“Tsk, tsk, my dear,” Oscar chided. “Almost everyone of these women had the same concerns. It’s all a matter of attitude. You can be as hot and sexy as you want to be. We can start out with some white album shots and if you like what you see we might progress on to one of the other varieties. And…”, he hesitated, “a little alcohol can lower one’s inhibitions tremendously. I do have a nice selection of wine.”
Jennifer had noticed more than a few of the poses had women holding wine glasses or with glasses and wine bottles in the background. What the hell she thought. I’m a long way from home and I’m not going to waste this brand new hairdo and makeup job.
“Ok, Oscar, direct me to the studio.”
Oscar pointed her past the changing room she and her husband had used during their first casual shoot the day before and told her he was going to put up a sign “shoot in progress–please call again.” She wandered through a maze of hallways until she came to a huge studio that was only slightly lit. The room had racks and racks of clothes surrounding its cavernous walls and some racks standing in the middle of the room. A number of sets occupied space around the room. A large brass bed centered in one, a clawed bathtub and shower in another, and a large leather couch in another, one had only a simple barstool and a similarly high table.
She was startled when the darkness of the cavern suddenly turned into daylight as Oscar hit the light switch. “Costs me a damn fortune to keep the place lit up all the time”, he said as he flipped switch after switch to start a bank of lights surrounding the bar stool backdrop and several computers and monitors. “Oh, the electronic age, how I hate it and love it at the same time.”
“Ok, Jennifer, I’m ready if you are. Why don’t you sit up there on that stool and I’ll take a couple of shots and show you how this is all going to work.
She moved tentatively to the stool and eased herself up onto the seat.
“Ok, now just put your left elbow on the table and rest your chin on your thumb–other arm laid loosely across your lap.”
She complied and he shot a picture accompanied by a flash into one of the backfill umbrellas.
“One more and we’ll see what we have,” another flash and Oscar put down the camera, punched a button and turned a huge computer monitor toward her.
She was sort of struck by the image before her. The new hairstyle, the professional makeup, the new brow lines all made her feel pretty good about how she looked. She also noticed how the little pose Oscar had put her in displayed her ample breasts to advantage in the white halter blouse and her tan, and blue eyes made the pose all the more sexually appealing.
“Well, what do you think,” Oscar inquired. “Do we continue?”
“Yes, yes we do.”
Oscar moved her through a series of poses on the barstool and with the equally high table; all very innocent. He would suggest a slight tilt of the head or moving a leg her or there. She enjoyed watching the images pop up on the monitor behind the beefy Bahamian man in the flowered shirt. Oscar had an easy and non-threatening way about him, sort of like a big teddy bear.
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