Jennifer, a young, blond, math teacher decides to check the status of some photos she and here husband had taken at the studio the day before as she returns from an appointment at a hair salon.
“Where’s that husband of yours today? He’s not chaperoning you around? Dangerous business leaving a pretty lady stroll around too long with all these lecherous Bahamian men around, you know.”
“Fishing, he’s fishing. Took a charter before dawn this morning and won’t be back until dark.”
“Oh, he’ll have a great time. The fishing has been wonderful this year. Hey, did you think about taking some of those “special” shots for your husband we talked about the other day? He’d love some.”
The margaritas she had earlier at a beachside bar had lowered Jennifer’s inhibitions considerably and she hesitated only briefly before asking, “How special is “special?”.
“Well,” Oscar replied, “there are all different types of “special”. There are the white album “special” like these.” He withdrew a large white photo album from beneath the counter. He plopped the thick book in front of her and turned it so she could she the various poses of his prior clients.
The women were all shapes and sizes, all colors and ages. Dressed in lingerie and bikinis, some leaning forward to expose more cleavage, others hands on hips with their backs facing the camera to highlight their behinds; all very innocently and tastefully done. All the women seemed to be having a wonderful time posing for the camera and for their men. They were all the sort of glamour poses reserved typically for cover girls and models but wives and lovers were now posing for.
“What other levels of “special” do you have Oscar,” the young blonde asked?
“Oh, well, now we have the blue album “special”, and he produced another album, not quite so thick but still fairly hefty.
These women were much more exposed. Wet T-shirt, breasts and nipples exposed, bare buttocks but yet nothing too blatant. Skimpy bikinis and see through lingerie seemed popular as well as garter belts and stockings and more of these poses were reclining. Jennifer noticed some of the same women were in this book as in the first. She paged through the album not wanting to seem too interested since Oscar was just across the counter from her.
“Lots of ladies get started with the “white” poses and then when they see how they turn out the progress to the “blue” poses. ”
“What do you mean, when they “see”, how can they see anything until the film is developed?”
“Oh, my pet, this is the digital age. I can show you any images almost instantly after they are taken on a computer monitor. I couldn’t do it for you and your husband, Troy, wasn’t it, because my computer hub was down. I can cut and paste, crop, the whole banana instantly nowadays.”
“I see. How many more albums do you have down there,” she asked?
“Two more, black and red.”
“Well, let’s see.”
Oscar produced the black album and warned her that these were much more explicit and revealing.
The first photo was of a well-endowed red head Jennifer had noticed in each of the earlier albums. She had no clothes on except for a Derby hat and a black choker. Her bush and vagina were clearly visible and her pink nipples protruded firmly from her breasts.
The photos were much the same as could be found in most popular men’s magazines. Some blatant “spread” shots with their legs wide open and labial lips displayed were there. The poses were as varied as the women in the album. Some on hands and knees with their derrieres exposed to the camera, some with feet propped on pillows and such trying to highlight some of their assets while downplaying some others less flattering.
“Well, what about the red album,” Jennifer asked? “That must have some really nasty stuff in it if this only rates a black cover.”
“Red is for red hot. It almost burns my hands just to pick it up,” Oscar quipped. “You sure you want to see this? It leaves nothing to the imagination.” He pulled the album close to his chest and looked into her freshly done face and blue eyes to see if she was really serious about looking at the fourth album.
The alcohol had numbed her senses to the point she was looking at photos of naked women, strangers, in front of a stranger himself. “Yes, I’m over 21, I can look at nasty pictures.”
“Okay, I told you,” and Oscar laid the fourth and final album on the counter.
The first photo was of a beautiful black woman, reclining on a couch, legs spread, three fingers of her right hand buried in her pussy and her left tugging vigorously on the nipple of her right breast. She was looking right into the lens of the camera as the photo was taken.
“Wow, I bet her husband loved this picture,” Jennifer commented as she turned to the next page. A voluptuous blonde with a black garter belt and black stockings was stuffing an equally black and HUGE dildo into herself greeted Jennifer’s gaze. “Whew, you were right. These don’t leave anything to the imagination. I thought you said you respected your customer’s privacy the other night. How can you show me these photos and still say you are respecting their privacy?” She continued paging through the volume of sex photos.
“I have permission and release forms from every one of those ladies,” Oscar replied and slapped another notebook onto the counter top. “Stop, look at that one. There’s a number in the lower right hand corner, what is it?”
“356”, Jennifer responded.
Oscar quickly paged through the notebook and flipped the book around. “See right there, there’s her signature on the release. I only share photos of my models if they want them shared and every lady in these books is in this book.”
Jennifer looked more closely at number 356. A gorgeous brunette lay back in a bed with a red satin sheet with the photo taken from above. She was just fucked! Jennifer looked more closely at the photo and it was somewhat obvious there was semen oozing from between her legs. She flipped quickly to the photos that followed and found more and more provocative and revealing photos. “You took all of these?” she asked as she continued flipping through the pages; several of which were women obviously masturbating, some in bathtubs, showers and even out on the beach.
“Whew, I don’t know,” Jennifer pondered as she paged through the albums. “Troy would love some photos like this but I don’t know if I can get through a shoot.”
“Tsk, tsk, my dear,” Oscar chided. “Almost everyone of these women had the same concerns. It’s all a matter of attitude. You can be as hot and sexy as you want to be. We can start out with some white album shots and if you like what you see we might progress on to one of the other varieties. And…”, he hesitated, “a little alcohol can lower one’s inhibitions tremendously. I do have a nice selection of wine.”
Jennifer had noticed more than a few of the poses had women holding wine glasses or with glasses and wine bottles in the background. What the hell she thought. I’m a long way from home and I’m not going to waste this brand new hairdo and makeup job.
“Ok, Oscar, direct me to the studio.”
Oscar pointed her past the changing room she and her husband had used during their first casual shoot the day before and told her he was going to put up a sign “shoot in progress–please call again.” She wandered through a maze of hallways until she came to a huge studio that was only slightly lit. The room had racks and racks of clothes surrounding its cavernous walls and some racks standing in the middle of the room. A number of sets occupied space around the room. A large brass bed centered in one, a clawed bathtub and shower in another, and a large leather couch in another, one had only a simple barstool and a similarly high table.
She was startled when the darkness of the cavern suddenly turned into daylight as Oscar hit the light switch. “Costs me a damn fortune to keep the place lit up all the time”, he said as he flipped switch after switch to start a bank of lights surrounding the bar stool backdrop and several computers and monitors. “Oh, the electronic age, how I hate it and love it at the same time.”