in my city life Before James, and even now, when we go to the World Finals, the press will follow him. I’ve gotta be able to pull out my A-game when needed.” Her shots had been gorgeous, her dark hair curled and her eyes sultry.
Allyson had been more comfortable with over the shoulder looks rather than facing boldly head-on into the camera, and the pose had highlighted the sculptural qualities of her shoulder blades in her strappy tank top and the shape of her eyes as she stared into the camera at an angle.
Shayanne had plopped herself on the couch, ultimately upside down with her crossed feet in the air and a wide, open-mouthed laugh that showed her youthful exuberance.
Katelyn had surprised me the most. She seems sweet, maybe a little softer like me, but when she’d found her comfort zone, she’d gone right into it. Her smile had been seductive and foretold of secret depths to her, giving layers to the photos beyond her beauty.
I’d even let them take a few of me, a true rarity. Photographers rarely flip around to the other side of the camera, I find. Or I don’t, at least not in a way that exposes the real me. Bits and pieces can convey one thing, but with a frame full of my entire being, there’s nowhere to hide.
And that’s when things went crazy.
Or crazier.
To be fair, that might’ve been helped along by the box of wine in the fridge, along with my entire stash of bark-thin chocolate.
Somehow, my idea of a fun photoshoot to capture tonight in print has turned into something much . . . sexier.
“It’s fine. Not like we haven’t seen each other in swimsuits at the pond,” Shayanne argues. Oddly enough, she’s making sense, and I can see everyone else considering her idea of boudoir shots for the guys. “I’ll go first.”
“Of course you will,” Rix says sarcastically.
“No nakedness, right? I mean, I haven’t seen you all in swimsuits, and I’m not really looking for my neighbors to start telling folks I’m doing porn shoots over here. I’ll lose my rental.” I laugh, but I’m dead serious.
“Definitely not,” Shay agrees, nodding vigorously. “Y’all don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’ve got a famous photographer here willing to take expert photos of me and a half-decent buzz going on that makes this seem like a good idea. I’m taking advantage. YOLO!”
With that battle cry ringing in all of our ears, she kicks off her boots and shoves down her jeans to reveal pink cotton panties with horses on them. She promptly swallows another guzzle of wine too, so I think she’s not as brave as she’d have us believe. Several of the women follow suit, me included—with the wine, not the stripping.
“Hang on, I want my boots on for this.” While she pulls them back on, she asks the room, “Anybody got a hat?”
Sophie runs out to her truck and gets a straw hat, plopping it on the back of Shayanne’s head. “Yass, girl, you got this.”
“Damn straight.”
And she does.
Shay stands with her feet wide and her thumbs in the waistband of her panties as though there are invisible beltloops, and she rocks it.
“Let me see,” she screams after several minutes, a few different poses, and about twenty sexy shots.
We crowd around the tiny screen on the back of my camera. The general consensus is that Shay looks hot, and that seems to give the other girls the push they need.
Rix ends up on the kitchen counter this time. Slouching in just a tank top and boy shorts, I already know this picture will need to be in black and white.
“Hey, Rix, here. You need this,” Sophie says. She hands Rix an ice cube and waves around her chest.
Rix laughs, dips the ice cube into her shirt, and in seconds, her basic black tank is covering some diamond-hard headlights.
“Better,” I agree and start clicking away again.
Allyson wraps up in a sheer curtain she finds in the linen closet and lies down in the grass outside. We’re quick and quiet for her shots, making use of the full moon on her skin, which gives her an ethereal, angelic glow.
Sophie goes classic, leaning over the bathroom counter in her black lace bra. Katelyn added heavy cat-eye eyeliner to her lids and pinned up her hair, letting a few tendrils escape. In her reflection, she slicks red lipstick on her open, pouty lips. It’s very 50s pinup, especially with the dated tile