Taking photos

Victoria tapped the touchscreen with a practiced finger, the camera's flash blinding them momentarily. "First one's always awkward," she murmured, studying the preview screen where John's stiff posture contrasted sharply with her relaxed pose. Her fingers brushed his knee as she leaned in—ostensibly to examine the photo—but the heat of her palm seeped through his slacks. "Let's try again."

John shifted toward the curtain. "I think that's—"

"Principal Lee," Victoria interrupted, her lower lip jutting in a pout that didn't quite mask the calculation in her green eyes. She held up the screen where his **** smile looked more like a grimace. "This can't go in the yearbook. What if alumni see it? They'll think you hate our school."

Victoria's fingers danced across the touchscreen with deliberate slowness, adjusting settings that didn't need adjusting. The camera flashed again—capturing John's rigid posture and Victoria's artful lean toward him, her dark hair spilling over his shoulder like ink. "Still too stiff," she murmured, her knee pressing deliberately against his thigh as she tapped the screen for another shot.

The third flash illuminated Victoria's hand sliding onto John's knee, her thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of his slacks. John cleared his throat, shifting away slightly. "Victoria, maybe we should—"

"Just one more," she interrupted, tilting her head so her lips brushed his ear as she spoke. The booth's cramped quarters **** them closer with each movement. Her fingers crept higher on his thigh with each passing second—innocent enough to deny, intentional enough to set his pulse racing.

The fourth flash caught Victoria mid-motion—her hand now dangerously close to the growing bulge in John's pants, her parted lips hovering near his jawline. She studied the preview screen with faux concentration, humming thoughtfully. "Getting better," she lied, her fingers flexing against his thigh. "But your tie is crooked."

Before John could react, Victoria's hands were at his collar, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath his Adam's apple as she "adjusted" his tie. Her thumbs dragged downward with deliberate slowness, tracing the outline of his sternum through the thin dress shirt. The camera flashed again—her lips now dangerously close to his neck, her chest pressing against his arm.

John's hands gripped the edge of the bench. "Victoria—"

Victoria's fingers lingered on the preview screen, tapping the image where a conspicuous gap remained between them. "Still not right," she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she shifted her weight deliberately. The vinyl cushion squeaked faintly as she rose—only to pivot smoothly and lower herself onto John's lap in one fluid motion.

John's protest died in his throat when the warmth of her settled against him, the silk of her emerald dress sliding perilously high as she adjusted her position. "Victoria, this isn't—"

"Shh, just for the photo," she breathed, arching her back slightly to press the full curve of her backside against his growing erection. The camera flashed—capturing her flushed cheeks, his stunned expression.

She wriggled again, eliciting a choked gasp from John as the thin fabric of her dress provided negligible barrier against his hardening length. "Mmm, much better," Victoria purred, rocking her hips in tiny, torturous circles as the camera whirred again. Her dress rode up further, revealing the lace tops of her stockings, the delicate straps of her garters.

John's hands hovered awkwardly at her waist, torn between pushing her away and steadying her movements. "We can't—"