Chapter 13: Back to School

MY MONDAY CLASS schedule was similar to what I’d had first semester. I started at eight Monday morning with a class called Chicago Performs. I liked the overview of this class because we’d be on our own most of the time with assignments to attend various performances in the city. Then we’d meet afterward to discuss both the performance and what it meant to the arts scene in Chicago.

At ten o’clock, I’d be in my second semester of the makeup course. This one was going to be really valuable to me since it dealt more with commercial and daily makeup rather than theatre makeup and body painting.

I’d get an hour and a half for study and lunch, then have a Directed Visions class at one o’clock. Talk about a dream class! This was finally getting right to the sweet spot of my whole photography experience. We would be creating objects, narratives, and settings for the sole purpose of being photographed. Some would be in the studio and some would be on location. I’d used a lot of found objects, but this class would focus on actually building a setting for a photograph.

Finally, I’d be in the second semester of the Urban Images class. I only had one class on Tuesday and Thursday. It was called Constructed Images and was both similar to and complementary to my Directed Visions class. I gathered that we’d do a lot of constructing images in the darkroom, not just on the setting. Everything about this semester excited me.

And, of course, I’d be working doing IDs, but it would be fewer hours than the first semester. Mostly, I’d be working from ten until one on Tuesday and Thursday. When we were settled in, my study group would be meeting Tuesday afternoon from about one-thirty for two or three hours. I had the same time on Thursday reserved for studio appointments, along with Friday and Saturday. Maybe I was being optimistic about that, but Cassie said she’d been booking appointments steadily as far out as the first of March. Great!

Ronda, Patricia, and I settled into our usual routines without much problem. Having the two girls with me during the week just made me miss Anna, but she’d be back from Rockford on Thursday evening. Patricia was working on her regular job and would continue to do so until we left for Canada after Memorial Day. The new Monday holiday law meant Memorial Day would be on Monday May 31st this year and not on the 30th as it had always been. I wondered if Billy would adapt or if he’d be marching on Sunday the thirtieth.

Devon was in my makeup class and Leanne was the teaching assistant. Leslie and I had both advanced photography classes together and Carrie was in my Urban Images class. All of us had agreed to take the Chicago Performances class together which was just the second time all five of us had a class at the same time. Going to the performances would be terrific.

Our first study session was all about what we’d done on our intersession. Of course, I had my pictures of the time in Australia. As it turned out, Leslie had been in Paris where her intersession had included actual runway shooting. What really surprised us, though, was the shot Leslie had of a stewardess on her trans-Atlantic flight. I recognized the stewardess. It was Valerie Marsh, Beth’s sister. She’d met her at the airport and got to talking. When she mentioned that she was on a photography intersession, Valerie asked if she knew me. That led to some interesting revelations and Valerie had gotten Leslie upgraded to first class. Her flight was every bit as luxurious as mine since Pan Am was flying 747s to Europe. It was pretty cool.

“Valerie said you’d love to see this next shot,” Leslie said. She pulled out a picture of Valerie in the cockpit of the aircraft—stark naked. “She said she was planning a photoshoot with you in one of the airplanes this spring and invited me to join you.”

“Well, that’s pretty cool. I still don’t know how she’s planning to get us—as well as her entire wedding party—on a 747 while it’s grounded. We should have a good time,” I said. I had a moment of some emotion I didn’t even recognize. It felt like Leslie was horning in on one of my clients. On the other hand, I sincerely doubted that Valerie would want sex with Leslie and she’d as much as promised we’d have sex on her plane. Oh well.

Devon had been cast in Little Women, all roles performed by trans women. It didn’t provide credit, but he’d been scouted by an agent who specialized in placing cross-dressers and trans actors. Carrie attended a government seminar in Washington, DC that included watching the first day of the January session of Congress and meeting our representative. Leanne had been quiet through all this.

“Hey, Leanne. Did you have an intersession class or experience?” I asked.

“It was an experience,” she sighed with a smile.

“Do tell,” Leslie said.

“Well, I showed this sketch to Nate a few months ago,” she said.

It was a cool design, but I’d questioned the amount of work it would be to make the black blend into the white. It looked like the entire body would be painted. Leanne said she had the perfect model.

“I invited my model to join me for a weekend of practicing the paint.”

“You had a model naked in your hands for a weekend,” I laughed. “What could be better?”

“Ten days!” Leanne said. “We had so much fun, we just booked an entire week in the cabin after the weekend I originally booked. No one wanted a cabin on the north shore of the lake in the middle of winter. We were pretty much snowed in and spent many long leisurely afternoons painting each other in front of the fireplace and drinking hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps.”

“Sounds heavenly,” I said. “So, when are we going to photograph this phenomenon?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve already booked time with her in the studio. It will be so fun, and it will present new challenges for you as a photographer. It’s going to be ... just fun!”

We actually got some studying done and chose the first performance we’d book next weekend.

Lance Weatherman quickly became my favorite instructor at Columbia. He was in his mid-forties and was a professional art photographer. In his introduction he informed us all that we’d already had three years more education than he had. But he’d been working as a photographer since high school and was chosen to instruct our Directed Visions class. He normally lived in San Francisco, but was in Chicago for ‘the worst weather he’d ever experienced.’

“Staging scenes that tell a story isn’t new. Keep in mind that every new art and communication technology from the first scrawled pictures on a cave wall to the printing press to the camera, has been used first for pornography. I believe the first person who discovered how to capture an image on a wet plate turned to his or her boyfriend or girlfriend and said, ‘Honey, come here and take off your clothes so I can test this thing.’ Some of the earliest poetry discovered in hieroglyphics is erotic poetry.

And when her lips are pressed to mine
I am made drunk and need not wine.
When we kiss, and her warm lips half open,
I fly cloud-high without beer!

“That’s poetry from more than three thousand years ago in Deir el-Medina, Egypt. Hard evidence that French kissing is better than getting drunk. I’m sure some Greek, building his house, drilled a hole in the wall to the women’s room and noticed that he didn’t need to look through the hole to see the naked women. The image was projected into his dark room on the opposite wall. Upside down, but still naked women.

“Moving to intentional displays of scenes goes back as far as DaVinci. It wasn’t long after he discussed using a camera obscura as a way to capture proper perspective that rooms were built to entertain people with scenes created in another room. The issue of the upside down image was solved with a glass lens, and suddenly rich men could watch a couple having sex in the next room, projected on the wall of their darkened chamber.

“Creating these tableaux also became a form of live entertainment without the interfering lens or wall between the audience and the performer. When I was in England, waiting for deployment in 1945, I attended a burlesque show at The Windmill. Windmill girls were the most popular of all the theatres because they not only danced and sang, they also created tableaux of tasteful nudes during which they didn’t move, but sometimes a poem was read or a song was sung that told the story of what was being represented.

“In the same way, tableau photography may be based on a familiar narrative, like something from a painting or a movie or a book, or it might be historical, comical, biblical, or any other story—even one you create if you have a bent in that direction. It shows a parallel image that enlightens history, religion, entertainment, or politics in your photograph.”

“So, you’re saying that these scenes are illustrative?” Leslie asked. “Like we illustrate a book?”

Lance sighed. It was obvious that he was trying to get to something else.

“Your photograph should not merely illustrate the story; it must tell the story. Or better yet, it must show the story. Surely, by now all of you have seen paintings or pictures of paintings of Judith and Holofernes. Holofernes was a general about to invade and destroy Judith’s home town. She goes into his tent and beheads the general, thus saving the town. But what’s the real story here? Is it merely an illustration of a sword passing through the neck of the general? Or is it that Judith had to go to him as a prostitute, sate him, get him so drunk that he passes out, and takes his sword to decapitate him? Showing a naked woman with the head of a man stretched out on the bed, tears flowing from her eyes in shame, not of having killed the man, but of what she had to do to get to him, actually tells the story in a way that a contemporary viewer can relate to,” Lance said.

Wow! Talk about a visceral illustration. Over the course of this class, we’d be looking at a variety of examples and then we’d begin actually setting up scenes, almost like a theatre director, to photograph a story in a single shot. Amazing!

Thursday afternoon, I had my first client of the new year. In Chicago, that is. I didn’t think I could really call the models I shot in Melbourne clients. I felt like I’d been working full time all month. But this was a girl who’d been through the ID photo mill and had picked up a brochure, then set an appointment.

“Welcome to Attic Allure, Shirley,” I said. “I’m Nate Hart. This is my assistant Rita.”

“Happy to meet you, Nate. I’m very excited.”

“Why don’t we sit and talk about what kind of photo you’d like.”

We went over to the sofa and she looked over the gallery and out at our props collection, then sat down.

“I got your brochure when you took my ID photo at school. Boy, I wish we had these back when I started here. It makes things so easy. Like cashing a check. Would you like to see my ID?” she giggled.

“When did you start?” I asked.

“Three and a half years ago. I’m a senior. I took your brochure home over the holidays and asked for a sitting and prints for Christmas. My parents agreed.”

Shirley was a very busty blonde with straight hair about shoulder length. She wore what I considered standard school clothes for January—straight leg wool slacks, a blue button-up shirt, and a butt-length jacket. She wore close-toed high heels that added about three inches to her height. Most striking were her green eyes that seemed very serious.

“So, you’d like a portrait and something a little more glamorous?” I asked.

She took a deep breath, which really pulled attention to her bust. I tried not to let my eyes drop to it.

“In general, yes. I dressed for the portrait that I’d like to use to send out at graduation. But ... um ... I ... uh ... would like a really nice tasteful nude. I talked to some girls who have had their photos taken and they assured me that you were the one to go to.”

“I appreciate their recommendation.”

“And I’d like it in color. When I first started here as a voice major, I needed work. You have your own studio, so you might not be aware that one of the work study areas available is modeling for art and photography classes. The first time I went into a figure drawing class and the instructor showed me a privacy screen where I could undress was a shock to me. I hadn’t realized that I’d be modeling nude. Now it hardly fazes me to pull off my robe in a class and get in whatever ridiculous position they want me in today. But out of all those paintings and sculptures and photographs, I don’t have anything that shows how I earned my way through college.”

“Well, that sucks. Let’s get you exactly what you want here. Rita, we’ll need the light blue background and stool for a formal portrait,” I called to my assistant. I’d been working with Rita a couple of months now and she was fun in the studio. I was glad she was ready to come back to work in the new year.

I led Shirley to the center of the portrait area and decided we needed both the usual headshot and a full-length portrait. Rita moved in to suggest an adjustment to her outfit, adding a very loose and old-fashioned tie and a beret to the outfit. When Shirley looked in the mirror, she got very excited.

I took most of the photos on the Nikon. It took a respectable portrait. I seldom loaded Kodachrome in the Hasselblad. It cost more to mount the transparencies and I didn’t think I was getting an appreciably better image. When we got to our best Attic Allure poses, I’d use the Linhof.

When the portrait was finished, I told Rita I’d need some artful drapery to use for the Attic Allure set. I left it to her to find something and took Shirley behind the privacy screen.

“Shirley, you’ve done modeling for the college and I know when we’ve had models in the photo studio there are some pretty strict rules in effect regarding maintaining distance and never touching a model. In my studio, I’m a usually a little more intimate with my models and often dress them and pose them physically. Are you okay with that?”

“Oh, yeah. I did investigate you pretty well before I made my appointment. Your assistant downstairs—Cassie—gave me a tour of the studio and I saw a couple of your other assistants running around naked up here. I almost wanted to join them. If we didn’t have that rule at the college, we’d get pawed by every artist and photographer in the school. This is different. There’s only you—and that scrumptious assistant—and I’m in your hands,” she said.

“Then let’s get you out of some of these clothes,” I said. “I think I know what you want, but at any time, feel free to give me ideas.”

I took her jacket to hang up and when I turned, she was unbuttoning her shirt.

“I’d like to keep the tie and bra on for the time being,” I said, taking the blouse to hang up. “We’ll drop the slacks. Mmm. Pantyhose look pretty gross in photos. I shouldn’t say that. I did a whole photoshoot of pantyhose ads last spring. Those are nice panties, though. Can you wear the high heels without the hose?”

“No problem.”

I could tell the bra was not one that she wore on a regular basis. It was by no means up to the job of supporting her boobs. But it looked nice and was pretty sheer on the upper side that just barely exposed her areolae.

“Let’s see what Rita has for some drapery.”

We went back out to the stage area and Rita had hung some actual drapes. There were several panels of a beige brocade that must have been for huge windows. I was pleased with it. The drapery liner that usually makes curtains more opaque had been removed from these. It didn’t make the brocade transparent by a long shot, but it did allow it to drape more fluidly. I grabbed an easy chair and Rita rushed over to help me move it into place.

We started with a few shots of Shirley in and around the easy chair. It made a nice prop for the shot. I decided it was time for a reveal and approached Shirley.

“This really isn’t doing very much,” I said, stroking the side of her bra. “Let’s get rid of it and take pictures with just the tie.”

“That’s kinky,” she laughed as she shrugged out of the bra. I looked to see if there were creases and massaged the marks left by the bra. “I have a rule,” she said. “If you’re going to play with my boobs, you have to kiss me. It’s like a law or something.”

“I can appreciate that kind of rule,” I said. “I’d hate to break the law.”

I pressed my lips against hers and they parted immediately to let our tongues play as I rubbed her breasts and brushed her nipples to hardness.

“You can’t imagine how nice it is to have my breasts treated gently,” she said. “Seems like guys just want to grab and squeeze—sometimes really hard.”

“Anytime they feel hurt or abused, you just give the word and I’ll kiss them to make them all better,” I laughed.

We soon got rid of the hat and tie. I had a feeling we were getting close to the picture she really wanted. I had her pick up the end of one of the drapes and pull it across her body I sighted through the 4x5 and then did some more positioning. I asked Rita to re-direct the light to cast some shadow across the lower part of Shirley’s body.

“You can take my panties, too, but playing between my legs requires some serious kissing.”

I stripped the panties off, even though I thought they would have been hidden in the photograph. I didn’t spend a lot of time petting her pussy, but when I’ve been given an invitation like that, it’s almost an obligation to pay attention. The kiss during that playtime was reward enough. I got the next picture on the 4x5 and it was close to what I wanted. I flipped the carrier and reset my lens speed to make it faster. We upped the light temperature, which cast a deeper shadow where I wanted it as well.

“We’re almost there,” I said as I repositioned her hand so she had her nipples covered for that ‘tasteful nude’ look. “I’d like you to look over there. Then when I say now, whip your head around to look at me. Let’s practice it.” She took the position. “Now,” I said.

She whipped her head toward me and I saw exactly what I wanted. I had her step out with her right foot and moved her left hand back a bit. I checked the fabric all the way around her to make sure the patterned side of the brocade was out and not the back. Rita was looking almost as closely as I was and adjusted the strong light slightly. I put her in position again and stepped behind the camera to check the focus and composition in the ground glass once more.

“Now,” I said.

Yes! It was perfect!

I swept Shirley up in my arms and carried her behind the privacy screen. Rita had already collected her underwear and put it there for her to dress. I sat on the fainting couch with Shirley in my lap and kissed her again.

“I got so excited on that last shot that I accidentally pinched my nipple,” she panted.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

I got the message and leaned down to take the offended nipple between my lips and kiss it with my tongue. Her nipples really responded to stimuli like that and it was soon hard and in my mouth for sucking. My hand on the inside of her thigh crept upward and her legs parted. As I touched her pussy, I raised my lips to kiss her again.

“Um ... It was the other nipple,” she complained as we broke our kiss and I stroked through her wetness.