The Photographer 45 (Patreon)

Under Laura’s complicated gaze, impressed and intimidated at the same time, Penny just nodded, not bothering to say anything as she grabbed the cup of coffee I prepared for her.

She used the opportunity to take a long sip, using it as a chance to adapt to the situation she found herself in. If it wasn’t for yesterday’s adventure, I would never trust her with such a mission, but during the latter half of the day — particularly during our shared bath — Penny had proved herself to be a magnificent assistant, enough to earn my trust. 

It still took a while to adapt to the role, but luckily, as she raised her hands to take a suspiciously lingering sip, she had other assets to steal Laura’s attention. Such as, the way her small robe loosened further as she moved. 

I let Laura take stock of the view, enjoying the way her earlier urgent confidence left itself to hesitance. It was good, because, for the earlier sessions, I preferred models unsure of their places and their ultimate results. It helped them to follow my directions with the appropriate care rather than assuming they knew the best. 

It was helpful even when working with professional models. But if it was nice to have then, it was a must while working with aspiring ones, a category that the brunette in front of me certainly qualified for. 

“So, Laura,” I said as I poured a cup of coffee for myself, taking a step to interrupt Laura’s gaze, enjoying the sudden blush that came from the realization that she had been ogling another woman for the last several seconds. “I remember promising you a practice shoot…” I started, deliberately being vogue, curious whether she would try obligating it as a payback for the room. 

She managed to pass that little test easily. “I’m happy to have the opportunity,” she replied quickly, her beautiful brown eyes wide enough to show her enthusiasm, yet mixed with a touch of desperation, showing that it wasn’t the first time she tried to penetrate the business. 

“Good,” I said as walked toward the couch they were sitting on, using the opportunity to glance at Penny, who was radiating an unusual amount of confidence that suggested she was getting into a mood that promised a lot of fun. I put my hand on her waist, which would have been too low for the mixed company if the way we dressed hadn’t already ruined any potential of respectability. 

“So, tell me about your modeling aspirations,” Penny interrupted, and I patted her hips, showing I approved her initiative. 

“I…” Laura whispered, but her voice trembled a bit as she noticed my hand dancing up and down on Penny’s waist, the movements too large to be just a casual caress. She took a deep breath as she tried to gather her wits, self-conscious about the situation she found herself in. 

I might have taken mercy on her, if she didn’t choose to wake me up at this ungodly hour. I admired her initiative, but not enough to save her from some punishment. 

Unaware of my thoughts, she the earlier question. “I have always wanted to be a model,” she murmured. 

“Just a model?” I asked, catching a small pause in her explanation, suggesting she was not being entirely forthright. 

She blushed. “N-no, I also want to be an actress—“ she tried to add, only to be interrupted by Penny. 

“And you thought that being a model was an easy step to launch you forward, like modeling is easy,” Penny interrupted dismissively, with a level of derision that was rather excessive, especially considering she was trying to use the exact same strategy. 

“Behave,” I warned Penny, but that warning was not particularly harsh considering it came with a playful spank and a kiss on her neck, a little byplay that made Laura blush more than Penny. 

“Don’t worry about Penny, it’s not a problem that you want to be an actress. A considerable number of models I worked with also had small yet decent acting careers,” I added, not mentioning the part that I lost contact with all of them under current circumstances. “Do you have any experience with acting?” 

“Some,” she murmured shyly. 

“Really, why don’t you show them to me,” I said. 

She was quick to pass her phone to me, a gallery already open. I circled through it, unable to prevent myself from shaking my head dismissively. Just cycling through the photos without seeing one of the videos, I could see that it was one of the local theater productions, one that took themselves too seriously, to the point of their detriment — usually due to a self-important director. 

“Not bad,” I said, but the dismissal in my tone was neither hidden nor fake. “Do you have any experience in modeling?” I asked. 

“A … a couple,” she said as she switched to another folder, this time a proper studio. A glance was enough to confirm that it was a professional environment, and the poses she showed suggested that it was not a professional photo shoot, but one that she paid for — probably a considerable amount of the quality of the studio was any indicator. 

Unfortunately for her, but a nice studio didn’t always mean quality work.  

Laura’s sets certainly suffered from that. Despite clearly being a paid session for a modeling portfolio the professional choices made by the photographer ruined its usefulness completely. The photos were clearly taken by a hack, because they hardly showed any of her best qualities. 

Laura was certainly a beautiful woman, and while her body lacked the curves Penny proudly displayed at the moment, considering the requirements of the modern modeling world and preferences of the fashion companies, it was more of a benefit than detriment.

Unfortunately for her, the professional she had worked with was clearly unaware of that, as none of the angles they picked up highlighted Laura’s most marketable traits that might give her a chance to stand out in a crowded application, instead doing their best to hide them, disguising her as another standard model from nineties.

Consigning her into rejected application pile of any semi-decent professional work. 

For example, as the beautiful miniskirt she wore displayed perfectly, she had amazing legs, thin yet toned at the same time, which was a feature that needed to be highlighted further by the pose selection, yet the body shots turned chose angles that turned her beautiful legs into ordinary. 

Her face certainly suffered from that even more. The makeup choice was horrendous. She had a face with some interestingly sharp angles — though not enough to mar her classical beauty. In the photos, they had chosen makeup that leaned toward the classical aspect of her beauty, hiding the angles with makeup — further enhanced by light. 

Of course, even through badly taken photos, a professional could easily see the truth of her features. Unfortunately for her, the actually experienced photographers almost certainly never deal with the initial screening, and leave it to interns to reduce to a manageable number. 

And, with those photos, Laura could never qualify through that stage. 

I had no doubt that, if she had a better portfolio, it would have been much easier for her to get a job. She would probably get some state-level campaigns already, maybe even some minor national ones. Not exactly the height of fame, but enough to free herself from the necessity of having a day job. 

Maybe even more, if she was as willing to trade in favors with the shadier members of the industry, as she was clearly trying to imply at the moment. 

What a waste. Seeing a potential model ruined by her photographer always annoyed me, an affront to my professional pride. After all, while I certainly enjoyed the glorious benefits of the high-flier lifestyle, it didn’t change the genuine passion I had for my work. 

No matter the network they had, one couldn’t climb the heights I climbed without genuine skill and passion for the job.  

I turned to her, intent on telling her to never work against whoever was the hack that was responsible for killing her potential career, when she took the phone from my hand. “These are not the only ones,” she whispered rapidly, her face stark-white in fear, clearly misunderstanding the target of my frustration.

A chuckle escaped my mouth at her move, and I was ready to explain to her my anger wasn’t directed at her when she pushed her phone back into my hands, the view on the screen enough to change my words.

A view that was enough to make Penny blush despite her current mood. 

“Interesting,” I murmured even as I squeezed Penny’s hips, while my gaze danced between the screen and Laura’s face. My statement was not directed to the quality of the photos, as they were definitely even worse than the previous ones she had shown, though considering that they were by Laura, with the help of a mirror, the quality was hardly surprising. 

The interesting thing was her clothes, or more accurately, the lack of them. 

A scoff escaped Penny’s mouth as she examined the photos. I recognized it as an attempt to compensate for her shock, but Laura, missing that nuance, only blushed harder. 

I examined her reaction, trying to see whether she was used to revealing those photos. Yet, the level of excitement she was displaying, along with the rather clumsy way she chose to reveal them suggested that it was the first time she was choosing to employ those photos. 

And, not just in the context of getting a professional backdoor, but also in a private context. It proved her determination. 

All that remained, was whether she had the skills to support her daring opening gambit.