Photographer 59 (Patreon)

“Now, Carol, I want you to remember it’s a practice session. The aim is to teach you how to move in front of the camera.” 

Carol blushed as she grabbed her dressing gown, but she didn’t pull it close, her desire to teach her roommate a lesson after her overreach winning over her sense of propriety. 

However, from the way she acted, I could see that she was more uncomfortable about my presence than her roommate’s, suggesting it wasn’t the first time Amy had seen her in her underwear — which further suggested Carol was completely blind to the crush Amy was nursing for her, and not just ignoring it for utility’s sake. 

How amusing. 

“I didn’t realize you were going to be taking photos,” Amy interrupted even as I raised my camera, clearly conflicted about what was going on, her desire to protect her roommate battling with her arousal. 

How entertaining. 

I looked at her, deliberately keeping my expression calm and apologetic. “We can always move to the bedroom if you need to watch TV or something,” I said, not giving any outward sign that I was playing her. 

She deserved it after calling me here with false pretenses. I wasn’t unhappy that I was here … but it was the principle of the matter. Her expression flickered a moment, before she leaned against the kitchen counter. “Don’t worry about it. It looks fun to watch,” she said, keeping her voice even enough that I would have missed the hitch if I wasn’t looking for it. 

“As long as it’s okay with you,” I said as I looked at Carol. 

“Of course not. She’s my roomie, she has seen me in less,” Carol said, clearly more concerned about what would happen once I inevitably made a move on her … not even realizing how much her roommate cared about her lingerie-clad body. 

Making the moment right out of a sitcom … well, a raunchy sitcom that could be only shown after midnight. 

I felt a little cruel as I caught Amy’s conflicted look, but only a little. She could always leave if it got too much, after all. 

“Now, how about we start small,” I said as I approached. Close your dressing gown,” I said, enjoying Amy’s disappointed gaze. One that twisted the moment I slipped my hand down the closed down, and pulled Carol’s bra free. 

“Oh, daring,” Amy commented from the side, her tone forced as she tried to sound raunchy rather than shocked. “So, you’re that kind of photographer.” 

“I’m all kinds of photographer, sweetie,” I said without not even catching her gaze, and caught Carol’s gaze. “Now, let’s start with something simple. Try to act like it’s Sunday, and you’re relaxing after a decadent breakfast.” 

Amy snorted in amusement, marking that as something Carol was in the habit of doing. Which was well, as it allowed Carol to act casual, relaxing under the camera. I still gave her some orders to fix her pose. Just because I was taking those photos for fun didn’t mean it was acceptable for them to be bad. 

I still had my professional pride. 

I didn’t expect much from Carol before I started pushing, but Amy continued to heckle from the side — a transparent attempt to hide the attraction she was feeling, which Carol somehow missed. 

Carol responded by giving more and more daring poses, her dressing gown parting open to reveal a deep cleavage, her absence of a bra showing in a very good way.  

Amusingly, for a woman who had no intention of becoming a model — she was far more interested in getting the architecture contract — she was very quick to reveal herself in front of the camera out of pure spite. First, her ridiculous competition with Nicole, and now, as a response to her roommate’s heckling. 

“Well, why don’t you get rid of that gown completely if you’re as brave as you try to act,” Amy commented. 

“Oh, talk is cheap,” Carol answered. “Why don’t you show me your courage first. I don’t see you here with me on the couch —” she continued, only to freeze in shock. 

Since I was still looking at Carol, I didn’t see what stole her words, but the distinct and familiar sound of fabric hitting the floor was too familiar to miss. Then, it was followed by a softer sound … so, when Amy entered the limited view I had through my camera topless, I wasn’t surprised. 

“How about now, roomie, courageous enough,” Amy said as she pushed her chest proudly. I had to admit, she had a reason to feel proud. Her breasts looked good, and the tattoos on her arms only highlighted the perfection of her untouched breasts further. 

Not marring their beauty with a piercing was the correct call. 

It took a while for Carol to answer, frozen in shock, showing that she didn’t expect her roommate to answer her directly. “B-barely,” Carol said, her competitive nature unable to suppress her stammer, but regardless, she removed her gown in one smooth move, revealing her breasts — with some temporary red spots that lingered after our earlier adventure. “Still, it looks like I’m the one that’s winning,” she added, pointing at her panties, which were the only clothing she was wearing. 

It was not a bad comeback. It highlighted her ‘superior’ position, which she was reasonably confident that couldn’t be matched by her roommate, who Carol expected to be far more self-aware about the professional camera in the room. 

Unfortunately for her, she missed exactly where Amy was looking while she declared that challenge. Amy looked thunderstruck as she looked at Carol’s naked breasts, suggesting that, while she was clearly familiar with the way she looked in her underwear, the same didn’t apply to her half-naked state. 

Carol looked at me, her smirk one of pure victory, like she had just won a tennis match. I caught her gaze, with a smirk of my own. She probably misread it, assuming it was one that shared her sense of victory rather than one that was teasing her. 

Which also gave Amy a moment to gather her senses. I did my best not to look at her, giving her a chance to gather her thoughts so that she could make a choice. To pull back with grace, or push forward for more. It took only a few seconds for her to come to a decision.  

She chose the latter. 

And did so directly. She said nothing as she raised her legs, and pushed down everything she was wearing in one smooth move, leaving herself completely naked. I limited myself to enjoying her toned thighs and arms — being a contractor wasn’t a light job, but she was still curvy enough to maintain a delicious dollop of traditional femininity. 

“You were saying,” Amy said while Carol looked at her, shocked. Confronting her crush in such a visible manner had all the hallmarks of a horrible decision, but luckily for her, Carol was just competitive enough, and the events earlier did a nice job of warping her sense of what was appropriate. 

Enough to make her decide having a game of naked dare in front of the camera of a man she had just met today was a good idea. 

“Well, if you want to play it like this,” Carol said with a tense smirk as she pushed her panties down, matching Amy in her nudity. I paused a moment, enjoying the contrast between them. While life clearly threw her a nasty curveball, there was no hiding the mark of a soft and privileged life from Carol. It was clear on everything, from posture to the flawlessness of her skin — the kind that could be only achieved by a combination of genetic lottery and very expensive creams. 

 Similarly, no matter her natural beauty and other advantages, I could never mistake Amy for a rich girl going through a rebellious streak. Her curves were amazing but the muscles underneath were not the kind that was crafted under the careful guidance of a personal trainer. Her tattoos were creative, but the difference between the work of a skilled amateur and a consummate professional was easy to distinguish. 

Yet, for all their differences, as they shared a couch, both naked, there was a nice pattern between them, one that came across the camera very well. 

While they looked at each other, trading insults, I moved around a bit, checking the light, and found it good enough. Not perfect, but sometimes, catching the moment required some technical sacrifices. 

“So, girls. How about if we turn this into a cooperative shoot,” I offered.  They both flinched, showing that, somehow, they managed to forget the presence of a man with the camera. 

My photographer inside me loved it, as such a reaction with the models was very helpful. It was the kind that would create truly masterful products. 

My male side, however, hated it. And, unluckily for them — particularly Amy —  that side was feeling much stronger at this moment. “Now, Carol. Amy is talking a lot, why don’t you stuff her mouth so she stays silent while you come to a decision,” I suggested, pointing at her panties, which were still in her hand.

“I … maybe that’s too much,” Carol whispered while Amy shivered with far more excitement than I had been expecting. It looked like I had just touched one of her kinks, one that made her come to a decision very rapidly. 

“Go ahead, sweetie, unless you don’t think you can handle it,” Amy challenged Carol, and my smirk widened.