found her right in front of the mugshot poster. Anna picked her up and held a sign that said, “M. Anderson, Truant.” Then Mrs. Abernathy took the girl and led her back to her class.

Anna and I went to the game Friday night, but I sat on the floor in front of the stage for half the game. Miss Sullivan was right about it being a much better vantage point to catch action right under the hoop. I also got a great picture of one of the guys shooting a jump shot. He looked like he was three feet off the floor.

And then we went to the dance after the game and had a bitchin’ time bouncing and rocking. They ended the dance at 11:00 with Dusty Springfield singing “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me.” I almost fell into Anna’s eyes as we held each other and danced. She sang along with the music and I just wanted to freeze that moment forever. She was really telling me she loved me.

We walked to her home after the dance, holding hands and sometimes we’d just stop and start dancing some more on the street. When we got to her porch, she hugged me so tight I thought she’d break my ribs. And then she kissed me on the cheek. I put my lips on her cheek and then she opened the door and stepped inside.

So close. We were less than a month away from her birthday. What difference could it make? Anna was always so willing to hold hands or to have our arms around each other. Everything we did together was fun. We talked and laughed and danced. We did everything but kiss and it was getting really frustrating.

But she wanted to wait. And I could kiss her on the cheek or her fingers. I’d have to be satisfied with that for now, I guess.

I met Pam at the studio Sunday afternoon at 1:30. She had a bunch of stuff with her, including a couple of things on hangers and a little suitcase.

“You came prepared for a lot!” I said.

“I talked longer to Christine and I’ve decided to sign the model release. She said to bring any outfit I thought I’d like to have and that you’d be discreet in taking photos. I don’t think I’ll be doing any naked photos with you, but I wouldn’t mind being a little more daring than what school allows. I guess the yearbook photo has to adhere to some standards that Miss Sullivan gave me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a real glamour shot, too. I’m trying out for the cheerleader team at Champaign-Urbana. They’ve already asked for a promo photo.”

“That’s great, Pam. We’ll get you some good pictures. Here’s the release form. It’s pretty simple and just spells out what I told you.”

She read the form and then signed and dated it.

“Okay, first we should work on getting you a really great yearbook senior picture.” I’d received my new lights and the backdrop stand on Saturday and was pleased to get Pam in front of a really professional setting for a portrait. I used a white backdrop and had her sit on a stool. I adjusted my new lights so the background was smooth and used my mini theatre lights to cast just the right amount of shadow for depth on her face. Then we started taking pictures. We tried different poses and I noticed a fleck of mascara on her cheek. I used a tissue to remove it and she smiled at me as I adjusted that curl on her cheek that all the girls seemed to go for.

“The photographer that came to take our pictures at school never spent this kind of time. He just said, ‘Sit here. Turn your head. Smile.’ Then it flashed and he sent us away.”

“Well, I don’t have a line of fifty others waiting for me to get finished. You are my only model this afternoon and I want to get the best possible picture of you. I think we’ve got a good selection here and our biggest problem will be deciding which ones we don’t want to use,” I said. “Now let’s talk about what we can do for your alluring photo for the cheerleader auditions.”

“Alluring. I like that word. It’s exactly what I want to be.”

We worked for half an hour on getting an alluring photo, and her costume changed dramatically from what we started with. She had a nice top she called a Bohemian hippie peasant blouse. It reminded me of what Chris had said about the hippie clothes she’d seen in Chicago. It was a lightweight cotton that tied in front and had blousy long sleeves. And it was pretty transparent. She wore it without a bra and I had to stop and talk to her.

“Pam ... um ... it seems I need to have this talk with everyone. I should be used to it. The fabric of this pretty blouse is kind of transparent. Under the lights in a photograph, um ... well, we can see your breasts. I mean, your nipples.”

She looked at me a little strangely and I was afraid she might explode.

“Do you like them?” she asked. What the hell?

“Pam, I’m a seventeen-year-old boy. Of course I like them. But do you want pictures with them showing?”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’m eighteen, so let me tell you the facts of life. When I asked you if there was anything I could do to get this photo session free, I was prepared to give you a blowjob. When you started to look evil and said yes there was something I could do, I thought, ‘Just like any other boy.’ And then you came up with this model release thing. I went to Chris and asked her about it and she said you wouldn’t even kiss her.”

“I’m trying to become a professional photographer,” I said. “I’m not trading photography for any kind of sexual favors.”

“Yeah. I understand now. That’s really weird. I’ve been a cheerleader since seventh grade. I haven’t been a virgin since eighth grade. I’ve never paid for anything. A boy will take me out to a fancy meal, a movie, and even buy me flowers. Just to get a chance at my pussy. And you tell me I should cover up my tits.”

She just pulled her blouse down and exposed herself fully. I wouldn’t quite put her in the same class as Patricia, but these were magnificent. She had big nipples and areolae. But they didn’t seem all that big on the mounds she displayed. What could I do but swallow hard and enjoy the view?

“These are my currency, Nate. I buy things by letting a shoe salesman feel them up. If I flash him my pussy, I can get a whole new outfit. I don’t see a problem with having a couple of photos I can use to advertise with. I know that makes me sound like a whore, and I guess I am. But I like sex and what I do. I want all the photos you can take.”

“Wow!” I breathed. “Well, we should probably get some photos that really show off your um ... assets.” I grinned at her and took another good look at her tits. Then I stood up and went to the camera. She took the hint and pulled her blouse back up so there was the illusion that she was covered.

The limits were off and we took a whole bunch of really strange photos, pulling out miscellaneous junk to use as props. I think my favorite, though, was one where she was standing in the storage area in just her pantyhose. They were sheer and I could see her dark bush under them. She flipped her hair around and put one arm over her head with her forearm resting on top of her head. I had to scramble to reset some lights and then adjusted my lens settings to get the right depth of field. I wanted to have the focus gradually fade the farther things were from her. But I wanted stuff close to her to be sharp. I’m not sure if I found her bare breasts sexier or her smoothly shaved armpits.

“This was fun,” she said. “We should do it again sometime. It was hard work, though. Much harder than I thought. I don’t usually work that hard during sex. You drive a tough bargain.” She laughed and sat on the bench to start dressing. I just watched and enjoyed the little show, especially when she looked at me and lifted her breast to lick the nipple. I didn’t need a photo of that. The image was seared into my brain.

Wednesday, I took her the proofs and a complimentary 8x10 of her glamour shot. She loved them.

“Obviously, there were shots that I haven’t given you yet. I can’t bring them to school without risking both of us getting in trouble. You can come by the studio and I’ll show you all of them.”

“I love the allure of your garret,” she said, using a term for attic that I had to go to the library to look up. “Can’t wait to come over to see the rest of the photos you couldn’t bring to school.” That had to wait a while, though. Thursday was Thanksgiving and I was booked up solid.

We were up early Thursday morning and loaded into the car to go to Chicago. Uncle Nate and Aunt Grace were hosting Thanksgiving. It was a long trip to make for dinner, but they served early enough that we’d have a chance to wander up State Street to see the displays and still be able to get home before midnight.

“Well, what do you have to show me?” Uncle Nate asked. Ever since he gave me my first camera, each time I saw him, he asked what I had to show him. This time, I had a real portfolio. Of course, I had carefully left out any pictures of naked girls. Those were in my secret portfolio.

We went through the photos and he got very excited over some of the shots. Of course, he fell in love with the picture of Patricia on the motorcycle. Everyone does. He liked the picture of Judy and Janice in their Dark Shadows outfits. He tapped the glamour picture of Pam and grinned at me.

“I think I’d like to see more of this set. Can I keep a few of these? I know what I like, but I’d like to get a professional opinion of them. Besides, I’d just like to have these.” I gave him a copy of Patricia on the motorcycle, Chris in the Greek gown before the fabric fell below her breast, Judy and Janice, and the glamour shot of Pam. “I think you’ve got a unique style going here. You need to come up with a name for this style and trademark it. It could make you famous.”

“Garret Allure,” I said automatically. “It means Attic Glamour, roughly. I’ve been thinking about the style for some time. It’s a combination of the setting and the way I’m lighting the models. I don’t know anything about trademarking it, though.”

“Let me test that. I’ll see if it plays well. This is fine work, Nate. I’m happy to have copies of some of your early work.”

I felt pretty good about my photography when we left Chicago. I didn’t mind giving Uncle Nate any of my pictures he wanted. If he wanted them, I’d give him nudes of Pam. I really couldn’t give him any of Patricia, Chris or Janice. None of them were eighteen yet.

Friday afternoon, I packed my equipment in the Falcon and went over to the Adamses’. I was welcomed by Mr. Adams, who wore a pair of striped pants and a white shirt. Like his wife, he was built a little heftier than Gomez Addams, but he was just as happy and friendly as Mrs. Adams. I took my equipment into the living room and just started laughing. It was great. They had a Christmas tree that had no needles on the branches. All the ornaments were carefully broken jagged pieces of balls and the decapitated heads of dolls. The stockings hung on the mantel were all black, including a pair of Morticia’s black pantyhose. I set up my camera and lights and took a few pictures of the setting. It was just too perfect.

Then the family started arriving in the room. I’d met Pugsly and Wednesday at the Halloween party. They were bouncing around talking about how this was the coolest Christmas ever, and Pugsly wanted a new guillotine to take the heads off Wednesday’s dolls. Wednesday scowled at him and said something about taking him to the attic and trying out her new electric chair.

Then Mrs. Adams arrived. Well, crap! No, she wasn’t as thin as Morticia Addams on TV, but she was wearing a skin-tight black dress that was slit up one leg almost to her waist and had a plunging neckline that left the entire inside of her abundant boobs on display. Mr. Adams entered and whistled at his wife, then went over to put an arm around her and kissed her.

“Careful, dear. We don’t want the girls to make a surprise appearance when you squeeze.” It took me a minute, but she straightened the front of her dress and I realized she was talking about her boobs. Well, that would be interesting!

Then Lurch came into view. I recognized him as Pete Adams, the tallest member of our basketball team at 6’6”. He was wearing a black butler’s suit and white gloves. He also carried a low step that he put in front of the fireplace and then stood on so he was another four inches taller than the rest of the family. They got themselves in order and then called Oscar, their dog. The sheepdog had his hair all brushed down in front of his eyes and Pugsly put a pair of sunglasses on him. It was just classic and I started taking pictures, shifting their positions a little and taking individual shots as well as a couple of staged shots with the kids beheading a doll and Lurch placing a cracked star on top of the tree.

The whole family was fun and really into posing for all the pictures. I couldn’t help but think what a blast Judy and Janice would have with these people. When I’d finished all the photos we could think of, I disassembled my lights and Pete helped me take things to the car.

“Um ... Nate? You’re like friends with Judy and Janice, right?”

“Yeah. They sometimes model for me.”

“Are you dating them?”

“Oh, no. Just friends.”

“They’re like the neatest girls in the whole junior class. Do you think I stand a chance of ... um ... going out with them?”

“With them? Both of them?”

“Yeah. I was thinking we could have some fun. I really like all this costume stuff—the whole family does. But ... I don’t know how to ask them. I’ve never been out with a girl at all. I thought maybe we could come up with some ideas for other costumes and characters we could do. Maybe get you to do some photographs.”

“Gosh, Pete. I was thinking when we were inside doing the pictures that Judy and Janice would really enjoy this stuff. You should definitely ask them,” I said.

“Could you, like, give them a note from me? We don’t have any classes together. I just see them in the halls sometimes.”

“A note?” What was this? Grade school?

He handed me a slightly wrinkled envelope with their names on it. I nodded.

“I might see them this weekend if they’re around. Or maybe Monday at school,” I said.

“Thanks, Nate. I hope all these pictures turn out.” He basically fled back inside the house.

As it happened, I knew that I would see Judy and Janice over the weekend. They wanted me to take Christmas pictures of them. I thought that was a cool idea and I knew we’d come up with some fun settings.

I decided to go shopping Saturday while the laundry was in the washing machine. I wasn’t going far. There’s an antique store on the edge of town that has all kinds of stuff outside and I figured maybe I could find a bargain or two inside as well.

I knew Mrs. Wilson, the owner, from church. She’d often invited me to stop in and explore all the ‘treasures’ she had in the store. I figured this was a good opportunity, though I didn’t have a lot of money. I thought maybe I’d find Christmas presents for the family there, too. Even if they were just antique frames for photos I gave them.

Wilson House Antiques looked like it was really just her house. I knocked, but the door had a sign that said open, so I just went in.

“Oh, hello, Nate. Welcome to Wilson House. Let me know if there is anything you see that you’d like more information about. Otherwise, I’ll just let you explore.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. I thought maybe I’d find something to take a picture of.” I went into what was obviously her living room and looked at the furniture there. I mean a lot more furniture than anyone needs in her living room. I wasn’t sure how a person would get some of the stuff out of the house if they bought it. There was a clear space on the couch and the television had a sign on it that said, “Not for Sale.” Every surface had something on it: little figurines, vases, candleholders, books, clocks, ashtrays, lamps, radios, telephones, and a pair of pewter goblets with dragon stems. I moved into the dining room and it mostly had dishes, silverware, glasses, tea sets, cutlery, tablecloths, and straight chairs, in addition to a massive table and miscellaneous unmatched chairs.

The place was a labyrinth of cool stuff! The kitchen showed signs that she’d recently cooked in it and did her dishes, but it had all kinds of cookware, including a big selection of cast iron pots and pans and a couple dozen rolling pins. Of course, all kinds of utensils, spice racks, decorative canisters, coffee grinders, mortars and pestles, cutting boards, and bottle openers.

The next room had bedroom things, including a big Victorian bed like the one I’d inherited when we moved into the parsonage, only it was disassembled and had no mattress. There were dressers and bedside chairs, a dressing table, and stacks of bedding and blankets. The room after that held musical instruments, piano rolls, a pump organ, two player pianos, music stands, and an old phonograph with cylinders.

Every room had a selection of pictures on the walls as well as framed mirrors. Some of the pictures were very old photographs, but most were prints of somewhat famous works by artists of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The whole place was just overwhelming.

“Um ... Mrs. Wilson? Do you ever loan out things in here? You know I’m a photographer and I like to have a fresh supply of props for my studio so everyone who gets a picture doesn’t get the same thing. I’d borrow it, use it for maybe a week or a month, and then return it. I’d be happy to leave a deposit for it,” I said.

She looked at me a little puzzled and squinted up her nose. “Borrow it? Well, I’ve never done that. What did you have in mind today?”

“I’m trying to set up a Christmas scene. I have a fireplace mantel, but I was thinking of one of those braided rugs for in front of it and a straight back chair from the dining room. One with arms on it. Maybe one or two little things to put on a table or under the tree.”

“No. I don’t think I can just lend it. For all that it’s my home, it’s a store. Neither borrower nor lender be. But here’s what I think I could do. That rug is five dollars and the chair would be fifteen. I’ll make a good deal on knick-knacks as long as you don’t want too many. I’ll keep a tally of things here and if you want to sell them back, I’ll give you eighty cents on the dollar for them as long as they are still in good condition.”

I quickly calculated that in my head thanks to freshman algebra. The chair and rug would end up costing me four dollars. That wasn’t bad. I agreed to the terms. I paid her a total of thirty dollars for little things I thought would be cool for the scene and loaded it all in the back of the Falcon to take to the garret. I was really beginning to like that term.

I almost forgot to pick up the laundry.

Sunday afternoon, Judy and Janice came over and looked at the little Christmas scene I had put together. I’d found stockings and an artificial tree among the decorations and there was even an electric log for the fireplace. I decided this set would look best with just the old burgundy drapes instead of a plain paper backdrop. The braided rug on the wooden floor looked comfy and cozy.

The girls loved the idea that it was sort of a Norman Rockwell Christmas setting. Then it was all about posing. They did a sweet scene of decorating the tree. They wore short little pinafore minidresses and stubby pigtails that made them look like kids. They wished they had popcorn and cranberries, but anything like that in the store room or the antique shop would have been something none of us wanted to touch by now. The thing is that the girls had scene concepts they wanted, but no idea how to pose for them. That was the difference with Patricia or even Christine. Both of them could move into a pose and then naturally move to the next one without needing prompting. Judy and Janice were good at holding any pose after I’d almost treated them like dolls and moved every limb into position.