Sarah stared at the pictures in front of her in disbelief. How on earth did I let this go so far? She asked herself. There was no denying that she was in trouble, moreover, there was no denying getting out of trouble would be more than difficult. Her heart raced as she put the pictures back in the folder and tucked it under her arm. There was nothing left to do but walk through the door in front of her and finish what she had started. She took a deep breath, and walked through the door of the studio.
The room was brightly lit, with spasms of bright color on every wall. Each corner of the small room was painted in a different way and the chasms of color sent her mind spinning. In the middle of the room was a white backdrop surrounded by bright lights and reflection sheets. Benches, stools, and sheets were in a pile to the right of the backdrop. Props, she assumed, for the upcoming photo shoot. Sarah's heart pounded as she walked further into the room. Jack was expecting her to pose there. Sweat peaked on her forehead and Sarah swallowed at the sensation of her mouth going dry. How am I going to get out of this? She thought. Panic gripped her as she turned to run out of the room, but instead of the doorway, she nearly crashed into the man who had somehow talked her into every inch of the trouble she was in.
Jack was average height with medium length brown hair. His eyes were piercing blue in contrast to the freshly tanned look of his skin. His arms were crossed over his firm bare chest as he stood in the doorway, light from the door framing his solid figure. Sarah had never seen Jack without his shirt on before. She had not seen him since the art gala months ago when he had approached her admiring one of his photographs. He had worn a suit and tie then which made him seem less muscular and imposing. Whether he was in a suit, or without a shirt, there was no doubt that Jack was devastatingly handsome. His strong jaw and dark stubble was contrasted by his soft smile and deeply set eyes. A line of chest hair down the middle of his abdomen was framed perfectly by prominent hip flexors that disappeared under the belt of his tattered and painted jeans. Sarah found herself wishing she could run her fingers along his chest and find out just what the rest of his body looked like. Her former desire to retreat replaced with a more primal one.
"You're not having second thoughts are you?" Jack questioned, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.
"Just a bit," Sarah confessed nervously.
Jack took two steps towards her, closing the distance between them as his hand reached out and brushed his hands along her face gently.
"You have nothing to be nervous about Sarah. I've known you'd be perfect for this since I first saw you."
Sarah felt heat rush to her cheeks as she blushed. Her heart fluttered in her chest at his touch. She tried to drop her eyes from his, but he stared at her with such intensity that she could only swallow in response.
"Come, follow me, and we'll talk about our plan," Jack prompted as he took her hand and walked her behind the backdrop in the room.
Part of Sarah still longed to run out the door, but she could not resist the pull this man had on her. She knew that there would be consequences for what she was about to do. She knew that trusting Jack was a huge risk, but she loved the rush she got every time he looked at her or spoke her name. She loved the high she felt each time they interacted.
Jack walked her around behind the backdrop and Sarah gasped at what she saw. A whiteboard was filled with all the pictures that she clutched tightly to her chest. He had arranged them from the first innocent photo, to the more recent ones that made her cringe to think of. Jack walked up to the first photo, taking it down and walking towards her. He had snapped the picture of her at the art gallery. The photo was in black and white. Sarah had been in a little black dress she had purchased just for the opening of the art gala. Jack had caught an image of her admiring a white sculpture, but the light in the photo was focused on her, like she was the art piece. It had been the photo he had sent her in a private message on Facebook. The caption under it read "Two pieces of art."
As she glanced at the photo again, it struck her the same way it did the first time she saw it. The ying and yang black and white balance of the photo was poetic. Her dark hair was pinned up perfectly and her large white pearl earrings were silhouetted in the profile of her face. Her pale skin seemed to shine under the fabric of the black dress, the light from above making her skin appear to shimmer. Her long, shapely legs stretched even further with the three inch spiked heels that she wore. The beautiful modern white sculpture that sat across her reflected the shape of her curves. It looked as though the sculpture was being lured towards her and the light that shined from above.
"I knew then that I had to photograph you," Jack said, breaking her reflection on the piece.
Sarah shivered at the sound of his voice, and the indication he referred to. Her eyes glanced at the props to her left, and she idly rubbed her fingers over her arms. She had sent Jack the next photos on the wall without being prompted. She had been playing with black and white photography on her own. She had made herself the focus of her pieces, more for the challenge than for the narcissistic purposes that so many people pursued with simple selfies that they posted online. She sent him three photos of herself. The first two were very conservative, focusing on angles and lighting more than the content of the picture. The third was of her in nothing but a black oversized shirt, the neckline draped over her shoulder, her dark hair loose along her back, and her long legs lay out on a lounge chaise. The picture had a romantic feel to it and she knew that Jack would appreciate the artistic edge it had.
"I wanted to make love to you the moment I saw you in that picture," Jack said as he stepped up behind her. He moved her hair to the side and gently kissed her on the neck. Sarah shuddered at the sensation and leaned her head back against him.
"I wanted to have those perfect long legs wrapped around me, that soft, smooth skin at my fingertips," Jack continued as he kissed down her neck and to her shoulder. Sarah felt her heart rate increase and her breathing go shallow as Jack's hands travelled up and down her arms.
After she had sent him that photo, Jack had sent her barrage of messages. He complemented her perfect figure, her sensual eyes, and her artistic appeal. He sent her poems and photos, and requests for more photos of herself. He begged for pictures of her breasts, her curves, her legs. At first, Sarah had been taken aback by his assault, overwhelmed by his demand for her. But part of her flared at the flattery; the hubristic side of her longed to oblige him. She sent him a photo of her abdomen, starting at just below the curve of her breasts and reaching down to the top of the curve of her hips. Sarah had had an hourglass figure since she was eleven, and she knew how tempting it was for men to explore the narrow chasm between her curves.
The photo had prompted an entire repertoire of photo requests from Jack, and Sarah had been compelled to follow them. Things she had never even thought of doing before were coached out of her by Jack. The evidence of her indulgence lay in front of her in a smattering of color. All parts of her body were on display for her to see.
"Do you see how beautiful you are?" Jack asked.
