Chapter 6

Less than a week later Marianne got out of the taxi outside CAT studio.

From the outside, it looked like a small slightly run-down photographic shop in a terrace of similarly sized (and similarly run-down) shops. There was a small display of second-hand cameras, and a variety of different films for compact 'Instamatic', 35mm and larger format cameras.

Marianne went in and the shop bell rang. She looked around, seeing a variety of different photographic albums for sale as well as some more cameras and lenses. An older lady came into the shop from the back, went to the counter and asked, “Hello, how may I help you?”

“I’m, um, here to see Chris about some modelling?”

“Oh, you’d be Marianne?” When Marianne nodded the lady continued,  “He mentioned that you’d be coming this afternoon. I’ll take you through to the studio.”

She led Marianne through the back into a short corridor. The walls had long ago been painted a pale cream colour, but were now largely covered in large photographs of shoes, pens, buildings, bottles and other objects in some quite creative lighting. All were pin-sharp and clearly professional.

“I’m Chris’s mother, Linda, by the way.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Linda,” Marianne replied as they turned left at the bottom of a short flight of steps. Linda knocked on the door at the end and called out, “Chris? Marianne’s here.”

“Okay, you can come through” Marianne heard through the door. Linda opened it and invited Marianne to follow her in.

At first, the room looked quite dark. Marianne’s eyes were drawn immediately to a young woman ‘on stage’, wearing a short robe and relaxing on a small chair. Her blonde hair glowed in the bright light. As her eyes adjusted, more detail could be picked out in the rest of the large space – about the size of a small village hall, with a tall ceiling easily big enough to accommodate the overhead light on it’s counterweighted pole.

“Thanks, Mum. Hello, Marianne, it’s lovely to meet you again,” Chris, the photographer, told her. “This is Pearl, she’s an experienced model who I’ve known for years – she’ll help you with your makeup and such, and give you some help with the poses if you need it.”

“Hi, Marianne,” Pearl said, coming over to meet her. As she moved Marianne was a little taken aback to find that the robe was covering nothing but Pearl.

“Sorry!” Pearl said, closing up the robe. “We were just trying out a few new shots.”

“That’s okay… um, I’m not sure I can do that, straight off…”

Chris quickly put her mind at ease, saying, “You don’t have to pose nude, Marianne. That’s not the purpose of today’s shoot at all. I just want to see how you look, how you react, in front of a camera, how you respond to direction and whether or not you bring that extra ‘something’ with you in the lens. It’s hard to know beforehand, though of course you do look wonderful, which is always a good sign!”

“And part of my job today is to put you at ease, and I’ve done the opposite. Sorry, again, but don’t worry, you’ll love it!” Pearl told her, before whisking her off to the small curtained-off model’s changing room.

“I’ve known Chris for over five years, he’s a really good photographer. If he’d move to London he could be quite famous, but he’s determined to stay here for some reason,” Pearl said as she thoroughly cleansed Marianne’s face. She deftly applied makeup as she went on, “He’s really nice, but don’t be afraid to answer him back! Also, say when you’ve had enough – he’s a workaholic once he gets going. Linda normally makes sure he keeps to times, though.”

Pearl stood back and turned Marianne to face the mirror. “What do you think?”

Marianne looked at the face in the mirror. She was now wearing a little more makeup than she usually did, but it wasn’t the amount, it was the way it had been applied. She looked really good!

“That’s amazing! How did you learn to do that?” she asked Pearl.

“Oh, it’s just one of the things I’ve picked up along the way,” she told Marianne.” Just then they heard Chris’ voice:

“Hello, is there a model in the house?”

Pearl smiled. “Our master calls! Best we get you out there, Marianne, before he threatens us with all kinds of punishments!”

Pearl stood, drew back the curtains and led Marianne to the centre of the staged area. It stood perhaps three inches above the rest of the studio, a clean, plain floor.

“I thought we’d start with some simple portrait shots, Marianne, so all you’ve got to do is sit on the stool and look pretty. You can look pretty, can’t you?” he asked her, teasingly.

“Oh, shut up you, you’ll put her off!” Pearl told him, sticking out her tongue.

“I hope you’re going to use that!” he told her with a smile, and Pearl smacked his arm, playfully.

Soon afterwards, Marianne was sat upon the stool. Chris had pulled two lights fairly close together in front of her, and had placed the other two sidelights to light the backdrop behind; the toplight was just off-centre on her hair. After checking the light with a meter, Chris nodded to himself as if he’d merely confirmed what he already knew, then shot a Polaroid first and showed it to her. Marianne was a bit distracted by the flash, and knew she’d shut her eyes.

“It helps if you close your eyes for a few moments just before, and then open them wide, Marianne,” Pearl told her. They did it again, and this time Marianne was able to avoid the blink.

“See how great you look?” Chris asked her, showing her the Polaroid, and Marianne could only agree.

Then he went back to his camera – A large, boxy one that he looked down into. “Look at me, chin down a little…” Flash! “Excellent! Now slightly to one side…”

An hour later Marianne was getting into the taxi that would take her home. She had several Polaroids, including a couple of her in a short dress, and also one of her in a skimpy bikini that looked really sexy. Chris had promised that he’d present her with a folder full of photographs once they’d come back from the local laboratory.

“When we do a real commercial shoot I’ll use transparency film, but for the test shoot colour neg’s fine and it’s easier, too. I expect I’ll do some black ‘n whites soon as well – those I can process myself, so you’ll see them more quickly after the shoot.”

“Process them yourself, huh? What sort of pictures do you shoot in black and white, then?” Marianne had asked him with a half-smile, half grimace on her face.

Chris had looked pained. “No, not porn. I don’t do that. But, yes, I do full nude shoots. The sort of thing that gets hung on the wall at exhibitions – fine art, they’re called. Some of them can be erotic, but there’s only the model there, no-one else, and I don’t do the really graphic stuff.”

Then he’d shown her one of the pictures he meant. 

The black-and-white print showed Pearl, naked, standing against a plain backdrop. She was lit mainly from one side, highlighting her jutting breasts with their erect nipples. Her weight was on one leg, turned slightly away from the camera, looking proud, predatory. It was a wonderful photograph, sensual without being tawdry.

“See?”

‘Oh, yes,’ thought Marianne, ‘I see all right. If I can look half as good as that…’

- - - - - - - - - -

Marianne waited for Simon that evening in the ‘Cross Keys’.

“How’d it go?” he asked her, sitting next to her after getting his pint.

“Ooh, it was so much fun!” Marianne told him. They kissed, and then she shyly handed over an envelope.

“See what you think, Simon…”

Simon looked at the Polaroids. Twice. Each.

“These are really good, Marianne. Really good. Are there any more?”

“Oh, there’ll be a whole bunch of them to come once they’re developed. Chris said it would be a few days.”

“Nothing… racier?”

“Would you like there to be, Simon?” she asked him, eyebrows arched.

“Nonono, I was just asking,” he replied, blushing to the roots of his hair.

Marianne leaned in close and whispered into his ear.

“Chris did ask if I was okay with topless work. I told him I’d even consider nude stuff, depending on how raunchy he wanted to get. He’s shown me an example of what he does, nude I mean. There was a really lovely girl there with me today, a girl named Pearl. He’d shot her, nude, just standing there, looking amazing. I’d love to look like that. I’d bet that you’d love for me to show you…”

She pulled away from him, and giggled at his obvious response, hand in front of face. Then she drank her white wine, quickly, gesturing impatiently to Simon to sink his pint as well.

Simon chuckled at her eagerness and did so, quickly.

In his room that night Marianne did her best to duplicate the pose that Pearl had used.

Their lovemaking was ardent indeed!

- - - - - - - - - -

It was almost two weeks later. Simon came off-shift at mid-day, looking forward to meeting Marianne and enjoying an afternoon with her.

He raced home and had a bath, a shave and generally fixed himself up. He was almost ready when he heard the phone ring downstairs. While trying to comb his unruly hair he could hear his mother answer the phone, but couldn’t make out what was said until his mother called up to him.

“Simon? Could you come to the phone, dear? It’s Marianne.”

“Coming!” he called and rushed down to the phone. He took it from his mother with a grateful glance and said into the mouthpiece, “Hello gorgeous! Wassup?”

“Simon? Would you mind terribly if I didn’t see you this afternoon after all? Chris just rang and told me there’s a modelling opportunity come up – but it’s this afternoon. A real shoot, for some advert or other, some client who makes beach toys. Chris is going to take me to Camber and get the shoot done on location.”

Simon just stood there, phone in hand, unable to speak.

“Simon? You still there?”

“Yes, yes, Marianne, I’m still here.”

“Do you mind?”

There was another pause, before Simon answered, “No, no, of course not, Marianne. Off you go – enjoy yourself.”

He heard Marianne’s excited voice scratchily from the phone, “Oh, thank you, Simon, thank you. I’ll see you tonight, or if it runs late, it’ll probably be tomorrow. See you!”

He heard the ‘click’ of the phone going down as he said, “See you, love,” and knew that she hadn’t heard him.

Of course, he’d been unable to say that she shouldn’t go. But he’d been slumped over his third pint of the evening when John and Patty had found him.

“Simon? Are you all right? Where’s Marianne?” John asked him. Simon saw both his friend and the pretty girl with him looking worriedly at him. Simon had had enough to drink to dull the pain, but not enough to make him drunk.

So he explained to them where Marianne was – posing for a camera somewhere, on a real paid-for shoot. “I’m pleased for her, honest,” he told them, “but it was a really last-minute thing.” He lowered his face to the mug of beer he was holding and continued, almost too quietly to be heard, “I miss her. I think I’m going to lose her.”

John clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a dunce, Simon. She’s pretty enough to model, and she’s enjoying doing something new – that’s all. You know, it sounds and looks to me like you’re actually jealous. Have you any idea how stupid that is?”

“Huh?” was Simon’s witty comeback.

“Simon, Marianne’s not going to do anything silly,” Patty told him, gently, with a warning glance at her boyfriend. “This is a proper commercial shoot, you said? In that case, it’ll be all above board. I expect she’ll be too tired to want to do anything but crawl into a hot bath, followed by bed. Did you tell her where to ring?”

Simon thought back, a little hazily. “No, I don’t think I did.”

“She’ll probably ring your home, then. Go home and get an early – well, early-ish – night, Simon. She’ll see you soon enough.”

Simon allowed himself to be pulled up and packed off home. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Patty asked him.

He was able to tell her, “Yes, I’m fine,” and navigate a straight line without too much concentration, so John and Patty let him go.

He arrived home without incident. “Simon, is that you?” he heard his mother call.

“Who else?” he answered, with a faint trace of humour.

She bustled into the hallway. “Marianne called about ten minutes ago. She’s just got back from Camber and she sounded excited but tired, poor love. She said she’s going straight to bed and she’d see you tomorrow night.”

Simon smiled at his mother. Now he felt tired too, as the emotion and the alcohol allied to a full shift caught up with him at last. “Thanks, mum. I’ll see you tomorrow, too, I’m going to bed.”

“Before you go, you’ve had some mail.”

She handed Simon a letter. He looked at it – it was hand addressed, but he didn’t recognise the writing. His mother gave him a quizzical look.

“I dunno who it’s from. I’ll read it upstairs. Thanks, Mum.”

“Goodnight then, son.”

Simon climbed the first step, then stopped, looking back at his mother.

“Dad working the late shift again?”

“I’m afraid so, but at least he has work,” his mother answered, worry plain in her expression.

“He’ll be okay, mum. You’ll see. Goodnight.”

Upstairs, he opened the letter. It was from Alison.

“Dear Simon,
Thanks for sending me a letter. I get very few – most people say they’ll write, but never do. I haven’t forgotten ‘Sensations’, or afterwards!
I don’t know if you’ve seen, but we’ll be playing Knebworth at the festival in July. If you’re able to make it, I’d love to see you after the show at the party. Just ask for Horace at the Roebuck in Stevenage, and say Alison asked for you. They’ll let you in.

Alison.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The following evening Simon came off-shift and met Marianne, who was waiting for him outside the station.

“Ooh, I can’t wait to tell you about the photoshoot!” she told him, hugging one of his arms. She planted a big wet kiss on his lips and chattered on, “Chris picked me up in his Stag. It’s beautiful! We drove out to Camber and he introduced me to the client, a nice older gent in a navy blue suit and tie, really old fashioned he was. I had to change into a bikini – they rented one of the beach huts for the day, so I had somewhere to change – and Chris had me prancing about playing with inflatable beds, umbrellas, cavorting around a picnic table, all sorts of stuff like that…

“Then Chris had me change into another bikini and we did some more shots down on the beach, playing with a beach ball, and an inflatable ring, and stuff like that, sometimes in the water. Ooh, it was still pretty cold! We had to keep asking people not to get in the shot, as it’s a public beach. It was embarrassing sometimes, posing the way he wanted with people looking on, but enormous fun!

“Then the client wanted some more shots up by the beach hut, so I changed again and had to sit looking sophisticated – in a bikini, I ask you! – at a table sucking drinks out of a glass with a complicated knotted glass straw. I think I drank enough orange juice to last me a week! Chris took loads more shots, he’s really good at directing, and I seemed to please him ‘cos he kept saying how good it looked when I posed as he’d asked…”

Throughout the monologue Simon had held onto the beautiful, animated brunette who was talking his ear off. A smile crept over his face as she went on, and on, about Chris, the car, Chris, the client, Chris, the poses, Chris, the equipment, Chris…

“I get it, Marianne!” he finally interrupted. He turned her, pulled her to him and kissed her, deeply. When they finally drew apart, accompanied by applause and raucous calls and whistles from his colleagues, they were both wide-eyed and breathless.

“Let’s go to your place, Simon,” Marianne purred. She linked her arm into his and they set off, quickly.

- - - - - - - - - -

Once in his room, Marianne surprised Simon.

“Would you like to see how I posed today?”

“Ye-yeah, I guess…” he stammered.

“I’ll have to change… oh. There’s no beach hut. I suppose I’ll have to change in front of you, then.”

She lasciviously pulled first one strap of her sundress and then the other over her shoulders, shimmied and shook a moment, letting the yellow fabric slither down to pool at her feet. Underneath, she was wearing a small white bra with delicate, frilly edging, and a matching pair of white panties. Her erect nipples, clearly visible as they tented the fabric, betrayed her arousal. They were shortly joined by a similar, larger tent in Simon’s trousers as he realised he could see her lower lips, under her neatly trimmed bush, through the translucent material.

Marianne licked her lips. Simon swallowed. She bent down, barely flexing one knee to unfasten her shoe, kicking it off before changing legs and repeating the job. Then she stood, looked Simon directly in the eyes and reached behind herself. Suddenly her bra was loose; deftly she slid it over her arms. Simon lost track of it after that, mesmerised by the sight of her beautiful breasts once more.

Marianne waited a moment. Simon wanted to say something, anything to make her continue, but she stood there, weight on one leg, one knee in front of the other and hands on hips. She forced eye contact with Simon again and a long, long moment later, slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers and slowly pulled them down. She kept her eyes on Simon’s all the time, daring him to look elsewhere.

Once they were fully down she stood straight once more, stepped out of them and kicked them away with a contemptuous flick of her foot. Then she walked towards Simon, her carriage erect, her movement as powerful and graceful as those of a lioness. She extended an arm, placing one finger under his chin, closing his mouth with a snap. “You’re drooling, dear,” she purred.

Abruptly Simon stood and ducked under her body, lifting her quickly and easily into a firemen’s carry over his shoulder. He swivelled and tossed her onto the bed before falling next to her. Her giggle was silenced as he crushed her mouth to his.

They broke apart once more so that Marianne could lift his shirt over his head before rejoining in the passionate kiss. Finally Simon could wait no longer, he undid his belt without removing his lips from hers. Marianne’s hand joined his and they fumbled with the zip before he let her do the honours, while he kicked his shoes off. He felt her pull away and mutter, “Fuck it!” before she pulled his trousers down and off. His underwear joined them moments later and they once more joined together in the kiss, their hands now roaming freely over each other. He could smell her scent, sharp, invigorating, and quickly reversed himself so that he could investigate the source.

He found Marianne’s opening flowered, engorged and pink, glistening with her juices. He felt her reach for his manhood, beginning to stroke it’s full hard length. He leaned forward and slid his tongue over the glistening pinkness before him, inhaling her scent and tasting the sharp, sweet/salt juices.

Marianne pulled him into a sixty-nine and while she licked and sucked, Simon inserted first one finger, then another into her, twisting and plunging, feeling for the small indentation that would give her most pleasure. He licked down one side in the crease between inner lip and outer, and then the other, building up the joy for his girlfriend before he began to lick around her engorged clit, now peeking out from its hood.

He felt Marianne’s loss of coordination as her orgasm began, and her belly fluttered. Now Simon really went to town on her clitoris, tongue fluttering, his fingers crooked, rubbing her G-spot inside, his face and hand slippery with her juices and his saliva. Marianne peaked, her muscles spasming, lifting her buttocks clear before she finally fell back to the bed.

Now Simon really could not wait any longer. He moved between Marianne’s legs and she retained enough awareness to relax them, spreading herself, offering her body for his enjoyment, their enjoyment. He didn’t think he’d ever been so excited as he moved the thick, purple head of his penis around Marianne’s lips, teasing them both for a moment before fitting the head into Marianne and slowly plundering her depths.

Marianne had never felt so hot, so slick and so wonderful. He tried to take things slowly, to think of her pleasure. But he was so worked up it simply wasn’t going to happen… Simon mustered his willpower and buried himself in Marianne, holding himself as still as he could, waiting for the crisis to pass. Marianne, understanding, held herself still as well, reaching up to his face to brush an errant skein of hair away from his eye. A look combining love and understanding went between them before Marianne pulled him down to her, kissing him. Then he began to move within her once more, but she stopped him after a minute or two.

“Let’s do it doggy style,” she urged him. He grinned in agreement and she quickly went to her knees before him, resting on her forearms. “Quickly, Simon!” she urged. Simon needed no such prompting. They adjusted their bodies to match heights and he grasped his penis by the base, searching for and finding her opening, sliding in to full depth in one long, steady stroke. “Hard, Simon!” Marianne pleaded, and Simon was only too willing to oblige her, pounding away at her backside. The sound of flesh slapping flesh and their grunts and gasps became the soundtrack to their lust.

Simon was far gone, now, his awareness of such things slipping away, his mind concentrating on increasing his pleasure and hers. He was dimply aware of Marianne falling on to her face, head to one side, gasping, making “Oh! Oh! Oh!” sounds with each thrust as he hammered his way into her.

But the change of position made it awkward for him, so he pulled out and turned her. She flipped herself over and pulled her legs apart. Simon grabbed them, pulled one leg over each shoulder and pushed himself home again, feeling the wet heat envelope him once more. Now folded almost in half, Marianne’s breath truly came in gasps but Simon’s orgasm was soon no longer to be denied.

He felt it coming from the very tips of toes and fingers, drawing in until the only thing he was aware of was the need to thrust himself as far into Marianne’s cunt as her could, holding his prick inside her, driving in a few millimetres more with each pulse as he came, and came, and came.

After what felt like forever he relaxed and let Marianne’s legs fall. She smiled, still looking dazed and far away but happy, and reached up to him. He let himself down to kiss her, then rolled to one side, withdrawing in the process. They cuddled for a while, not speaking, letting their breathing return to normal before Marianne was the first to break the spell.

“Wow,” she said, breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Simon answered. He knew exactly what she meant but hadn’t been able to put into words. That had been the best sexual experience of his life.

“I’m still tingling,” Marianne said, wonderingly. “Simon, that was… amazing!” She took his face in her hands and kissed him. “When did you become the ‘Sex God’?”

Simon grunted. “I don’t think I am, but whatever I’ve learned, sweetheart, you’ve been the most amazing teacher,” he told her. He needed to kiss her again, so he began to move towards her, but it was Marianne who completed the movement, crushing her lips to his.

When they finally broke apart, Marianne snuggled into his chest and cuddled him some more. Simon lay there, feeling her warmth, amazed once more that she could stir such passion in him.

He shut his eyes. Gradually his breathing slowed and became even. ‘When should I tell her that I love her?’ he wondered, just before he fell to sleep.

But his last thought was ‘What about Alison?’

- - - - - - - - - -