Free Vintage Pleasures by Billy London Page B

black liner over her false lashes and hollowed her cheeks with highlighter and bronzing powder. The stockings weren’t going to stay up by themselves, so she slipped on a suspender belt and attached the seamed silk. After throwing seven strands of pearls over her neck, at varying lengths, she deemed herself ready to seduce. Cradling the body powder against her stomach, but remaining careful to not press the pearls into her skin, she walked out of the changing area to the studio, where Tristan had fashioned a peep show box with paper screens, theatre lights against a black wall. A single, whitewashed stool had been placed in the middle.

Chapter Three
     
     
    “Where do you want me?”
    Tristan straightened from adjusting the lights to look at her. His eyes stroked over her like the lightest of touches. “Do you want me to do your back?” He nodded to the powder box in her hand.
    “Yes, please.”
    He put down his camera, and she turned her back to him, arching her spine to present her bottom in the most irresistible of poses. “Sabra,” he said softly.
    “Yes?” He didn’t say anything, and she looked over her shoulder to see him clutching the box as if it would help him.
    “Go and sit down when you’re ready.”
    The gentle pressure of the cotton buff over her skin sent a shudder over her. Just the thought of him doing the same with a cane or, oh, God, a violet wand? She felt a creaminess moistening the tops of her thighs as she sat down on the stool.
    Tristan put the powder box down and adjusted his glasses on his nose before arranging the strands of pearls around her breasts. He lightly brushed his thumbs over her nipples. “The pictures will be better if they’re erect.”
    “As you will.” Leaning up, he collected what looked like wooden clothes pegs; he snapped them to each breast. Sabra’s mouth parted in a silent scream as soon as he did so. He touched his finger to her chin and closed her mouth.
    “That’s better,” he murmured, turning back to his camera and starting to snap away. She felt utterly confused, why wasn’t he touching her? Why was he working? He jogged back over to her and removed the clothes pegs. Her nipples felt like they were on fire with the release. “Good.” He looked approving as he brushed his thumb over one burning nipple. “But you look annoyed. Wasn’t I supposed to do that?”
    “You should have done something else,” she muttered.
    Those moss-green eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind the lenses. “Peep show, Sabra. Looks like you’re enjoying the idea of men on the other side of a wall, stroking themselves, imagining how much it would cost them to get through that wall, pick you off that stool and put you right on their dicks just so they can explode inside you. That--there. Don’t change that expression!”
    He snapped away as Sabra was lost in the image he had created with his words. Using her arms, she rubbed the pearls against her overly sensitised nipples and crossed her legs to enjoy the pulsing pressure of her swelling clit. All she needed was his touch. If he put his hands on her it would be so per--
    “Okay. We’re done.”
    “What?”
    His eyebrow lifted. “We’re all done, Sabra. I’ve got plenty here for you to choose from. Come and look.”
    Standing up, she looked down at the stool and saw the smallest patch of sheen. If he didn't know by now... She ignored it and came to stand beside Tristan. The photos, both in black and white and in colour, were vintage sensual. In each photo her face transformed from slightly horny, to astounded, desperate for cock. Yeah, she’d better sell those rather than give them away.
    “Don’t need Photoshop for a minute.” He grinned. “Happy?”
    “Yes. That’s brilliant.” She looked up at him, and he met her gaze. His pupils dilated as she smiled. “You’re very good at giving orders.”
    “Is that your style?”
    “I’d like to think so.”
    He lowered the camera and made his way to his desk