Just Shoot Me

My hands trembled as I put my gym bag in the trunk of the car. I could feel your eyes on me from where you stood leaning against the door frame of the studio. I couldn’t look back; I had to go. Just get away from you and clear my head. I jumped into the car and drove off, taking one look back in the mirror as I did. Yes, you had seen me, and you were smiling.

I’m sure the whole situation was funny to you. It was all such a cliché. You were my boss, for goodness sake! Day after day we worked side by side, setting up for the photo shoots you did, editing proofs and making presentations to the clients. I loved everything about it. The intensity you brought to each project, the way you coaxed the inhibitions out of the women who wanted to give their husbands or boyfriends a sexy birthday present by being photographed nude. How simple you made everything just by your very presence. Talking to them gently so they could go to a completely different place. I never told you how many times one of them would tell me before they left, “My husband doesn’t even make me feel like that.” Yes, you were talented, creative and intense. And I wanted you desperately.

It didn’t start out this way. I applied for the job after being introduced to your work by a friend. I knew I had a good eye, and I was a great assistant. I knew the number one rule of any studio—do not touch the cameras unless they are handed to you. I worked quietly and quickly, moving props and lighting, almost reading your mind by now to get things exactly the way you wanted them. I never interfered in the shoot, but just acted like an extra pair of hands for you. Which is exactly how I wanted it.

I don’t know the exact day I looked at one of the models or maybe it was a client and thought, “I wish he would look at me like that.” Your eyes are so expressive, helping them to bring out their sensuality. You look at them like they are beautiful, because to you, they all are. They respond to that and give you their very best. Sometimes you touch them, or tell them to give you more. I found myself at odd moments thinking about your voice or your hands. Talking to me. Touching me. Oh, no, Ash. This is not good. I knew this would have to be my secret.

The day had started just like any other. We were expecting a model at 10:00. I was setting up the studio and you were getting the lenses ready. I heard a commotion at the front and went to see what was wrong. I heard raised voices before I came around the corner and knew exactly what was going on. Danielle, our hair and makeup artist was explaining to the model standing in front of her that we could not shoot her if she was not sober. I looked at the poor girl standing in the reception area, dripping on the rug. She looked to be in her early twenties. I knew when we got her costumed and ready for the shoot she would be beautiful, but what I saw in front of me now was a mess. Her long blonde hair was soaked from the rain. She kept pushing it out of her eyes, but there was just too much of it and it was curling into a frizzy mass instead of in the long cascade of curls we wanted to shoot when we hired her. She was shivering from the cold. I felt sorry for her, but I knew the rules. No alcohol, no drugs, no exceptions. From the look of her eyes, she had had both. Recently. You would not be pleased.

I took her by the arm and led her back to the dressing room. I put her in a chair and brought her a towel and a robe, then went to find her some coffee. Danielle met me at the door with a steaming mug. “What are you doing? You know we can’t shoot her like that.”

The eternal optimist in me wanted to believe we could clean her up and make it work, but I knew how physically demanding some of the shoots could be. I bit my bottom lip and tried to think. Just then you came around the corner and all my thoughts went out of my head. Great! On top of everything else, I was distracted by the image of your hands on me, raising my chin to look up into your eyes right before you put your mouth on mine. I shivered and walked back to the dressing room before you could see how red my face was.

Danielle and I got the model dried off and poured coffee down her throat, but it was no use. I led her to the sofa, where she immediately collapsed. Perfect. Now what? I left the room and went to find you.

As I entered the studio, I could see you outlined against the windows. The rain continued to fall outside and it felt like we were in a cave looking out on a sheet of water cascading over the entrance. You were silhouetted against the light and I watched you moving to finish setting up. I loved to watch you moving around the studio like a big cat—so graceful and powerful. I stood in the doorway and thought about how I would feel to stand in front of you on the drop cloth, naked and vulnerable. Would I feel exposed? Shy? Or would I take one look into your eyes and be lost? Just the way I was feeling so much of the time now? I imagined the things you would say to me, the way you would look, the way your hands would feel touching me. I had denied these feelings for a long time, but it was getting hard to be next to you and keep hiding them. Even if I didn’t say anything, my body would start to betray me soon. What was I going to do?

I fantasized sometimes about telling you and watching as you came across the room and took me in your arms like some romantic hero on an old black and white movie. You would look deep into my eyes and tell me how you had longed for me also and then you would make mad, passionate love to me right there in the studio, and I would fall asleep in your strong arms. What a dreamer. I needed to snap out of it and get back to work. We had a model in the back sleeping it off and no one to replace her unless one of us got on the phone quick.

You looked up at me as I walked toward you and I know I said, “We have a problem,” but what I was afraid I said was, “God, I want you.” I dug my nails into my palms to focus on something other than your lips and how much I wanted to kiss them until I couldn’t breathe.

“What kind of problem?” You looked concerned, but not upset in any way. I had learned in the months I had worked with you that there was no situation that would come up in this business that you couldn’t handle. I had seen you be the one calm person in a sea of people who were out of control for one reason or another on many of the locations we had been on.

“Unless you were planning on doing shots of necrophilia today, we don’t have a model.”

“She didn’t show?”

“No, she’s here. She’s passed out in the back.”

“Ok, who can we call?”

“Danielle’s already on it, but I don’t know who’s available.”

You sighed and left the room to talk to Danielle. I wandered around the studio which seemed much larger without you. You seemed to fill every bit of it when you were shooting, but now it was just a big, beautiful room with fabric draped over furniture and falling to the floor. Sumptuous and sensual, you had called it when I moved things the way I wanted them before the models or clients arrived. It was a welcoming place that made it easy for the ladies, and men sometimes, to feel free to express themselves and their sexuality.

I picked up the embroidered scarf I had draped over the chair and wrapped it around myself, imagining wearing nothing else as I twirled in front of you. I walked over to the cheval mirror and turned it so I could see myself. I put the scarf around my face and let it swirl around me. Only my eyes stared back at me in the glass. Eyes that hid a secret. A desire that I could tell no one.

I let my hands glide over the scarf as it covered my body and imagined they were your hands. Tracing every curve and plane of me, roaming slowly over the fabric. I imagined it was the only thing that separated you from my naked skin and I closed my eyes.

I don’t know how long I stood there listening to the music playing in the background. Some sexy, mellow jazz tune from a CD of one of your friends’ bands. I got all the names confused, but I just let the sax wash over me as I swayed and thought about all the things I wanted you to do to me. And all the things I wanted to do to you.

“Don’t move.”

I hadn’t heard you come in. You were standing behind me. I opened my eyes and saw you looking at me through the lens of a camera. At first I panicked when I realized you were taking pictures. Then I felt all your attention focused on me, and I let the music wash over me.

I moved gently to the music as the camera clicked and whirred. You gave me directions from time to time, which I followed slowly without hesitation.

“Step out of your shoes.”

“Twirl for me.”

“I need to see more of you.”

I looked at you to be sure what you were asking. I took the scarf off and draped it over mirror. You were standing in front of me with the camera in your hand, just looking at me. I began to unbutton my blouse.

“Good.” Now you were behind the camera again. It was easier, in a way, because it wasn’t like you were actually looking at me, but something inanimate was between us, filtering me.

I let my blouse drop to the floor. My heart was racing, but I knew if I didn’t keep going, I would lose my nerve forever. I wasn’t sure this moment would come again. I didn’t question it, I just let it happen. I took a deep breath and undid my jeans and let them drop to the floor with my blouse. As I stepped out of them, I looked into your eyes behind the camera and reached behind my back to unhook my bra. I bit my lower lip as I removed it, never once taking my eyes off the camera. Then in a daring move, I turned around, hooked my thumbs through my thong and pulled it down as I bent over. When my head was down by my feet, I looked back at you. I know my face was on fire, but I couldn’t stop. This was better than all my fantasies.

I stepped out of my panties, and turned around to face you, naked. I heard you gasp and clear your throat. You said, “Drape yourself in the scarf.”

I did as you said and you took pictures of me naked, twirling with the scarf, draped in the scarf, and lying on my back with the scarf trailing over me. It was wonderful. To hear your voice the way I imagined it, and know all your attention was on me was exhilarating. I became bolder and began to touch myself the way I wanted you to touch me. I was lying on my back, completely exposed, playing with my nipples for you. Your voice was a caress as you said, “That’s right, baby, give me that. Touch yourself.”

I closed my eyes and imagined your mouth on me. On my nipples. First one, and then the other. Licking me, sucking me, nibbling gently and then harder. I arched my back and groaned. I wanted to feel your hands on my body. I felt myself begin to get hot. Is this how all the other women feel when you take their picture? Like they are sharing their secrets with you? You moved closer to me so the camera was pointed between my legs. I opened them for you, and touched myself there.

“God, yes,” was all you said.

I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them until they were wet. Then I ran them over my clit in a circular motion. I imagined your tongue there. “Yes, just let go, baby. Give it all to me.”

Ohhh, I wanted to give it all to you. That’s all I could think about—how much I wanted you to take me. I could feel my pussy opening, getting ready for you. I closed my eyes and just felt all the pleasure of my hands. I began moving my hips in response to the motions, rubbing my clit harder and faster. Oh my God, I was going to cum. “Yes baby, cum for me. Go ahead.”

My breathing was coming harder and faster and my whole body was rocking with need and desire. Every thought in my head was filled with you: letting you have me, giving myself to you, touching you, pleasing you. I was moaning and saying yes over and over. Everything else had disappeared except for the fire I felt building inside me, wanting to be released. I felt the spasms coming and knew I was ready to fall over the edge of the cliff. As they took me, I let my breath out and screamed. . . . .your name. Oh no! Someone please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud. Anything but his name.

When it was over, I couldn’t move. I was afraid to open my eyes. I knew you heard me. I was mortified. What had I done? I felt your hand on my shoulder. “Ash, are you ok?”

I felt like saying, “No, just leave me here to die of my embarrassment.” How would I ever be able to face you now? I turned away from you and started to get dressed. When I was done, I picked up the scarf and draped it across the mirror. You came up behind me, but didn’t touch me.

“That was incredible. I got some great shots. Thanks.”

I couldn’t move. Thanks? Thanks? Are you freaking kidding me? I just basically enacted my darkest desires in front of you and all you can say is “thanks”?

Wait, maybe that was a good thing. If you thought I was just playing for the camera, we could get through this and still be able to work together without it being weird. I decided to act like nothing happened and just get on with business as usual. I began straightening up the studio as you walked out carrying the camera.

About fifteen minutes passed and then it was business as usual. The next client was here. Danielle had located a replacement model and we had to fit her into the schedule. I was too busy for the next several hours to think about my little scarf dance, and I knew you were so immersed in the body in front of you, you didn’t have any time for me or my inner turmoil. Which was just how I wanted it. I avoided your eyes and managed to make it through the end of the day without a conversation about anything more personal than lights and props.

Finally, I was in the studio alone. The clients were gone. Danielle was straightening the dressing room and you were somewhere else, thank goodness. I thought about what had happened, and felt the tears come to my eyes. All I was to you was your ever present assistant. You would never see me as a woman. Who could blame you with all the gorgeous models who paraded around in front of you, naked no less? I was not glamorous, or exotic. I was just a regular girl. A regular girl who was crazy about you. You would never even notice. That should have been a good thing, because it gave me the opportunity to work through this before it got even harder.

I loaded my things in my bag and headed for the door. All I wanted to do was go home, take a bath and climb in bed and hide. For days, if possible. I went to the car, threw my bag in the trunk and took off. I was fine until I looked back and saw you looking at me. Smiling. Oh no, you thought it was funny. Now it was doubly humiliating. What should I do? I wondered if I could ever face you again. I had to though; I loved my job.

I drove around for awhile and then headed home. As I was unlocking the door,...