I'm dressed, but I'm not sure it counts as "decent"

After what Mao had done for (to?) me, I had to admit, my opinion of her was a good bit more favorable than when I'd entered her photo studio with my dick practically hanging out my bikini and she'd held me hostage instead of helping me out. Sure, she was a pervert, but there was a certain roguish charm about her, and her appreciation of even a nerdy, frankly shrimpy futanari was a little flattering. Honestly, if she wanted to employ people instead of just paying them for the odd photo-shoot, she had potential to be a much better boss than Genkei. I asked if she'd ever thought about going commercial with her hobby. It might mean changing direction a bit and she certainly couldn't take full on dick pics the way she was currently doing-- she probably wouldn't get away with servicing her clients afterward either-- but she seemed to have the skills and passion to make serious money. Also, there might be local futanari out there willing to do consistent modeling work instead of returning to their creepy, lady-dick-obsessed employers. Potentially.

"Ha! As if I'm not obsessed with those! I know you had your glasses off most of the time, but you must have seen a good many of those photographs hanging around, right?" Mao questioned me as I tried not to stare at her nakedness. "Are you gonna get dressed, or were you wanting me to take a limp dick version of our earlier session?"

I wasn't sure whether to counter that I wasn't all the way spent for the sake of my pride or if doing so would put me getting milked again. Instead of answering, I unfolded the thin, white t-shirt she'd thrown me, decorated with a print like a psychiatrist ink blot on the chest. When I put it on, I realized that, like in her case, the shirt hung all the way to my knees. I also noticed... I won't call it a "scent," but different people's clothes do carry a bit of their odor on them. I was suddenly struck by the implications of sneaking out of Mao's place with her shirt on... On that note, I questioned if she wanted the shirt back at some point.

"You keep it. Think of it as a memento," the photographer smiled.

After a bit, I realized she wasn't throwing me any more clothing. I held out my hands expectantly, then glowered when her grin widened.

"I don't have bras, Katsumi! Nobody's gonna see your butt anyway as long as you don't walk over any air vents Marilyn Monroe style."

W-What about panties, though? Surely she had some!

"You're gonna wear my panties? That's kinda weird, isn't it?"

The teasing grin on her face told me that she wanted me to beg for her panties. I didn't allow her the satisfaction! I still had some pride! But... What about pants?! She had those she could lend me and it wouldn't be weird, right?!

"Fresh out of pants," Mao sighed, then began whistling to herself suspiciously.

I considered tearing past her and searching the other drawers, knowing I'd find some in there. She could even give me the shorts she'd been wearing earlier! Nobody would know the difference, considering her shirt was long enough and-- unlike me-- she didn't have anything to stick against the shirt in an unseemly fashion. In fact, as I faced the oncoming prospect of going home in just a t-shirt, I began to noticing my increasingly annoying penis poking against it whenever I shifted the wrong way. Tonight, I'd probably end up wrestling with serious questions about the exhibitionist tendencies I was demonstrating today. Some shorts for the moment would go a long way.

Instead of the shorts, Mao put the finishing touches on her signature upon a check, then handed it over to me. The amount on there made my eyes bulge... all of this, for falling on my head and letting her take photos of me for under half an hour!? What was I even doing the ODD job for?!

"You asked earlier if I'd ever thought of going commercial," Mao surprised me, suddenly circling back to my unanswered question from earlier. "I already make quite a lot doing things like album photos, newlyweds, commemorations, and the other sorts of things people are always willing to pay big bank for, just for the prestige of it. If I'm good enough at that job-- the public one-- then I can spend time like this doing what I love. Think of it like I was commissioning you," she grinned, throwing me a thumbs-up. "The catch is, like any commission, I can't afford to do it all the time. This is a hobby I pay for, not one I make money for. That's because I won't compromise my goal: I need to photograph the dick, raw and uncensored!"

I supposed there was a certain admiration in how she stuck to her guns. Ick. I think I made a double entendre there.

"Though, there is a hidden fee for you too: you don't get any pants! You can have your glasses, though."

... I told her I would begrudgingly suck that up for the sake of the number of zeroes on the little piece of paper she'd just handed me.

"That's the spirit! You'll get far with me with an attitude like that, he he."

Finally, with the scant garment Mao had provided me-- better than the dog bikini from earlier, anyway-- I gave her a courteous bow that felt ridiculous, given that she was a little shorter even than me, sporting a cheeky grin, and stark naked in her back studio.

Even though I didn't have much to support, I usually tended to wear a bra. Not having one, with my nipples rubbing against the cotton of the t-shirt, was bothering me before I even stepped to the outside. When the breeze from that windy day hit me, it felt even more bothersome... I was happy for the placement of the black spots on my shirt, because my aroused tips poking against the white would be pretty inappropriate. I wasn't too ashamed to hold the bottom hem of the shirt down purposefully and obviously, in an attempt to hide the shape of my penis.

So, anyway. All in all.

Embarrassing, but not too bad a way to make a full week's wages! With yen signs in my eyes and those eyes hidden by my thick lenses, I hopped aboard the bus home, sans underwear but rich in payment for a lewd day's work.

Tomorrow, I could contemplate if I felt like returning to another day of work at ODD. That cursed phone had led me into quite the misadventure and I imagined that was only the tip of the ice-burg for what awaited me in this new employment...