by Paula Hawkes
Chapter 14
When she awoke in the cold dawn light on Monday morning China’s mind was resolved. She was ready to face the day and whatever it might throw at her. She didn’t know whether Mark would try and progress the photography situation any further but if he did she was ready to let him take some head and shoulder portrait shots. That was all. She was aware there was some danger attached to this, a stranger who she was so obviously attracted to taking and owning pictures of her, ones that her husband had never seen and didn’t know were being taken. If that became public in any way it would certainly take a little explaining, but China had some ready prepared ideas should that unlikely event ever occur. The photographs were to be a secret present for her husband.
There was no misconception in China as she got ready for work that morning, taking a little extra care with her hair and make-up, carefully selecting her work outfit, one of her best, smart and just the right amount of sexy, just in case.
Later that day China left work a little early to go to the café for her coffee. Devak quietly served her; he seemed so much quieter these days. She had hardly noticed before but today, as he silently brought her drink to her table with only the slightest of polite smiles and the barest nod of the head in acknowledgement, she realized that she hadn’t spoken to Devak in nearly a week. She rested a hand on his arm as he placed the cup on the table.
“Hello, Dev,” she said. “How are you?” She instilled as much kindness and concern in her voice as she could. He looked down at where she was touching his arm, his eyes sad. He withdrew his arm and looked her in the face, regaining his composure.
“I’m fine thank you, lady.” But there was none of the usual friendliness in his tone of voice. Perfect civility of course, but devoid of any emotion other than a barely detectable tinge of melancholy. He withdrew back into the dark recesses of the café, and China felt a stab of sadness herself as if she had just lost something important.
Mark swaggered up at the usual time, the broadest of grins on his face. This annoyed China for reasons she didn’t know at first. Then she realized she was annoyed because the smile was one of knowledgeable arrogance, as if he knew he had won an important point in the game.
“We’re all set up,” he said. “How much time have you got?”
His continued smug grin annoyed China even more, especially as she couldn’t help her body’s reaction to how handsome his smile made him look. Anger and lust were a potent mix.
“Surely you didn’t mean today? Not now?”
“Why not? Do you have to get back?”
“I might. Er, I don’t know. Possibly,” she said, blustering, looking for an excuse but not sure she wanted to actually use one. “I suppose we could do it today, if we’re quick.”
“Hey. Never rush an artist. Come on, you can drink the coffee while we work.”
China stood up a little too eagerly for her own liking, straightening her clothes and throwing some money down on the table to pay for the coffee. She left the cup on the table. After all it wasn’t a take away cup. Mark hadn’t thought of that, she told herself with a touch of resentment. Feeling rather peeved that she wasn’t getting to drink her coffee she let Mark take her hand and pull her reluctantly down the street.
“Where are we going?”
“The landlord of the pub I work at lets me use his upstairs room for my work.”
China stopped dead in the street. “Wait. We’re not doing this outside?”
“No. My work needs full control over light and background.”
China thought about her promise to herself as she had sat watching the news on Friday. Exactly how was this ‘being more careful’? She would be alone with a man she barely knew. But then she reminded herself that she had already been alone with him when he had helped her with her ankle the week before. It wasn’t as if Mark was a killer. That was a ridiculous thought that even the most cautious side of her couldn’t entertain. He had been kind to her the last time they were alone, and he hadn’t taken advantage, although she secretly believed she might have let him if he had tried. Maybe that was what was worrying her, not Mark’s actions, not his strength, not any criminal proclivities he might have, but her weakness of will in his presence. She was potentially putting herself in a situation where she would be sorely tempted to compromise herself. At least in public she knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid.
Mark watched her with interest, and gave the slightest of tugs on her hand. “Come on. I’m sure you’ve not got that long and I’d like to start as soon as possible.”
She finally relented, giving up her futile resistance to his insistent pulling on her hand, and let him lead her towards the pub she’d followed him to that first day. He opened a side door and she was instantly relieved that she didn’t have to walk through the crowded pub, holding hands with one of their barmen. It felt good to be holding his hand, the connection strange and intensely personal.
The door led immediately onto some steep narrow stairs, carpeted in a sticky, red and awfully patterned floral material. At the top of the stairs they turned right and opened a door onto a very large and mostly bare room. In the room there was a bed against one wall, vintage iron and dressed in delicate white. On the opposite wall was a simple white dressing table and chair. Against the wall just to China’s right was a camera on a tripod. It was Mark’s Nikon, and a couple of large flashguns were perched beside it on top of lighting stands, one considerably higher than the other. A large window dressed in lacy net curtains faced out onto the main road and let a generous amount of soft, grey light into the room.
There was a vague aroma of vanilla air-freshener in the room, with a background of beer and damp wood. Not particularly unpleasant, and with the muffled sounds from the pub below she felt comfortably cocooned away from the real world.
China walked slowly into the centre of the room carefully studying the contents. She was surprised at how elegant the room looked, far more than she would expect from a room above a pub. It was quite classical and distinctly arty. She could see in her mind some tasteful black and white pictures being created here. At that thought her mind turned to the subtly erotic picture that hung on Mark’s wall in his flat, and she blushed, knowing perfectly well that the photograph had been taken right here, on this very bed. The thought filled her with a chilly excitement.
“Who is she?”
“Who’s who?”
“The girl on your wall.”
“Oh. That was Zilda. She used to model for me.” He suddenly looked very sad.
“I’m sorry. Was she your girlfriend?”
He laughed awkwardly, but his face was still sad. “No. Well, she was a friend, and she was a girl, but no, not in the way you mean.”
“Oh.” China was puzzled about something but she wasn’t sure what. She continued to survey the room. “Where do you want me to sit?”
“Wherever you’re most comfortable.”
She sat primly down on the chair in front of the dressing table, hands in her lap, uncomfortable at being the subject of attention, knowing that she presented a very stiff and awkward vision.
“Let’s move this shall we?” Mark said lifting and moving her bag over beside him next to the camera. Then he came back over to her and looked at her from different angles, assessing, squinting and adjusting his view, almost scientific in his studies. He nudged the mirror on the dressing table, watching her face as the reflected light changed, then leant down and adjusted her neck scarf slightly, pushing the material down here, up there, but never actually touching her flesh. Every time the silky material moved she felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck, despite the lack of full contact. In just a brief moment he had turned into a cool, calm professional photographer, but she was gradually melting.
“Do you mind?” he asked softly as he gestured towards her hair.
“Go ahead.”
He carefully moved her hair into position, lightly touched her chin with a single finger that sent sparks through
her, and lifted her face to just the right angle. He applied gentle pressure to one shoulder to get the angle just right. Everywhere he touched, her body betrayed her desires. She was glad he couldn’t see the rampant waves of gooseflesh as her senses reeled.
“Ok,” he said. “Let’s start.”
When Mark had finished his professional and almost dispassionate titivating he backed away, looking at China the whole time. She sat self-consciously not quite sure what to do with herself.
"What do I do now then?"
"Just sit still for a few test shots. I need to get the lighting right."
He moved the flash guns around, adjusting the height of the lighting stands on which they sat. He then moved behind China and adjusted another flash, which China hadn't noticed was even there.
"There. Let's give that a go."
He switched his Nikon on and peered through the viewfinder, adjusting the lens back and forward. When he pressed the shutter for the first time the flood of sudden light made China jump and blink hard. Starry blooms of green-blue-white light burned into her retina for a few moments. Before they had fully gone he fired off another shot, the high-pitched sound of the flashes warming up between each shot wining in the background.
"You're a blinker!" He said, laughing. "But don't worry, you'll get used to it, and if I take enough shots that will stop. And if it doesn’t we’ll try without the flashes, that’s often better anyway." He was closely checking the screen on the back of the camera.
"Too harsh," he announced. "I think we will go for natural light."
China was relieved that she wouldn't be blinking into the blinding light of the flashes for the rest of the session. Those harsh flashes of light had completely taken her mind off of the lustful sensations that had been plaguing her just minutes before. Mark had been totally unaware of the effect he was having on her, and she was relieved that she now felt more in control. Once Mark switched off the flashes and started to take his pictures China felt herself relaxing a little. She even started to pull some funny faces at the camera which, from the delighted expression on his face, appeared to please Mark.
"That's it, China, work the camera," he joked.
After about ten minutes of this, with Mark slowly moving around her, taking pictures from all angles, some with her looking directly into the lens, some with her looking away, he stood back and spent a few moments checking the back of his camera again.
"May I see?" she asked.
"Not yet. I need to process them, get everything just right. But I've got what I needed for now."
China sat still, a strange feeling of disappointment flowing over her. It was a bit of an anti-climax. She was expecting more pushing from Mark to take pictures that were a little more adventurous. Although she was of course ready to refuse such requests, she was still disappointed that he hadn't at least tried.
"Is that it?" she asked, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.
"What were you expecting?"
"Nothing. I mean, I didn't know what to expect. I just wondered if that was it." She was struggling to recover from the shame of her own frustration.
"There will be some lovely portraits in this lot," he reassured her.
"I must admit, I didn't know what kind of photographer you were."
"In which case I'm very flattered that you agreed to pose for me. Have I disappointed you?"
China went bright red as the heat of embarrassment flushed her body. He had seen right through her. Again.
"No. Not at all. I just thought... Well. You know. I saw the picture in your room and was worried you were going to ask me to pose, er, like that!"
Mark laughed loudly, the sound rich and booming in the room. "I would love to do a more artistic session with you. But not now."
China bristled at this. "I know I'm no model, but there's no need to be quite so blunt."
Still laughing, Mark responded. "It's not that. You would make a fantastic subject. But you do need to be a little more prepared for a session like that. We'd need more time too. When a woman does a boudoir session with me I have to let her know how to prepare and what to bring."
"Prepare?" China was intrigued now and her embarrassment was disappearing fast as she became interested in what he meant.
"Yes. For example, I suspect you're wearing a bra at the moment?"
"Of course." She could feel herself flushing again, and cursed her blatantly obvious sensitivity.
"In which case the straps will leave marks, indentations on your skin for at least forty minutes. And I suppose you brought some silky underwear with you, of course, or maybe some sexy nightwear?"
"You know what they say about sarcasm. But I do get what you mean."
"Then let's set a date and time and you can come prepared. Not that you'll turn up of course. You'll chicken out."
She knew what Mark was doing. An old trick, but one that might well work nonetheless, especially given that she wanted it to work. anyway
"Go on then. When?"
"I am free most days," he said. "It depends when you can get away from work. You'll need to be able to be here say, an hour beforehand, to let the marks die away from tight clothing, bra straps, seams etc., and then we'll need one to two hours for the photography, given that you'll want to go with two or three changes."
"What about make up? I can't go to work all done up like a tart."
"A little bit of lipstick is all. No more than you'd normally wear. These will be artistic black and white pictures, not a lads mag glamour shoot. Very classy."
Funnily enough this reassured China. Somehow, in her head, being photographed semi naked in black and white seemed more acceptable, less tacky, than in colour.
“I can get tomorrow afternoon off. I'm owed some time by work.” Inwardly, she could not believe she was actually arranging this. Her brain was shouting at her to stop. Now. But her body was overruling her head, taking control of her speech.
"Don't forget to bring a few changes of clothes. Anything lacy. Small. Colours don't matter, as they'll all be rendered as shades of grey. With your skin colouring I would go with lighter colours, personally. But the important thing is that you feel comfortable."
China checked her watch and realised she should be getting back to work now. She retrieved her bag from behind Mark. "When will I get to see the pictures you just took?"
"I'll process them tonight and show you tomorrow when…. if, you turn up."
She gave him a look of withering disdain. "I'll be here. You'd better be good."
He gave her a heart-stopping and wicked smile. "Oh I'm good. I’m very good."
Chapter 15
China stood in front of her open wardrobe, looking desperately through the chaos of unsuitable outfits and into its cavernous depths, feeling panic starting to wash over her. Despite the rows of clothes, some never worn, other favourites worn far too often, she really did have nothing to wear. What did she have that would please Mark? Of course, what she meant by that was what could she wear that would look good for this photography session that she was now deeply regretting agreeing to? She angrily pushed the clothes backwards and forwards on their hangers, before realizing that she was looking in the wrong place anyway. The recognition that Mark would be looking for her to be wearing sexy lingerie, not beautiful dresses, brought home to her the seriousness of the situation and she felt a sudden sharp stab of anxiety. She sat on the bed and rested her chin on her hands, eyes shut, and took a few long, deep and relaxing inhalations.
Sighing heavily through gritted teeth she turned to her chest of drawers, and pulled open her nightwear drawer. There were a few garments in there, but most were ‘comfortable’ nightwear. Definitely not the sort of thing she could see a woman wearing for a glamorous boudoir shoot. There were a couple of lacier affairs that she had worn back in the early days of her marriage to Philip, but these looked old and tired now. Besides, she wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing them. They were always for Philip and wearing them would bring bac
k memories of their early days together. He hadn’t seen them on her in a long time.
Rummaging a little deeper she found a pale duck-egg blue silk robe that she had bought a few years back. It still had the shop label attached to it. It was beautifully slick, almost slippery to touch and she had loved the colour when she first saw it. She had intended to wear it for a special occasion, a birthday, an anniversary maybe, but had forgotten it soon after it had been stowed away beneath her other, more practical, garments. She held it up and nodded. At least she had one thing that she could wear.
Philip walked into the room, making her heart leap. She hadn’t heard him walking up the stairs. She guiltily rolled up the blue robe and stuffed it into her lap.
“I haven’t seen that one before,” he said. “Let me see.”
She reluctantly held it up for him to have a look.
“That’s nice. Really nice. Have I seen that before? I don’t think so. You’ll look beautiful in that.”
She was pleased that he thought she would look good, at the same time as exasperated that he couldn’t even remember whether or not he’d seen her in it before. She knew he would say that she looked beautiful in just about anything, which was nice, but at the same time meant that such a statement didn’t give her much to go on as to whether the outfit was really sexy or not.
“What do you think would go with it?” She felt delightfully wicked, having this conversation with Philip. It excited her to be discussing with her husband how to look sexy for another man, even if Philip didn’t know that was the purpose. The subterfuge itself gave her a thrill.
Philip opened her underwear drawer and peered inside. He pulled out a matching set of royal blue knickers and a bra. “This?” he asked.
“That might be a bit dark. Find the lighter blue ones.”
He pulled out some underwear that more closely matched the colour of the robe and she nodded. “Yes, those will look good.”
“You will look good,” he said with the emphasis on the word ‘you’. “It would be a lucky man that saw you in that outfit.”