Jennifer, a young, blond, math teacher decides to check the status of some photos she and here husband had taken at the studio the day before as she returns from an appointment at a hair salon.
“Where’s that husband of yours today? He’s not chaperoning you around? Dangerous business leaving a pretty lady stroll around too long with all these lecherous Bahamian men around, you know.”
“Fishing, he’s fishing. Took a charter before dawn this morning and won’t be back until dark.”
“Oh, he’ll have a great time. The fishing has been wonderful this year. Hey, did you think about taking some of those “special” shots for your husband we talked about the other day? He’d love some.”
The margaritas she had earlier at a beachside bar had lowered Jennifer’s inhibitions considerably and she hesitated only briefly before asking, “How special is “special?”.
“Well,” Oscar replied, “there are all different types of “special”. There are the white album “special” like these.” He withdrew a large white photo album from beneath the counter. He plopped the thick book in front of her and turned it so she could she the various poses of his prior clients.
The women were all shapes and sizes, all colors and ages. Dressed in lingerie and bikinis, some leaning forward to expose more cleavage, others hands on hips with their backs facing the camera to highlight their behinds; all very innocently and tastefully done. All the women seemed to be having a wonderful time posing for the camera and for their men. They were all the sort of glamour poses reserved typically for cover girls and models but wives and lovers were now posing for.
“What other levels of “special” do you have Oscar,” the young blonde asked?
“Oh, well, now we have the blue album “special”, and he produced another album, not quite so thick but still fairly hefty.
These women were much more exposed. Wet T-shirt, breasts and nipples exposed, bare buttocks but yet nothing too blatant. Skimpy bikinis and see through lingerie seemed popular as well as garter belts and stockings and more of these poses were reclining. Jennifer noticed some of the same women were in this book as in the first. She paged through the album not wanting to seem too interested since Oscar was just across the counter from her.
“Lots of ladies get started with the “white” poses and then when they see how they turn out the progress to the “blue” poses. ”
“What do you mean, when they “see”, how can they see anything until the film is developed?”
“Oh, my pet, this is the digital age. I can show you any images almost instantly after they are taken on a computer monitor. I couldn’t do it for you and your husband, Troy, wasn’t it, because my computer hub was down. I can cut and paste, crop, the whole banana instantly nowadays.”
“I see. How many more albums do you have down there,” she asked?
“Two more, black and red.”
“Well, let’s see.”
Oscar produced the black album and warned her that these were much more explicit and revealing.
The first photo was of a well-endowed red head Jennifer had noticed in each of the earlier albums. She had no clothes on except for a Derby hat and a black choker. Her bush and vagina were clearly visible and her pink nipples protruded firmly from her breasts.
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