by Amy DeMeritt
I swallow hard and try to remain professional. Hannah has such a beautiful back. It looks strong, but feminine, and is as smooth as light amber honey. Just as I’m getting into position with my camera, I realize she has her side-boob visible. My mouth waters and the hairs on the back of my neck stick straight up. My core is humming with desire. Why couldn’t Isabell be the one on that table? I clear my throat and lower my camera.
“Uh, Isabell. Is there a way to…?” I motion to Hannah’s side and Isabell looks down in confusion. “To what?” I slightly bite my bottom lip, not wanting to say this. “Well, she is a bit… visible.” Isabell laughs and looks down to Hannah’s side. “Oh, sweetie, your boob is showing a little. I’m just going to adjust the sheet. ”
I hear Hannah giggle and I just shake my head. She must be loving this. After Isabell makes a couple adjustments with the sheet Hannah is laying on, she’s now decent. Well, as decent as she can be while laying naked on a table with only her ass covered.
Isabell gets into position, slightly bent over Hannah as if she’s giving her a massage. After she has stopped moving, I raise my camera and take a few photos from various angles. We switch positions and I get the view from the other side as well.
“Ok, let me check these and see if I need to adjust any settings.”
Isabell nods and leans against the wall while I scan through the images. I feel like someone is watching me look at porn or something. It’s so hard to look at these pictures and not feel something for Hannah. She’s exquisite.
Aside from my overwhelming attraction to her, she has the kind of body that I’ve always wanted an opportunity to photograph nude. I’ve taken some nudes before, but they’ve never been as perfect as Hannah.
“How do I look?”
My head bolts up. Hannah’s leaning up on her elbows with the sheet just barely covering her breasts. She has a small, but teasing grin on her lips. I gather all of the will power I have to concentrate on anything else so that I don’t get embarrassed and blush with Isabell watching. Old muddy boots, garbage in the streets, that mean ugly hairless cat that lives two houses over from me – my mind shuffles through every unattractive thing I can possibly think of.
“The pictures look really good. The lighting and angles are great. I don’t need to take anymore.”
Before she can respond, Isabell taps Hannah playfully on her ass and walks towards the door.
“Ok, Han, get dressed and then we’ll switch places so Brooke can have a variety to work with. ”
Feeling a little jealous of Isabell’s hands for being able to hold Hannah’s back and pat her ass, I follow her out of the room and close the door behind me.
“So, what would you be doing right now if you didn’t have to be here taking pictures?”
“I typically spend my Saturday mornings jogging in the park for an hour. What about you?”
“That’s admirable. I hate running. I would most likely be in bed still. We don’t open till noon on Saturdays, so I get to sleep in before I have to come in here.”
“I feel like I’m getting old because my body never wants to allow me to sleep in anymore. It’s like that internal clock that is used to getting up at six o’clock every morning for work just doesn’t understand what weekends are. The latest I can sleep without my alarm clock is eight o’clock.”
Isabell laughs and shakes her head. “You can’t possibly be ‘old’. How old are you?”
“I’ll be twenty-six next spring.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Sweetie, you are younger than me.” My jaw drops. “There’s no way.” She smiles in an amused way. “I turned twenty-seven in February. You and Hannah are babies. She’s only…”
“I’m only what?” Hannah has just emerged from the room dressed in her lavender scrubs again. She looks at me with a satisfied grin and puts her hands on her hips. “What are you saying about me out here?”
Before I can answer, Isabell laughs and says, “Brooke here is a baby like you. You both are only a month apart.” Hannah’s smile broadens. “Yeah? When is your birthday?”
“April 13th . You?”
“May 5th. I knew you had to be older than me.” Both Isabell and I laugh. “Yeah, she is so much older than you, Han. Ok, I’m going in to strip down now. Oh, wait. Brooke, I have some tattoos. Do you think you will be able to work some magic so they won’t be in the pictures?”
“Yes, that won’t be too difficult, unless you have your entire back covered. You don’t, do you?” She smiles and shakes her head. “Nope. Ok, I’ll ring in a minute.”
After the door is closed, Hannah moves to stand across from me. She leans back against the wall and nods her head at my camera in my hand.
“Do I get to see those?”
“Nope.” She smirks and tilts her head to the side to size me up. “Either I look terrible, or I look so good that you can’t handle looking at them with me next to you.”
Muddy shoes, muddy shoes! God damn it. Nope, fire engine red face wins. Hannah giggles and moves over to stand next to me. She lifts my hand holding the camera, and coos, “Show me?”
I switch on the screen and move the camera over towards her more so she can get a better view of the screen. She moves unnecessarily closer and her side-boob is now pressed against my arm. What is with her and this amazing side-boob today?
When we get to the last image, she looks in my eyes, but doesn’t put any space between us.
“These are really good. The lighting in these rooms is terrible. I can’t believe how clear these are. I can’t wait to see more of your work.”
“You want to see my work?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“You’re adorable.”
I look at her confused, but before I can ask her what she means, there’s a light bell sound that cuts our conversation short. Hannah smiles and pushes off the wall to go back into the massage room .
When we come inside, Isabell is laying just as Hannah had been. I start to get into position, but stop and move closer to her. I’ve seen this back before. The shape and curves of her sides and spine definitely give me a sense of de ja vu, but I know with a certainty that I have seen those tattoos before, and not because they’re common. These are very unique tattoos in a placement that I know I have seen before.
“This looks really familiar.”
“What does?”
“Isabell’s body.”
Hannah snaps out, “What?”, and Isabell sits up on her elbows to look at me. “I don’t believe I’ve had any drunken one-night stands and I know I haven’t met you before today, so how can I look familiar to you?”
“I, no, that’s not what I meant. Have you ever modeled for a photographer before?”
Her eyebrows pinch tightly together and she pulls the sheet up to her chest and carefully sits up. Hannah helps to make sure her backside stays covered.
“Explain what you are talking about, please.”
She looks scared all of a sudden, and I suddenly feel sick because of what it possibly means.
“Uh, hold on. Let me go grab a different memory card. I have pictures from the exhibit. It may not be, but, I don’t know. Hold on.”
When I get to the reception area, where my camera bag is, my hands are shaking. Hannah is quickly at my side, and seeing me struggle with the zippers, she takes my hands and takes the bag from me. She looks very distraught.
She whispers, “Brooke, I hope to hell whatever you saw was not Isabell.”
“Me too. I feel sick. Do you have water?”
“Behind the counter. Take a bottle from the mini fridge. Which of these memory cards am I grabbing? ”
“The one labeled, P-XPO.”
I grab a bottle and take several gulps. Before I can replace the cap, Hannah is grabbing my other hand and pulling me back to the massage room.
Isabell’s completely wrapped in a sheet and looks like she’s slightly trembling. I quickly switch out memory cards and scan through the pictures till I find what I
’m looking for. Not a single touch or teasing word from Hannah could bring back the color that I feel drain from my face.
I look up at Isabell and she starts to cry. Hannah wraps her arms around her and I slowly walk forward to sit down on the other side of her.
“Isabell, do you know Jared Coffman?”
In reply, she lets out a loud sob and buries her face in Hannah’s chest.
Chapter Three
This is not the first time I have heard a story like Isabell’s and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But her story is even more shattering for me on a personal level because I have always appreciated this photographer’s work. I feel like because I supported his art, I supported the horror that he put Isabell through. And to make it feel more like vinegar in a festering wound for her, he is profiting off of that horror.
After she calmed down, she got dressed, and with an unexpected determined strength, she looked through the pictures. There were six images in total in the exhibit. All of them in the nude, with her laying on her back, side, and stomach. Her face had been cropped from all of the pictures, but it’s definitely her.
Apparently, she had met Jared, the photographer, at one of his exhibits. They flirted and they went on a couple dates. He had asked her if she would pose for him, but she refused. After they were together for a few weeks, she started to lose time. She would wake up and not remember falling asleep or what she was doing before she fell asleep. He was drugging her and posing her in the positions while she was out. I don’t even want to think about what else he might have done to her while she was unconscious .
I had asked her if she wanted me to delete the pictures and she quickly said, “No. But I need a copy. I have to try to do something about this.”
She offered for me to take the photos for the ad art, but I refused. I think I would have thrown up if I took even one picture of her naked after hearing her story. I could not possibly take more pictures of her that would be seen by thousands of people for profit. Even if I wasn’t the one directly profiting off of them.
After Isabell left to compose herself before her shift, I sat down next to my camera bag, unable to function to put my stuff away. Hannah ended up having to help me. I just sat there staring at the floor for at least five minutes before Hannah said anything.
She took my hand and said, “Come on. Let’s go get a drink.”
So, here we sit, sipping on our second round of mimosas at a small table at a quiet breakfast and brunch place in the same plaza as the spa.
“Brooke, does she have any legal rights to those photos?”
“It’s tricky. The laws could go either way, and they have in many lawsuits. It really depends on the judge and how good the lawyers are. If the lawyer can dredge up the right cases won in similar battles, it will help. But, in most cases, the ‘artist’ wins. Especially with something like this. If there is no police report showing she filed a complaint about him drugging her, she’ll be hard pressed now after all this time to prove that she did not consent to the photos being taken.”
“But she’s naked – that has to count for something. She should be able to say at any time that she doesn’t want those photos seen by anyone, even if she had consented.”
“You would think, but unfortunately, that’s not the way it works – most of the time. ”
“Do you know how to find him?”
“No, I’ve never actually met or spoken with him. He was surrounded all night, so I never got a chance to speak with him about his exhibit. I feel so filthy. I can’t wait to get home and shower.”
“You shouldn’t let yourself feel that way. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I’m quiet for a few minutes and Hannah reaches over and takes my hand. That amazing tingling feeling spreads across my hand and up my arm. I look at her, into her brilliant blue eyes, and she gives me a small reassuring smile.
“Brooke, just because you appreciated the beauty of the photos, does not mean you appreciated or supported the disgusting means by which they were taken. Many beautiful things are born out of ugliness and hardship; it doesn’t make the result any less beautiful because of the formula used to make it.”
“Like what things?”
She gently strokes her fingers over the top of my hand in a soothing way. It feels really nice, and I like watching her fingers glide over my skin.
“Well, you for one. Pregnancy and giving birth are hell on mothers. Rainbows, born from rain. Butterflies and moths, both of which start out as, often, very ugly grubby creatures. That’s just to name a few.”
“But I’ve taken nudes before, and I would again, but now… I feel like…”
“Brooke, stop. What you do is art. What he does is criminal. You are extremely respectful, while he preys on people. You are not like him. There is nothing wrong with photographing nudes if the subject is in consent.”
I take a deep breath and down the rest of my mimosa.
“I’m going to have a splitting headache tomorrow. Champagne is not my friend. ”
Our waiter starts to walk by, so I motion to him for a refill on our glasses.
“So, you’re going to have another glass? Is that your own form of penance for the sin you didn’t commit?” I surprise myself and Hannah by letting out a quiet laugh. “Maybe so. Good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow. Wait. Don’t you have to be at work? I thought you open at noon today?”
“No, I’m not scheduled today. I only came in to help with the pictures. Which, I guess we need to arrange for you to get another set of pictures since we can’t use Isabell anymore.”
I frown as I pick up the fresh glass of mimosa and down a few sips.
“Sorry, that was a poor choice of words. I just meant…”
“I know what you meant. I’ve known a few girls that have been through some really messed up shit, but this is the first time that one of these stories feels so much more personal.”
“Well, I know Isabell very well and she would not want you sitting here beating yourself up over this. You were made a victim, not an accomplice.”
“You weren’t even supposed to be my client. This zip code is out of my territory, but for some reason, my manager gave me the account anyway. It’s weird how things work out.”
“It’s not weird. I recommended you.” I look at her puzzled and she laughs. “My cousin owns Silvia’s Pottery. She talks about you like you are the closest thing to a god. You have really helped her business – a lot.”
“Wow, thank you. I’m glad I’ve been able to help her so much. Silvia is a nice woman and her store is amazing.”
Just as I’m about to take another sip of mimosa, I start to yawn and quickly lower the glass and cover my mouth.
“Your beautiful hazel eyes are starting to droop. Is that champagne effecting you?” I let out a small laugh and rub my forehead. “Yeah, I feel really tired all of sudden. That’s just great. ”
“Come on. Let’s pay and get out of here.”
I feel like a part of me has been torn away, but then realize she has just released my hand that she has been holding. Damn.
Hannah motions to the waiter that we’re ready and he promptly arrives with the bill. Hannah refuses my credit card and pays the full tab in cash so we don’t have to wait.
While we walk down the sidewalk towards our cars, I feel the absence of her hand even more. I want to grab it and cling to her, but I’m not brave enough, even after three mimosas. I start to walk to my car, but Hannah grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop.
“What are you doing? You cannot drive.”
“What? Of course I can. I’m not drunk, Hannah. I’m just sleepy.”
“No.” She says it firmly with not even a hint of humor in her voice or on her face. I take a deep breath and slump my shoulders. “How am I going to get my car later?”
“I’ll bring you back. Come on, you can sleep it off on my couch.”
I can’t help but smile in a giddy way as she slides her hand back in mine and tugs me along
after her.
While we drive, my eyes are heavy and want to close, but the excitement of being in her car making our way to her place is making my eyes flutter like butterfly wings. When we park, Hannah gently squeezes my knee a moment.
“Wake up, sleepy head. We’re here.” I look over at her with heavy eyes and she giggles. “So damn adorable.”
Without waiting for my answer, she gets out of the car and I slowly follow.
We walk into a nice foyer with stairs to one side and an elevator to the other. Hannah heads for the stairs, but then stops to look at me .
“I’m guessing stairs are probably a bad idea. We’ll take the elevator.”
When we get in the elevator, my head becomes even heavier. I lean against the wall and Hannah comes to stand next to me.
“You don’t drink much, do you?” I let out a small laugh. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk though. I get too sleepy to consume enough to get to that point. I’m sorry about this.”
“For what? As long as you stay conscious till I get you to my couch, we’re all good. If I have to drag your ass to my apartment, then you can be sorry.” I laugh again and nod. “Ok. Thanks, Hannah.”
The elevator doors open and Hannah takes my hand and leads me down a hall. She releases my hand when we’re outside of an ebony door with the brass number 69 above the peephole. I can’t help but giggle at the number. Hannah looks at me and follows my gaze. She laughs and shakes her head. After she pushes the door open, she takes my hand again.
“Come on, cutie. You look so loopy. I think you’re going to pass out any second.”
I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve lying in bed and trying desperately not to fall asleep, but slowly losing to the powerful dust of the sandman. I want to be alert and enjoy being here in her apartment, in her presence, but I’m fading quickly.
I feel two gentle hands on my arms and I’m being guided to lay down on something soft. My eyes start to close. Something tugs at my feet and then an odd sense of freedom comes over my limbs. A light covering lays over me. Soft feathers on my cheek. A breeze in my hair. Soft white light fades to gray, now black.