Chapter 01 - A day in the studio

There’s just no sound like the combination of a good camera’s shutter opening and shutting along with the flash popping in a studio. SNAP. I swear, I could record that sound and have it as a notification tone on my phone. “Okay babe, that looks good. But I need you to be more than good. You look sexy and hot and desirable. I need you to look at the camera like it’s your lover. Like you’re seducing it into bed. Like you want it to come over and fuck you!”

Talking to models is so often an exercise in uselessness. Most of them just put on their ‘model face’ and act like it’s the 90s all over again. No smiles, no emotions, nothing. And of course, when they see those photos, they invariably ask why they look so bland. I figured a while back that sexing them up is the best way to get the look both they and I want. They get turned on and start trying to impress me. To turn ME on. Yeah, I might be saying ‘look at the lens’ but they’re looking at the photographer. And it works. Manipulating women is frankly easy. Especially dumb models.

SNAP

“That’s it babe, so sexy! Now pout for me. Show me you’re sad that you’re not over here with your lover.”

SNAP SNAP

“Good good, now sit back in that chair. Mmm Hmm… no, spread your legs. Here, lemme pull your skirt down to protect your modesty…. Perfection!”

SNAP SNAP SNAP

Three hours later and I can’t but help hear my dad’s voice play out in my memory. “Boy, you’re never going to make a living at taking snap shots!” It didn’t matter that I had a bachelor's degree in photography. It didn’t matter that I moved to Chicago where some of the best working photographers live and work. It didn’t matter that I found a studio for a steal and was able to sign a three-year lease. It didn’t even matter that I was making a name for myself and had photos published in Elle, Cosmo, and was even considered for Vogue. It didn’t even matter that a few international models and their agents knew my name and recommended me to their friends and colleagues. Nope, so far as Dad was concerned, I was three years out of college and wasn’t making a six-figure income so I was a failure. He just wasn’t considering the fringe benefits.

There’s the hours. I work when I want. When I want time off, I simply don’t work. There’s the creative inspiration. He’s a banker so he just deals with numbers, but I get to make something out of nothing. And then there’s the naïve girls. Take new girls that were hoping to get into the model business. A basic set of headshots goes for $250. A good set with different outfits and poses starts at $500. If they want to book a photographer like me for an entire afternoon it can cost upwards of $1500, and I’m not even considered an expensive photographer. And do these lovely ladies have that kind of cash? Nope. At least not normally. But they will often have the $500 while I can always squeeze them into a weekday afternoon. They get a full day’s worth of my time, and I get…

“Oh fuck babe, watch the teeth… mmm… you’re doing fine. Here, lemme help”

I get to take advantage of a naïve beautiful girl made up to the nines like the one currently kneeling between my legs. And they’re always willing to swallow as they don’t dare get cum on their expensive rented clothes! They don’t even complain when I help them. Like my hand resting on the back of this cutie’s head and ever so gently pushing her down more and more. Sure, she lets out a little grunt of frustration, but she knows she’s getting her fair share out of this arrangement. Not only does she get a full set of photos, she’s getting a world class lesson on giving head that she’ll be able to use in her next job!

Leaning back in my chair I close my eyes and just focus on the wonderful feel of her puffy lips sliding up and down my length. I let out a little chuckle as she tries to speed up, probably realizing I’m keeping her pace slow so that I can draw this out, but changing my hand from resting on the back of her head to taking a handful of her hair puts her rhythm right back where I want it. I remember when Tyrell first told me about him getting women to blow him. I felt like he was taking advantage of them. But eventually, after having to turn more than a few girls away because of the price, I realized he was right. If they agreed to it, I was helping them and getting ‘paid’ for my time. And even now, when it’s clear she wants something different it’s not like I’m forcing her. She could always just stop. Sure, I wouldn’t be happy, and she’d end up with a bigger bill, but she could stop. Nope, she knows she’s just paying the piper.

When I’ve finally blown my wad and she’s cleaned up I let her know she can pick up the files in a week or so. I’ll even throw in some prints. She tries to give me a kiss, surely trying to make sure I stay in my good mood, but I turn her face and give her a peck on the cheek wondering if she realizes no man ever wants to taste his own cum. Gross. After guiding her out and giving her a slap to her ass…. gotta make sure she knows I think she’s sexy… I count out the cash she gives me and finish up. Sure, it’s only $500 making her blow job worth $1000 at my normal price, but it’s cash that’ll pay rent on time for once and empty balls that I otherwise wouldn’t have had.

As I’m packing up my equipment, I hear the door to the studio open and someone walk in. I call out over my shoulder, “Hey man, gotta gig tonight?”

Tyrell, in his ever upbeat attitude calls back, “You know it my man. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

Tyrell and I have a pretty good arrangement. I thought when I rented the studio that I’d be able to fill it most of the time. Now I can see just how much of a pipe dream that was. I was lucky if I got two paying gigs a week in the studio. After six months of choosing between paying rent on the studio or paying rent on the apartment, Tyrell asked if he could borrow the space. Without me even asking, he offered a fair payment. Soon enough he was renting the space on a per diem basis and using it just about as much as me. And our schedules worked perfectly together. I tended to work in the late morning and early afternoons, leaving my evenings off and Tyrell worked mostly in the evenings and nights.

“No problem, I just wrapped up my gig. I got a couple hours in the office and then I’m outta here until Thursday. What do you have going tonight?”

Tyrell walks in and starts moving the lights around. “I got another corporate head shot gig. Some manager and his executive assistant from K Edison Global. Third one this month!”

I can’t hide the confusion from my face as I try to work out the math of Tyrell’s jobs. Corporate head shots were decent business, but they only paid a couple hundred at best. Hell, the only times I did them I’d just do it on site as it was quicker that way. Why the hell would they want to come to the studio way out here in the Pilsen neighborhood at night? “You gotta share man. How are you making this worth your time? I know it has to be more than your normal fee since I’m meeting Ben, Sam, and Jack at the bar and they said you’d already called off.”

Tyrell makes a show of looking around as if someone would be in the studio listening to us before coming closer and telling me his secret. “Nah dude, you’re right. I wouldn’t do this for some simple head shots. No, I got a hook up for special corporate headshots. They’ve been passing my name around enough that it’s becoming a regular gig. See, they get to bill their corporate office for head shots that they need. I of course take them. The real special sauce though is that they always being their executive assistants. Their secretaries. Trust me, these honeys are doing more than just answering phone calls for these dudes. After the twenty minutes to get the head shots, we spend a couple hours focused on the secretaries….”

Tyrell pulls out his phone and logs into his secured cloud storage to evidently show me a recent shoot. A couple headshots of some corporate prick, a couple head shots of some hot corporate chick, and then dozens of photos of the woman in various dresses, various stages of dress and UNdress, laid out on the studio’s couch and bed sets. These were hot sexy photos!

“What the fuck man!? Are you shooting porn for them!?”

Tyrell’s laugh tells me I’m closer to the truth than I was jokingly trying to get, “Kind of! I mean, they’re not actually fucking here but it’s clear that these guys are fucking their secretaries and want images to remember them by. They get their head shots, they get their boudoir photos, I get paid at least a grand, and their company pays for it all! Win, win win!”

I chuckle, imagining Tyrell setting this up for the first time, “Hey, too bad their bosses are here, right? I imagine you could get a lot of fringe benefits if it was just you and the ladies.”

Tyrell’s sly grin immediately lets me know there’s more to the story. A quick hit to his shoulder gets him to spill the beans. “Okay, okay, at first it was just as I laid out. The dudes and their secretaries. But scheduling the busy executives was a pain and all they were interested in was the photos so… now I can get half of them to schedule earlier in the day, shoot the dude’s head shots, and he takes off leaving me with his sexy executive assistant. And these girls man, they make the models we shoot look like downright geniuses. I mean just hint to them that you only agreed to do the standard head shots and that you don’t normally do bedroom photos and they get all scared and worried because they know their boss wants those photos and is paying a lot for them. They’ll do anything, thinking it’s somehow their fault that you didn’t know you were supposed to shoot the sexy stuff.”

Realization dawns on me, making me smile jealously, “Wait, so you not only get paid to take the sexy photos, they ‘convince’ you to do so. Like with a blow job?”

Tyrell’s answer is him wagging his eyebrows up and down like out of some comedy before he returns to setting up the studio how he wants. After locking up my camera in the safe I step into the office to start working on today’s shoot when Tyrell calls out from the studio, “Hey, I’ve had to turn down a few of these because they couldn’t do night shoots and I had no interest in coming in early. If that comes up again, want me to throw the business your way?”

A single glance at my Google Calendar tells me that I have plenty of time for extra work. “That’s a rhetorical question, right? The only thing is don’t throw me anything from that K Edison company place. My roomie works there, and she probably doesn’t want to be known as the sleazy photographer’s friend!”

A couple hours later I slip into The Barrell and find Ben, Sam, and Jack already there with drinks in hand. The Barrel might not be the nicest bar in town, but it was cheap and right across the street from my apartment making it a great place to get smash mouth drunk. Jack as normal was already hitting on a couple girls sitting at the bar so I took his seat at the table and got a shot and a beer from Jenny, the regular waitress.

Four rounds later and plenty of bragging about our recent conquests I finally pull out my phone and log into my secured cloud storage and pull up the security camera footage. When Tyrell first installed the cameras in the studio, I almost blew a gasket. I didn’t want any film of what I was doing beyond what I was shooting myself. But when I found out how much it saved me on insurance, I was sold. And later, when I found out uses like this, I fell in love. I scrubbed through the film until I got to this afternoon. I of course always set up my chair in the same place for the models to blow me, telling them it was comfortable and private and had good lighting. They love hearing how a photographer cares about lighting! I never tell them that it also gives the camera a great view of them bobbing up and down on me.

Setting my phone down on the table I spin it around and let the guys watch today’s model give me my blow job while I wink up at the camera. After a few minutes of everyone watching her ass bounce up and down in time with my hand on her head Ben chimes in naively, “So Jamie, is this like your new girlfriend? We gonna meet her anytime soon?”

Sam and Jack break out laughing as I answer, “Ben, dude, no. That was just this afternoon’s shoot. This was her giving me my ‘tip’ afterward!”

Jenny happens to look over Ben’s shoulder to see my video as she picks up my credit card. She’s well aware of my proclivities and even joins in by giving Ben a playful slap to his temple. “No shit Ben, our boy Jamie here isn’t getting locked down to some bimbo model. Speaking of which Jamie, I’ve always meant to ask you, what does PJ stand for?”

I roll my eyes and give out my standard answer, “My first name starts with P. I go by Jamie, my second name. Technically it’s P Jamie Beaufort, but everyone just knows me by Jamie Beaufort. The bank, however, wouldn’t allow just my middle name on the card so… PJ.”

There was the standard prying, trying to figure out what the P stood for. Plenty of normal guesses for Peter, Paul, Pat, Parker, Paxton, Percy, Palmer, Perry, and even one for Pierre. I just denied them all and said that I wasn’t going to share my name with them. Honestly, why would my parents ever name me Paris anyway?