THE PHOTOGRAPHER

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                                  Prologue
  The door opened. "Come on in," he said as he shook her hand, then lead herinto the apartment. "You're Catherine, right?"
  She nodded with a shy smile on her lips, looking down on the floor. Helifted her chin gently with his hand. She blushed at his touch.

  "Come on, this is no time to be shy. First time?"

  Again, she just nodded.

  "Don't worry, it'll be alright. You know, you are VERY beautiful." She
lifted her head quickly, opening her mouth, but he interrupted, "No, I
DON'T say that to all the girls."

  He more sensed than saw a little smile playing on her lips. He regarded
her closely, as he helped her remove her coat and put it away.

  She was not very tall, but very well proportioned, her legs slender yet
stronglooking under her short skirt. The black garter stockings looked good
on her shapely legs, her upper thighs only covered by a short, red skirt.
Above it, she wore a loose, white shirt, not loose enough to hide her full
breasts. Her face, slightly flushed as she felt his gaze, wasn't pretty, it
was nothing short of beautiful. Her big, green shy eyes matched her golden
blonde hair very well, and her little modest smile revealed the nicest set
of teeth he had seen for long. All in all, very satisfactory, he summized.

  He sent another smile her way and then turned to make some notes in a book
on his desk.

  She looked around. The room was nicely decorated, not much like the
"bachelor's messy room"-stereotype. The many plants, the tidy interior and
soft light added to the nice impression one got of the room. The only thing
that disturbed the picture, was the large tripods against one wall with
their umbrella-like reflectors and the camera, mounted on a metal foot
between them. She shivered slightly, and then felt him approach her from
behind. She turned to look at him.

  "Look," he said, "I can tell that you're not happy with this. I won't
force you to do anything you don't want to do. You can walk out of here now -
and that will be fine with me - or you can stay and follow this through."

  She lifted her gaze to his eyes, and he felt himself swept off his feet by
those deep, sensitive pools of green emotion.  "To help you decide, I meant
what I said - you ARE _very_ beautiful." She parted her lips slowly, but
said nothing.

  "If you think of this as dirty, perverted or demeaning, then DON'T do it.
I have had some other girls who felt that way, and they came back angry,
ending up crying in my arms. Also, if you have a sensitive or possessive
boyfriend, then talking it through with him first would be a good idea." He
sent her a warm smile.

  This girl seemed so innocent, so natural, that he knew it would destroy
her to do this if she wasn't honest with herself before doing it. She should
do it because SHE wanted to, not because he wanted it. Of course, he did
want it, but it was not for him to decide. And he had a long list requesting
pictures of different models from the magazine he was currently working for,
so it wasn't because he was desperate.

  He was considered their top photographer, and he knew he could make a
really good pictorial with this girl. But he was also experienced enough to
know, that if he convinced her to do it, it wouldn't be half as good as when
she did it out of her own free will. Although he was a photographer and had
been for quite some time now, he still had a certain amount of moral and
ethics. The girl seemed a bit uneasy, and he realized she was more uncertain
than he first assumed.

  "Why don't you have a seat on the couch?", he suggested.

  She sent a nervous glance towards the camera set, trained on the couch and
the table in front of it. Following her glance, he went to his gear and shut
off the lights.

  She sat down on the soft couch, and the room seemed more tranquil in the
altered light. He smiled at her as he started towards the kitchen.

  "Be back in a sec, don't run away." He quickly made two Pina Colada's and
brought them back into the living room.

  She was still there, and he rewarded her by saying, "You're doing fine.
Relax." He handed her the drink and sat in an armchair close to the couch.

  She sipped a few times from the glass, then sent a little smile towards
him.

  "Thanks", she said. It was the first time she had spoken, and her voice
was like little silver bells tingling.

  "I......." She stopped.

  "Did you sign yourself in for this?", he asked.

  She cleared her throat. "No, my girlfriend recommended me to your editor.
A friend of hers, I think. I really don't know about this... I don't have a
boyfriend, but my name can't be printed... I..."

  "Relax, we'll only print your first name, or, if you'd like, we'll make
one up."

  "Yes, I'd like that." She looked relieved.

  "But you can tell me your real name, can't you? Adam Brooke." He stretched
out his hand.

  She looked at it and then took it and smiled at him.

  "Lisa Prentiss."

  Her smile sent warm tingles down his back. Not only was she beautiful, it
multiplied tenfold when she smiled like that.

  "Glad to meet you, Lisa. Now, what would you like to be called?"

  "How will it look?"

  He was puzzled for a second, then he realized the meaning and replied, "I
think of it myself as art. Maybe some people would call it slut-like or
demeaning, but I know that I feel happy when I look at a beautiful woman. It
makes me warm all over to see a pretty girl, be it clothed or with little or
no clothes on, if only she's acting natural and true to herself." He could see
that his reply affected her positively, but that she still wasn't sure.

  Then he had an idea. "Tell you what, we shoot the pictures now and you wait
with signing the contract until afterwards. Then you can see them for
yourself, and then you can decide whether you want them published or not."

  This was against the strict policy of his magazine, but he couldn't care
less. He had done it many times before, and this wouldn't be the last.

  One of the girls once had mentioned it to another photographer at the same
magazine. She didn't know either, and wasn't to blame. The photographer, who
was quite jealous of Adam's position as top photographer, or more precisely,
his high wage, had of course squealed on him to the editor. Much to his
dismay, the editor had waved him off, saying that he didn't care. The fact
was, that he was too cautious to keep Adam Brooke in his staff to throw him
out because of such a petty matter. It was a well-known fact in the higher
offices, that Adam Brooke was the reason of the magazine's success lately.
He designed and shot their cover, he did 50 percent of their pictorials, and
his girls were always the prettiest. His methods and ethics sometimes let a
beautiful girl get away, and this of course bothered the editor, among
others, but the ones he did photograph by far outweighed the loss. Adam
Brooke didn't know of any of this, he was just happy with his job - to be
paid for one's favorite pastime wasn't too bad.

  Right now, all he cared about was the beautiful, young creature sitting in
his couch, nervously glancing around her.

  "So, what do you say?"

  She cleared her throat and tried to stop avoiding his eyes.

  "Sounds fair enough." She mustered a brave smile.

  "You sure?"

  She nodded, then said, "I'd like to be called Tanya."

  "You got it." He sent her an encouraging smile, then stood and walked
towards his gear.