Free The Price Of Dick by Dan Skinner Page A

careful politeness. Their behavior reminded me of the cartoon of the bulldog with the pup bouncing around him wanting to please him.
    It was just after ten in the morning as we made it to the pool. I liked to get an early start, especially when doing outside locations. The fewer people surrounding us the better. No one was at the pool when we arrived this time. Mike knew there wouldn’t be because he was the pool boy in real life.
    Everyone was in their ‘costume.’ Swim suits for both. The jock, Dick, was in plain, dark red board shorts with a black tank top and flip-flops. His props were a beach towel, sunglasses, baby oil, and textbooks. The lifeguard, Mike, was in a pair of red Speedos he bought for the occasion with a white and red T-shirt that had his job title Lifeguard on the front and back in plain block letters. He’d shaved his legs for the occasion. Hairless, they looked longer. He had a whistle on a chain necklace hanging from his neck. He looked every bit the part of a real lifeguard, which of course, he was. I was also in a pair of board shorts. A lot of the time getting the shots meant I had to be in the same environment. In this shoot, that meant the pool. Even though I detested being in the water, I’d wade in waist deep, if needed, to get that extraordinary shot.
    The day was already warm, promising to be a scorcher. The sky was crisscrossed with jet streams. I set up the initial shots of the lifeguard sitting perched in his raised chair. The arrival of the college jock, wearing his sunglasses and carrying his books. through the gate. Simple shots. I took them four different times from four different angles. It was the artist in me. I’d already been in the pool twice for several angles. One, an upward shot of the lifeguard in his chair. He was striking in this shot. He had a deeper tan than the both of us. He sat with legs apart, thighs looking lissome and boyish in the tight red revealing suit. He didn’t have a big package to punch out the front of the Speedo like Dick did, but he knew how to keep it half erect for show and tell. The whistle jutted from between two pouting lips as he looked off in the distance. That was an erotic book cover all by itself. It reminded me of an old Tom of Finland homoerotic sketch.
    I shot the college jock ’s arrival from the front and behind. I wanted to capture that surreptitious glance from the lifeguard as the larger man walked to his lounge chair. He looked like a strutting Colossus passing the twinkish boy. He had the jock, bandy-legged walk down to an art form. I loved doing fantasy vignettes like this.
    It was great fun watching Dick ’s hard-edged execution of the role of unattainable tease. That man we all see sitting at pool’s edge that we can’t take our eyes from. The man who is the reason we put on sunglasses, so he can’t see us examining him. The one we see still covered by a bothersome hunk of clothing yet imagine him naked and in a passionate clinch (with ourselves.) Dick knew how to move his body, position himself to his best advantage, opening a provocative visual: a gap in the leg of the swim trunks to reveal a swath of leg hair or an untanned cheek, a glimpse of something naughty and moist in the shadows within. The effect on Mike was as expected. His swimsuit shrunk as the portion of him encased within expanded.
    I got all the standard photos: jock diving into the pool, drying off, putting on baby oil, positioning himself in the chair to study. All of this under the increasing curiosity of the young, black-haired lifeguard. The sunlight was working like I had a lighting coordinator. It captured the glint of golden hair on the jock’s oiled legs, the outline of toned musculature.
    Mike had a few additional image ideas. Naturally they served his own libidinous desires. Dick’s trunks should be lower on his torso. He reached to adjust them for him and almost got his hand wrenched off by my roommate, who stiffened as if offended by the