The Photographer

She carefully checked the settings on her camera. She gave her clients a suitable list of hotels and AirBnbs that would provide for natural lightening. This kind of shoot wasn’t ideal for a studio or various kinds of light to capture “moments.” She found in the beginning her subjects were too aware of her in the room and her work looked forced, like amateur porn on Pornhub. She had studied a great deal before venturing into this unique experience as a photographer. It made her standout and there was an allure of voyeurism that people loved about it. And she made her subjects feel desirable and erotic. She could make a woman in a brown paper bag look like an artistic goddess.

“I’m so nervous,” the woman said with her satin robe tightly tied with her arms crossed over her body. Riley handed her a glass of champagne.

“Just relax. Like I said think of it like you’re claiming your territory. Like Sam from Sex and The City whenever she had her semi-public escapades. She didn’t care who was watching, she was going to get hers.”

The woman smiled impishly and little red came to her cheeks, “I watched her scenes over and over.”

“Just imagine yourself as her.”

“This is wild and honestly,” she killed the champagne, “I can feel the anticipation building up inside of me.”

“And you’ll love the result. Your little secret black book,” Riley winked at her.

Riley ventured around the beach house her clients had chosen over looking a semi-private beach. She knew the added risk of more eyes catching them would help distract them from her presence. Well at least the wife. She coaxed the husbands in a different manner. She found him nervously twiddling his fingers in the kitchen with a bottle of scotch.

“You ready?” Riley said.

“You know it was never this hard when we were first married. It was carnal all the time. Granted that’s probably why we have two kids now,” he laughed nervously, “Then we became mom and dad more than husband and wife, our physical relationship more mechanical. I know I still feel the flame but what if I can’t give that back to her?”

Riley put her camera down and placed her hands on his broad shoulders, “I see the way you look at her, the carnal need is still there. It never goes away. Just think of this like a threesome between me, you, and her. The goal is to turn me on, a complete stranger, by sending her over the edge. Your goal is sending your wife back in that pure lust and need, while doing the same to me. Completely carnal.”

He sighed, clearly aroused as he took his drink to the head. He was already at attention as he turned and looked her up and down. Riley always wore short black shorts with a corset bodysuit with garters holding her thigh high fishnet tights and short stiletto black boots. She took time to understand how to coax her subjects. She learned their desires and what dark desires they secretly had wet dreams about. For the men, this was almost always a reality. Two women. Women on the other hand varied.

He grabbed his glass, which still held a couple of ice cubes and Riley grabbed her camera. She started snapping as he pushed the door open and his wife stood before him with red stiletto heels with her robe wide open showing her red corset with crotchless panties. Riley kept snapping as he walked over to the nightstand and placed the glass down. He was topless with a pair of jeans. His biceps flexed has he ran his hands down her body. Riley continued to snap, lightly moving around the room never directing or saying a word. He kissed her deeply, coaxing her mouth open as he grasped her backside. Riley stood behind them, waiting for the cue that only she knew he secretly needed. He began slowly and sensually kissing down her neck, looking at Riley as he did so. She did what she always did, bit her lip tightly as she watched then licked her lips as she ran her hand down herself while she continued to snap pictures with the other hand. He moaned loudly as he closed his eyes and shoved his wife against the bed.

“Don’t move,” he growled as his wife bit her lip. And the spark was now an uncontrolled forest fire and she would capture it all.

She was in her favorite place: her darkroom. The room was surrounded with photographs of her clients. She never used digital or computer editing due to the sensitive nature of her work. Her clients paid thousands of dollars for this experience and her confidentiality agreements were tight. She couldn’t risk data breaches or mistakenly sending the work to the wrong person. Along with that her clients agreed to allow her full creative control from start to finish. She would create the story from what she captured, usually a 50 page photo book with 100 photographs. She would highlight the color chosen by the woman for her lipstick and outfit. She requested they stayed away from black. It created something sensual. She could pull the color from the lipstick that landed on various parts of their partner’s body, telling simultaneous stories from two different points of views. Riley was extremely good at her job, choosing pictures that demonstrated the lust and desire of each person. The point of the book whenever she was solicited was to remind the couple of something they probably missed, but also capture a lasting reminder of what they were capable of doing to each other, from start to finish. Her favorite was the aftermath. She loved to capture that final, reverberating orgasm between the two of people. Her pictures were worth more than thousand words. You could hear the cries and moans seeping through the pictures like ghostly specters. She smiled seductively in her mind every time she completed a book.

As she went through the most recent throng of photographs, she chose ones she had strategically taken for her upcoming show in Brooklyn. Everyone knew what type of work she offered, although you would never find a website or a Google listing. Her work spoke loudly without any social media or articles. The most people could find were her celebrity clients posting pictures of the little black book that was a hardcover engraved with only lines from movies or books that described what Riley captured. Occasionally someone would post a single shot that was closer to R rated than PG-13. It was purely word of mouth. One day an Art dealer found her at her regular Starbucks in Chicago with an offer.

“Look my friend showed me the work you did for them. You have no idea how famous you can be. Your photographs are erotic and raw. You tell a story without speaking a word,” Damien said as he sipped his cappuccino.

Riley smirked, “But it also personal and intimate. It’s a well-kept secret. I’m not looking for my work to be hung in museums or Art Galleries; my photographs are for the clients. It’s a reminder that lust doesn’t have to die. It’s not for the world.”

“Look you don’t have to give away names and faces, I’ve seen the ones that kept those details silent. I just want one show with one of your stories. Maybe reach out to the clients who are willing to allow the indistinguishable photographs to be used. I know my friend said he would give his okay.” Damien was persistent. He already had offers for the infamous photographer’s work well into the hundreds of thousands. He would set up a bidding war if she agreed.

“Who’s your friend?” She took a sip of her mocha.

“Let’s just say they’re a mega rich celebrity couple worth almost a billion dollars. Who I might add wants a stake in it.”

She smirked while she took another sip, “Of course. And he’s willing to be on the list of individuals I solicit to release the photographs?”

“Definitely. He’s already signed a waiver and doesn’t expect a dime off the sale of the photographs but an overall cut from the sales of two percent.” Damien smiled at her and licked his lips.

She sat silent. Thinking. A one time deal. She would never do it again. Make a quick buck to put in her retirement account.

“If I can get some of my clients to agree to releasing the photographs then I will do it. I need at least three months and if I cannot produce at least 200 photographs, the deal is off.”

Damien formed a hard line above his brow and sighed, “Fine. We’ll do something like a once in a lifetime event. Send out invitations two days before the event and cap the RSVPs. You realize after this you’ll be booked for the rest of eternity?”

She laughed, “Maybe. We’ll see what happens.”

She was at her usual haunt. Editing photographs she took for fun in her spare time. She didn’t just capture passion and dark desires she loved capturing all emotions. Sad ones, happy ones, temper tantrums from toddlers, anything that struck her. As she sat lost in her work, he walked in. He would come in at least three times a week. He sat directly across from her, plugged in his phone, and proceeded to place his phone in his lap and watch or listen to whatever on his phone. It almost looked like he was sleeping but occasionally he would react to something. He had this olive skin that stayed kissed by the sun, broad shoulders and perfect biceps. His hair was dark brown almost looked black from what she could see; the hoodie and baseball cap he would wear always covered it. His eyes were a golden almond color. She figured he was a transient or something, but that didn’t stop the uncontrollable attraction she had for him. He could be a serial killer or a Unabomber but she didn’t care. She would cross her legs tight as she bit her lips feeling the fire between her legs. The lust would rush her entire body.

“Someone is always pulling the plugs out on these things,” he said to her, his voice like silk. He would flash a smile at her from his hoodie and baseball cap causing her insides to turn into molten liquid.

“I know right? They fixed the table months ago but people still think it’s broken,” she responded, hoping the desire wasn’t that obvious.

He smirked and licked his lips, “A lot of people ignore the important details.” His voice was like a siren call to her as he stared right into her eyes. Her mouth went dry as she got lost in him.

He seamlessly broke their intense stare and continued on doing his usual activity. He smelled different today like something one her wealthy clients would wear only it smelled like pure heaven on him. She crossed her legs tighter. Then she had an idea to add to her show. Something that could benefit him and get her what she wanted.

She waited an hour or so before the staff told him he had to go because he couldn’t “sleep” in here. He smirked then took one last glance at her. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out. She watched him, trying to gather a direction he headed in before she gathered her things and her camera.