Chapter 17: Team Building

I GOT LEORA’S FILM processed Sunday morning after I’d had a lovely brunch with Beth. She was meeting her study group in the afternoon and I was meeting Leanne Kim in the studio to discuss whether she would be a good fit for becoming an assistant to replace Leora.

I had no particular opinion one way or another. Leanne was in my lighting class and was a technical theatre major. She said she was specializing in makeup, but I knew stage makeup could be very different than glamour makeup. I didn’t want to think of all my models coming out looking like they had painted faces. Still, it was going to be an interesting afternoon just photographing an Asian woman for the first time.

“Welcome to Attic Allure, Leanne.”

“So formal. Okay, thank you. I have the model release you asked for.” She handed me the page and I looked at her signature.

“Uh ... Can you write this in English? I’m sorry to sound prejudiced, but I don’t read Korean,” I said.

“Damn. I thought I’d slip that by on you,” she laughed. She took the paper from me and printed a name below it. “I’m not making fun of you. This is the direct translation of my name. Kim Young-Li. That’s the way it appears on my birth certificate, but it’s likely that the doctor or whoever didn’t understand the last word. Korean natives like my parents have difficulty distinguishing between ‘r’ and ‘l’. Young-Ri would mean ‘Eternal Village.’ Don’t ask me why.”

“You don’t seem to have any difficulty with it. In fact, I never noticed much of an accent at all,” I said.

“I was born and raised in Indiana. It’s taken me twenty years to get rid of the Hoosier accent,” she said.

“So how did you get Leanne out of this name?”

“School. My school had never seen a Korean before. When my mother gave them my name, she gave it this way, ‘Kim Young-Li.’ But in Korean, the surname comes first. Not in Indiana! The principal of the school explained that in America the names had to be in the opposite order. So, my mother, being quite a literalist, rewrote the whole thing in reverse, ‘Li-Young Kim.’ It took until second grade for a teacher to be too impatient to pronounce Li-Young and start calling me Leanne. I’ve been Leanne ever since. Even though my legal name is still Kim Young-Li.”

“Wow! That is so unfair. I suppose it’s not uncommon for people with foreign names to get them changed. Would you prefer that I call you Young-Li?” I asked. I had no idea what proper etiquette would be.

“No! Even my parents call me Leanne now. I’ll probably get it legally changed soon. It just seemed like a lot of work to go through after I managed to convince the license examiner that it was really Young-Li Kim. When I turn 21, I’ll petition to have my name legally changed. It will be my coming-of-age gift to myself,” she said.

“You’ve got a great attitude toward it. I’m sure I’d be pissed if it happened to me. I had enough trouble with teachers trying to call me Nathaniel or Nathan. My birth certificate just says Nate,” I laughed. “So, here’s how we’ll work. I start with most models by doing a portrait. Nearly everyone could use a nice portrait and it gets us working together. I’ll shift you to different positions and adjust lighting and we’ll get used to each other. Do you have a different top you’d like to change into for your formal portrait?”

Leanne was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans that had straps over the front. They didn’t have a bib, but otherwise, they looked like farmer jeans.

“I didn’t bring anything else with me. I just figured you were going to undress me anyway,” she giggled.

“Oh, I am,” I said. I think she was a little surprised that I just said that. “First, we should have a nice blouse or sweater for your portrait. Let me see what we’ve got.”

The girls had done a good job of organizing the costumes and clothes. I thought that was mostly Leora’s doing and was one more reason I’d miss her. I contemplated a couple of blouses and held them up to Leanne as she followed me along the rack of clothes. Then I found one with an overlapping front that created a vee with buttons up each side.

“This will be nice. Come over behind the privacy screen,” I said.

I went behind the privacy screen and Leanne followed me. I hung the blouse and then turned and unfastened the straps on her jeans, then started unbuttoning the flannel shirt.

“You’re just going to undress me? Why did we bother to come behind the privacy screen?” she asked as she watched in disbelief as I worked her buttons.

“I’ve had models who just strip out in the stage area, but I like to have the illusion of privacy and to have a place to hang up clothes as we discard them.” I took her shirt and hung it on the rack, then pulled the blouse around her. “That’s a very pretty bra, you’re wearing. I think it might show a little through this blouse. It will be a nice accent.”

The blouse was just a little big for her, but I pulled it back and tucked it in, then looked to see how nicely it stretched across her boobs. Leanne referred to herself once as fat, and she probably carried a few more pounds than necessary. But her boobs weren’t overly huge and when I got her to sit up straight, you couldn’t see the roll that hung over her waistline.

“Now, sit right up here,” I said as I turned on lights. “It’s pretty standard to use the light blue backdrop for portraits, though I think we’ll get into something more dramatic when we reach the Attic Allure photos. I want you sitting up straight. Head tilted just slightly to your right. Chin up. Good!”

I went to the camera and took our first shot, then returned to her and fussed at repositioning her, changing the lighting slightly, and touching her shoulders and her hands. By the time we were finished with the portrait, we were working pretty well together. I’d asked her to freshen her lipstick and suggested a little more eyeliner. I didn’t think she was wearing much of any makeup when she came in.

“Let’s go back behind the privacy screen again,” I said, taking her hand. She came with me quickly and I began unbuttoning the blouse. “I’m seeing some great possibilities for your Attic Allure glamour shot. You’ve got beautiful features. And I love your bra. Did you wear matching panties?” I asked as I unbuttoned the jeans. She kicked her tennis shoes off as I pulled down the pants and took them off her feet.

“Yes. Obviously,” she said.

“Oh, yes. Very pretty. Now have a seat here in front of the makeup mirror. I’d like you to apply your makeup. You brought makeup, right?”

“Yes, of course. I thought I was auditioning for a job as a makeup artist.”

“You are, in part. I’m going to want your experience with costumes, lighting, and props, too. But first, I’d like you to do a couple of things with your makeup. I’d like you to deepen your eyes just a little, and shape your cheeks so they slope in beneath your cheekbones just a little more. Don’t exaggerate it. Then let’s lighten your lipstick a little and shape your brows upward slightly. I’m going to brush out your hair a bit and pull the bangs off your forehead. Can you take care of the makeup?”

“I think I see what you want. Do you get this detailed with every model?” she asked as I brushed her hair and she sorted out her makeup.

“No. Once I know that we are communicating and you can see what I’m going for, I’ll just say things like, ‘Give me a little more drama,’ or ‘Bedroom eyes.’ When I had Rose in a few weeks ago for the performance review, I was calling out instructions to the crew like, ‘Blue,’ ‘I need a dungeon,’ or just ‘food!’ Rose said I was like some magician she knew named The Amazing Ballantine. My assistants just went about making the illusion happen. I really love them all.”

“Do you think you’ll love me, too?” Leanne asked as she bent to the task of applying her makeup. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently massaged her.

“I have no doubt. Just remember, no sex in the studio.”

She snorted and I laughed.

“I’m going to get the bed ready for your next scene,” I said.

“Moving right along now,” she said as she worked on her makeup.

I pulled the red background and rolled the daybed into the scene. I went through the various bedding we had and pulled a copper-colored satin sheet set and several pillows. I reset the lights for a romantic bedroom scene.

“How’s this, Nate?” she asked, stepping out from behind the screen.

I mostly tried to pay attention to her makeup, but the peach-colored bra and panties were definitely eye-catching. And they weren’t particularly provocative. The bra had a substantial cup and the panties were opaque and cut in a respectable bikini design. I nodded.

“Wait right there,” I said. I ran to the clothes rack and found a chiffon peignoir that was a close match for the color of her underwear. I slipped it over her arms and nodded. “Ah, where to begin? Let’s start with you lying on your tummy.”

We started there and it didn’t take all that long to go through another roll of film. While I was changing the film, I continued to look at Leanne. Lying on her side with her head propped in her hand, she looked inviting, but her right boob was nearly out of the bra, dragged toward the center by the sheer weight.

“You know,” I said, sitting on the bed beside her, “this beautiful boob is about to fall out of your bra.” I stroked across her breast. “I think we should set it free.” I reached behind her and unfastened the bra. I helped her sit up so she could take off the peignoir and then the bra, but I had her put the peignoir back on. “Now, let’s see if we can get you in the same position with this beautiful breast out where we can see it.”

“It’s kind of floppy,” she said. I could see the hint of a blush as I stroked her breast and played with the nipple a little.

“I don’t think anyone could look at the photo I’m about to take and not want to just hold it and caress it. Let’s make sure that nipple is nice and hard and take the first picture.”

In the course of the next few pictures, I got her panties off of her, too. The shot of her on her knees looking straight at me was wonderful. All this time, though, I kept the bit of chiffon over her with her nipples peeking through it.

“I’d like to change sets again,” I said. “Fortunately, the bed rolls. When I use the sofa, I need someone to help me lift it. We’ll do a set on the sofa some other time. I want to use the chair for now. You’re really proving to be a most photogenic model.”

“I can’t believe what you are getting me to do,” she said, standing and waiting for me to move the bed and bring the chair.

Before setting the chair, I pulled down the black backdrop. Once the chair was in position, facing to the side, I went back to Leanne and pulled the bit of chiffon off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then I picked her up and carried her to the chair, much as I’d done with the CP model, Emily, over a year ago. She wrapped her arms around my neck and when I bent to place her in the chair, she kept my face there and kissed me softly. I was in a perfect position to pet and play with her breasts while we kissed.

Then I moved her into position so she was curled in the chair and leaning against the arm looking toward the camera. I liberally petted her back and bottom as I positioned her hand under her chin.

“Now give me an expression of contemplation. Keep your head here: three-quarters front. Cast your eyes in my direction. Good. Now, tell me what you are contemplating. You have just a hint of a smile. I like that. What’s going through your mind?”

“I’m wondering if sex with you could possibly be as good as modeling for you,” she said. I got the picture.

“Well, sweetheart,” I said as I returned to the chair to pick her up and carry her behind the privacy screen. I sat down with her in my lap and kissed her again. “Perhaps one day, we’ll both find out. But this is pretty much as far as sex in the studio goes. As my assistant, I don’t want you thinking that whenever you come to work, you have to put out ... or that I do.”

“I’m happy with this for now,” she said, pulling my head down so I could kiss and suck her nipples. I had a hand resting between her thighs and she spread her legs wider to give me access. I parted the bush of pubic hair and glided across her clit. It took only a few moments for her to throw her head back and sigh as her legs clamped my hand in place.

“It’s time to dress and we’ll talk about whether you’d like to become an assistant.”

I went out and retrieved her bra and panties for her. Then, because I’m a gentleman, I helped her put them back on.

“I do like the work environment here,” she sighed.

Most of my classes the next week were review of material from the rest of the term. It was good that most of the professors weren’t introducing new material, but I still had major papers due for Writing and Rhetoric and for World History. I’d lugged Mom’s old manual typewriter to Chicago with me and was seriously considering using some of my leftover student loan to buy an electric. There was no sense in spending extra money now. It really didn’t look like I’d need a loan for my second year. I’d paid most of my expenses out of my own funds and had brought in a pretty healthy income already this year.

The big project for the class of ‘69 had all been handled and billed in December and January. Thirty-six members of the class, including all the girls, had paid for an Attic Allure photo session, and most ended up with an order of fifty dollars or more. That was in addition to collecting a $15 fee for every member of the class for their yearbook photo. I’d been managing two or three professional sittings a week in the Chicago studio and most of them were paid sittings with sale of extra prints. Even those that signed model releases so I didn’t charge for the sitting, ended up buying an average of twenty prints.

Cassie collected whatever was owed in Chicago and made deposits. Patricia collected for all the sittings in Tenbrook and made deposits. Anna consolidated the accounting and made sure my bills were paid.

Now, I was concerned about getting a team together that would accompany me to Las Vegas during the hottest month of the year. And I was going to meet directly with a representative of my patrons on Thursday evening to go over what would be included and expected. The only representatives of the patrons I’d ever met were Uncle Nate and Levi. I really didn’t even know who the patrons were.

They had never directly paid me money. I guess that’s weird, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d gotten a new camera, new lenses, two full darkroom setups, and a space in Camera Warehouse for a studio with a ton of props and scenery and costumes. Nearly all my photographic supplies, including film, paper, and chemicals were billed at wholesale. I couldn’t complain about any of that. And most of my models came by referral from my patrons. Levi said more were coming on reputation now instead of direct referral, but they got it all started.

I was wondering how they were going to handle a month of work and people in Las Vegas.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hart. I’m Donald Garfield. Please call me Don. Mr. Mayer, it’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Don,” I said as we shook hands. “Please call me Nate. I’m glad to meet someone who can put a little reality to all the ideas I’ve been presented with.”

“I’m going to do that, but first, let’s get some food on the table. Why don’t we start with Italian sausage and peppers. Maybe prosciutto with burrata.”

He didn’t really wait for agreement, but flagged the waiter and ordered that with a round of drinks. The waiter carefully did not look at me.

Uncle Nate had instructed me on dressing for the evening. I had a nice sport coat and slacks on with a tie. I’d brushed my hair back and trimmed my mustache off my lip. Yeah, I didn’t start out to grow long hair and a beard, I just never got around to getting a haircut or shaving. Mom had asked if I was becoming a hippie. I said I thought you had to play guitar to be a hippie.

“Now, this restaurant has been around since 1941. It’s the best steakhouse in Chicago, though if you prefer, they do a pretty good Italian Casoncelli. Personally, though, I recommend the Porterhouse. You look like you could eat a cow. Growing boy. I love it. The Porterhouse is 28 ounces and those in the know order it charred rare.”

He was a real talker and I just agreed with his suggestion. Uncle Nate had one, too, so I figured it was okay to order the most expensive thing on the menu. I tried to pace myself with the drinks. I’d never had a Manhattan and decided I’d let it pass after a few sips. But there was wine with the meal and Don didn’t seem inclined to get down to business too fast. I was thinking of Ronda coming in on Saturday and heading to Tenbrook for Mother’s Day.

“Well, let’s have a little smoke before dessert,” Don said. “Can I get you a cigar?”

I declined and pulled out my pipe. I was still pretty new at smoking a pipe, but felt it gave me an air of sophistication. I’d been to the Iwan Ries Tobacco shop after Christmas and got a nice Dr. Grabow pipe and their Three Star Blue tobacco. I managed to get stoked up as Don and Uncle Nate cut cigars and sat back with whiskey. I requested black coffee.

“Now, Nate, you’re probably asking yourself why I’m treating you like royalty for dinner tonight. It’s simple. We want you to work on a movie with us. We aren’t asking you to become an actor or a writer. We’ve got a movie idea and have created a production company. Dinner tonight is on the company’s dime,” he said.

“What kind of movie?”

“I can’t go into a lot of detail, but we’re talking a big budget production with A-list stars. Here’s how this works. A guy—I can’t tell you who—sees you at work. He’s fascinated by the whole thing. So, he calls a guy who has written a few movie scripts. He tells him about what an interesting subject the whole process of art photography is. The writer gets excited and puts together a pitch. The two guys go to see a producer and give him the pitch, then there’s three guys excited about it. Of course, the producer has to pitch it to the money. And when the money gets excited, we all hit the jackpot.”

“But I don’t know who any of these guys are,” I said.

“Oh, you’ll meet most of them eventually. That’s part of what this whole Las Vegas gig is about. We could have pulled it together in Hollywood, but the money is in Vegas. So, if you’ll join us, Photosensitive Productions—that’s the name of the company—wants you to spend a month in Vegas, just doing what you do. We’ll get models, a studio, and I understand you like to work with junk, so we’ll get lots of junk for you, too. And for a month, we’ll just observe you and your crew to absorb the process and watch you work. The observers will include the writer and producer, maybe a director if we’ve got one by then, and anyone we think needs to see the source material.”

“That sounds like you guys will be going to a lot of expense and effort to get background for a movie. Is that usual?”

“No. Not at all. But the money in this instance is a little eccentric. He wants to have something that is as close to reality as we can make it—as far as the atmosphere goes. He’s so enthused that he’s given us a pre-production budget of half a million dollars. You’re part of that.”

“Wow!” That all seemed like a bunch of hand waving to me. Who’d ever pay that kind of money to make a movie about photography?

“So, here’s your part of the budget. You’ll get paid $200 a day for every day you work—and that includes travel days. Your assistants, and you can bring up to a dozen of them, will get $100 a day they work. I’m saying a day that you work because you’ll be in Vegas for a month and no one is expecting you to work every day. But, it’s up to thirty days if you work that hard. You’ll have transportation, lodging, and food provided. My understanding is that you and your crew are pretty tight, so we’re arranging a suite of rooms in the Sands tower. Nice place, but not a high roller suite. Still, there should be plenty of room for twelve people in the six bedrooms.”

“The Sands? Isn’t that the famous home of the Rat Pack?” I asked.

“We don’t talk about that. They’re gone. Sinatra is at Caesar’s now. The new owner of the Sands doesn’t get along with Sinatra. So, each day there will be a driver and a bus to get you to and from your studio. You’ll work in an empty theater in the Arts District that is dark for the summer. Once we have your agreement, your man Levi will direct locating the kind of junk you like to have, but there is also a bunch of theatre crap stored in the place. Scenery, props, costumes, you name it.”

“That sounds like it would work. Lights?” I asked.

“Levi will make sure you are equipped with lighting that will let you do what you do best.”

Six thousand dollars for a month’s work. That was amazing. Of course, that was only if we worked every day for thirty days. It was still a lot of money.

“What about the models?”

“This is the best part of the deal. Not only will you be paid to do the work on behalf of the production company, you will have model releases from all the models and rights to their images. If they want copies of the photos, they get them straight from you.”