28-04-2019, 02:58 PM
So before I know it, I was walking home, and Eric and Samina are heading the other way to the registrars building. I turned and watched them for a second. From the rear they looked a comical couple; Samina s thick clogs made her look a fair but taller than Eric, even though height-wise they were roughly the same height at 5'4”, but in the clogs she towered over him. Eric was talking non-stop, as they came to a crosswalk and halted he touched my wife on her arm, I suppose to emphasize a point; she leaned her head down towards his, I suppose to hear better.
They faded from view and I left. That walk home was instructive. I went through two stages: burning jealousy, then rational thinking. There were two good reasons why nothing would come of Eric's crude hitting on my wife: Eric and Samina. He was twice her age (and despite her interlude with Derrick, Samina had said that she still was not entirely sold on being with older men!), short, crude, sexist and reactionary, and too aggressive. She was young, beautiful, a sensitive feminist who couldn’t stand chauvinism, or show offs. Plus, she knew that Eric was a co-worker of mine and would know better than to mix business and pleasure. Still, I had lingering doubts. Samina seemed to be having no problem being around Eric.
So, I did get a little worried that evening, when I found out that Eric had signed up for a photography class and would have an excuse to hang around campus. When I asked Samina, what she thought of him, she said that he was funny, almost like a caricature of a lounge lizard type.
Anyway, jealousy is a funny thing. It comes and it goes. Without any incidents to fuel it tends to fade, except when you are in certain moods the very absence of evidence seems like the most damning evidence of all. Now, I have always known, that my wife was an attractive, sexually desirable woman, a real prize. I know, that men must be mentally undressing her every day. And she must have her share of come-ons and pick up attempts. Besides she knew full well that she could go to bed with any man that caught her fancy, and the campus was full of good-looking, energetic young men, who would kill to fuck her, so why would she waste her time with a runt like Eric?That thought made me feel a lot better.
The funny thing was that I also knew that her very statuesque, smooth beauty tended to intimidate men and protect her from much serious attention, as did her personality, which could sometimes come across as being cold. So the worries I had about Eric Stern were basically ungrounded, which made them into the paranoid category, and made me read something into nothing.
The nothing was that for a couple of weeks Eric hadn’t talked to me at work about Samina, hadn’t called or stopped by when he was in for class, and Samina hadn’t mentioned seeing him on campus. Both Eric and Samina, independently seemed to be in good moods. I wasn’t yet at the point that I would ask them about one another out of the blue. I did ask Eric about his photography class. He said it was going well.
“What sort of class is it- landscape photography, still life, studio?” I asked, genuinely curious, as photography is a hobby of mine.
“I don't know the fancy name,” he mumbled, “we learn technique in class Wednesday nights, then we get the shots at home, or, or anywhere.” He was unusually reticent, considering he loved to talk about himself, his expensive gadgets, and how he loved using them.
I didn’t think much more about it until the next Friday afternoon. I was flipping through a university course guide of Samina's and go to the continuing education/art section. There were a lot of different classes in dance, painting, sculpture, music, as well as photography. I scanned down the sessions. Photography 1, Photo 2 plus darkroom, Photo 301- cityscapes,and then it caught my eye:
Photography 304- portraiture and the human form- Weds 8pm- 9:30pm... This class will look at the history of human portraiture and develop students techniques in photographing the human form, including lighting and positioning. Models provided for some in-class sittings. To fully create a portfolio, students will need service of model(s) outside class. Registration requires signed consent form from adult (18+ years) co-registrant.
I picked up the phone and called university info for the extension of theprofessor listed. Mr. Caldwell was in his office, and answered the phone.I asked if photography 304 would be offered next semester.
“Yep; it s oneof our popular classes.” Said the voice at the other end.
“Could you explain about the outside model- it snot clear from the course guide?” I asked.
“Sure. We have a list of models willing to sit outside class for fees, butthat’s usually not necessary. Around the department we call 304 camerasfor couples because it attracts a lot of married couples or people whoare dating- it’s only natural that the shots they get of one another aremore natural and expressive than the pictures of our in-class posedsitters.” Explained the voice.
“You mean nude shots?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“Not necessarily, no one has to do nudes to finish the class, but for alot of them, it’s a fun spot. The classes follow a history of twentiethcentury portraiture.” - here he read me a list of subjects like classicalposing, silhouettes, the artistic form, glamour photography, pin-ups.
“Pin-ups?” I asked.
“Yes, fifties type of stuff; real fun.” He laughed.
I thanked himand hung up.
My hand was shaking, but I tried to think. Had Samina signed on as Eric’s model? If so, why hadn’t she been attending the class; she had beenhome, I was sure, on Wednesdays. Or was she just posing for him betweenclasses? If so, when, and more importantly, what kind of posing? And why was I so upset that she might be posing for him? It could all be very innocent. But my imagination would not let it go!
I imagined a session. My wife ringing the door bell of his apartment. Eric opening the door, seeing her there, wrapped in her coat, her pale face flushed and smiling. Taking her bag and coat, examining what she was wearing (maybe it was last Saturday afternoon, when she said she was going to the library, and didn’t get back till late; what was she wearing then- probably a peasant blouse-yes, I remembered, a patterned peasant blouse, and her knee-length skirt- the thin one through which, if you were walking behind her, you could see her shifting buttocks quiver).
He would joke a bit to get her at ease, and then pretend to be serious about the technical and artistic side of the class, explaining to her the weeks lesson, asking if she had questions. But at the same time, working at his real priority: filling and refilling her glass with red wine, brushing against her arm when he pointed to his notes, or better yet, placing his notes on his leg so that, if she pointed at a section, her finger would be pointing right at his you know what- he must have loved it when she perhaps blushed a little.
Then picking up the camera and quickly snapping some shots of her, brushing her hair back from her face. Telling her she was so beautiful, and asking her to go to his bedroom where the lighting was so much better. In the bedroom, he would be the one pushing her hair into place, guiding her face and neck into position, hands lingering on her shoulders and waist. Would he dare in the first session to suggest she go topless? Would Samina with a serious look on her face, even object to pulling off her blouse and unhook her bra and let her breasts free for him to see and enjoy?
I stopped myself from torturing myself anymore. I didn’t know for sure she was getting photographed by him. And if she was, it was probably very professional- all this wine and touching crap was nonsense. Samina wasn’t the type of woman who was into this third rate romance novel type scene, and she was far to sensible to fool around with a man who worked for the same company as I did, albeit not for much longer, and would in some respects be looking to get even with me, for firing him.
Samina came in about a half hour later. She smiled at me but didn’t approach where I was sitting in the living room, instead walking back to our bedroom. I waited a minute then joined her. She was leaning into her closet, her empty bag at her feet. I noticed that her hair looked wet.
I sat on the bed, took a deep breath, and asked, “darling, are you helping Eric Stern with his photography?”
She looked at me and said, “why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, I just noticed that his class required a model and remembered that you had been with him when he registered and wondered if he had asked you to model for him?”
“Well as a matter of fact, yes,: she said hurriedly, “except it’s too narrow to call me a model; basically, the way I see it, I get the opportunity to take a photography class without having to pay or go to all the lectures. In fact, I was just over at Eric's, and he showed me about focus and lighting black and white and colour.
”Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you d be this way- like I was just a model. I was afraid that you might think I wanted to go to bed with him, and tell me not to see him.” Samina sounded a little upset that I was behaving like I did not trust her.
“Samina, I wouldn’t have minded; it’s just a surprise that you would want to spend time with Eric.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Samina, He s a creep. You said yourself he s practically a dirty old man. You don t mind him hanging all around you with a camera?” I was incredulous.
“See. There you go. I already said we spend most of the time on technical aspects. When we do take pictures, I take turns with him sitting or shooting. And they’re not dirty; it's almost all different angles of face portraits, looking at lighting and shadow. Eric s not dirty either, he’s surprisingly artistic. It’s true that he s old fashioned and a bit sexist, but if I want to change people's minds about women, I need to deal with people with the wrong attitudes. He’s not the problem; you are the problem. You don’t trust me to make the right decision about Eric. Well I don't need you to protect me from Eric or anyone else looking at me, for God’s sake, or taking a few pictures.” Samina sounded really upset.
She was really mad, and it took me few minutes to calm her down, to convince her that I didn’t mind, that it was good she had an interest in photography. And that I looked forward to seeing some photos eventually, because we didn’t have enough good recent pictures of her.
“Good, because, like I said, traditional head shots are all that we’ve gotten to. And I apologize for not mentioning this to you. Tomorrow the class is going for a field trip to the mountains for some outdoor portraiture. I don t usually go to the group meetings, but I told Eric I would go. We’re driving down in the morning and will be gone most of the day. Just so you know.” Samina said, her voice calmer now.
“Of course darling, I hope you have a good photography session. I am sorry I got worried.” I said. “It's just that...well.... Eric is....you know.....”
Samina didn't let me finish my sentence. “I know what you mean Umer, and don't worry, I will never do anything that will jeopardize your career, or your standing in your company. Trust me!”
“I trust you completely Samina.” I said hugging her. “And I really am sorry!”
The next morning, Samina up when it was still dark, showered, and packed a bag. She went out of the room, and a few minutes later I heard a car pull up. I got out of bed and peered out between the curtains. It was Stern's sports car. Samina opened the passenger door and climbed in. The car pulled away. I couldn’t sleep, and got up,shaved and ate breakfast.
My jealousy, that I had shelved since the last evening, was eating at me. I needed to do something. I considered snooping in Samina s closet to see what clothes she had taken- but they were going outdoors, and she wouldn’t be dragging around bikinis for that kind of shoot.
I noticed that Samina had left her ordinary backpack in favor of a duffel bag, and decided to go through it. Maybe Eric had already developed some of the famous facial portraits, and she had some, or maybe his lecture notes so I could know when the class was moving to full body photography. There wasn’t anything photography related, though... except Samina had left her keys, and there was a strange key on the chain, with a plastic cover that read The Bellagio.
The Bellagio, was Eric Stern's apartment building, a high-rise luxury condominium building. Why did she have the key? They hadn’t known one another long enough for her to be his full-fledged mistress already, that was my first thought. But I decided that it was probably for her to use on the elevator (I'd been to a party at Stern's, and remembered you usually had to call up and wait if you did not have a key to let yourself). I wondered if it also worked on his door. In the mood I was in, I had to do something and decided I would find out. But a thought kept nagging at me, why was Eric any different from all the other men she had been with? Why was is that the thought her sleeping with him was so humiliating and arousing at the same time? Was she doing it deliberately to humiliate me? It did seem that she had gotten more and more interested in humiliating me.
An hour later I was at the Bellagio. Some people were going into the lobby. I followed them closely in, passed the doorman in the lobby, and got in the elevator with them. They exited on the 6th floor. Stern lived on the 8th. There was no one on his hall, so I walked down to his door and tried the key. It fit. I was an adrenaline, and arousal high, and was careful to quietly shut the door behind me and walk carefully. I quickly looked around his living room and den. A briefcase was lying on a coffee table, open. There was a folder inside labelled Photo 304, but all that was in it was a registration form and some handouts.
I hoped he hadn’t taken everything. Probably took his camera, of course. I was now down the hall and looking into his bedroom. There was a professional looking lighting system on a stand, and one of those umbrella like reflectors. They were pushed near the side of his large bed. On top of the bed was a shoebox. Written on a strip of tape on the lid was photo 304, non-portfolio extras: Samina. Inside the box were two 8 by 11 manila envelopes, each labelled with a date (the previous Saturday and that Friday). There were also receipts to a 24 hour photo processing shops. I wondered why Eric had not purchased a color printer to print the photographs himself, then recalled that no printer could as yet match the printing performance of a professional printing shop.
I carefully opened the folder from last Saturday- the first session that I had imagined. There were about 30 or 40 5 by 7 pictures inside. I gathered them on the bed, face down in a pile, and went through them in sequence. The first few pictures were pictures of my Samina's face; she was smiling and looking at the camera and was evidently sitting on the bed; the background matched the room's wall. There were a few side views. Samina had evidently taken over next, there were several shots of Eric grinning. Behind him in the pictures were the lighting set up, so she must have still been sitting on the bed, with him standing.
Samina was back as the model in the next three pictures. She was standing up, her back to the full length mirror that lined the inside of the bedroom door. In the first of these her arms were at her sides, then on her hips, in the last she was holding her hair piled above her head, and laughing or smiling wide. The next shot was of Samina photographing; she must have snapped herself in the mirror. Then there was another mirror shot, but with Eric standing next to my wife; it was from closer, only capturing them from the waist up. He was looking at her with a quizzical smile on his face.
In the next picture, he must have been standing behind her; you could only see his two arms angling out from behind her like she was a four-armed statue. I laughed nervously; it was a clever effect. As was the next one, where his head was leaning on her shoulder from behind, his body still hidden. This picture was blurry, like she had been laughing and the camera had shaken. The next picture was also blurry. It was angled down so you could only see Samina from the chin down. Eric's head and hands were gone.
Then- and my hand and heart froze- in the next picture, Eric was partially back in the mirrored scene. His left arm was around Samina's waist, and in his right hand he was holding Samina's white bra. He had manoeuvred his hands up the back of her shirt and unhooked her, and she had stood there laughing and taking a picture. The picture captured his grin as he held the bra up by its strap like it was the holy grail. There was a break away from reflected pictures; the next in sequence was- it was hard to make out, but seemed to be the top of Eric's head, and below it, one of my wife s feet. She had apparently lifted it, and he was kneeling to take off her shoe.
Suddenly, I looked at the picture gain, and realized he was grasping something white down by her shoe. The subsequent photo made it clear that Eric had kneeled down in front of Samina, in order to reach up her skirt and pull down her panties. Samina had lifted her feet to let him extricate them from off her ankles. Now he had her bra in one hand and her panties in the other. Eric was a fast mover, that much was certain.
They must have set up the camera on a tripod, and set some kind of repeat timer mode, because the rest of the pictures in the pile were from the same distance and angle, and showed Samina and Eric together on the bed. They were both nude. In the first of these shots, they were sitting facing one another (the camera had captured a side view) their legs extended, bent so each of their knees were even with the other s waist. Samina's legs were over Eric's. Samina was leaning back and had her neck and head bent back. Eric was hunched towards her and was holding one of her big tits in each of his hands, supporting them in his palms as if he were weighing them. Even from the pictures you could tell her nipples were swollen and protruding. The next picture showed Eric sucking, or biting on Samina’s right breast. Her head was still thrown back, and her lips parted slightly.
They faded from view and I left. That walk home was instructive. I went through two stages: burning jealousy, then rational thinking. There were two good reasons why nothing would come of Eric's crude hitting on my wife: Eric and Samina. He was twice her age (and despite her interlude with Derrick, Samina had said that she still was not entirely sold on being with older men!), short, crude, sexist and reactionary, and too aggressive. She was young, beautiful, a sensitive feminist who couldn’t stand chauvinism, or show offs. Plus, she knew that Eric was a co-worker of mine and would know better than to mix business and pleasure. Still, I had lingering doubts. Samina seemed to be having no problem being around Eric.
So, I did get a little worried that evening, when I found out that Eric had signed up for a photography class and would have an excuse to hang around campus. When I asked Samina, what she thought of him, she said that he was funny, almost like a caricature of a lounge lizard type.
Anyway, jealousy is a funny thing. It comes and it goes. Without any incidents to fuel it tends to fade, except when you are in certain moods the very absence of evidence seems like the most damning evidence of all. Now, I have always known, that my wife was an attractive, sexually desirable woman, a real prize. I know, that men must be mentally undressing her every day. And she must have her share of come-ons and pick up attempts. Besides she knew full well that she could go to bed with any man that caught her fancy, and the campus was full of good-looking, energetic young men, who would kill to fuck her, so why would she waste her time with a runt like Eric?That thought made me feel a lot better.
The funny thing was that I also knew that her very statuesque, smooth beauty tended to intimidate men and protect her from much serious attention, as did her personality, which could sometimes come across as being cold. So the worries I had about Eric Stern were basically ungrounded, which made them into the paranoid category, and made me read something into nothing.
The nothing was that for a couple of weeks Eric hadn’t talked to me at work about Samina, hadn’t called or stopped by when he was in for class, and Samina hadn’t mentioned seeing him on campus. Both Eric and Samina, independently seemed to be in good moods. I wasn’t yet at the point that I would ask them about one another out of the blue. I did ask Eric about his photography class. He said it was going well.
“What sort of class is it- landscape photography, still life, studio?” I asked, genuinely curious, as photography is a hobby of mine.
“I don't know the fancy name,” he mumbled, “we learn technique in class Wednesday nights, then we get the shots at home, or, or anywhere.” He was unusually reticent, considering he loved to talk about himself, his expensive gadgets, and how he loved using them.
I didn’t think much more about it until the next Friday afternoon. I was flipping through a university course guide of Samina's and go to the continuing education/art section. There were a lot of different classes in dance, painting, sculpture, music, as well as photography. I scanned down the sessions. Photography 1, Photo 2 plus darkroom, Photo 301- cityscapes,and then it caught my eye:
Photography 304- portraiture and the human form- Weds 8pm- 9:30pm... This class will look at the history of human portraiture and develop students techniques in photographing the human form, including lighting and positioning. Models provided for some in-class sittings. To fully create a portfolio, students will need service of model(s) outside class. Registration requires signed consent form from adult (18+ years) co-registrant.
I picked up the phone and called university info for the extension of theprofessor listed. Mr. Caldwell was in his office, and answered the phone.I asked if photography 304 would be offered next semester.
“Yep; it s oneof our popular classes.” Said the voice at the other end.
“Could you explain about the outside model- it snot clear from the course guide?” I asked.
“Sure. We have a list of models willing to sit outside class for fees, butthat’s usually not necessary. Around the department we call 304 camerasfor couples because it attracts a lot of married couples or people whoare dating- it’s only natural that the shots they get of one another aremore natural and expressive than the pictures of our in-class posedsitters.” Explained the voice.
“You mean nude shots?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“Not necessarily, no one has to do nudes to finish the class, but for alot of them, it’s a fun spot. The classes follow a history of twentiethcentury portraiture.” - here he read me a list of subjects like classicalposing, silhouettes, the artistic form, glamour photography, pin-ups.
“Pin-ups?” I asked.
“Yes, fifties type of stuff; real fun.” He laughed.
I thanked himand hung up.
My hand was shaking, but I tried to think. Had Samina signed on as Eric’s model? If so, why hadn’t she been attending the class; she had beenhome, I was sure, on Wednesdays. Or was she just posing for him betweenclasses? If so, when, and more importantly, what kind of posing? And why was I so upset that she might be posing for him? It could all be very innocent. But my imagination would not let it go!
I imagined a session. My wife ringing the door bell of his apartment. Eric opening the door, seeing her there, wrapped in her coat, her pale face flushed and smiling. Taking her bag and coat, examining what she was wearing (maybe it was last Saturday afternoon, when she said she was going to the library, and didn’t get back till late; what was she wearing then- probably a peasant blouse-yes, I remembered, a patterned peasant blouse, and her knee-length skirt- the thin one through which, if you were walking behind her, you could see her shifting buttocks quiver).
He would joke a bit to get her at ease, and then pretend to be serious about the technical and artistic side of the class, explaining to her the weeks lesson, asking if she had questions. But at the same time, working at his real priority: filling and refilling her glass with red wine, brushing against her arm when he pointed to his notes, or better yet, placing his notes on his leg so that, if she pointed at a section, her finger would be pointing right at his you know what- he must have loved it when she perhaps blushed a little.
Then picking up the camera and quickly snapping some shots of her, brushing her hair back from her face. Telling her she was so beautiful, and asking her to go to his bedroom where the lighting was so much better. In the bedroom, he would be the one pushing her hair into place, guiding her face and neck into position, hands lingering on her shoulders and waist. Would he dare in the first session to suggest she go topless? Would Samina with a serious look on her face, even object to pulling off her blouse and unhook her bra and let her breasts free for him to see and enjoy?
I stopped myself from torturing myself anymore. I didn’t know for sure she was getting photographed by him. And if she was, it was probably very professional- all this wine and touching crap was nonsense. Samina wasn’t the type of woman who was into this third rate romance novel type scene, and she was far to sensible to fool around with a man who worked for the same company as I did, albeit not for much longer, and would in some respects be looking to get even with me, for firing him.
Samina came in about a half hour later. She smiled at me but didn’t approach where I was sitting in the living room, instead walking back to our bedroom. I waited a minute then joined her. She was leaning into her closet, her empty bag at her feet. I noticed that her hair looked wet.
I sat on the bed, took a deep breath, and asked, “darling, are you helping Eric Stern with his photography?”
She looked at me and said, “why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, I just noticed that his class required a model and remembered that you had been with him when he registered and wondered if he had asked you to model for him?”
“Well as a matter of fact, yes,: she said hurriedly, “except it’s too narrow to call me a model; basically, the way I see it, I get the opportunity to take a photography class without having to pay or go to all the lectures. In fact, I was just over at Eric's, and he showed me about focus and lighting black and white and colour.
”Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you d be this way- like I was just a model. I was afraid that you might think I wanted to go to bed with him, and tell me not to see him.” Samina sounded a little upset that I was behaving like I did not trust her.
“Samina, I wouldn’t have minded; it’s just a surprise that you would want to spend time with Eric.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Samina, He s a creep. You said yourself he s practically a dirty old man. You don t mind him hanging all around you with a camera?” I was incredulous.
“See. There you go. I already said we spend most of the time on technical aspects. When we do take pictures, I take turns with him sitting or shooting. And they’re not dirty; it's almost all different angles of face portraits, looking at lighting and shadow. Eric s not dirty either, he’s surprisingly artistic. It’s true that he s old fashioned and a bit sexist, but if I want to change people's minds about women, I need to deal with people with the wrong attitudes. He’s not the problem; you are the problem. You don’t trust me to make the right decision about Eric. Well I don't need you to protect me from Eric or anyone else looking at me, for God’s sake, or taking a few pictures.” Samina sounded really upset.
She was really mad, and it took me few minutes to calm her down, to convince her that I didn’t mind, that it was good she had an interest in photography. And that I looked forward to seeing some photos eventually, because we didn’t have enough good recent pictures of her.
“Good, because, like I said, traditional head shots are all that we’ve gotten to. And I apologize for not mentioning this to you. Tomorrow the class is going for a field trip to the mountains for some outdoor portraiture. I don t usually go to the group meetings, but I told Eric I would go. We’re driving down in the morning and will be gone most of the day. Just so you know.” Samina said, her voice calmer now.
“Of course darling, I hope you have a good photography session. I am sorry I got worried.” I said. “It's just that...well.... Eric is....you know.....”
Samina didn't let me finish my sentence. “I know what you mean Umer, and don't worry, I will never do anything that will jeopardize your career, or your standing in your company. Trust me!”
“I trust you completely Samina.” I said hugging her. “And I really am sorry!”
The next morning, Samina up when it was still dark, showered, and packed a bag. She went out of the room, and a few minutes later I heard a car pull up. I got out of bed and peered out between the curtains. It was Stern's sports car. Samina opened the passenger door and climbed in. The car pulled away. I couldn’t sleep, and got up,shaved and ate breakfast.
My jealousy, that I had shelved since the last evening, was eating at me. I needed to do something. I considered snooping in Samina s closet to see what clothes she had taken- but they were going outdoors, and she wouldn’t be dragging around bikinis for that kind of shoot.
I noticed that Samina had left her ordinary backpack in favor of a duffel bag, and decided to go through it. Maybe Eric had already developed some of the famous facial portraits, and she had some, or maybe his lecture notes so I could know when the class was moving to full body photography. There wasn’t anything photography related, though... except Samina had left her keys, and there was a strange key on the chain, with a plastic cover that read The Bellagio.
The Bellagio, was Eric Stern's apartment building, a high-rise luxury condominium building. Why did she have the key? They hadn’t known one another long enough for her to be his full-fledged mistress already, that was my first thought. But I decided that it was probably for her to use on the elevator (I'd been to a party at Stern's, and remembered you usually had to call up and wait if you did not have a key to let yourself). I wondered if it also worked on his door. In the mood I was in, I had to do something and decided I would find out. But a thought kept nagging at me, why was Eric any different from all the other men she had been with? Why was is that the thought her sleeping with him was so humiliating and arousing at the same time? Was she doing it deliberately to humiliate me? It did seem that she had gotten more and more interested in humiliating me.
An hour later I was at the Bellagio. Some people were going into the lobby. I followed them closely in, passed the doorman in the lobby, and got in the elevator with them. They exited on the 6th floor. Stern lived on the 8th. There was no one on his hall, so I walked down to his door and tried the key. It fit. I was an adrenaline, and arousal high, and was careful to quietly shut the door behind me and walk carefully. I quickly looked around his living room and den. A briefcase was lying on a coffee table, open. There was a folder inside labelled Photo 304, but all that was in it was a registration form and some handouts.
I hoped he hadn’t taken everything. Probably took his camera, of course. I was now down the hall and looking into his bedroom. There was a professional looking lighting system on a stand, and one of those umbrella like reflectors. They were pushed near the side of his large bed. On top of the bed was a shoebox. Written on a strip of tape on the lid was photo 304, non-portfolio extras: Samina. Inside the box were two 8 by 11 manila envelopes, each labelled with a date (the previous Saturday and that Friday). There were also receipts to a 24 hour photo processing shops. I wondered why Eric had not purchased a color printer to print the photographs himself, then recalled that no printer could as yet match the printing performance of a professional printing shop.
I carefully opened the folder from last Saturday- the first session that I had imagined. There were about 30 or 40 5 by 7 pictures inside. I gathered them on the bed, face down in a pile, and went through them in sequence. The first few pictures were pictures of my Samina's face; she was smiling and looking at the camera and was evidently sitting on the bed; the background matched the room's wall. There were a few side views. Samina had evidently taken over next, there were several shots of Eric grinning. Behind him in the pictures were the lighting set up, so she must have still been sitting on the bed, with him standing.
Samina was back as the model in the next three pictures. She was standing up, her back to the full length mirror that lined the inside of the bedroom door. In the first of these her arms were at her sides, then on her hips, in the last she was holding her hair piled above her head, and laughing or smiling wide. The next shot was of Samina photographing; she must have snapped herself in the mirror. Then there was another mirror shot, but with Eric standing next to my wife; it was from closer, only capturing them from the waist up. He was looking at her with a quizzical smile on his face.
In the next picture, he must have been standing behind her; you could only see his two arms angling out from behind her like she was a four-armed statue. I laughed nervously; it was a clever effect. As was the next one, where his head was leaning on her shoulder from behind, his body still hidden. This picture was blurry, like she had been laughing and the camera had shaken. The next picture was also blurry. It was angled down so you could only see Samina from the chin down. Eric's head and hands were gone.
Then- and my hand and heart froze- in the next picture, Eric was partially back in the mirrored scene. His left arm was around Samina's waist, and in his right hand he was holding Samina's white bra. He had manoeuvred his hands up the back of her shirt and unhooked her, and she had stood there laughing and taking a picture. The picture captured his grin as he held the bra up by its strap like it was the holy grail. There was a break away from reflected pictures; the next in sequence was- it was hard to make out, but seemed to be the top of Eric's head, and below it, one of my wife s feet. She had apparently lifted it, and he was kneeling to take off her shoe.
Suddenly, I looked at the picture gain, and realized he was grasping something white down by her shoe. The subsequent photo made it clear that Eric had kneeled down in front of Samina, in order to reach up her skirt and pull down her panties. Samina had lifted her feet to let him extricate them from off her ankles. Now he had her bra in one hand and her panties in the other. Eric was a fast mover, that much was certain.
They must have set up the camera on a tripod, and set some kind of repeat timer mode, because the rest of the pictures in the pile were from the same distance and angle, and showed Samina and Eric together on the bed. They were both nude. In the first of these shots, they were sitting facing one another (the camera had captured a side view) their legs extended, bent so each of their knees were even with the other s waist. Samina's legs were over Eric's. Samina was leaning back and had her neck and head bent back. Eric was hunched towards her and was holding one of her big tits in each of his hands, supporting them in his palms as if he were weighing them. Even from the pictures you could tell her nipples were swollen and protruding. The next picture showed Eric sucking, or biting on Samina’s right breast. Her head was still thrown back, and her lips parted slightly.
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