Pupil

Part 1

CHAPTER 1: ADAM

This woman is a real natural. She hardly has to work at refining her poses at all. She's tall with lean, sinewy limbs and a blond choppy haircut with textured angles. I have her standing in front of a simple, black curtain backdrop in my one bedroom apartment in East Williamsburg, Brooklyn, poised to be photographed like a pinup girl.

At least, that's what my broker calls this apartment, East Williamsburg. Everyone who isn't selling something knows I live in a studio in Bushwick. I don't mind. My clients don't seem to mind very much either. Most days, I have women lined up to come to my apartment, most in tee shirts and jeans, begging to be transformed into luscious screen sirens and pinups from the past. I like to dress up for the job in a pair of dark wash jeans, a simple button down shirt, and a lightweight vest. Women are more inclined to take it all off for a gentleman.

Today I'm working on a birthday gift. This client is having a set of lingerie photos taken for her boyfriend as a thirtieth birthday present. I hope she wears some lingerie at home sometimes, too. Maybe after this pictorial is done she will. I stand back, narrow my eyes, take in the entirety of her. Her cream-colored limbs pop most pleasingly against the curtain, her poses effortless.

Click click click click click.

Her eyes narrow only slightly at the flash. Red lips. Simple eye makeup. That's what she wanted and that's what we gave her. Her figure isn't boyish, she's just fit. Her stomach is taut with hardly any curve to it, her hips round out slightly to reveal a round ass beneath them. We dressed her in a black lace bra and panty set with a matching garter belt. She needed a little help with the old-fashioned stockings. Attaching them to the metal clips can be a pain. Lana, my stylist/assistant/ex-girlfriend/best friend/makeup artist didn't have to do that much work on her at all. I'm sure she used to be a dancer, probably ballet judging by her long feet, perpetually arched and pointing.

"That's great, now hold that and turn your face a little more towards me."

Click click click click

My client follows my directions seamlessly. I take another shot before she breaks the pose to ask, "Are you sure this is all right?" She furrows her brow and her lips pout out slightly. I take another shot.

"It's perfect," I say. "Hold still."

She has no idea how gorgeous she is.

Lana walks over to the client, her four-inch black heels clap-clapping against the hardwood floor. The back seams of her Cuban heel stockings are perfectly centered in the middle of her engaged calves. Lana is the kind of woman who wears four-inch heels for every day. Her vintage red dress hugs her figure just so. She looks at me with an expression that asks permission to interrupt.

"Sure, go ahead," I nod.

I put my camera down at my side for a moment. The client is still holding the twisting pose, looking at both of us nervously.

"No, darling. You're fine. Lovely." Lana reassures her. Her voice is like red velvet. "I just want to fix one..."

Lana adjusts the client's choppy blond crop with her hand, taking the strands in her fingers and rubbing vigorously left and right for a moment before letting go. She now has that messy, just got out of bed look that appears in magazine editorial campaigns and ads for handbags. Lana stands back to admire her handiwork.

Lana is magical like that. She has an eye for aesthetics that both matches my own and inspires me to no end. We met when I first came to New York, while she was a young model with a few makeup artist clients and I was a dork with a camera. Together we became the dynamic pinup-making team we are today.