Читать книгу Almost 5'4" - Isobella Jade - Страница 13

It was the day of my first shoot. Although the weather was unseasonably cold for summer, I waited outside for Joel. I didn’t want him coming in and telling my mother where we were going.

Most of the girls on the site had, to my naive eyes, professional photos. I needed some of my own to keep up with them. Only having a few pictures on my profile against their twenty meant I was no real competition. Maybe this session in Syracuse would give me some shots to add to my portfolio. I needed to give it a try.

I had no idea what the photographer looked like as we had only been exchanging emails. Joel and I walked around the wedding hall in search of him. The hall looked like a palace – all white on the outside and all wood on the inside. Joel made small talk about the architecture but I just wished he would shut the fuck up, I was so nervous.

Then, I saw the photographer. He was taking the trash out and he had a lot of it. Joel rushed to help him. He was dressed comfortably in jeans and a nice tucked-in light blue shirt. I noticed that he smelled like a fireplace.

‘I usually shoot the bride on this stairway.’ He winked at me.

While he was setting up for the shoot, it hit me. Someone might see me and question what I was doing. My aunt and uncle lived only a few miles away. In high school I ran track against many students who lived in the area. I prayed Joel wouldn’t know anyone who could recognize me. Fortunately, he was in a daze, interested, consumed. He looked amused and stared at the artwork and vintage tables as if he were witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The photographer and I hadn’t discussed payment in our emails, but he had promised to give me a CD of images a week after the shoot. We had already agreed that the shoot would involve lingerie. I didn’t care; I needed photos for my profile on Onemodelplace.com and felt safe knowing a friend was with me. Besides, I wanted to feel what being a model was all about. I wanted the experience.

I went into the bathroom to get ready; I didn’t know what to do with myself. My heart was racing. I put on some more mascara and lipstick. Stupidly, I had forgotten my hairbrush but used my fingers to weed through the knots in my hair the best I could. I splashed some water on my hands to calm down the flyaway strands by my forehead.

I had no idea what Joel was doing while I was in there, but I could hear the two of them talking and it made me nervous. I hoped to God Joel wouldn’t mention that I was a track runner or that we only lived in the next town over. I wanted this whole thing to be as anonymous as possible.

When I thought I looked the best I possibly could, or what I thought a model should look like, I came out. The photographer had Joel wait downstairs.

I stood by the railing of the stairs, where he normally photographed brides, trying to exude a confidence I did not feel. I wore a pair of denim shorts, a gold necklace with a heart pendant on it, gold hoop earrings, and a sheer Calvin Klein bra. Next we went into a bedroom and I sat, and then lay down, on the yellow bedspread and smiled awkwardly towards him and his huge lens. The camera clicked, startling me as he captured a picture of my skin for a ‘test shot.’ He was using all these words I never heard before, and he was trying to hold the camera steady as he mumbled how he wished he had his tripod. I felt a little weird sitting there waiting for my photo to be taken. The silence went right through me. I could hear my heart beat. I looked down and around the room, avoiding direct contact with the photographer’s eyes as he fumbled with the lights again.

He said, ‘Are you comfortable posing without a bra?’

I couldn’t say no. That would let him know this was my first photo shoot ever and I wanted to seem professional. Plus, he had already given us the tour of his huge wedding reception mansion so we sort of knew each other. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I thought getting naked was supposed to make me nervous, but I wasn’t that scared.

‘Yes, that’s fine.’ Speaking shyly but acting fast, I peeled off my clothing and with it any last grip on innocence. With a delicate whisk of the hand I threw the garments on the floor. I think I startled the photographer when he turned around and I was bare naked already but covering myself with the bed sheet.

The photographer said, ‘I have some white lace cloth in a storage closet.’ Then he went to fetch it as if he had a beautiful present for me. To my disappointment, it looked like a tablecloth used for someone’s wedding reception, and I didn’t know whether to say, ‘Thank you,’ or ‘No thank you.’

He said that with my tan skin color, I would look pretty if I wore it around my head like a veil and used it to cover my body. Only then did I wonder whether I’d shaved or not and if I should go and put lotion on my legs. I was so focused on him, his movements, and the quiet between us, that I forgot I had on my gold necklace, earrings and angel ring, but he said it was OK.

Since it felt like his shoot, I had followed and played along till now but I started to feel more like his afternoon whore as I picked up the material and wrapped it around me the best I could to cover all of my private parts. The white fabric did look really pretty against my skin. I felt sexy. I wanted Danny to see me like this, I wanted to be touched and caressed while I wore the fabric around me. I could feel myself getting excited and the triangle I had shaved felt itchy and moist. I wondered if the photographer was married. If he had children. When he last had sex.

We took a few shots of me looking down and some from a side profile. I felt like a Middle Eastern Princess about to lose my virginity.

After the fabric shot I stayed without a bra, but put my shorts back on and went downstairs. I put on a sheer tan top that still showed my nipples and we took some shots near an ethnic-inspired cloth mural on the wall. Then we went to the dining area, where I changed again, and sat on a pink and cream carpet that looked like a quilted blanket. I faced the mirror and wore only a lace black thong and a little lace tank top, the most clothing I had worn at the shoot.

By the time we were finished, Joel still had noticed nothing. In the car he said, ‘That guy was really cool. I bet it’s expensive to have a place like that.’ He didn’t know about the nude shots. He didn’t say one word about the shoot; he just kept talking. ‘I want my own company one day.’

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I tried to think of each shot and imagine what the picture would look like.