Have Lisa pose

The air in the room is heavy with the scent of ozone and the subtle, metallic tang of expensive camera equipment. Lisa stands up, her face slightly flushed from the intensity of the shoot. She looks at Chloe and Jessica, who are still draped across each other on the gold-lit sofa, and then she looks at Tyler, who is gripping the camera like it’s a holy relic.

"You're doing okay, Tyler," Lisa says, her voice a bit lower than usual, carrying a rhythmic, husky edge. "But you’re missing the weight of the pose. Chloe, move your hip an inch toward Jessica. Jessica, tilt your chin up... No, let me show you."

She steps into the golden light Kenzie created, pushing her own professional boundaries. She stands off to the side of the sofa, effortlessly assuming a pose with a grace that is both authoritative and deeply provocative.

"The camera doesn't just want you," Lisa murmurs, her eyes locking onto the lens—and through it, directly into Tyler's soul. "It wants your surrender."

She hooks her thumbs into the thin straps of her light green dress. With a slow, deliberate movement that looks like a casual adjustment of her posture, she pulls the fabric forward. Just enough. The silk slides, and her right breast is fully exposed to the lens, the golden light catching the soft curve and the dark, hardened peak.

Click-whirr.

Tyler’s finger acts on instinct. He takes the shot. He’s staring at the small digital screen on the back of the camera, his face turning a shade of purple that almost looks painful. His breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound in the quiet room.

"Whoa," Mike mutters from the lighting stand. He’s the only other one who saw the angle. He catches Tyler's eye and gives a slow, appreciative nod, a silent "Attaboy" that only makes Tyler's heart hammer harder.

Chloe and Jessica can't see the screen from their position, but they can feel the shift in the room's gravity.

"Wait, did Tyler actually get a good shot?" Chloe teases, her voice full of sibling skepticism. "Or did he just take a picture of his own feet again?"

"Yeah, Tyler," Jessica giggles, leaning over to try and peek. "Let the experts see. Or are you too busy falling in love with the autofocus?"

Tyler frantically pulls the camera back, hugging it to his chest as if he's protecting a state secret. "It's... it's just a test shot! The lighting is... I need to check the histogram. Go... go get ready for the pool!"

Lisa stands up, smoothly adjusting her dress back into its professional place. She doesn't look embarrassed. She looks at Tyler, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She knows exactly what she just gave him.

"He's right," Lisa says, her voice regaining its crisp, professional clip. "The light is shifting. Let's move this circus to the backyard before we lose the sun. Mike, help Tyler with the tether-cable. Chloe, Jessica—bikinis. Now."