“Woman would like to speak to you.”
I looked up from the negatives and grinned, “What did we fuck up?”
“You didn’t fuck up anything this time,” Jane retorted.
I smiled and nodded. “What is it about?”
“Wants a photo set, wants to make sure you can do a decent job with Asian faces.”
“You showed her the portfolio?”
Jane shrugged. “She looked through it like a hawk and stuck around, so I guess she wants that personal touch.”
“Right, keep the customer satisfied.”
“Yeah, you do that this time.”
We grinned, remembering the fellow who had tried to cheat us out of a job a couple months before by saying he was dissatisfied with our product and demanding a refund, which didn’t get to small claims court because Jane had found him using the supposedly “wretched crap” on a modelling page; a short letter from an attorney later, he folded, coughed up, and doubtless was out looking for some other mark to steal from. Since then she had pestered me twice for a raise come the fiscal year, and made sure to point up all her achievements at work.
The woman looked me up and down carefully as I walked to the table. “Sylvia,” she said as we shook hands, “Sylvia Kim,” and I examined her carefully from a couple of angles as she looked back gimlet-eyed. Not quite model quality, she was still an exquisite model of womanhood, and it was not just the desire to expand my clientele that made me eager to court her business.
“So, your clerk tells me you know Korean,” she said in the most formal level of Korean I had encountered outside of a historical drama in class chosen for precisely that.
I replied as formally, “My manager. We’re both clerks as needed.”
She nodded, continuing in Korean to test me, I suspected, formal yet abrupt. “Where did you learn?”
“College here, two years, then three years in Seoul.”
“Why aren’t you there?”
“Classes ended and suddenly my father passed away, so as you might expect, I had to come home and take care of his affairs.”
She seemed to blink a little at the full use of honorifics, both for her and for my father, a tricky point for foreigners, and said, “No chance to get back then.”
“No, I had to start work, and I lucked into shooting for a friend of my father, for his business. He loved my work and offered to help me get started, legal advice and connections and all, gave me the lead on this little house. Small but perfect for our business. I agreed and have made him very pleased with his act of benevolence.”
She smiled, “And you learned to photograph portraits in Korea?”
“My roommate’s brother was a photographer. I was a hobbyist and we hit it off and he taught me a lot in return for me helping out in the studio and the dark room between classes.”
“Which was probably a violation of every labor law in Korea.”
I shrugged, “I wasn’t paid and he said if anyone cared, I was an apprentice.”
She laughed, “That wouldn’t wash legally, I think, but no one would care.”
“So, what sort of photographs do you need?”
“Some portraits for my business, professional and attractive. I practice international law, so I need them to be impeccable. I don’t like the way Americans do photos of me; they seem to never quite get the skin tone attractive. Even the best are never quite right, not like in Korea.”
“When you train on Caucasian faces, yes, it’s hard to change gears, and most don’t even care. At least in this state.”
“So it seems in my experience. I’ll want some test shots, today if possible.”
“I’m free now, if you’re not expecting too many.”
“That will be fine.”
“Will you pick them up?”
“Messenger them to me.”
I went to the door and said, “Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Test shots. Get the paperwork ready and arrange for delivery; it should take fifteen minutes at the most.”
“Already practically done.”
I smiled as I showed the way to the studio, and Jane peeked in after a minute to watch. “Light meter, please, Jane.”
She handed it to me and watched curiously as I checked again and handed it back. “Okay, good. Thanks, Jane.” She watched closely for a minute as I posed Sylvia and then nodded, “Back to work,” and shut the door quietly behind her.
“Does she intrude like that often?”
I shrugged, “Checking up on things. Keeps me honest.”
She smiled, “Jealous girlfriend?”
“Professional manager. Perfect employee.”
The shoot went extremely well, better than my best efforts in Korea, and I smiled in satisfaction as she asked, “When will they be ready?”
“I’ll have them ready by four, send them off post-haste.”
“Right, as long as I have them by six, that will be fine.”
She phoned me at 5:30. “The test prints are very good. I will come by tomorrow evening after work; I assume 7 PM is acceptable?”
The next afternoon, Jane and I were going over paperwork after closing. “What about the Kim woman?”
“Shooting her tonight.”
“What? Here? After hours?”
“Yeah, when she gets off work. Problem with that?”
She looked at me closely. “As long as she pays everything she owes on the dot, she can make any arrangement with you she likes. Just make sure she doesn’t rob us at gunpoint.”
I laughed as she shook her head. “You’re still a big-city girl.”
“Damn straight. Never know when these jokers will jack you up.” She added, “Be careful with those older women now.” I looked at her closely, and she smiled, “I made sure to check her driver’s license when she left the credit card for the delivery.”
I nodded, “A man never asks, so you don’t tell.”
She smiled. “You've been in a good mood since she left, so you do like Asian women. Thought so,” she said smugly.
“Just curiosity, I guess.”
“Why?”
“Never dated one.”
“Even studying there?”
“Just friends, really. They never seemed interested and…I was always shy around them. Never felt well enough at ease in Korea to dare to.”
“Cultural differences?”
“Yep. The cues, the hints in the voice and the posture, I was blind to all that. Two left feet.”
“Do you think she likes you, this Kim chick?”
“No, she’s as formal as they come. Her Korean is like a textbook chapter in the formal level. Which is not too hard any more, not like my first year, all the long verb endings and honorific words and lord, the things you have to do instead of using pronouns, but it sets up this wall between us that I just can’t see a way to punch through.”
“So just business.”
“So it would appear.”
Jane left work at the usual time and I sat reading until Sylvia arrived. I locked the door behind her and turned to face her. “Thank you for agreeing to photographing me after hours,” she said in Korean, and I replied in English, “I understand that you have a busy schedule”; the rest of our conversation proceeded in Korean on the fully formal level.
I led her back to the studio and checked the lighting as she leaned against my small desk. “Ready,” I said, and she moved to the chair under the lights.
I adjusted the lighting again and nodded, and she said, “I was very pleased with your test prints. I didn’t think I was that beautiful. I trust you to make me the most outstanding businesswoman in the state.”
I smiled and said, “You’ve already done most of the work for that.”
She smiled slightly and stood as I posed her, raising and lowering her head, facing left and right, and turning her body as directed to show off her shoulders or neck or bust. Her hair was perfectly coiffed in the latest Korean style for just-turned-middle-aged women, jet black around a perfectly made up face, the quintessence of Korean cosmetic art. Her charcoal jacket fit well around her dark green blouse buttoned to the neck, no gap open to show what appeared to be well-formed breasts.
After ten minutes she said, “And for myself, perhaps something a little more informal? A touch of the personal side?” and slipped off her jacket. I blinked in surprise and said, “Of course, it’s your shoot.”
“Make me beautiful.”
“You already are.”
She smiled slightly as directed, posing beautifully as she turned this way and that to show the firmness of her body and the softness of her breasts, neither too buxom nor too flat, sometimes sheer under her fabric and other times only giving a hint they were there. After five minutes she seemed to swallow something unspeakably bitter and unbuttoned the three top buttons of her blouse without being directed to. She stared into the camera as she played for it, leaning over the top of the table to let the camera see the lace of her bra, her medium cups filled full just visible.
She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, posing devil-may-care and daring me to capture the image to her greatest advantage, yet remained entirely formal and correct in her speech and manner toward me. I was lost to everything but her beauty through the lens as she played to it. After twenty minutes she said, “And I think in addition, I’ll take the boudoir package.”
“Certainly,” I somehow said without stammering, and she smiled sweetly and sat on the edge of the table facing 90 degrees away from me, her weight resting on her palms and feet as she leaned back in a straight sweep from feet to ears, a perfect image of elegance. Soon she turned her head to stare into the camera, the rest of her pose unchanged, and then she raised her left leg to show its taut perfection under the hose.
“Mind you,” she smiled, “I’m very straight, so I’ll trust you to direct me how men like it most. I expect you to make me heartbreakingly sexy.”
“Seduce me. The camera is your lover. I’ll tell you what it likes.”
“Which part of me is the best?”
“All of you. A perfect ensemble.”
“And which part attracts your camera the most?”
“Your eyes, your neck, your breasts.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Tease me with your blouse.”
She watched me with quickening breath as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse for me, showing me just a quick glimpse of lace-encased breast, left then right, as she expertly built my desire for her. Finally she let her blouse slide off her shoulders to hang from her waist, her bra finally exposed fully.
“Tell me, is my bra as beautiful for you as it is to me?”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “It’s my best. Tailor-made.”
“It fits you perfectly.”
She posed for me, showing me her bra from every angle I could think of to view her from, and then I said, “Now…” Pausing at the thought of the boundary I was about to cross, I then continued, “Now let me see you without your bra.”
Although I somehow expected her to show some shock, however slight, to match my own feeling of taking liberties, she showed no response at all out of the ordinary, reaching around behind her as if I were a mirror in which she examined herself stripping bare. I stared lovingly at the firm tan breasts she let me gaze on to my fill as she posed for me, each somewhat larger than her hand, as I confirmed through a lengthy series of hand-bra poses, then captured them as they stood free and still surmounting gravity despite her age, their brown nipples pointing slightly upward, and felt warm in the belly as her nipples became increasingly erect as she played with them for me, staring into the lens as her breath quickened.
After another fifteen minutes, she said quietly, the strict formality of her verb forms contrasting like whiplash with the content of her speech. “Not all men love breasts as much as you do, you know. Make me sexy for them too.”
“Take off your hose, slowly, and let me watch, from here.” She nodded with no trace of apprehension. “Lean against the desk, raise your hem. Show me your legs slowly, tease me, don’t let me see your beauty too quickly, it could blind me.”
She didn’t smile at my comment but simply nodded again and slowly showed herself to me, the brightness of her eyes feeding on my attention. Her shins were finely turned, her thighs thicker and more showing her age, perhaps, but at the moment exquisite. She raised her knee after raising her hem to her waist, and let me see a glimpse of panties, lacy to match her bra, as she tilted her hips toward me and away as she slowly slid the hose down her leg to the knee, and then off. She then turned a bit more away from me to let me capture the other leg from the side, its long line flowing smoothly from her hip, and once it had been removed, she leaned over to look into the camera from the side, her breast squeezed against her knee, the other breast hanging free.
She took the initiative then, lowering her leg and rolling her hips toward me, her thick hairs clearly visible through her white lace, as she moved sensually in a fever, languorously showing herself to full advantage in every pose, needing only a few hints from me to show her toned belly or thighs to full advantage.
Finally she stood before me, arms akimbo. “Do you like my panties?”
“They match your bra perfectly. Yes, beautiful.”
“It took a while to match them. They’re my best set.”
“You’d be even more beautiful without them.”
She smiled, “This is rather far beyond a boudoir set, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Quite.”
“A 20% bonus then. Only fair for your labor.” Although I was tempted to write it off entirely, I knew Jane would kill me come accounts time if I did, so I simply nodded. “And now make me the sexiest Korean woman who ever lived.”
She took naturally to nudity, sensuality building as she teased me removing her panties, sitting against the edge of the table as I captured the perfect thatch of black at the join of her thighs, then lying on her side as she showed me all her curves. Soon enough she sat up again and teased the camera with glimpses of her inner lips as she raised her knee and lowered it again.
Finally she faced me and leaned back on her knees and said, “Let’s make the audience happy.” I held my breath as the camera clicked, her lips coming into view as she spread her thighs for me. Her lips were swollen and folded like a snail or an oyster, a deep brown framed by perfectly trimmed hairs, a light fringe in the darker brown skin around the center of her body, and she stared into the camera as I captured her most intimate views.
After five minutes in which she showed me her body, thighs open, in every position that I could think of, gazing openly at the camera as I gazed at paradise and its deepest center, ending with her staring at me over her shoulder as she thrust her ass into the air to give the camera the illusion that we were about to couple like animals, she rolled over onto her back and said, “Capture me perfectly now.”
She reached between her thighs and caressed her lips, stroking lightly as her fluids squished under her fingertips. I watched, nothing drawing my attention away from the view through the camera, not even my swollen balls and throbbing erection close to spilling in my pants, as she worked herself for the camera, exposing her pink center and then covering it as she gripped her pubis and fucked hard against her hand. “Make sure you catch my face in every shot,” she whispered, and stared into the camera as I captured every twitch and tremor of her climb to orgasm.
After three or four minutes, she groaned, “I’m coming,” and then squealed as she pounded her hand with her hips and her pussy with her hand, her lips engorged around her deeply embedded fingers. Finally, as her first scream was torn out of her, her eyes closed and her head rolled back, the muscles of her throat standing out as her hips thrust up in the air, ass inches off the desk as the scent and sounds of her fluids filled the room.
After a minute she collapsed. She pulled her hand away and said, “Now be sure to get the scenery as I cool off.” I watched her lips recede as the flush left her face and her sweat dried. Despite her intense passion, she remained cool and calm in speech, watching me as she said, “The 20% bonus of course is intended to cover complete confidentiality. The pictures belong exclusively to me.”
“Of course. That’s implicit.”
She nodded, and surprised me by still continuing in formal Korean. “How soon until they’re ready?”
“Two days.”
“Is that long?”
“It’s quite short, actually.”
“No need to rush. Three or four is fine, but no longer.”
“No, no, it’s just if I don’t develop them soon, the camera could spontaneously combust with what you’ve put on it.”
She laughed and quickly dressed. She reached out her hand, then looked down at it, laughed, and bowed; I returned the bow and laughed as she said the usual Korean farewell when leaving a store, “Sell a lot.”
I escorted her to the front door and watched as she made it safely to her car. I then locked up and returned quickly to the studio, where I immediately took the storage chip from the camera and opened the file in my computer. Dropping my trousers, I grabbed a handkerchief and stared at her beautiful breasts in close-up until I spewed the largest load of my lifetime into the handkerchief a minute later. Turning to a photo of her vulva in extreme close-up, I drained myself three more times in fifteen minutes and finally felt able to do a little work before leaving for the day.
I came in at ten the next morning after my weekly run to the bank and a trip for supplies. Jane looked at me closely over the paperwork and said, “A boudoir set as well?”
“Yes.”
“What is this bonus?”
“Rush.”
“Then why wasn’t it coded for that?”
“I didn’t think to.”
She looked at me closely and relied, “Start thinking again. I know you have an Asian fetish as thick as my arm, but this is business.”
“No, I do not.” She looked quizzically at me and I smiled, “Okay, a little, the size of your little finger.”
“No, it’s about the size of my middle finger,” she said unsmilingly. “If she doesn’t pay…”
“If she doesn’t pay, contact a lawyer. A good one.”
“Fight fire with fire?”
“As it were, yes.”
I called her two mornings later. She immediately asked, “Are the pictures ready?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll stop by tonight after work and make sure they’re acceptable.”
“Certainly.”
“About seven. Until then.”
She had retained the most formal level of Korean and had taken on the frostiest tone of voice I had heard in many a year. While I was not surprised, given what she had shown of herself, I did find myself a bit dismayed.
As for myself, I had masturbated constantly to the pictures, which I had printed in duplicate. In my years studying in Korea, the manners and decorum had reinforced my shyness in a foreign land, and I had been too busy studying and taking photographs as a hobby to really feel a lack—later, I had thought, maybe next year I’ll start looking for companionship, and then the need to return home ambushed me. A forbidden fruit, Korean women had seemed, and finally one had shown me everything my eyes could have desired.
More than that, what bedeviled me was the whole purpose of her pictures; the job left me utterly baffled. The professional pictures, those were understandable, and I made them if anything even closer to perfection than the intimate pictures that left me drained—but nudes, sexually explicit nudes showing every detail of her pleasure, they made no sense. A few ideas came to mind, but none seemed satisfactory.
I set all such thoughts aside and waited for the evening. She arrived right at seven and greeted me with a slight bow and as severe a manner as a suspicious grandmother. She joined me at the table and watched me closely for any untoward forwardness as I handed her three large envelopes with my most business-like manner. “These are your professional portraits, these are your more relaxed pictures, and these are the last batch.”
She looked through each set closely, very closely indeed, as I looked away, and finally said, glancing at each in turn, “Yes, these are fully acceptable. Better than I imagined, actually.” After a pause, she added quietly while looking at the last batch, “Much better than I thought possible.”
“Here is my invoice.”
She nodded, took out her cell phone, and did a quick transaction. I saw the email indicating receipt of funds on my own phone and nodded back. “Oh, and here.” I slid over a flash drive, which she picked up casually and slid into a deep, deep recess of her purse.
“No doubt you’ve kept a copy for yourself. Enjoy them,” she said. “You should, doing such great work.”
“Do be sure to pass the word to anyone looking for a photographer.”
“Most certainly.”
I walked her to the front door. Before stepping through, she said, “Thank you again for your fine work. And for your lifelong confidentiality.” I bowed to her and she nodded, and looking me in the eye said, “You have a good business manner. Professional and courteous. You should go far. Sell a lot.” To the end she had remained on the most formal level of Korean, and she quickly turned and walked to her car.
As she drove off, I sighed. So close to paradise, but not close enough. I smiled sadly and thought, Ah well, I still have the memories, and the pictures.
Work continued without slack, a wedding that weekend and several family picture sets, plus some quarterly work for local businesses’ advertisements, and Jane took an accountant's delight in the flush flow of cash.
“I like clients who pay up immediately. Like your Korean girlfriend.”
“Just a client.”
“That must have been some job you did for her.”
“I spun her a tale of woe about how I have an impecunious employee who doesn’t mind her own business and needs money for emergency etiquette lessons. She gave me extra just to shut me up.”
“I would’ve too. But that is my business in this business, as you damn well know. Or is it?” She looked at me piercingly, but I simply smiled and shook my head.
Three weeks later she called. “I’ll need a portrait set for a cultural festival. I do hope you’ll be able to fit me in in short order; it’s urgent and you’re by far the best for the job.” She spoke on as formal a level of Korean as ever, but the frost seemed to have melted.
I paused in surprise at hearing her voice, then replied, “Name the time and place.”
“Tomorrow after work?”
“Yes, that’s doable.”
“Seven-thirty then; I’ll need to change.”
“See you then.”
That evening Jane looked closely at the schedule and said, “Your girlfriend’s back.”
“A valued client, nothing more.”
“How valued?”
“One who pays immediately without trying to chisel us out of our hard-earned money, so pretty damn valued, I’d say.”
She laughed and said, “Quite so.” She thought for a second and said, “Just portraits?”
“So she said.”
“Be super-charming and maybe she’ll add on more of the sexy stuff. I know you’ll like that.”
“Or maybe that market’s glutted.”
“The supply side, perhaps, not the demand side. The demand is insatiable for that stuff.”
I looked at her in puzzlement. “What stuff would that be?”
“Boudoir sets. Maybe other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
But she simply smiled and said nothing, and in sudden embarrassment I decided not to pursue it.
When Sylvia entered the next evening, I led her back to the studio and she removed her coat to show an elegant hanbok. “I need a few pictures for a brochure; I’m one of the sponsors, so I must look my very best. Just came from the salon, actually,” she said as I inspected her hair, again perfectly coiffed, and a perfect makeup job, and then closely examined the outfit; her jeogori, the upper vest, was a light green satin with embroidered birds on the rich blue collar and cuffs, and tied with a crimson bow, while the chima, the skirt underneath, was a plain cream satin.
As I checked the lighting and made sure of the color with a light meter, I asked, “I must admit I’m not fully up on fashions. Your hanbok seems…somewhat traditional?”
“It’s a common enough fashion now. Traditional enough to be presentable for a sponsor, modern enough to suit my own tastes,” she said with a slight smile.
“Let’s try a few different backgrounds, find the color that suits you best. For such a spring color, would autumn colors be acceptable?”
She looked at the screen. “We’ll try it.”
Thirty minutes later I had taken enough pictures, all superlative, to give her a full wealth of choices. She then looked me in the eye and said, switching for the first time to the daily informal level of Korean, “I should thank you again for the other pictures. I was rather taken aback by how beautiful you made me in all of them. Every single one. I should have thanked you again, but, given the subject matter, as you might expect, it was, of course, a matter I preferred not to mention, not to have between us. Which it would always be.”
“As I thought. Entirely understandable.”
“But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t something I could just push aside. And it surprised me to realize I didn’t feel at all ashamed of what I did. Perhaps the pictures made it seem beautiful and natural, or perhaps I’m just growing old and Americanized.”
I smiled as she looked around the studio, then looked back at me. “I’m sure it’s old hat to a worldly man like yourself, but there is a well-established niche of…” and indicated her outfit.
“Hanbok erotica? No, I was entirely unaware of that. But it does have its charms.”
She smiled, “I thought it might. Shall we add a boudoir package to the invoice?”
“The customer is queen.”
She came alive for the camera, posing beautifully as she slowly undid the bow at her neck, eventually lifting the jeogori off and setting it aside carefully on the back of a chair. The chima was tight around her breasts, the belt holding it in place a navy blue seeming black against the cream, and she smiled and said, “It’s an odd form of erotica, isn’t it? There’s no join down the front to peek inside the gaps, it completely suppresses a woman’s charms…Which perhaps makes the imagination work better.”
“Shouldn’t there by a slip underneath the chima?”
She smiled, “That depends on circumstances.”
She twirled and bent for the camera, and soon she leaned against the table and raised her leg to slowly slip off the sock. She looked up at me and said, “Quite often in the film she’ll leave all of it on, jeogori and all, sometimes with all the outerwear and the most ornate headdress, and only show her legs, and then between them.”
“Which has its charms.”
“But so hard to clean afterwards, wouldn’t you think?”
We laughed and she removed her other sock, and then undid the tie holding the chima closed. It slipped forward off her, leaving her bare except for her panties, and after setting it carefully on the chair stood before me, arms akimbo, and said, “And here we are, business suit or hanbok, the same place in the end.”
I took a few more photographs as she raised her arms above her head, then folded them under her breasts, and then she said, “You’ve no doubt enjoyed my pictures.”
“More than I care to admit.”
“Why? You did good work. It should be celebrated.”
I laughed, “Okay, very much indeed then.”
“You saw me; I think it’s time I saw you.”
I set the camera down carefully and said, “Choose what makes me handsome to you.”
She smiled and said, “Undress for me. No need to be coy.”
I was soon bare before her and she said, “Now keep photographing. I’m not paying you to slack off.”
She stripped off her panties for the camera and leaned against the table. “I remember what you said last time, what you like most.” She walked over to the chair and pulled something from a fold in the cloth, and returned to the table. “Come here.” She sank to a crouch as she positioned me in front of her, and raised herself slightly as she undid a tube and coated her breasts. “Photograph every second, and make sure my face is in every shot.” As she reached up and stroked me lightly before positioning me between her breasts, she added, “Make it beautiful. Make me proud to see you there.”
She pushed her breasts up and around me and watched as I stroked between them, then looked up at me in the camera. As she tweaked her nipples, I quickened my pace and soon lost control. I somehow continued photographing as my passion rushed through my loins and into my cock, and the first spurt shot up the right side of her neck and into her hair. I continued spurting as she jiggled her breasts up and down around me, and when I finally started to soften, she stood up and said, finally, finally switching to the intimate level of Korean, “You shot everywhere. You coated me with pearls and milk. Good.”
“Sorry about your hair.”
“Don’t be. Make sure it’s visible. We’ll be leaving this here for the next set.” She sat on the edge of the table and lay back, spreading her thighs as I photographed paradise yet again. “You enjoyed this view thoroughly, I’m sure.”
“Repeatedly and exquisitely.”
“Show me on my belly what you did.” She reached down and pulled me forward and stroked me fast and hard until I was throbbing, somehow managing in the photos to catch most details of her hands working me expertly above her black thicket and fully swollen inner lips, and then my finger automatically worked the shutter as another swift flood of my seed spewed up to her breasts and onto her belly.
“Now give me the camera. Leave your juice, and on your knees.”
I leaned in and licked happily at the lips and little button I had stared at nightly for the past three weeks, and she kept clicking as I worked my fingers inside her and felt her passion rise under my kisses and caresses. Suddenly her hips thrust up so hard against me I was sure she was close to breaking my nose, and as her thighs clamped down hard on my head, she screamed as she aimed the camera in my direction and let the photos take themselves.
When she let me go, she handed me the camera and said, “You’re hard? Good.” Switching to English, she said, “Fuck me,” then switching back to Korean she used a wide range of vocabulary I had never learned. As I thrust inside her, she said, “Fast and hard, fast and hard, and fill me hot and thick with your seed.” Despite two releases already, I was soon building to orgasm as she fucked up against me, cooing and moaning as her hips circled against me, her body alive and writhing in passion, as if trying every way it could move, every direction it could thrust, to choose the best for the moment. Soon she groaned, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” I lasted long enough to feel her first contractions around me before letting loose deep inside her, and finally she lay still on the table as I photographed her afterglow.
“Now record what you’ve done.” After a second I realized what she meant and pulled away to photograph my juice trickling out of her ragged lips, her thighs and hairs sodden with her juices. Ordinarily this would have filled me with distaste, but with her the sight of my cum dripping from her filled me with pride and resurgent desire, and I leaned in to photograph the aftermath of our work from two inches away, her lips filling the lens.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? Good.” She rose from the table and knelt before me, and as she stroked me she said, “Enjoy the view like I did you, and don’t stint on the photos.” She stared up at me as she took me inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head as she stroked the shaft fast and hard. She worked two more inches inside her and seemed satisfied with what she held, and as she sucked and stroked I stared into her eyes through the camera, the lust in them pushing me too quickly into another climax.
She held me in place as a few spurts shot into her mouth, and once she had stroked the last drops out, she pulled back to make sure the camera caught my pearly juice inside her mouth, then looked into the camera as she swallowed loudly and opened her mouth again, a drop at each corner.
She stood up and said in formal Korean, “Thank you, that was an excellent shoot. I think a 30% bonus is in order?” I nearly refused, but then remembered Jane’s inexhaustible fiscal responsibility and nodded. “Will they be ready soon?”
“Two days, I think, maybe three.”
She then returned to the most intimate level of Korea, and from that point on never used another level of formality. “Now I think it’s time to wash up.”
“Shower with me?”
“Of course.”
We washed each other off, scrubbing each other’s back and delighting in the feel of each other slick under the soap, and then dried each other off. I helped her dress, she watched me as I dressed, and then she sat across from me at the table, a deep silence having come over both of us since the shower. Finally she said, “Your thoughts?”
Thinking furiously, I chose honesty and simply said, “I hope this is more than one night.”
“Then it is. Good. I was unsure whether you were just looking for another notch.”
“No, I’ve never had it like that, with such an incredible woman.”
She nodded. “I had no interest in you at first…well, no, let’s say the interest was much, very much smaller than the anxiety, but those pictures, like I said…you won me with them. A man who makes me look like that, and feel like that, he needs close attention.”
“You swept me off my feet from the first, just the professional photos. I wouldn’t let myself do anything less than perfect for you.”
“So, I need to know, how many of us have you had?”
“Women?”
“Us.”
“None but you.”
“What? None? In all that time in Korea?”
“I was saving myself for the best.”
She laughed. “You and me both.”
She watched me happily as I closed shop, inspecting the rooms and checking the windows, locking the back door and then the front, and walked with me hand in hand to her car. “Your place or mine?”
“Wherever you’re comfortable.”
“Then welcome to my lair. Follow me and don’t break any traffic laws.”
I smiled and soon enough was led to her bed, where she responded slowly as we took our time, exploring each other closely with hands and lips, and after an hour of play she welcomed me inside her and let me come after exhausting herself repeatedly against me.
“Those will be great photos tonight,” she smiled afterwards before I dozed off.
“This was better.”
“It was, and we’ll just get better and better from now on.”
A month later Jane and I were eating lunch when Sylvia swept in through the back door, a regular fixture by that time. She sat down at the table and put a large piece of cake before us. “Eat up, my sweets.”
Jane cut herself a bit more than half and quickly took a bite as Sylvia kissed me. “Sorry to brag in front of you,” she said to Jane.
Jane shrugged, “With this cake, friend, you can do whatever you want with him.”
We laughed and Sylvia said, “Happy…anniversary? No, happy monthiversary to us.”
Jane replied, “Luniversary, perhaps?” as I slid the rest of the cake over and took a bite, then gave Sylvia a bite, and then watched her laugh as she tried to swallow when I said, “Yes, a cake like this, she can do whatever she wants with me.”
“Yes, I hope he’s much happier at work,” Sylvia laughed after she finally managed to swallow.
“Oh yes, and lazier. He just sits in his chair all day long with this stupid grin on his face.”
We laughed and Sylvia said, “That’s a surprise! He always seemed such a go-to-and-do-it kind of man. I hope I’m not ruining him.”
“So do I,” Jane muttered.
I blinked as Sylvia looked closely at her. “I’m sorry? Is there a problem with me?”
Jane sat up and looked at her, “I sincerely hope not, but I need to know a few things.”
Sylvia glanced at me and asked in Korean, “What’s her problem?”
“I don’t know, but answer her. She’s got a right to honest talk.”
Sylvia turned back to her. “And what has you worried about me?”
“The whole set-up. It makes no sense. First, a boudoir set, after hours, without me helping out? That was unprecedented. And a big bonus. And the pictures were something else. Then another boudoir set after hours without me, and another big bonus, and then those pictures were like nothing else, at least that I’ve seen in this shop. Why? If you were just having fun with a new boyfriend, there’d be no money. If there’s money, there’s no sense in you paying him to show every square inch of your body and coat it with cum—no damn sense at all. And I don’t trust it. Worst of all, I do trust you by now. So it makes even less damn sense at all. Negative sense. The only things I can think of are money laundering, which will get me out of a job and in trouble, a honey trap that will end up with me unemployed, or maybe you have to hide from North Korean spies, or maybe South Korean spies, or US spies, and you’re setting yourself up in fine fashion to disappear into our lives, putting all of us in danger. And so, I want to know what in the name of all that is holy is going on.”
I chuckled, “Well, that’s fair enough.”
Sylvia glanced at me, suppressing a smile, and said, “Yes, but one thing first. You’ve seen our pictures?” She added to me in surprise and English, “You knew?”
“Hell no, but I’m not surprised.”
“Of course I’ve seen your pictures. If it’s not perfectly clear to you, I’m the manager here, and I plan to stay here for a long time. Besides occasionally helping out like a peon during shoots, I run this place. I make sure he can do his job without any hiccups. I protect the company, I protect him, and he pays me above market to do so. So yes, I have seen your pictures. The whole thing was suspicious—after-hours one-on-one boudoir sets are not SOP, and when I saw the 20% bonus on the invoice the next morning with no indication what it was for, you can be damn sure I checked to see what the hell was what. Well, I certainly knew what was what then, and isn’t it romantic? Hell no.”
Sylvia looked at me quizzically and I replied, “Yes, she’s my right hand. I know her job, so I’ve kept a close eye on her, like she does me.” Jane nodded matter-of-factly, and nodded even more strongly when I added, “She’s proven herself time and again.”
Sylvia nodded, “Good.” Jane blinked in surprise and Sylvia smiled, “I’m glad my man’s smart enough to choose good associates and knows how to manage them properly.”
Jane blinked again and looked at Sylvia a little less suspiciously, though with more confusion. “So what gives then?”
I smiled, “Go on, tell her. It confused the hell out of me too, if you’ll remember. She doesn’t have the benefit of my…basis of trust.”
Sylvia smiled back, “Then you tell her. You’re her boss”
“It’s your place.”
Sylvia laughed, “Yes, yes, just teasing. Well, Jane…” She thought for a second. “Seven years ago I met Christopher. At my 30th birthday party, no less, all my Korean friends, at a nice Korean restaurant near my office then. Chris is his English name, we all have two names, it seems, since Korean is not yet the language of international business…”
“Yet,” Jane laughed.
“Give us a century, okay?” We laughed and she continued, “And we were an item. The engaged. He was transferred two years ago, we started a long-distance relationship. Then a year ago he stabbed me in the back with this pretty little thing in marketing in the Chicago office. Typical story, go for the stick-figure model wanna-be ten years younger…”
“So you did too.”
“He’s no model, and he’s only eight years younger, so no.” We laughed and she continued, “And this was after we’d built careers here in the States. He just up and goes away to be with her. So I was devastated. Then he got dumped by her. His stick-figure model found a bigger wig to hook. So I wouldn’t take him back, and he…He went crazy, and started driving me crazy. One day I’d get an email that he would be the best husband ever, then the next day he’d brag about his latest conquest, ‘You know you want this, you’ll never do better.’ It was sickening me and killing me all at once, a blow to the heart and a turn of the stomach all at once. Finally he sent me pictures of his latest girlfriend. Explicit pictures.”
“Like I saw.”
“Mine were tame.”
“Holy shit.”
She nodded, “Nothing holy about that shit. There were at least four items that should be scrubbed with bleach...besides my eyes, and maybe burned in an incinerator for public safety.” We laughed and she continued, “So I had to get some new pictures done anyway for business, so I decided to kill two birds instead of killing him and his bird, so I hunted around and…well, a photographer who knows Korean is something. It made me comfortable enough to go through with it. So I got my pictures and sent a full abundance of my charms to Chris with a letter saying, ‘You lost this through your own fault and you’ll never have it again. It’s better without you. Cry me a river and find yourself a psychiatrist.’”
She paused and added, “It drove me insane, really, him just ripping at me like that, shredding our history, debasing what we had, just crossing every boundary, grinding good taste into the ground. Just horrible. He hadn’t been like that…I had never conceived anyone could do that.”
Jane nodded, “Some men are maddening. But once wasn’t enough?”
“Oh, I was never going to come back after getting the pictures. It was an atrocity of war, shameful and not to be spoken of again. It was all I could do to come back to get them and pay for them…but the pictures were really good. I mean, I was amazed how good I looked. There was nothing seedy about them, nothing tawdry, even when…well, you’ve seen the last ones.” Jane nodded. “So I saw our favorite photographer in a completely new light.”
She leaned over and kissed me, then continued, “But of course I probably shouldn’t have sent those pictures, because Chris sent a whole bunch back of him with his latest fuck toy and a letter saying, ‘This is what I get just by snapping my fingers. You could have this, so feast your eyes and come running.’ He actually wrote that, deluded little fucker. Clearly I was driving him insane too, because a normal person would never lower himself…but I wasn’t a normal person after reading that either. God, I was furious and disgusted and wanted to crush him to nothing.”
“So you came back.”
“Well, I did need some portraits taken for the traditional dance festival, and who better?” We laughed and she continued, “Yes. So, in short, it turns out when you’re insane with anger, the fucking is really, really hot. I mean, earth-shattering.”
We laughed again, and Jane nodded, “Truth, sister.”
“I’d never had it like that, ever, just…perfect passion, perfect lust, perfect…orgasms.” We laughed, and she continued, “But at the same time, it was so good, just his side of it. He worshipped me, you know, with his camera. God, just sweet and hot. And after the shoot he made it clear it wasn’t just a fling, so…when I sent off the photos to Chris, all the drama and pain went with them. I just included a note, ‘He’s better than you’ll ever be in every way. Behold what you lost and never contact me again.’ I mean, yeah, I was over him, but he needed squishing under my shoe. I’m not a particularly forgiving woman anyway, and certainly not after being treated like that. Two weeks later he did send me a note.”
Jane stared at her, eager for the story, “A suicide note, I hope.”
“A wedding announcement, so given his state, probably a murder-suicide pact in the end. Figuratively speaking, I hope. But yes, I don’t see that marriage ending up happy.”
Jane looked at me, “And you’ve seen them?”
“The notes, not the pictures.”
“The pictures were not his business. I burned them later, as a victory celebration after the wedding announcement arrived.”
Jane nodded, exuding satisfaction, and said, “Okay, that’s almost as good as harboring an international spy.” We laughed and she said, “Welcome aboard then. Treat him right and you’re all right by me.” She finished her cake and said, “So, boss, about that raise…”
I laughed, “Yes, you’ve shown initiative and devotion to the business, so I think you’ve made your case.”
Sylvia nodded, “I hope the budget allows 20%. It’s a good figure.” I looked at her in surprise and she smiled, “I need to make sure my man’s in trustworthy hands.”
