Chapter Eleven

Dressing nice meant Cole’s best pair of jeans and the smart button-up Krystal had given him after their first night together. The slacks she’d provided lay crumpled in the laundry hamper and his collection of off-brand turtlenecks seemed unsuitable for the occasion.

A week in his fancy new digs hadn’t done much to distance the poor artist from his humble roots and the promised monthly stipend (a frankly absurd amount of money for a student on a full-ride scholarship) weighed down his bank account like a gold bar until he found the opportunity to spend it.

Acclimating to school life, organizing his studies, and basking in the attention of two remarkable beauties didn’t leave much time for clothing shopping.

Whatever. Problems for another day.

The campus was refreshingly quiet. Few classes were held on the weekend, and most students in residence slept late on Saturdays, likely recovering from their Friday night festivities. Following the map on his phone, Cole steered left at what he mentally dubbed “The Penis Fountain,” jogged down a short path, and entered the Gentileschi building.

Krystal emailed him directions last night, apologizing for her absence in his bed and instructing him to forgo underwear in the morning. He’d been about to question that last bit when she sent him a snapshot of two delicate fingers spreading pink pussy lips (presumably hers) wide apart.

”My wet little kitty is missing you too, big guy.”

He had gone to bed with a raging hard-on. Sleep took its sweet fucking time finding him.

“Cole, over here!” Lita waved eagerly at him from the side of the vacant entry hall as though he wouldn’t spot her amid the non-existent crowds. Morning sun streamed through the modernist glass and steel architecture, bathing the punk princess in golden light. “You made it. Krystal is still setting up her gear, and I was waiting to make sure you didn’t get lost.”

“Thanks,” he said, eyeing the unexpectedly plain black sweatsuit covering her from neck to ankle. “Uh, did I miss a memo? I’m feeling a tad overdressed…”

“You look great. Perfect, really.” She assured, taking his hand and heading down a corridor. Unlike the Dean, the seat of her sweatpants had no descriptor printed across it. “Don’t mind these rags, I’ll be slipping out of them before the shoot. Gotta stay decent in public, or so they keep telling me.”

Laughing, Cole let her lead him to a spacious atrium with a tall glass domed ceiling where Krystal darted between cameras mounted on tripods, reflectors, light umbrellas, and other photography equipment he couldn’t name like a hummingbird on crack.

She was resplendent, rich chocolate hair flying loosely around her shoulders as she worked.

Her long skirts, baggy tops and knitted shawls were replaced by a close-fitting magenta blouse–unbuttoned to reveal acres of creamy cleavage–coupled with a short charcoal office skirt that scarcely covered the ripe swell of her mouthwatering rump. Smokey thigh-high stockings adorned her long legs, leaving a lickable breadth of bare flesh between them and the inadequate skirt’s hemline.

She was even wearing high heels–simple black pumps with an ankle strap—they added three inches to her height and reshaped her plump rear into a sculpted masterpiece.

Struck dumb by Krystal’s change in fashion, Cole stared in mute admiration until Lita flagged her down.

“Found him, girlfriend! Where do you want us?”

The buxom brunette’s head snapped in their direction, her glasses glinting. “Looking good, Cole. Kick off your shoes and socks, and then get over here. We’re aiming for a more relaxed atmosphere. Lita, lock the door and ditch the sweats.”

Complying, he slipped off his footwear before padding over to give her a fond kiss in greeting. “You look great too, babe. Very professional. Love the office attire on you.”

“Mm-hmm.” She hummed quietly, molding her soft chest against him and trailing a hand across the front of his jeans. “You’re not wearing anything under these, right?”

“No, though I don’t know why–”

“Not another word about it.” She shushed, pressing a manicured finger to his lips. “This will be fun. Trust me.”

Cole wanted to ask more, but the sight of Lita discarding her top layer of clothing stopped him.

The spunky blonde shucked off the baggy hoody, then bent to peel the not-so-baggy pants down her lush hips and thighs. She faced away, so her meaty tooshie was aimed squarely at them in all its glory when the elastic waistband dropped past her knees.

They watched in reverent silence as she kicked the sweats away. Those two fleshy hemispheres rising independently with the movement, the inked tails waggling. It wasn’t until she turned around that Cole noticed she wasn’t naked, sporting a lacy black bralette on her minor chest and a teensy shoestring thong that scarcely covered her womanhood, secured by thin straps looped high over her firm hips before disappearing into her abundant ass-cleavage.

“Surprised? How would this photoshoot work if I hid my tattoos?” She smirked knowingly. “Krystal didn’t warn you, huh.”

“She didn’t,” He confirmed, feasting on her with his stare. “You are a one-woman sensation, Lita. The film is going to melt in the camera.”

“Awww, thanks, boo”

“Who uses film anymore?” Krystal giggled, shoving him toward the skimpily-clad senior. “Alright, get into position. I’ve taped crosses on the floor to indicate where to stand. I’ll begin with some test shots to check the lighting and adjust...”

Her chatter became background noise while Cole approached the first marked spot and, consequently, Lita, who gave him a nod of approval. He valiantly fought a surge of arousal, a hopeless struggle to hide his unfurling member, which was crammed uncomfortably down the left leg of his jeans.

“Uh, hi…" He said lamely, feeling nervous tension in the air as they stood near enough to share body heat.

The tape crosses were set very close together, and their toes nearly touched. Cole never realized how tall Lita was. They were almost level with each other, which put her height around six feet, including her short mohawk.

“Hi, yourself.” She replied with a hint of shyness. “Got anxious butterflies fluttering in your tummy?”

“A whole swarm. How’d you know?”

“I remember my first photoshoot and still get them sometimes. Don’t worry, though. Krystal is a pro, she’ll walk you through the entire thing.” Lita held his gaze and sighed. “It can be a little… intimate, but once you relax and give yourself over to the process, you’ll discover it’s a really rewarding experience.”

“I think a swarm of butterflies is actually called a kaleidoscope, but I hear you. This is all new to me.”

They laughed quietly and the tension crumbled, Lita rested a palm on his chest. Their connection was immediate and they both sucked in sharp breaths. Heat seeped through the contact, turning Cole’s battle to restrain his excitement into a fighting retreat.

She didn’t remove her hand, leaning in to murmur, “Did I say how grateful I am for you being here helping me with this? My last few exhibits didn’t–”

“Alright, my darlings, we’re ready, set, go!” Krystal called, clapping her hands officiously. Slow jazz wafted from a speaker dock on the table behind her. “Save that energy for the camera. Lita, with your permission, we’ll start with some close-ups of your latest piece.”

The pre-game jitters subsided half an hour later as Cole stood useless to the side while Krystal snapped shot after shot of Lita’s designs with a macro lens, giving instructions and piling on the compliments as she worked.

“Angle a fraction more outward… wonderful! I adore the fine detail you put into these rose vines.”

Click!

“Let me adjust the flash to highlight the vivid colors of the petals. There we go. Fabulous, simply fabulous.”

Click!

She was a whole different person consumed by her craft. Cole could relate, knowing how quiet and hyperfocused he became while painting. It was just another facet of the brilliant diamond that was Miss Krystal Laurier.

“Roll your shoulder for me. Let’s capture those claws in motion.”

Click! Click! Click!

He would have gotten bored if not for the way she pranced about in that skimpy officewear like the sexiest, most full-figured librarian in history and the smoldering glances Lita kept sending him as she flaunted her drool-inducing figure.

Neither were quelling the… well, growing problem below Cole’s beltline. His throbbing length was prodding a kneecap.

“Okay, let’s move on to the boudoir photos,” Krystal announced, rushing to a trestle table to switch lenses. “Cole, I need you on the center mark looking in my direction. You too, girlfriend. Facing him so the tattoo on your back is properly illuminated. Hold one another and touch foreheads, darlings. I want to feel the emotion.”

A big thank you to the anonymous supporter who commissioned this fun tale. You know who you are. Chapters are posted on my BuyMeACoffee page weeks in advance. Supporters can read them for the price of a single cuppa joe. Cheers for reading!