Chapter 20: End of the Beginning

“WHERE WERE YOU GUYS?” Karen hissed at lunch.

“We went camping,” Anna giggled.

“After prom?” Andy asked.

“That was brilliant,” Pris said. “Did you really convert the whole bus?”

“It was really comfortable,” I said. “I could almost live there. The tent addition was cool.”

“Didn’t you freeze?” Lonnie asked. He’d taken only Pris to the prom this year instead of both Pris and Debbie. Pris sitting was as close to him as school rules allowed.

“It’s amazing how much body heat you retain under the blankets,” Anna said simply. Everyone looked at her and giggled.

I went into Huntertown on Friday to return my dinner jacket outfit and order a black tux. The guy at the rental place looked at me and nodded.

“Most of the high schools still use dinner jackets for prom, but I’ve been seeing a trend toward black tuxes starting. You’ve already been to your prom and returned your dinner jacket. Got a wedding coming up?”

“Oh, no, sir,” I said. “I’ve been invited to a prom in Chicago. I think it’s a little fancier than ours out here in the west.”

“You go a little farther west than we are and get into Iowa and the boys are wearing cowboy boots and western jackets with a bolo for prom. Have no idea how to dress formally.” He wrote down the measurements from my previous order and went to get a black jacket for me to try on. “Where’s this prom taking place?”

“The ballroom at Navy Pier,” I said.

“That’s a nice place. Must be a really big school.”

“Fifteen hundred in my girlfriend’s graduating class,” I said.

“Well, now, you should check Miss Manners for proper seating and what silverware to use at dinner,” he said. “I’ll give you a single tip, though. Getting in and out of a car—even a limousine—is an awkward situation for a girl, especially if her dress is at all tight and her heels are high. Make sure you open her door and stand right in front of her so no one can see her awkwardly standing to get out of the car. Of course, hold her hands to help her up and watch her head. And if you are driving your own car to this event, spring for valet parking. Never, ever, leave your date standing on the street while you go park your car.”

“Thank you for the advice. I guess my car is staying in the parking garage and her driver will pick me up at the hotel before we go to pick her up. I’m a little nervous because it’s the first time I’ve officially met her parents.”

“I’m sure there’s a story there. Okay, let’s try this other jacket. A lot of rental places don’t have the tailored look you get from a bespoke jacket. Proms are done and weddings haven’t really gotten started yet, so I have time to make sure of the fit of this Italian cut tux.”

“Wow! This is nice. Can I afford it?”

“I’ll make you a deal. Don’t worry.”

“A full vest instead of a cummerbund?” I asked.

“It’s called a waistcoat and pulls attention away from the high contrast of your shirt. If you are dancing, it covers a world of costume problems if your shirt comes loose.”

“I’ve had that happen.”

“We’ll get you a long shirt. I don’t think you’ve been wearing long enough sleeves anyway. You have long arms.”

It was a very congenial shopping trip and the tailor chatted non-stop and made me a very good deal on the rental, even when I told him I’d be gone for ten days.

“This suit will look perfect on you, but remember why we take such care to make it perfect.”

“So I’ll look good?”

He shook his head. “So your date will look good. Remember, you are never supposed to draw attention away from her. When people take notice of what you are wearing, their first thoughts should be, ‘Of course, he has to look good in order to be with her!’ If you are walking, eating, dancing, or standing at the bar, you always need to make her look good.”

“Thank you for the advice. I will definitely follow it.”

In a way, it was exactly the same as the studio. When I took pictures of a model, my purpose was always to make my model look good. Perfect. I’d definitely keep that in mind about dating.

I also picked up flowers while I was in town. Sunday was Mothers’ Day. I’d hesitated before I ordered them and Dad said he would pay for the flower for Mom if I’d just pick it up for him. It was a special time for them. He always got her a red rose corsage. He suggested it would be nice if I got a flower for my sister and I agreed. It was easy to choose pink carnations for her. My hesitation wasn’t over that. My hesitation was in the other flower I bought.

Patricia was due the 20th of July. She would become a mother. I talked to Miss Ludwig and she looked up the flower for that month from one of the huge reference volumes she had at hand. I’d ordered a Larkspur corsage for Patricia and asked if I could pick her up for church on Sunday morning.

She was thrilled that I’d take her to church and truly looked beautiful in a jumper dress that was fitted at her shoulders and bustline, but fell in a kind of A-shape from there over her baby bump. It came only to a little below mid-thigh, showing her beautiful legs down to her three-inch pumps. She wore white gloves and a little white bonnet.

“I know if he were here, Tony would have given you a flower for Mothers’ Day,” I told her. “So, don’t think of this as being from me. I’m just doing this on his behalf.”

“Thank you, Nate. It’s so beautiful. Uncle Sam took my husband away from me, but God gave me a wonderful friend.”

Dad had prepared dinner and Patricia joined us. Kat tried to wait on her hand and foot, but Patricia giggled and had her sit down so they could talk. She wanted to see Kat’s latest paintings and Kat proudly displayed them as we sat on the couch. I looked over Patricia’s shoulder and caught my breath when we saw Lady Godiva.

I knew the horse well. In fact, the scene was in Kat’s room, as much of the background as was filled in. The emphasis was on the beautiful nude girl sitting side-saddle on the horse with long hair falling to conceal obviously budding breasts. And it wasn’t a self-portrait. Patricia and I could both recognize the model as Christine’s little sister, Julie.

“It’s not like a photograph,” Kat explained. “Julie sat for me for the longest time. She’s such a good model. But I don’t need a model release and there is no penalty for painting a picture of a girl who is underage.”

I couldn’t help but think of Sandra, just a year or so older than Julie. Julie would be a freshman next year. I’d seen enough and went to help Dad put dinner on the table.

“Your sister is turning into quite an artist,” Patricia said when we reached the studio.

“Yes. That picture was quite a surprise.”

“If Julie is sitting like that for what must have been hours to paint a portrait like that, I’m sure she’d sit for you to photograph her.”

“No. Oh, no, no, no. Not only no because she’s Christine’s sister, but no fourteen-year-old in my studio unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. No, no, no.”

“My. That sounds like a sensitive topic. I won’t pursue it. It was only kind of a joke anyway. I can hardly wait to hear what Chris says when she sees it, though. You know, there is going to be a small section in the gallery devoted to your sister’s paintings, don’t you?”

“No! I didn’t know that. I mean, that’s fine. I’m good with it. Kat deserves to have her paintings seen. I hope she’ll enter one or two in the fair this summer. I just didn’t know there was a section of the gallery for her. That’s great!”

“It was suggested by your art teacher when she found out what we were planning for your exhibition. Miss Sullivan was all over the idea. Help me out of the jumper. I feel so helpless sometimes.”

I took a couple of pictures of her in her Easter dress and then gladly helped remove her clothes. I spent a while just massaging her back before we started taking the usual photos of her progress. Then she wanted a photo holding her Mothers’ Day flower over her baby bump. It was one of the first of her progress photos in which she was truly smiling.

The last two weeks of school included final exams and a mad flurry to get the display of photos and paintings ready in the studio. None of this work, sadly, took place in the nude.

I did, however, have a photo reservation from Chicago for Saturday the eighteenth. Brittany Fleck called in a rush to get photos for her portfolio. Chris and Anna agreed to help. I have to say my attitude wasn’t great going into this one. We still had a week of school and Miss Sullivan was working with Donna, Grace, and several other girls to hang my photos in the second floor gallery. Dad and Jim Kowalski had built display boards that would be in the center of the room, creating an aisle on either side. Chris and Anna wanted to get down there as Chris had been in charge of the captions and Anna was my yearbook coordinator.

I suppose Brittany was no more difficult than any other of the models I’d had from Chicago. I just felt rushed the entire time we were working. My own attitude probably reflected on my opinion of her.

“Hi, I’m Brittany Fleck. Abe Lawrence told me I needed to see you and you’d turn me into a work of art,” she said by way of introduction. She’d carted at least a dozen outfits and a suitcase up the stairs with her.

“Well, that all depends. I’ll try to find the work of art within you, but it comes by inspiration, not by demand. Sometimes there just isn’t a work of art to reveal.”

“You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you!” she said.

“No. I’m just the guy who pushes the button on the camera. I’ll try to make sure you’re in focus.”

She grabbed my shoulder and spun me to face her. I flinched, expecting a slap on the face. Instead, I got a face full of face as she pressed her lips against mine and insisted on entrance with her tongue.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now,” she said as she broke off the kiss. “But maybe now you can focus you on me.”

“You should know that I don’t mix sex with the studio and I don’t screw around with models,” I said.

“So I’ve heard. When I showed my portfolio to Abe, he told me it was flat and uninspiring. I’d just paid three hundred dollars for it and was pissed. I brought it along so you could see what the other so-called photographer did. Then Abe pointed me at another model and told me to look at her portfolio. It was stunning. Her name is Lori Reynolds and she said she was one of your girls. Apparently, you have more than one girlfriend, huh? Abe said he planned to work with you when you move to Chicago, but if I wanted to be considered to model for his agency, I should come to Tenbrook and get the Attic Allure treatment,” she said.

“Lori isn’t my girlfriend. She showed you her portfolio?” I asked.

“Yeah. I almost cried. I’d done young teen modeling for the Law-Reims Agency and to have Abe Lawrence tell me my portfolio was flat and wouldn’t get me adult jobs there, ripped me up. You and I both have a lot riding on this. I need a portfolio like Lori’s. And you need to show Abe that you are really who he wants to work with in Chicago.”

Well, that certainly put it in perspective. I shook my head.

“Really, Brittany, I’ll do my best. But making artwork is more than just lighting and exposures. It’s based on the kind of connection we can make. How we work together. It took Lori and me months to put her portfolio together. A dozen sittings. You’re asking me to do it in a day. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“We should get started, then. For the record, Lori said to just put myself into your hands and let you work. Literally. So, I accept your hands as part of the deal of working with you.”

“We’ll start with a good portrait,” I said. “Chris, can you touch up Brittany’s makeup and hair for a portrait shot? Anna, we’ll start with the light blue backdrop.”

“Yes, Mr. Hart,” both girls chimed. I honestly don’t know how they managed to do that without busting out in giggles. Ten minutes later, Brittany was seated on the stool and I took a full range of portraits, including going for a more dramatic serious pose with high contrast.

From that point on, we got in a flow of working together. Chris and Anna helped in more ways than getting scenery and makeup. They talked to Brittany as much as I did.

“How is Lori?” Anna asked at one point.

“She said it had been a slow start, but she’s getting jobs pretty regularly now. I just loved the high contrast picture of her looking down at her boobs. Um ... If Nate isn’t her boyfriend, who is? She said she had a boyfriend in Tenbrook.”

“I didn’t know Lori had a boyfriend here,” Chris said.

“Oh, yeah. I broke up with Nate over that picture of Lori’s boobs,” Anna said. “Terrible decision. I’m glad he let me come back to work at the studio. Let’s undo another button before this shot. We’re getting into the sexy Attic Allure style now. Here. Hold this like you just won it.”

She shoved the little porcelain goddess statue into Brittany’s hands and the look of puzzlement on her face as she looked at it was priceless.

“I’ve been getting little hints of your breasts and legs all the way to your waist. Are you ready to take it further?” I whispered to her as we reset.

She pulled my hands to her breasts and took a deep breath, which really filled my hands.

“I’m in your hands,” she said. “Whatever part of me you want to touch or photograph. Mold me.”

I did. I undressed her right there in the studio as Anna and Chris looked on. I directed the black backdrop be brought out. I’d taken a dozen photos by the time I had Brittany naked and I stopped to change film. She was a little bewildered, standing in the middle of the drop naked while I ignored her.

“One of the things about Nate is that he does focus. I’ve seen where this is going and he’s not going to use any props for this next roll of film, I’m sure of it,” Chris said. “You are beautiful and he is going to capture every curve of your body like no one has seen it before.”

“No one’s ever seen my body like this before,” Brittany said. “About the no sex in the studio thing. Is that for real or is he going to crawl between my legs next?”

“No sex,” Anna said firmly. “But if he crawls between your legs, you can bet what he photographs will be a work of art.”

“I should dry off a little so I don’t drip on the backdrop.”

I tried a few different positions on the black backdrop, kneeling, standing, lying on her side, lying on her stomach. I wasn’t getting the kind of depth and contrast I wanted. I asked her to sit. In my experience, most girls flatten out a bit when they lie on their back. Most teens who haven’t lost a lot of weight don’t suffer too much from breast flattening because they’ve just grown there and the breast is only barely large enough to contain the fat cells within it. Brittany was definitely in the upper percentile in terms of breast size, but they only sagged a tiny bit. Inspiration hit me.

I sat beside her and looked into her eyes to see if the trust I thought we had built was really there. I liked what I saw. I put my arms around her, much to her surprise.

“Just lean back into my arms,” I said. “I’m going to lay you back and I want you to put your elbows down to support yourself when they touch the floor.” I kept one hand behind her back and moved the other under her thighs. “Now let’s raise the knees. Bring your legs back. Keep your toes on the floor. Nice. Nice.”

I ran my hand up and down the back of her thigh and then down the front. I continued across her breasts until I had a hand behind her head. I leaned in to give her a little kiss, holding our lips together, but not getting our tongues involved. When I pulled back, she smiled at me.

“That’s it. That smile. Hold this position and keep your focus where my face is now. Where your imaginary lover is.”

I moved to the camera and took a shot, then adjusted the lights. I lit the backdrop under her well enough that I could see her shadow against a not quite so black floor. I moved a light behind her head with the beam shining down her body and took another shot. It still wasn’t quite right. I went back to her and sat next to her.

“How are you doing?” I asked as I supported her in my arms again. “Too tiring?”

“I can hold the position okay. It’s hardest holding my head up and not looking like I’m straining. I assume I look like it since I am,” she laughed.

“Let’s do something about that. Chris, hairbrush,” I said. She was right there. “Brittany, I’m going to lean your head back. Just relax into my hand as we go back. Chris, smooth the hair so it falls straight to the floor. Right there, Brittany. I won’t keep you in this position too long.” I started to move away as Chris finished arranging her hair. Then I moved back. “We’re going to put your full weight on your elbows, not your forearms,” I instructed. I lifted her hands and placed them over her breasts. They barely reached the nipples, but obscured them so they weren’t obvious. “Light touch,” I said, demonstrating by lightly rubbing her nipples between her fingers. She moaned. “Hold it! Right there!”

I moved to the camera and got the first picture. I had to adjust that downlight slightly so it accented the curves of her chin, breasts, and thighs. I had to bring the temperature down and lengthen the exposure time. Each adjustment I made, I snapped another picture until I finished the twelfth exposure. I rushed to her and slid my hands under her and behind her head as I lifted her back to a seated position and held her against my chest.

She worked her neck around a little and then lifted her lips to mine. I let this kiss get deeper and dared to caress her breasts as we kissed.

“Well done,” I whispered. “I think we got the shot.”

“If you’re not going to fuck me now, you should let me go get dressed. I don’t think I can stay like this without wanting more.”

I lifted her up to her feet and she rather dazedly headed for the dressing room. Chris went with her to help support her as she dressed. I handed the last roll of film to Anna and she labeled it.

“I could see it taking shape,” she said. “Poor girl. Even I wanted to come. Do you think you got it?”

“I think so. Only the darkroom will tell.”

It did tell. While Chris took Brittany to the second floor to tour my exhibit being installed, Anna came into the darkroom with me and helped process the film as I started printing the proof sheets as quickly as she had the film developed. We worked well together and shared a lot of kisses while we worked.

Brittany loved the proofs and chose enough to completely replenish her portfolio. I promised her that I would get them printed and sent to her yet this week, which disappointed her. She’d been hoping she could take them all with her. I’m just not a machine. Besides, that last art piece was going to take some special work in the darkroom to really bring out what was there.

She took off, saying she had a motel room in Fulton for the night so she wouldn’t be driving late. She gave me a deep and soulful kiss before she left and said she’d look forward to seeing me in Chicago. If this Abe fellow was serious about using me for some shoots, I supposed it was possible.

As soon as she was gone and Chris and I could get free, we hopped in the bus and took off south. It was a two-and-a-half-hour drive to Peoria and we stopped for dinner along the way. It was almost dark by the time we reached Bradley University, where Christine planned to study in the fall. I was impressed.

“They’ve got a new school of business and I’ve been accepted. I’m going to learn something and I’m going to make a difference,” she said proudly.

“I believe in you, Christine. I believe you will make a difference. You’ve already made a huge difference in my life,” I said.

“Hmm. There’s a big park a couple of blocks from here. I’m sure there’s someplace we can set up the tent and sleep and stuff.”

“I’m big into the stuff part,” I laughed.

“Yeah! Stuff me!”

We found an out of the way parking area that looked like no one would bother us and quickly set up the tent next to the bus. There were restrooms up a little path and then we just snuggled into our cozy bed and attempted to screw our eyes out. Anna and I had three nights and two full days to make love in the bus and Chris wanted to have just as much in our one overnight. We didn’t succeed, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time I thought about sliding into Christine’s hot pussy, I started to stiffen again. I don’t think anything actually came out the last time I came.