Chapter 7: Model Behavior

I HAD ONE MORE PHOTO appointment Saturday morning before I could take off for Chicago. At 7:30 in the morning, Sandra showed up at the studio for her bi-monthly photo record.

“Good morning. How are you this morning, Sandra?” I asked when she came in and slipped her shoes off. She carried a portfolio of her pictures, but no suitcase. She didn’t change clothes during our sessions, she simply took them all off.

“I think I’m hysterical!” she giggled.

“What makes you so funny?” I asked.

“No, not hysterical as in funny, but hysterical as in out of control or something.”

“Tell me what’s up, Sandra.”

“Take my clothes off me and pet me and touch me like you’d be ready to make love, and I’ll tell you all about hysteria.”

“Sandra, if I take the clothes off a lover, I always kiss her.”

“Would you? Please? I don’t know anything at all about kissing. Let me get my notebook first.”

She got the notebook and set it on the fainting couch beside us, but she never picked it up after I started kissing her. She got lost in the experience and I tried to make it as good for her as I could, while also getting her clothes off her. I think by the time she was naked, she was also ready to come.

“Wow! Kissing is really distracting. I didn’t even notice you were taking my clothes off me and here I am sitting in your arms completely naked and wanting you to just keep going,” she said.

“I have a girlfriend who didn’t want to kiss until she was seventeen, and even then, thought she’d wait until she’d found the man she wanted to marry. When she finally kissed the first time, she said kissing made a girl want to do lots of other things.”

“She’s right about that. While we were kissing, I wanted you to touch my breasts and do that thing you do to my nipples. I wanted you to suck on them and put your hand between my legs. I wanted to feel you enter me and push your cock in and out. All that while we were kissing.”

“Well, we’re not going to do all that. We’re going to take your pictures like we always do and make sure we get the best ones possible.”

“Okay. Thank you for giving me that experience. I’ll have to write it down when we’re finished.”

She got in the first position and we went through the set, as I commented on any differences I saw. She confirmed that she’d gotten taller as well as gaining five pounds since I last saw her.

“And you never told me about why you were hysterical,” I said as she laid back on the couch for the shot of her pussy. I arranged lights and then spent a minute stroking her pussy and opening its petals for her to hold for the photo.

“According to a journal of women’s medicine Miss Ludwig gave me, until recently, nearly every malady a woman had was described by doctors—male doctors, of course—as hysteria. One doctor in the 1800s had compiled a list of seventy-five pages of symptoms that he called ‘a partial list.’ As far back as Hippocrates, the Greek that said ‘First do no harm,’ the opinion was that the woman’s uterus traveled around inside her body and if it touched something, it could cause pain or irregular behavior.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Doctors believed an organ in the body could travel around inside? That’s so ridiculous!”

“Is my vagina different? I know I’m highly lubricated after our kisses and your touching of me when we opened my lips. Can you readily tell a difference?”

“Well, the most obvious difference is that your hymen is gone. The pictures we took right after we broke it didn’t really show what I’m seeing now. Now, I can clearly see the depth of your vagina. I mean, of course, not all the way down in, but the hymen blocked the view even a little way into the vagina. Now I can clearly see the texture and the darkness of the passage into your body.”

“I can hardly wait to see the pictures and compare them. How many girls do you think have been able to look at a picture of before and after her hymen has been broken? I’m very excited. Which I suppose is another symptom of hysteria.”

“Being excited?”

“Let’s see. The list of symptoms of hysteria included heart, liver, and lung problems, headaches, epilepsy, and paralysis. A woman might be diagnosed with hysteria for sleeping too much, sleeping too little, becoming disinterested in a topic or obsessively interested in a topic, not caring, caring too much, high libido, low libido, being too quiet or being too talkative. ‘I have an idea!’ ‘You’re being hysterical’,” she mocked a female and male in conversation.

“That’s all truly frightening.”

“Oh, the best part is the treatment!”

“How can you possibly have a single treatment for all those things?”

“Because doctors didn’t want to treat the symptom, they wanted to treat the disease: hysteria.”

“And how did they treat this obviously made-up disease? I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous.” On the other hand, I’d finished taking pictures, but was still looking at Sandra’s vagina in fascination. What a beautiful thing!

“Vigorous pelvic massage,” Sandra said. I looked up at her and she was suppressing her giggles. “The doctor put his finger in her vagina and massaged it until she had an orgasm! And since they only believed the orgasmic response was from vaginal stimulation and did not necessarily stimulate the clitoris, doctors were stuck with a finger in a woman’s pussy for as long as four hours before she finally came.”

“Oh, my God!” I said. “I mean, I can think of worse things than putting my finger in a woman’s vagina, but four hours? I’d think she would be bruised and hysterical by then.”

“No doubt. But ... um ... I find that simply putting my finger in my vagina is not remotely stimulating. I’m wondering if you could attempt it for me. Although, you can feel free to rub my clit as well. I think the real purpose is to get to the orgasm.”

“You want me to put my finger in you and masturbate you?”

“Yes, doctor. I believe I am quite turned on and well lubricated. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Please?”

I had a perfectly delectable fifteen-year-old lying on the fainting couch with her legs spread wide so I could see into her vagina asking me to finger fuck her to orgasm. It was not a proposition I was inclined to refuse. It did seem a little clinical, though. I ran my finger through her lubrication and smeared it around her opening and up around her clitoris.

“Oh! I find that simply having your fingers touching my clitoris is far more exciting than using my own. I might need this treatment regularly.”

“If you do, you will need to find yourself a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend,” I said gently. Still, I was about to stick my finger in this virgin’s pussy. I shifted my position so that I was sitting more beside her instead of between her legs. I didn’t need to see for this next part. I slid my finger down and very slowly began to enter her slippery passage, giving her plenty of opportunity to say no if she wanted. She did not. I’d found through dumb luck and experimentation that my girlfriends all liked to have the top of their vagina stimulated, so I thrust my finger in and out a few times and then started focusing on stroking that spot on the roof of her vagina as she obviously ramped up for a major orgasm. When I put my other hand on her breast, she moaned louder. When it looked like she was about to come, I leaned forward and sucked her nipple into my mouth, lashing it with my tongue as I stimulated her clitoris and her vagina.

She gasped a lungful of air, shook all over for about thirty seconds and passed out.

Patricia and Toni spent the night in the back of the bus with me. It was interesting to quietly make love so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. Of course, that didn’t work the other way around. When Toni was awake, no one slept.

Nonetheless, we were like a happy family sitting in church Sunday morning. I held Toni all the way through the service and she just slept in my arms. We went over to the parsonage for lunch with my family. Dad had a lasagna in the oven and a huge garden fresh salad on the table. We had a nice conversation and I packed all my belongings in the van to go to Chicago.

“You still have a home here,” Mom said. “Don’t feel that you even need to let us know when you are coming home. You have a key and a room here.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, hugging her. “You know I still have my studio here. I’ll be coming back and forth on some weekends. I just need to get settled in my classes and learn the routine there.”

“No fair,” Kat said. “I have to start school tomorrow. You have another week of summer.”

“I know Levi has appointments set up for me,” I said. “It’s not like I’ll be on vacation. Now come with us to the studio so I can be sure you know how to operate the camera for both Toni and Patricia’s weekly photos.”

Kat was enthused about that. She still worshiped Patricia and was completely enamored with Toni. We went to the studio and Patricia got Toni ready for her six-week photo. Toni had a stuffed bear more or less under her arm, but the little girl didn’t really hold it yet. Then Patricia undressed and I had Kat focus and shoot my old 35. She did a good job.

“Um ... Patricia? Um ... Could you pose for me?” Kat asked, pointing to her little corner of the studio.

“Sure, honey. It’s probably a good thing for you to have different models and not always be drawing Julie,” Patricia said.

“Julie’s been so nice about posing. And she even studies the poses in the book Miss Ludwig found for us. I’ve noticed that some of Nate’s Attic Allure photos look like they were posed right out of the book, too.”

“A lot of classic poses have endured because they speak to something inside us,” I said. “It makes no difference what the medium is.” I kissed Toni and put her down in the bassinette.

“Let me kiss my boyfriend goodbye and we’ll pick a pose for you to sketch,” Patricia said.

I kissed her and tried to keep my hands in respectable places since my sister was setting up a few feet away. Then I carried my Nikon, Hasselblad, and a case of film to the microbus and headed toward Chicago.

I spent Sunday night at Elizabeth’s and it was nice to be back in her arms again. We talked and giggled half the night.

“Did those western girls use you all up?” she asked. “I hope there’s a little left for me.”

“Funny, but they all said to save some for them when I’m with you.”

“I think we’re going to have a lot of saving going on when we get started in school next week. I got my schedule and it’s insane. I’ll have to plan time to help in the studio.”

“I got my schedule, too, and I think they try to make sure artists suffer for their art. It bugs me that I still have to take basic liberal arts classes. It seems like I’ve been taking English Comp for four years now,” I said.

“It should be easy this time then. What else do you have?”

“Let’s see. English Comp, Principles of Light, Introduction to Photojournalism, Photo Lab I, World History. I think I just went into thirteenth grade.”

“I think that’s true,” Beth said. “I’ve heard that freshman year is a transitional year. Part of the reason we have some familiar courses is because we should know how to manage them now. No one is standing over us to remind us to do our homework. That means you have to manage your studio time, too.”

“I’ve never been very good at that. I really depended on Anna to keep me from being overbooked.”

“As long as you keep her informed about what you have going on in school, Cassie will help with that. You just need to remember to communicate with her so she knows if you’ve got a big project coming up.”

“I’m nervous about meeting her. I didn’t really have any say in hiring her,” I said.

“Nate, you’d be a much different man than I think you are if you don’t want her the minute you meet her. You’ll see tomorrow. We’ll go into town, move our basics into our rooms and go to Camera Warehouse. You know, your biggest expense this fall is going to be parking your bus. You might want to think about leaving it in Tenbrook and just using the El around Chicago. In a pinch, we can have Deke drive us somewhere,” Beth said.

“I’ll think about it.”

About that time, Elizabeth bit my neck and sent chills down my spine. That started us tickling each other and that led to touching places that were a different kind of ticklish. That led to having my cock deep in her pussy. It was a good night.

“I’d like you to let Deke drive you this morning,” Jordan said. It was unusual to have Elizabeth’s father join us for breakfast when I stayed over. I think I’d only had a couple of meals with him. Nadia came into the kitchen dressed and made up perfectly as always. She poured herself coffee and sat beside Jordan.

“We have all our things to move into student housing,” I started.

“I know you have your hearts set on being independent and getting your things in your new apartments, but there is a lot of unrest downtown. Massive demonstrations Saturday and Sunday with a lot of rabble-rousers arrested,” Jordan continued. “And it’s all centered on Michigan Avenue, right near where your new housing is located.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The Democratic National Convention. The main candidates are staying just around the corner at the Conrad Hilton. Daley has the entire police force on twelve-hour shifts. Never should have brought the convention here in the first place,” Jordan said.

“McCarthy has the most votes. People should be happy about it,” Elizabeth said.

I’d been a supporter of McCarthy since he announced his candidacy. He was the peace candidate. Bobby Kennedy would have been more electable, I suppose, but McCarthy was the one who was standing firm on civil rights and anti-war. Unfortunately, what I had to say was of no consequence. I was eighteen and even though my nineteenth birthday would be before the election, I couldn’t vote until I was twenty-one. They could send me to Vietnam to kill people, or be killed, but I couldn’t vote. Couldn’t even buy a beer.

“The votes won’t count,” Jordan sighed. “Humphrey’s been blessed by the committee and the president. He’ll be the nominee.”

“That’s a sure loss to the Republicans,” I said. “And Nixon has already endorsed McNamara and intends to keep him on. Maybe we’d all be better off with Dick Gregory.”

“At least he admits to being a comedian,” Nadia laughed.

“They say that 10,000 demonstrators have come to protest the convention,” Jordan continued. “You’re eighteen and can make your own decision, but your parents would feel better if you took advantage of having a driver who can help deliver your things and watch over the car while you are registering.”

“My car?” I asked.

“Leave it here for the time being. You can move it when things settle down. As soon as the circus leaves town, everything will be back to normal,” Jordan said.

I looked at Beth and nodded.

“We’ll have to pack up the car with everything,” she said. “And after we get our rooms, we need to go over to Camera Warehouse. Nate has to meet with his people and we’ve got a shoot this afternoon.”

“Thank you for making your parents feel better. Deke will be on call for you all day. If you want to come back home tonight, there’s no shame in that. You don’t need to make the transition all at once,” Nadia said.

It was good to have Deke there, even though we had no problem getting checked into our rooms and moving in. He stood guard over our things as we made trips up and down six flights for Beth’s room and four for mine. I guess they decided girls were safest the higher up they were. There was an elevator, but so many people lined up to use it that we decided on the stairs instead.

With Deke guarding everything, I felt safe leaving my Hasselblad in the car. I carried the Nikon with me and snapped pictures of Elizabeth in her new room, bouncing on her bed. We had our first kiss in her new room and then got my things up to my fourth floor room. It was different than Beth’s room. Her room had a common study area between two beds. The bathroom and closets were at the end of the room. Not much in the way of privacy. I could about say the same for my room, but it was four very small rooms around a common area that had enough room for four desks. Period. The bathroom was down the hall.

Oh well. I was used to sharing a bath. At least there was a door on my room, so if I wanted to have a visitor ... Elizabeth and I went into the room, closed the door, and kissed some more. Then we ran downstairs to have Deke drive us the two blocks over to Camera Warehouse. Only with all the routing around the area and police blockades, it took about fifteen minutes to get there.

I gave Theresa and Leora a hug and then turned to greet Cassie.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cassie,” I said, holding out my hand to shake.

She bypassed the hand and hugged me.

“I hope you don’t intend to treat me different than the other girls just because I’m black,” she said defiantly. There was a definite hesitation in her speech as she carefully pronounced each word.

“No, ma’am,” I laughed. “I just thought we might get introduced to each other before I asked you to get naked.”

“So, we met,” she said, unbuttoning the first button on her blouse.

I held up my hand to stop her.

“I was joking. Unless you are here for a modeling session, I don’t ask anyone to just get naked. You girls take care of figuring that out for yourselves. Right now, I want to have a staff meeting and all of us get to know each other a little better. At least to have me get to know you all a little better,” I said.

There were a table and chairs back against one wall where we could meet. I glanced around the area. I couldn’t tell how or if it was really organized, but there were aisles with stuff stacked on each side, so at least I stood a chance of finding something interesting without climbing over things. One wall was lined with clothing racks. I was certain there were more clothes there than had been in the room before.

“You’ve all been busy,” I said. “The room looks great. Tell me a little about what you accomplished and how it went this past month.”

“While the cat’s away, the mice will play,” Theresa said. “We’ve spent about two days a week working up here. Elizabeth’s a slave driver, but it was fun.”

“Running around naked,” Leora laughed. “I swear, if all those police outside weren’t running around with their heads up their butts, they’d bust us.”

“They arrested Hammer,” Cassie said.

“What? When and why?” I asked. This was news to me.

“They picked up all the Black P. Stone Rangers Friday night. It was the opening of the season on so-called troublemakers,” she said. “They arrested the leaders of the Yippies and SDS Friday when they set a pig loose in Lincoln Park. Arrested the pig, too. How’s that? Pigs arresting pigs. Ginsburg led a peace march from Lincoln Park on Saturday and everyone had to scatter because the cops cordoned off the bathrooms and no one could piss. They did the same thing on Sunday with the music festival. Pulled the plug on it and everyone scattered when they started clubbing people.”

“Shit! I didn’t know it was that bad. Why are they all over Michigan Avenue? Isn’t the event over at the convention center?” I asked.

“Man, you are out of touch,” Leora said. “The major candidates are staying at the Hilton. Daley announced that the arrest of the Rangers was because they had made a death threat against Hubert.”

“As if they care about that Minnesota doughboy,” Cassie said. “They ain’t even black people marching in the protests. It’s all antiwar.”