She looked like she’d been dumped from a horse.
“Maybe lean a little to the left.”
She did.
“Not so far…that’s it…a little more…to the right now.” He felt like he was directing traffic. “Not so far…whoops.”
She’d slipped to the floor, but gamely climbed back up.
He approached and patted the end of the bale. “Maybe put your foot here and lean on one elbow.” Now one breast seemed to smother the other, but what was he going to do about that?
“Better,” he said, adjusting the reflector and the hair light. Much easier than handling her boobs.
Using the digital, he checked the shot. Nice rim effect around her shoulders and maybe the suffocated breast wasn’t so bad. “Great,” he exaggerated. “All set.”
Poor Trudy froze up like a corpse.
This was why he disliked portraits. He didn’t care to stare into people’s hearts through a lens. He didn’t want to see their fears, their doubts, the don’t-dare hopes behind their shaky smiles. Animals were so much simpler. And a mountain sunrise didn’t care who loved it. It just was. In all its glory.
“How about you think good thoughts,” he said.
She produced a grim smile that matched her rigid body.
Where the hell was Samantha?
“Maybe just relax everything,” he said. And could you straighten your breasts? Samantha would have the woman posed softly, her eyes glowing with love, with minimal direction. He was failing wildly and confusing Trudy while he was at it.
Trudy blew out a breath, but that made the tit problem worse. “Does my stomach pooch too much?” she asked.
He looked through the lens. “Nope. Pooches just right.” Lord. He snapped a couple horrible shots, then slid one sweaty palm down the side of his pants.
Maybe Bianca would pop in. She’d come in for a couple friends’ sittings and never hesitated pointing out when they looked goofy or wrong. Somehow no one got offended.
“Should I smile or just look sexy?”
Her smile looked like a grimace. “Let’s try the sexy look.”
She straightened her mouth and tilted her head, looking like someone had stabbed her with a pitchfork.
“Okay…” Click. He cringed at the digital image he’d captured. “Maybe the smile again?” Just as bad. Click. Click.
Emboldened by the clicks, Trudy widened her smile, leering like a bad jack-o’-lantern.
This was harder than it looked.
Come on, Samantha. Get in here.
If he uploaded these shots for Trudy, she’d burst into tears and run out the door in her tablecloth underwear.
Samantha peeked in the door to see if Rick was twisting in the wind yet. Looked that way. He wiped sweat from his forehead, took a shot, then grimaced, wiped more sweat and took another shot. Poor Trudy looked like she’d lost her prom date or had her car stolen.
It was go time with her plan. It was a good one. Not only would she and Rick have sex, but she’d have turned him into a decent boudoir photographer at the same time.
Still, her heart bumped her ribs and she had to take deep breaths to steady herself. “So, how’s it going?” she said, waltzing in.
Rick shot her a grateful look. “See for yourself.” He handed her the camera in play mode.
Holy moley, Trudy looked like a wax museum figure.
Fix this. Please, Rick’s eyes begged.
“We’re getting there,” she said to Trudy. “But how about we try a different tack?” She squatted beside Trudy, instructing her how to shift her body, coaching her into warm thoughts about Travis. In a few seconds, Samantha had a comfortable rhythm established.
Rick took over the digital and she headed for the Hasselblad, and before long, she was delighting Trudy with the best of the digitals. As soon as Trudy had tapped happily out the door in her red boots and trench coat, Samantha turned the sign to closed, locked up and faced Rick. “How about we debrief the shoot?” she said.
“What’s to debrief? It was a train wreck until you got there,” he said, shaking his head, a self-mocking smile on his face. “You proved your point. It’s harder than it looks. I assume that was your point?”
She smiled. “Let’s take a look. Shall we?” In studio three, Samantha clicked through the horrid shots Rick had taken followed by the good ones she’d snapped. It was like some extreme makeover show—before and after—horrible grimace followed by warm smile, wax figure versus sexy woman. “What do you think?” she asked him.
“That I’d better stick with sets and lighting,” Rick said with a rueful grin.
“I think you just need a little practice.”