She walked into the studio, the door chiming in time with her entrance. For weeks, she’d been researching photographers in a bid to find the one that would suit her needs. She was beyond delighted to stumble upon this particular studio owned by a photographer whose list of praises were longer than the Rhine. Since then, they’ve corresponded via email and direct messages with an easy camaraderie developing.

“Un instant, s’il vous plaît!”, a jolly male voice called from one of the back rooms.

“Oui Monsieur. Prenez votre temps,” she replied, stepping fully into the studio. She smiled to herself, excited to meet her new friend and photographer finally.

Casually, she perused the front parlour of the studio, enjoying the sound of soft music drifting from the back. Along the walls hung numerous erotic and boudoir photos, many in the classic black and white, a few with splashes of red colour. She took note of how the photographer maximized angles and expertly played with light and shadows. Though erotic in nature, the photos were done with a surprising level of class and sophistication, speaking highly to the masterful skill of the photographer. She knew she was in the right establishment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” the voice called to her once again, prompting her to spin on her heels.

Her eyes caught sight of the salt and pepper haired Frenchman emerging from behind a thick curtain. Silver glasses framed kind brown eyes, and a mustache adorned a jovial smile. He was around her height, medium build, with absolute ease and amiable air about him that instantly made her comfortable.

“Bonjour Monsieur,” she replied, easily returning his smile and extending a hand in greeting. “I have an appointment with you this afternoon. We’ve spoken several times through email and direct messaging. I’m M”.

Clasping her hand in both of his, he gave a gentle shake. “Ah, yes, yes! Ma belle M!” he replied smoothly, switching to English as he leaned in for une bise. “It’s so good to meet you finally. Thank you for coming to see me. Right this way, I’m all ready for you!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person as well,” she replied as he ushered her behind the heavy curtain. “I’m glad the opportunity presented itself.”

Stepping into the large room, she took in the scene laid out before her. The photographer had managed to turn his studio into a luxury bedroom complete with a king-size bed, candelabras, and a chandelier. The bed, decorated with white satin sheets and elegant cushions, dominated one corner, while in an opposite corner, a white vanity set with matching chair and chaise longue sat before a window outfitted in sheer white curtains. Different sets of lights were set up in various spots around the room. She didn’t miss how he’d taken advantage of the French balcony doors and the natural lighting they supplied the studio with.

“I take it you brought your lingerie with you. Go ahead and get dressed, or should I say undressed?” he said with a wink, motioning her to the small dressing area hidden behind a dressing screen.

“Merci,” she said with a smile and turned to disappear behind the screen. Carefully, she unpacked her various pieces of lingerie she’d brought with her. Following his advice, she’d chosen fabrics and colours that best complemented her skin as well as her favourites. She laid out her best black lace ensemble with seamed thigh highs and heels, a white lace ensemble with matching stockings, a soft pink silk corset accented with black lace, and finally, a Victorian red silk corset ornated with cream coloured bows and ruffles.

“So tell me,” he continued as he checked his camera one final time. “Things have gone well on your trip, oui?”

She chuckled to herself. Over their many conversations, she’d shared with him the reason for her excursion to Paris. “It’s been wonderful,” she replied, a small smile playing across her face as she began removing her clothing.

“And how is he doing?” her photographer asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I left him in bed very happy and very sleepy,” she replied saucily.

“Good girl!” he praised with amusement. “Now, let’s get to work. We have a special project to complete today”.

“I’m going to beg your kindness and ask you to be gentle with me,” she called out as she dressed in the black lace ensemble. “I’m not very good at having my pictures taken, but I thought I’d give it a try.”

“No worries,” came the reply. “It’s my job to bring out the beauty in my subjects. You, ma chère, I will have zero problems with”.

She chuckled, securing her garters to her stockings. “We’ll see,” she said. “I’m terribly nervous.”

“Not a problem,” he replied. “We’ll get you to relax.”

Slipping into her heels, she turned to the full-length mirror behind her to assess the final product. She’d always been grateful for her time in the gym and on the road running, but now she felt a bit self-conscious. Yes, she had her curves, but there was also a good bit of muscle to go along with them. Did she enjoy the weights a little too much? She was tall enough barefoot, but now with the heels, she felt like an Amazon out of place. She thought back to the pictures in the front of the studio of the petite, svelte women that lined the walls with their pale skin and haunting eyes. She didn’t look anything like them, with her cocoa brown skin, abundant breast, heart-shaped hips, full lips, and kinky curly hair. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

“Are you ready? You’re not getting cold feet back there, are you?” came the gentle teasing from the photographer. “Am I going to have to come and get you? I don’t mind!”

“N-no,” she stammered. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of her reasons for doing this. Standing tall, she stepped from behind the screen, finding the photographer pouring a glass of wine, his back to her.

“You would deny an old man a bit of fun,” he paused mid-sentence, as he turned to face her, the glass of Chablis forgotten in his hand. “Mon Dieu!”

She stood in awkward, nervous silence for a long moment, clad in her black lace bra, matching thong, garters and thigh highs. She chewed her bottom lip, very unused to being in this state of undress before a stranger.

“What do you think?” she asked with a slight shrug.

“I believe that you’re going to melt my camera, ma belle,” he replied, handing her the glass of wine. “May I make a slight adjustment?”

“Of course,” she replied puzzled, as she nervously sipped her wine.

Stepping closer, he reached behind her, his fingers grasping the copper rose hairpin holding her bun in place. Slipping it free, she felt the thick curtain of curls fall to her shoulders. He stepped back, eyeing her carefully as he slid the hairpin in the pocket of his shirt.

“Parfaite!”, he replied with a nod of satisfaction. She smiled nervously, knowing the moisture from the rain early that morning set her curls into ultimate frizz mode.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? The rain has done hell on my hair these last few days. I am sure I look like a mess”, she said, bringing the wine to her lips for another nervous sip.

“You look like you’ve been well fucked,” he replied with a wink. She sputtered, nearly choking on the wine. “Remember, ma belle. This is a boudoir photoshoot. Plus, the natural light from the sunshine will create a beautiful halo effect”.

“Right,” she said, clearing her throat and quickly finished her wine.

“Come,” he said, holding out his hand and picking up his camera. “Let’s start with something easy.”

She took his hand and followed as he led her to the vanity chair. Pulling the chair in front of a sheer curtain panel, the sunlight creating an ethereal effect. Turning the chair to the side, he patted the seat.

“Sit,” he commanded. “Facing the back of the chair.”

With a nod, she set aside her wine glass and endeavored to straddle the chair.

“Now, arms over the back, relax the hands,” he instructed, moving into position, maximizing the light behind her. “Back straight, now bring your feet on to your toes.”

Her body moved into his directed positions, feeling clumsy as first. He caught on quickly.

“Hold your position and close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice dropping low. Taking a deep breath, she obeyed.

“Think of your lover. You are here waiting for him”, almost instantly his image came to her mind.

“Think of his hands and how they caress you,” the photographer continued. “Think of his lips dancing along your skin. Think of the heat of his body against yours. Hear his voice whisper to you”.

Memories of the night before danced behind her closed eyelids, the sensation and heat of their kisses, the scent and taste of his skin. She licked her lips, momentarily forgetting she wasn’t alone in the room.

“That’s it,” the photographer murmured, watching as her face relaxed, and the tension eased out of her body. “Remember how his body felt, the burning desire in his eyes. Remember how beautiful he made you feel, how much you wanted him”.

She felt the tension ease out of her body only to have need and lust invade. She remembered well how his body felt and tasted, him whispering in her ear how beautiful she was as he took her hard from behind. She recalled the desperate need of him while waiting for his arrival. A damp ache gathered between her legs as her nipples hardened, the same result every time she thought of him.

“C’est parfait,” the photographer said, bringing the camera to his eye. “Now, ma chère, let me see that hunger.”

Tossing her curls over her shoulder, she opened her eyes, turning her head to him, lips slightly parted, her face a mask of seduction, her brown eyes ablaze.

“Grand Dieu!” the photographer whispered, capturing several shots. “Now look forward, head down.”

She complied, allowing the heavy fall of curls to shield the upper half of her face, leaving only her lips and chin exposed. She heard the shutter of the camera once again, along with the shuffling of feet as he moved into various angles.

“Now,” he said, moving to stand behind her so that the bed was in the background. “Tousle your hair. Run your fingers through it, as if you’re dancing for him”.

Feeling encouraged and empowered, she began to run her fingers through her curls, tossing them gently. He captured every motion, every bounce of curl down her long elegant back. Slowly he moved to the front-facing her, catching her blazing eyes peeking through several falls of coils wrapped around her graceful fingers.

“Magnifique!” he replied, moving behind her once more. “Now stand. Walk to the bed. Make me want to follow”.

She stood, feeling the effects of the wine and empowered by her own arousal, slowly she walked to the bed, her hips swaying. Calling on her skills as a dancer, she moved her body with grace, allowing her arms to frame her body as she toyed with her hair periodically. The photographer followed close behind, his camera catching every angle, every drop of sensuality that seeped from her pores. When she reached the bed, she leaned forward, bringing one hand and one knee upon the bed. Looking at him over her shoulder, she gave him a playful wink.

“Christ…” he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry as he took the shot.

Slowly, she crawled on the bed. Memories of how she’d been tied the night before resurfaced. Leaning forward, she brought her face to the bed, turning her head so that her face was covered with her curls. She clasped her hands together and brought them between her spread legs, pausing.

“Yes!” the photographer praised. She needed no further direction, thanks to whatever fantasy she had in her mind. He watched her, nearly transfixed as her fingers appeared on her barely covered mound. He moved to capture the motion as her full lips parted on a sigh.

He watched his camera working to capture every exquisite movement, using the natural light to highlight and frame her body and face. He paused as she playfully rolled onto her back, facing him from the side, her hair spilling about her like black ink. Knees bent, eyes closed, she gently ran a hand down the swell of her breast. Silently she wished it were his hands instead of hers that traveled down her body as she lifted her legs in the air, crossing them at the ankle.

“Ne bougez plus!” the photographer commanded, moving to capture her pose so that she appeared upside down on the bed and the opposite side paying homage to the red-soled heels and seamed thigh highs that accented her long toned legs.

She’d faintly heard his commands as she momentarily paused. Her mind still reliving her last rendezvous with her lover. Allowing her legs to fall back to the bed, she allowed them to rest to one side as her hands continued the gentle exploration. With a heavy sigh, she recalled the heat of his mouth on her sex, the way his long fingers parted her folds and delved inside her. She squeezed her legs together with her back slightly arching as further wetness gathered at the memory of his body invading hers. Slowly, one hand moved to the waistband of her thong easing down slightly. She faintly heard an “oui,” followed by the shutter of the camera as she brought her hand to her hair once more. Memories of him made her body yearn for more of his touch, more of his kisses, his hand wrapped around her throat. Several more minutes ticked by as she shut out the world and relived their night of passion.

The repeated sound of her name brought her back to reality. Blinking several times, she flushed, and the photographer came into focus.

“Let’s get you changed into the next ensemble, shall we,” he said, his voice thickened and low as he held out his hand to her.

With a nod, she took his hand and climbed off the bed, heading for the dressing area. The next hour and a half flew by in a haze of wine and sexual heat. Several times she’d nearly orgasmed from the memories the photographer invoked of her lover. She made it through half a bottle of wine and three more outfits before the photographer finally ended the session. With his assistance, she stood from the floor, taking note of his teasing smile.

“Forgive me, ma belle, but you’re one of two women to turn me on during a boudoir session,” he explained with a wink. “The other is a woman whom I adore with all my being. Permitted, I would love the pleasure of photographing the two of you together. There is such an erotic contrast in your beauties. The photos would be stunning”.

She smiled, blushing slightly. “Thank you, but if she is one of the women in the front of your studio, I think her photos are better off without me,” she replied.

“Nonsense,” he said with a scowl. “You didn’t see what I saw. You’re a wonderfully sexy woman. I think you’ll see that in the photos”.

“Thank you,” she replied, walking to the dressing area. “About how long will it take?”

“How long are you in Paris for?” he asked, putting away his camera and loading the photos onto his computer.

“Another two weeks,” she replied, slipping her dress over her head.

“Bien,” he replied. “Would you like to see them now? You can choose the ones you like, and I can send you a contact sheet and digital copies after editing and processing”.

“No, I’d rather not see them now,” she said, stepping from behind the dressing screen. “I’ll just pay for all of them now as well as your services, and you can just send them to my hotel suite.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, puzzled. “You should take a look at them. You did very well in front of the camera”.

“Are you trying to get me to stay longer? You miss me already?” she teased with a wink. “No, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day,” she said with a small giggle.

“Mais pas du tout!” he replied, turning to her. ” To be honest, I have enjoyed you very much, so you can’t blame me for trying. I’ll tell you what. I’ll pick the best for you, edit them and send you the copies on a flash drive along with a contact sheet”.

“Very well then,” she said, nodding as she handed him her credit card. “After what happened here today, I trust your judgment.”

“As you should,” he replied, processing her payment. “I’m often right…”

“And astonishingly modest I see,” she replied, laughing at his typical French arrogance as he returned her credit card. “But seriously, merci pour votre patience. I had a lot of fun, and you’re quite the dear heart. I couldn’t’ have asked for a better partner in crime”.

“You’re welcome, ma chère,” he replied with a smile as she gently kissed his cheek. “If we’re committing a crime here, then let’s hope the punishment is just as enjoyable, oui? Keep in touch, ma belle”.

“Absolutely! On both accounts”, she said with a laugh as she disappeared into the busy Parisian sidewalk.

Three days later

A knock sounded on their suite door in the late morning. They’d been enjoying a lazy day thus far in bed and were perplexed as to who would be knocking on their door after their breakfast had already come and gone. Rising from the bed, her lover grabbed a nearby robe covering his nakedness as he answered the door.

Sitting up in bed, she wrapped the sheet around her naked form. She saw the manila envelope in his hand as he returned.

“It’s for you,” he replied, handing her the folder.

Reading the address, she quickly recognized the sender. Beaming, she tore open the envelope turning it upside down to free its contents. In her lap fell a small flash drive, a folded note, and a smaller envelope.

“What do we have here?” her lover asked, picking up the flash drive and the smaller envelope.

“It’s a surprise for you,” she replied, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“Ah,” he said, understanding dawning. “This is why you disappeared three days ago, you wicked girl?”

She giggled, snatching the flash drive and envelope from him as she turned her attention back to the folded note. Opening it, she carefully read its contents scrolled across the page in French.

“I hope you like my selections, my dear. You made it very difficult for me to choose, both mentally and physically. I hope you don’t mind that I kept a small souvenir from our work and time together. I would still very much like to photograph you and my love together. Perhaps someday the four of us will meet in Paris or the United States. For now, we’ll talk soon. -Y”.

Smiling, she folded the note.

“An admirer?” her lover teased, pinching her side, producing a small yelp from her.

“You could say that,” she snickered, handing him the note as she climbed out of bed, making her way to the bathroom.

“It seems you left quite an impression on someone,” her lover teased after reading the note.

“It was mutual,” she called from the bathroom. “He’s a handsome older man, sweet, kind, patient, with a bit of sarcasm. You’ve heard me talk about him before. You would like him”.

“Ah, your online photographer friend. I’ll have to meet him someday”, her lover replied, stretching lazily on the bed. “So when do I get to see what’s on the flash drive and in the envelope? Do I get a chance to guess?”

“Later, after dinner,” she answered, walking out of the bathroom, a puzzled look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” her lover asked, suddenly concerned.

She looked around the room, her face awash with puzzlement.

“Have you seen my rose hairpin?”