Dirty Shots Read online

  “You didn’t have to—” he started, but stopped when she shot him a look somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

  “Have to what? Take off my clothes? I thought that was the idea, Mr. Rutherford."

  “Call me Eric, please. I just meant you didn’t have to take them off right away.”

  “There is nothing wrong with the human body, Eric. We have nothing to be ashamed of in our nudity.”

  His cheeks colored. Damn, he was supposed to be the professional. “No, of course not.”

  She slipped the straps of her bra from her shoulders and then reached behind her back and unclipped the clasp. Slightly leaning forward, she allowed the item to fall from her body, leaving her breasts exposed.

  Eric let out the breath he’d been holding. Her breasts were exactly as he’d been hoping, big, but not too big, her nipples large and dark compared to her pale skin. He wished it was colder in the room. If he ever got her to wear nipple clamps, she’d need her nipples to be hard. He allowed his mind to wander.

  Imagine her letting you make them hard, taking each one between your lips, sucking it to the top of your mouth and grating their sensitive peaks with your teeth.

  No, that wasn’t what this was about. He wouldn’t let himself go there.

  Finally, Anya slipped off her panties. Just as she had in her interview, she hopped up on the stool in front of the camera. She sat with her back straight, shoulders back so her breasts jutted out. She crossed her legs, momentarily giving him a flash of golden pubic hair.

  She gave him a coy smile. “So when do we start?”

  Eric grabbed the camera from the stand and approached. The sunlight shafting through the window, catching the curve of her thigh and running down her slender calf, right down to the dip of her insole, had caught his eye.

  He dropped to his knees to one side of her. “Right now.”

  He snapped a number of shots. As soon as he started working, the nerves vanished. He stopped thinking of her sexually and focused only on getting the perfect picture.

  “Can you move?” he asked. “Stretch out your legs.”

  She uncrossed her legs and pointed one foot, while bringing the other back to rest against the silver footrest. She leaned backward, balancing on top of the stool, her stomach muscles taking the strain. He photographed the shadows on her ribs cast by her breasts. Then she stood, twisting around, and he captured the perfect curve of her bottom, the line of her back. She moved fluidly and with grace, like a dancer, as he’d somehow known she would. He forgot everything else except the images, catching that perfect shot.

  Caught up in the bubble of capturing such beauty, he lost track of time. But when he noticed Anya begin to wane, her body losing the strength and suppleness she’d had at the start, he realized the time had come to finish.

  He set down the camera back in the stand. “Thank you, Anya. That was amazing, you were amazing.”

  She turned to look at him, standing completely naked in front of him. “You have what you needed?”

  He nodded. “Yes, for the moment.”

  Anya bent to retrieve her clothes, dressing as quickly and methodically as she had undressed. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her the whole time.

  “So,” she said, pulling her hair from the back of her t-shirt, allowing it to fall in a soft halo around her face. “When do you want me back?”

  His heart sang. She wanted to come back! “Same time tomorrow?”

  She frowned slightly, thinking. “I have to be somewhere until three. Is four okay?”

  Eric smiled. “Perfect.”

  He saw her out and closed the door gently behind her. The room seemed empty without her presence, bereft somehow.

  What would she be doing all afternoon? He knew nothing about her—if she even had a boyfriend. But it was none of his business. She was here to be photographed, that was all.

  Eric attached his camera to his laptop and went through the images. They were as beautiful as he’d hoped. Both the camera and the light seemed to love her. He could hardly wait to apply some filters to the pictures, to put some into monochrome and play with the light.

  Already, he could see the potential promise of perfection.

  Chapter Three

  Anya

  “Ms. Rhinne? Are we boring you?”

  Startled, Anya realized she’d been daydreaming, her gaze locked on the clock positioned above the doors of the lecture hall. Her head snapped back around to the front to discover most of the other students turned in their seats and staring at her.

  She forced a bright smile. “No, of course not, Professor Wright.”

  Her lecturer turned back to his slides, the other students losing interest in her. Anya tried to make herself focus, but her mind kept drifting to thoughts of Eric Rutherford and the session they’d spent together. She pressed her thighs together, a tingling flush of heat racing from between her legs and tightening at her core. Being photographed by Eric Rutherford was the sexiest thing she’d ever done in her life.

  She’d struggled to act as cool as she had. The ad attracted her with the promise of a chance of earning a few extra dollars to help her with tuition fees. Her heart had almost stopped when Eric Rutherford opened the door, all floppy dark hair and brooding eyes, though she’d done her best to conceal her reaction. When he offered her the job, she needed to stop herself hopping up and down and clapping her hands in glee. She’d known who Eric Rutherford was ever since her late teens when he broke into the art world with his black and white portrait photography of old men and women, somehow capturing both their strength and their fragility with his work. He’d been like a young rock star of the art scene, bursting onto it to have every spotlight turned on him, only to fall from grace spectacularly with some kind of breakdown he described in interviews only as his ‘dark days.’

  But she had a feeling Eric wouldn’t have thought much of her if she showed herself to be some kind of pathetic groupie, so she’d played it cool. She kept her mouth shut and literally laid herself bare for him.

  Now she found herself obsessed with thoughts of the photographer. The minutes dragged by, painfully slow, and she wished she could go to sleep to make the time go faster, only to be woken in time to make her next meeting with Eric.

  Anya tried to focus on what Professor Wright, her lecturer of fine art, was saying, but even though she loved her major, she struggled to pick apart his words to make coherent sentences. Everything he said seemed to be a drone.

  Finally, the lecturer closed his laptop and called an end to class. Anya breathed a sigh of relief and began to gather her belongings, shutting down her own laptop and pushing it into her bag. Eric was expecting her in the next hour, and she wanted to make it back to her room and freshen up before heading over to his place.

  She trotted down the steps, toward the stage the lecturer had been speaking from, and headed out into the corridor, joining the river of students which flowed down the hall. Someone stepped into pace with her, and she glanced over to find Gavin Hollis, the college’s football star, walking beside her. Instantly, she bristled, her head snapping away to focus on the hall ahead. She hoped if she pretended he wasn’t there, he might just go away.

  He didn’t.

  “Hey, Anya. Where you going?”

  “What is it to you?”

  He walked with his chest pushed out, like a proud peacock, and spoke too loudly, as if hoping everyone else would hear. “I wondered what you were doing later. Me and a couple of the guys are throwing a party at the house. You wanna come?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You know I don’t date college guys, Gavin. Go hit on someone else.”

  “Aww, Anya.” He motioned up and down his body with his hand. “You know you want some of this.”

  She snorted in derision.

  He dropped back a pace, allowing her to walk on, but a mocking laugh followed her. “You won’t be able to control yourself forever.”

  She ignored him. She’d never been interested in a
ny of the guys at college. They all seemed like boys to her—only interested in making an impression on their friends, never a thought for the women they conquered. She had no intention of letting one of these boys paw over her like an overeager puppy, only to report back every detail, and probably add some untruths of their own, to their friends. Her sights were set much higher.

  Crossing campus, Anya headed up to her room to grab her towel and wash bag. She wanted to make sure her skin was silky smooth before she met with Eric. It was important that when he photographed her she was as perfect as possible. Yes, things could easily be blended away with Photoshop these days, but she didn’t want Eric to feel he needed to do such things. The images should not be her enemy, reminding Eric of all the imperfections she knew she had.

  She pushed open the door to her room to find her roommate, Nadine, lying on her bed on her stomach. She was looking down at her tablet, smiling at something she was watching online, but glanced up as Anya entered.

  Nadine propped herself up on her side and flipped her long, dark hair away from her face. “Hey, stranger. Any chance you’re staying around this evening? There’s a big party. Everyone is going.”

  Anya shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m going out.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Ooh! You’re seeing this mysterious guy again, aren’t you?”

  Anya opened her mouth, but her roommate waved her down. “No, no. Don’t say anything. Let me guess. He’s married, isn’t he?”

  She laughed. “I hope not!”

  “Okay, he’s seriously ugly and you’re too embarrassed to be seen in public with him.”

  The image of his high cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and shock of dark hair sprang to mind. She shook her head. “Not a chance.”

  “Who is he, then? I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

  She grabbed her wash bag. “I need to go and get ready. Mind your own business for once!”

  Her friend’s voice chased her out. “Not going to happen!”

  Thankfully, she found the bathroom empty. Anya took a shower and then shaved, waxed, plucked, and moisturized every inch of her skin. She sprayed herself lightly with her fragrance, Shalimar by Guerlain, and then applied a little makeup. She’d gotten the impression Eric liked it when her face appeared innocent, a contrast to the positions he photographed her in.

  Instead of heading back to her room to get ready, she stayed in the bathroom, wanting to avoid Nadine’s line of enquiry. She didn’t want anyone else knowing about what she was doing with Eric. She worried about it getting back to her straight-laced family, though no one at the college had ever met her family or probably ever would. It was too easy for news like this to spread like wildfire. Especially with social media. If people discovered Eric Rutherford was photographing her in explicit poses, she would never be able to walk through campus again without someone firing comments at her.

  Her life wouldn’t be worth living.

  Chapter Four

  Eric

  Anya turned up at precisely four o’clock. The moment she entered the apartment, something inside him changed, as though she filled a part of him he’d not even known was missing.

  “You surprised me yesterday, Eric,” she said as soon as she walked through the door.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “You seemed ... tame. With your photography, I mean.”

  “Are you telling me you expected it to be more explicit?”

  She smiled at him. “After the photographs you showed me the first day, yes, of course.”

  A thrill went through him. “How much more explicit?”

  “I was expecting things to be far more intimate ...”

  “I wanted to take things slowly. To build up to those kind of photographs.”

  She dumped her purse on the floor. “I’m a grown woman, Eric. And even if I look innocent, I can assure you I’m not. I’ve shown men my pussy before.”

  He swallowed; her use of language had shocked him. “Okay. I’m happy to move to the next step if you are.”

  She smiled, an expression that combined an innocence mixed with a devilish mind that made him want to grab her, turn her over his knee, and spank her ... hard. “Oh, I’m ready. I think I made that pretty clear.”

  Today, she wore a short, pleated, kilt-like skirt, and a white shirt, demurely done up to the neck. As he watched, she slipped the top button of her blouse from its corresponding hole and worked her way down, exposing her bra and naked skin. She wore ankle boots, but made no attempt to remove them. Neither did she remove her skirt. Instead, she unclipped her bra and dropped it to the floor, exposing her beautiful breasts, and then lifted her skirt, hooked her thumbs into the top of her panties and rolled them down her legs. The underwear caught in the straps of her boots for a moment and she let out a girlish giggle, hopping on one foot to free them.

  She managed it and looked up at him, laughter dancing in her eyes, a blush warming her creamy cheeks. The sight made his heart lurch, and it wasn’t just because she now stood topless and panty-less before him. No, it was the expression on her face, her way of appearing both demure and sexy at the same time.

  Anya got down onto the white paper covered floor of his studio set-up. She reached down to flip the skirt up so it ruffled around her flat stomach and spread her legs for him, her feet planted on the floor, her knees bent. Then she reclined, half-propped up on her elbows so she could focus her gaze on both him and the camera.

  Eric tried to still his thumping heart, taking a couple of surreptitious long breaths. He flicked on the spotlight he had positioned on the set, directing its beam to that secret place between her thighs. She watched him, a serious expression on her face, no longer the laughing girl.

  He got behind the lens, focusing the zoom, his gaze drawn between her thighs, taking in every detail.

  The puffy swell of her outer lips, shaven clean and pink, except for the small patch of curls left on her mound. The slender, slightly wrinkled lips of her labia peeped through, framing the swollen dark slit. The way she reclined, with her hips tilted upward, meant he also had a view of the tight pucker of her anus and the faint lines where her buttocks met her thighs.

  She reached between her thighs and used her forefinger and middle finger to create an inverted V, pulling her pussy lips back, making her clit pop forward, exposing the delicate, shiny flesh of her inner labia.

  He snapped photo after photo. Raw, intimate images.

  Without needing to be told, Anya flipped herself over and lifted her bottom toward him, flashing her swollen lips beneath her perfect cheeks. Like any great model, she continued to move, an ebbing, flowing being who seemed to know exactly what positions the camera would love.

  Eric could hardly wait to review the photographs. The anticipation of looking back at the beauty the camera had captured was almost as much pleasure as taking the images themselves.

  Outside the apartment windows, daylight began to dim, evening quickly encroaching. Though he could continue like this all night, it was unfair to keep her here as he wasn’t even paying her. He didn’t want her to get sick of what they were doing together.

  Reluctantly, he lowered the lens. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

  “We’re done?”

  He nodded. “For today. It’s good to keep things fresh.”

  She gave him a smile of, what, surely not disappointment? Was she disappointed he’d not taken things further?

  Anya set about picking up her discarded clothing and redressing. His heart sank at the sight of her covering her flawless, porcelain skin, the dark buds of her nipples, the narrow inward curve of her waist.

  He longed to ask her out to dinner, or at least offer her a glass of wine. He wanted to know her, know all about her, even though he felt like in a way he already did. Her lack of inhibitions, her playfulness, her way of being completely direct, all of those qualities enthralled him, and he wanted more. He wanted to find out what foods she liked and disliked, what music she listened to in her a
partment, who she went home to after she left here. But that wasn’t the reason for her being here; that wasn’t what he’d offered her at the start. This was supposed to be a professional relationship, and him doing any of those things would breach the line of what made them purely artistic comrades and become something more—if not lovers, then at least friends. If he did such a thing, would he be able to photograph her impartially? Hell, would she even say yes?

  Oblivious to his thoughts, Anya reclaimed her purse and headed to the door.

  Don’t leave, he inwardly begged.

  But he couldn’t give voice to his thoughts. To do so would be breaking the boundaries he’d so rigidly set for himself.

  “Same time tomorrow?” he managed to croak.

  She swung her head around, her blonde hair moving in a sheet of white gold. “I’ll look forward to it.” Then she stopped, hesitating. “Can I say something?”

  “Err, well, yes ...” He fell over his words, wondering what was coming up. “Of course.”

  “Tomorrow I’d like to try something a bit kinkier. Do you think we could do that?”

  His mind set in a whirl. Does she think I’ll say no?

  “Yes, of course. I was just ... you know... building up to things.”

  She flashed him that angelic smile again and his heart contracted. An angel and demon all rolled into one. He hoped he could capture those contrasting qualities in his pictures.

  “I’m all built up, Eric,” she said. “You can do whatever you want.”

  ***

  Eric woke the following morning and climbed out of bed with a sense of impatient excitement. There seemed to be too many hours until Anya would be back in his apartment, and he knew each one would drag slowly and painfully by. That day he was due at a New York college to give a lecture to a group of students. Normally, he enjoyed teaching, allowing his enthusiasm and expertise to inspire others, but that morning the lecture felt like a hurdle to get over before he could spend more time with Anya.