Chapter 26: LOOK!

ADRIENNE HAD GONE so far as to hire a studio with lights, backdrops, and an assistant to go with my assignment on Saturday. I found my two props trunks had been delivered there and Fran arrived soon after I was set up.

“Nate! I’m so happy to see you!” she said running to me and giving me a big hug and kiss. “Did you have to set this up so early in the morning? I’m hardly out of bed!”

“You mean a few minutes earlier and I could have caught you in bed? Darn!” I laughed.

“They’d have had to deliver the bed to the studio with me still in it,” she said. “But with you here, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“We’re going to do a whole new series of glamour photos for you today,” I said. “My instructions are that you will have a wardrobe with you and you should remain mostly clothed through at least half the photos. I don’t know why the studio saw fit to tell me that.”

“Probably so I wouldn’t start stripping as soon as I walked in. You remember Alice, my roommate, right? She helped me pack and is here to help me change clothes and make sure my makeup is right.” Fran lowered her voice to a whisper. “Of course, you are always welcome to help me undress.”

“We’ve got some serious work to do here. I’m hoping that by the end of the weekend, I will get to undress you, but that is for later,” I said. “Let’s get started with some standard portfolio shots before we get into any Attic Allure poses.”

We set to work. I was intensely aware that the photos I took were intended for publication in a national magazine and that awareness alone seemed to make everything take twice as long as it usually did. Whenever I started to lose my patience and get short with people, Adrienne would call a break and take me off where we were alone so she could settle me down.

Usually that just meant a few kisses and petting, but once she went so far as to give me a blowjob. It did wonders for my attitude as I worked with Fran.

By early afternoon, I was beginning to work with props from the chests and some of the interesting backdrops and furniture they had in the studio. By late afternoon, we’d progressed to ‘tasteful nudes.’ In other words, Fran was naked, but no naughty bits were showing. Still, the accessibility was nice and I spent some lovely time making sure her nipples were hard, even if I wasn’t including them in the picture.

The studio assistant, Lee, was really helpful and knew what he was doing. He set lights as I wanted them and pulled backdrops. He moved props and found things I needed. And he enjoyed seeing Fran gradually lose her clothes. Well, can’t blame him for that.

We worked until nearly seven with only breaks for food and sustenance. Adrienne took care of all that. She also worked as my assistant, taking rolls of film and labeling them, making sure the 4x5 film was correctly pulled and sealed in a dark envelope, and offering suggestions when needed. So, her use was not strictly improving my moods.

I think both Fran and Alice were relieved that I wasn’t asking them for any personal time Saturday night. We were all exhausted and they headed back to their home in the valley. Sunday would be location work. Adrienne had the list of locations and we were picking Fran and Alice up in the limo so we’d all be traveling together.

Sunday was supposed to be a day with fewer tourist crowds than Saturday, but it was Labor Day weekend, so there were more people out at the areas where I wanted photos than we were comfortable with. We got the obligatory shots in front of the Hollywood sign and Griffith Observatory, at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, Sunset Strip, and Rodeo Drive. We obviously were showing Fran as a denizen of Hollywood, but I wanted something more delectable. We headed to the beach.

We got there at a perfect time as it was late in the day and people were leaving the beach. In the limo, we got Fran out of her clothes and into a bikini. That was fun. Our girl was beginning to get horny from all the handling she’d had that day by Alice, Adrienne, and me. I wasn’t sure if there was anything going on between Alice and Fran, but Alice was certainly free about handling her roommate.

We got down to the beach and Alice, Adrienne and our driver, Jerry, helped schlep equipment and hold reflectors so I could get some great shots against the sunset that still showed Fran’s body in detail, including when I pulled her top off. That got a few people pausing to stare, but it only lasted a few minutes. We didn’t want to get arrested for indecency.

As things started to cool down with the disappearance of the sun, we saw a bonfire lit down the beach a ways. I approached the hippies who were getting ready for some late-night partying. I could already smell weed being passed around. I asked if we could use their fire to get a few photos of an actress and once they saw Fran approaching in her bikini, they readily agreed. When I told them she’d get topless, they offered to help in any way they could.

I was able to set up and position Fran while there was still a slight glow on the horizon. We used reflectors off to one side so I could have her approach the fire and not be in complete silhouette. I got the picture in both black and white and color. Then I encouraged Fran to lose the top for some firelight nudes. I helped her get back into her top before any of the guys could get too close.

I closed up the camera and packed it away. I knew the magazine would just want black and white, but I thought we might all like a color print. We were done.

We talked to the guys on the beach for a while and they invited us to camp with them, but after thanking them again for the use of their fire, we schlepped all the equipment back to the limo and I spent a minute brushing Fran off to make sure she didn’t have sand clinging to her.

“You know, I’m still your limo slut,” she whispered to me.

“If it were just Adrienne and me...”

“Don’t worry. Alice would love to play, too. She acts all nice and demure, but she’s kind of a sex freak. If I actually get a guy in my life, I’ll have to find a different place to live. Alice always wants to be involved.”

“Are you okay? She’s not forcing you into something is she?”

“Oh, no. And she isn’t just living off me. She’s always willing to share what she brings home,” Fran said. “And I’m careful. I don’t share anything that might be catching.”

That set the stage for the long drive to the Valley, made longer by Adrienne’s suggestion to the driver that we needed time to come down and talk about the day.

The day ended with all four of us naked in the back of the limo. And yes, Alice was as eager to participate as Fran was and willingly received my cock in her mouth and in her pussy. She was also happy to go down on Adrienne while I was fucking Fran. When we got to their apartment, they didn’t bother to dress, but jumped out of the limo naked, gave Jerry a kiss at the door, and ran to their building with their butts glowing in the moonlight.

The next two days were equally intense in a different way—and I was sure costly, as well. We were back at the processing lab where I’d done the photos of the production for marketing. Only this was not only a weekend, it was a national holiday. Still, they let us in and we went straight to the darkroom.

They had the last color transparency I’d taken at the fire and dropped off on our way home the night before. It was great. I went straight to a 16x20 print of it to add to my gallery.

But the real work was processing all the black and white negs that I had. I’d taken pictures with both the Hasselblad and the Linhof. The Linhof 4x5 was called a field camera, but it still required a tripod and was heavy as hell. The quality of the photos, though, was superb. I’d print up proofs from the Hasselblad and share them with Fran, but I printed our best shots from the Linhof for submission.

As a last step, we needed transfer negatives of all the shots. That’s essentially a duplicate negative. Once I’d made my prints, the film went to the lab again and they duplicated it. The duplicate negatives all went to the magazine. We included an 8x10 print of the color image thinking it was possible they’d want to use it for a cover photo. I also made a print for Fran and one for our sponsor.

Monday night, I lay in Adrienne’s arms and just loved her body. She welcomed me in every way I could use her. Tuesday, after another long day in the lab, I had to be to the airport by seven in the evening for my flight back to Chicago.

I had an interesting seat companion and we chatted a lot about what was going on in Hollywood. Turned out she was an up-and-coming director and wanted to see some of my work. She’d graduated a couple of years previously and was currently mostly working with stage productions. She’d just been to LA to talk to a contact there about a documentary of some sort. Well, I had the portfolio of prints I’d just taken and she loved them. We exchanged cards and she said she might have use for me in the future.

I didn’t really consider that very likely, but we did have a nice time talking, eating dinner, and having a couple of drinks. She was especially interested in Fran after I’d explained her part in Over Exposure. She hadn’t seen the film yet, but promised she’d find it. She wondered if it would be possible to make a movie about a female photographer.

It was a nice way to pass the flight, but I forgot her name almost as soon as she said it. Claudia something or other.

I dragged myself off the plane and was thrilled to see Ronda waiting for me at the gate. It was almost three o’clock in the morning. We got all my gear and loaded it in the microbus. Anna had the car in Rockford where her classes had started that day. Like mine should have.

When we got home, we quietly got into bed next to Patricia and all cuddled together for the night.

I had four advanced level seminar classes this fall that each met for a three-hour block once a week. My Wednesday class was called Body, Space, and Image. The focus was on installation artwork from an anthropological perspective. Essentially, we were to explore how people experience photographs. I thought back to my photo exhibition in Tenbrook—which was really the only exhibition I’d had of just my work. It was patterned essentially after the way the fair exhibits were done. Other than that, I had a wall with matted photos in each of my studios that showed what I had for sale.

Professor Schlessinger gave us an overview of the semester and what we’d be doing, then broke us into groups of three to begin discussing our thoughts about exhibition. Leslie was in this class with me since it was a recommended course for photography seniors. There were a couple of different sections so the class didn’t get too big. Leslie and I joined up with Margot Williams as our third in our small group. She was a keen photographer, focused on journalism. She’d been in my photojournalism class the first semester I was in school, but her path through was enough different than mine that we hadn’t had a class together since.

“I can’t believe you opted to do production photography for school IDs instead of pursuing photojournalism. That first semester we all thought we’d be chasing you for four years and then you just disappeared from the program. Next thing I knew, you were taking my photo for the new student ID,” Margot said.

“ID photography was just an opportunity I had for work study,” I said, a little miffed at her dismissal. “I’m focused on art photography. I have a studio over on Wabash and another in Stratford, Ontario. Between terms and on vacation, I do photos in LA.”

Margot was a little taken aback by that. She looked at me and then at Leslie and then back at me.

“Seriously? Your newspaper photos were great. Then I never heard about you again. I thought you’d dropped out.”

“I’ve had a few other photos published. Local newspaper in Huntertown did a full page spread of my photos from the Washington moratorium. And the Trib ran my photo of the cop shooting a protester at the University. But journalism isn’t my focus. Art is.”

“I guess we’ll all get to see each other’s work this semester. Leslie, I’ve seen your fashion work. We covered a couple of the same events from different perspectives,” Margot said.

“Yeah. You’ll have to come over to Nate’s studio and see what he’s done. It might be a place to start when planning our exhibition,” Leslie said. “I don’t have any place to display my photos. They’re all designed for publication in fashion magazines or catalogs.”

“This could be an interesting semester,” Margot said.

I wasn’t sure about my afternoon class. We met on Monday and Wednesday for an hour and a half. I found out that a lot of this class was going to be focused on learning to sew! Not only that, we had to put in ten hours of work in the costume shop working on a theatre production. The winter show was going to be A Man for All Seasons. Most of our time in class was going to be spent making costumes for the show and we’d still have to spend ten hours outside of class making costumes.

The bright spot in the class was that the teaching assistant for the class was my photography assistant Rita, and the class took place in the same sewing shop where we had taken pictures of Renée last spring.

She laughed at me trying to thread a needle on my first day and showed me the trick.

I got home about three thirty, ready to make dinner, only to find that Ronda had it all under control. She still had almost three weeks before classes at the University of Chicago started. Her advisor had given her some reading to do when they got together for the symposium, but she was breezing through that.

With everything under control, we had time to make love before Patricia and Toni got home.

The Photography Seminar on Thursday morning was listed as the capstone of our photography degree. Talk about putting the pressure on. It seemed almost impossible that we could satisfy all the course requirements in one semester. We had to shape, plan, and begin a long-term photography project, relevant to our photography ambitions and interests. It had to include a research project relevant to those interests or ambitions. We needed to create a career strategy, and would have several guest speakers from the industry. I’d had Dr. Nader for a class once before. He’d co-taught the color photography class with Professor Hyatt.

It promised to be a good class, but along with the Body, Space, Image class, I didn’t see how I was ever going to have time for any other classes. And I still had two more upper level classes to attend next week on Monday and Tuesday. This was going to require a lot of investigating and searching what I wanted out of life. I wasn’t sure I was old enough to have that conversation!

I spent Thursday afternoon in the library, just trying to look for some idea of what I was going to do for this seminar.

Friday afternoon, I promised to meet Leslie and Margot at the studio so Margot could see what I’d done. She was still doubtful about my qualifications as a photographer. I thought that was a little strange because I hadn’t heard anything about her since our photojournalism class, either. She said she’d bring her portfolio, as did Leslie.

“So, you work for Camera Warehouse?” she said when she arrived and came upstairs.

“No. They provide the space for my studio through an agreement with my patrons. My business is separate,” I said.

“Like a contractor,” she stated firmly.

“Um ... no. I have my own photography business called Attic Allure,” I said. She was not going to admit that I was actually a photographer if she could help it.

“I’ve heard of them. What do you do for them?”

That was it. Leslie started laughing hysterically just as I was going to lay into Margot and throw her out of the studio. I could get a different partner for our project.

“What’s so funny?” Margot asked, oblivious to my anger.

“You ... You really don’t get it,” Leslie said. “Nate is Attic Allure. He does the posing, the appointments, the processing, the printing. He has three assistants—or is it four now, Nate?—and an accountant. He takes portraits and Attic Allure glamour photos every week, has won state competitions, is a consultant for a Hollywood movie, and has a studio in Canada that he is at every summer. You really need to look at his gallery. Yes. All these are Nate’s photos.”

“But ... Oh, shit! Is that you?” Margot asked pointing to one of Leslie’s photos.

“And that and that. Modeling for Nate is an experience you should have,” Leslie said.

“Why so many posters of that movie, Over Exposure?”

“I consulted on it. Those are my photos,” I growled.

“No. Wait. I saw the credit on the movie for a photographer and ... that was you?”

I just nodded and stepped back to let Leslie be the docent.

“Okay, that’s Nate’s portfolio,” Leslie said stepping back from the wall of pictures. “Let’s see yours.”

Margot stayed looking at the wall and threw a standard portfolio on the table. Leslie opened it.

“I don’t have anything,” Margot said. “Nothing serious like all this stuff. I’ve spent four years in classes devoted to learning and perfecting my craft, but aside from a few pieces that got accepted by downstate newspapers, I haven’t got anything that the public has seen. Not like this. Why are you even in college?” she demanded, turning to face me. Tears were running down her cheeks.

“I have a lot to learn,” I said.

“I can’t believe I’m even here,” she moaned, flopping on the sofa.

“These are some great photos,” Leslie said. “I know and recognize some of these events. How did you get backstage for the Donovan concert? This is great!”

“It was an assignment for Mr. Jonas in Photojournalism. I just showed them the assignment at the door and they took me backstage. He was really nice.”

“Why weren’t they published?” I asked. “I went to that concert and never even thought about photographing it.”

“Hmph. I was at the school developing film when Mr. Jonas came rushing in and told me to drop everything and go to a high school. It was Black Monday and all the students at most of the high schools walked out. It was a big deal, but there were so many pictures of it that mine were passed over. Thanks but no thanks, the paper said.”

“That’s the exact message I got from them the first time I submitted photos to the Trib,” I said. “And it wasn’t the last time, either. I got photos of the gangs marching in South Chicago to keep the peace after Dr. King’s murder and the paper told me that I needed to be where the action was. They had pictures of Oak Grove on fire.”

“I’ve wasted my whole time in college. My advisor told me not to worry about getting published. College was for building a portfolio so I could get a job later. I’ve got a lot of pretty pictures and school awards, and no credentials.”

“It’s not too late,” I said. “We’ll make a real presentation out of things and we’ll all get hired.”

I had a client on Saturday, but spent most of the weekend reading for my classes. Monday morning, I was back in class for a senior seminar called Literature on Film. In this class, we would read a novel—faster than I usually read, then watch the movie version of the same work. I don’t know how the instructor managed to get classroom versions of the films, but we started off reading Arthur C. Clark’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and then watching the movie that came out a couple of years earlier. It was a pretty cool class and I thought I’d enjoy it, even if I had to read a novel every couple of weeks. And Dr. Victoria Stewart was pretty easy on the eyes in this class, too.