Dirty Shots Read Free

“Anya?”
    Her voice came back, sounding tinny through the equipment. “Hello, Mr. Rutherford. Are you ready for me?”
    “Of course.”
    Eric hit the button to grant entry to the building and then opened his apartment door, waiting for her, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt. Within a minute, the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out. Her almost white-blonde hair was free around her face, falling just past her shoulders. She had dressed simply in a close-fitting white t-shirt and jeans.
    “Come in,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”
    To his surprise, she strode across his apartment, toward his studio, peeling her clothes off as she went. She pulled her t-shirt up over her head, exposing curvy breasts clad in a lacy bra, dropping the item to the floor. Next went her jeans, unbuttoned and shucked from her rounded hips, then kicked from her feet.
    “You didn’t have to—” he started, but stopped when she shot him a look somewhere between confusion and annoyance.
    “Have to what? Take off my clothes? I thought that was the idea, Mr. Rutherford."
    “Call me Eric, please. I just meant you didn’t have to take them off right away.”
    “There is nothing wrong with the human body, Eric. We have nothing to be ashamed of in our nudity.”
    His cheeks colored. Damn, he was supposed to be the professional. “No, of course not.”
    She slipped the straps of her bra from her shoulders and then reached behind her back and unclipped the clasp. Slightly leaning forward, she allowed the item to fall from her body, leaving her breasts exposed.
    Eric let out the breath he’d been holding. Her breasts were exactly as he’d been hoping, big, but not too big, her nipples large and dark compared to her pale skin. He wished it was colder in the room. If he ever got her to wear nipple clamps, she’d need her nipples to be hard. He allowed his mind to wander.
    Imagine her letting you make them hard, taking each one between your lips, sucking it to the top of your mouth and grating their sensitive peaks with your teeth.
    No, that wasn’t what this was about. He wouldn’t let himself go there.
    Finally, Anya slipped off her panties. Just as she had in her interview, she hopped up on the stool in front of the camera. She sat with her back straight, shoulders back so her breasts jutted out. She crossed her legs, momentarily giving him a flash of golden pubic hair.
    She gave him a coy smile. “So when do we start?”
    Eric grabbed the camera from the stand and approached. The sunlight shafting through the window, catching the curve of her thigh and running down her slender calf, right down to the dip of her insole, had caught his eye.
    He dropped to his knees to one side of her. “Right now.”
    He snapped a number of shots. As soon as he started working, the nerves vanished. He stopped thinking of her sexually and focused only on getting the perfect picture.
    “Can you move?” he asked. “Stretch out your legs.”
    She uncrossed her legs and pointed one foot, while bringing the other back to rest against the silver footrest. She leaned backward, balancing on top of the stool, her stomach muscles taking the strain. He photographed the shadows on her ribs cast by her breasts. Then she stood, twisting around, and he captured the perfect curve of her bottom, the line of her back. She moved fluidly and with grace, like a dancer, as he’d somehow known she would. He forgot everything else except the images, catching that perfect shot.
    Caught up in the bubble of capturing such beauty, he lost track of time. But when he noticed Anya begin to wane, her body losing the strength and suppleness she’d had at the start, he realized the time had come to finish.
    He set down the camera back in the stand. “Thank you, Anya. That was amazing, you were amazing.”
    She turned to look at him, standing completely naked in front of him. “You have what you needed?”
    He nodded. “Yes, for the moment.”
    Anya bent to