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From: Vulgar Argot <vulgarargotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
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Subject: {ASSM} Wedding Photos, Chapter 3 of 4 (tags at bottom)
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Date: Wed, 26 Jan 2005 17:10:02 -0500
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Wedding Photos
Part 3 of 4
by Vulgar Argot
(Tags at bottom to avoid spoilage)

When Chastity walked out the door of his studio, Ethan assumed he
would never see her again. But, she'd apparently been serious when she
said she would see him around. Over the next two weeks, she dropped by
the studio three times and Ethan's apartment once. Each time, she was
a little better dressed and seemed a little happier. She didn't seem
to care who saw her come or go and, by the end of the first week,
Ethan's picture appeared in the Enquirer under the headline, "Chastity
Carter's mystery man." The Enquirer managed to get his age wrong and
incorrectly identify him as Jewish. But, they also referred to him as
an "up-and-coming fashion photographer," so he felt like it balanced
out.

Ethan knew it was temporary. If he'd doubted it, Chastity put it in no
uncertain terms, "Don't get too attached to me, Ethan. In two weeks,
everything changes for me and I've got a whole new life to start."
Still, it more than he'd expected. He decided to let himself enjoy it
for what it was rather than what he might want it to be.

The first time she came back, they were lying in bed together in the
back room of his studio, waiting for their breathing to slow. Neither
had said anything in the last few minutes when Chastity started
laughing.

"What's so funny?"

Chastity waved around the room, "I can't believe you had a bedroom
back here all this time and wound up doing me on your desk and
breaking your monitor."

Ethan pulled her closer to him, his arm around her shoulder, "The desk
was closer. I was afraid if I took the time to get you in here, one of
us would chicken out. Besides, this isn't really a bedroom. It's just
a bed in a really big closet for when I'm working through the night
and need to get some sleep."

"Mmmmm," said Chastity. "I notice that it is a double bed, though."

Ethan chuckled and turned his head away from her. He didn't remember
even consciously deciding that he needed a double bed. As it was, the
bed took up nearly every inch of space in the tiny room. A single bed
would have been easier, but it had never even occurred to him.

Changing the subject, he said, "I was surprised you came back."

Chastity nuzzled deeper into his arms, "You shouldn't be. You're a
good fuck, Ethan."

"Glad to oblige," he said.

Chastity must have heard something in Ethan's voice he hadn't meant to
put there because she kissed him gently on the chest, "I'm going back
to Alabama in less than two weeks. It can't be more than that."

"I understand," said Ethan, trying to keep his voice even.

"If it makes you feel better, you're not just a good fuck, Ethan.
You're an amazing fuck. Nobody ever made me come before you."

"Nobody?"

"Well," Chastity corrected herself. "Nobody but me. Guys in my
business all seem to have hang-ups that make you feel like a whore
even when you're not doing anything wrong. That makes it really hard
to get off. Compared to that, all that goddess crap probably would
have gotten you into my pants even if I weren't already climbing the
walls."

Ethan laughed and kissed the top of her head, "I thought you said it
was corny."

"It was," said Chastity. "But, it was sweet and earnest, too. That
went a long way."

                                   -=-

The next time Chastity showed up at the studio, Ethan was in the
middle of a shoot with a set of models for a swimsuit catalog. After
introductions had been made, she sat on a couch in the corner of the
studio and just watched. The models tried to convince her to come out
dancing with them afterwards, but she declined.

Once they were gone, she asked, "Ethan, would you do my book?"

Ethan was surprised, "You want to model?"

Chastity nodded, "I've had offers since I started singing
professionally, but there's a clause in my contract that Salvation can
drop me if I do anything that shows too much skin to the public. Most
of the offers amounted to sideshow work, but there have been a few
that were really substantive."

"Sure," said Ethan. "It'll take about six hours. When can you come
in?"

"Next Wednesday afternoon," said Chastity. "That's the only day I'm
not booked from six am to eight pm."

"I can rearrange my schedule for that," said Ethan.

Chastity nodded, wandering seemingly aimlessly onto the set Ethan had
been using to shoot the catalog, "They did absolutely nothing for me,
you know."

"Excuse me?" asked Ethan.

"I just sat here for an hour and watched those girls prance around in
next to nothing," said Chastity. "If I were a lesbian, you'd think
they would do something for me. Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know," said Ethan. "I've never been a lesbian."

"Did they do anything for you?"

Ethan shrugged, "A little--in an abstract sort of way. It just seems
like bad manners to get all worked up over a woman being mostly naked
when that's part of her job."

Chastity laughed, "You must be a hell of a lot of fun in strip clubs."

Ethan had never been in a strip club, but didn't bother to say so.

                                   -=-

The third time Chastity came by the studio, it was for her solo shoot.
She stepped out of the elevator smiling broadly, wrapped her arms
around Ethan's chest, hugged him and kissed him full on the mouth.

"You're in a good mood," he commented.

Chastity nodded, "I got a fax this morning from Sweet Salvation.
They're 'reviewing available actions based on the morality clause' in
my contract."

"And that's good news?"

Chastity nodded, "It's the first step towards dropping me like a hot
potato."

"And that's good news?" Ethan repeated.

"Sure is," said Chastity. "I'll never sing gospel professionally
again."

Ethan shrugged. He wasn't going to ask the question a third time.

"I hate the gospel business," Chastity added. "I'm going to be a rock
and roller."

Ethan smiled at her exuberance and led her into the studio. This time,
when he suggested what they could shoot, she was eager to go much
farther and be more daring. Several times, Ethan found himself talking
her into taking a more conservative path.

Still, by the last shoot, she was lying naked on a light brown faux
fur, heavy blue eye shadow on her lids and blue lightning bolts
painted on her body and face, her hair done up in tight curls with a
hint of yellow added.

When Ethan was finished shooting, Chastity came to where he was
working with the camera, "I want to go out tonight, Ethan. Will you
come with me?"

Ethan nodded, "Sure. Let's just get you cleaned..."

"No," said Chastity, shaking her head. She held out her arms, "I want
to go out looking like this." Then, she laughed, "Well, I could put
some clothes on first."

It wasn't until they got in the cab that Ethan realized he had no idea
where they were going. He asked Chastity.

"Where do you normally go?" she asked.

Ethan frowned, "I don't want to go where I normally go. One place,
people have been hounding me to tell them what's going on ever since I
showed up in the Enquirer. The other..."

"What?" asked Chastity.

Ethan sighed, "It's not fair, but if I took you there, it might become
another place to hang out and wait for celebrities to show up...And
that would ruin it."

Chastity nodded, "I understand. Enjoy it while it lasts, Ethan. Once
you make it big, you'll have the same problem. Why don't we try the
Sacristy?"

The Sacristy, which had once been the Limelight, was in an old stone
church on twentieth street. The next day, pictures of her in her
"Freyja, Ice Goddess" outfit were plastered on the cover of every
publication that cared about such things.

The issue of Substance with Sondra and Chastity came off the presses
the next day. As much as he could, Ethan ignored the hype that
surrounded the release. As days passed, that became increasingly
difficult. The story had its own momentum.

Ethan didn't realize how big until his studio was broken into a few
days later. The man who had broken in made a beeline for the darkroom
and, finding it empty, had trashed the place in a rage. Fortunately,
Ethan had already moved to a bigger, more secure space. Even before
the issue had been printed, he'd moved the film safe. The paranoid
habits he'd picked up as a correspondent were paying off in the
fashion world already.

                                   -=-

The last time Ethan saw her before she left town, Chastity was waiting
for him when he came home from the studio. She wore blue jeans, a
denim jacket, and an emerald green blouse that matched the contacts
she'd put in today. Ethan saw her coming from the coffee shop across
the street a long way off.

He hugged her, smiling, "Were you waiting for me?"

"Not exactly," said Chastity. "I was just enjoying New York a little
before I have to fly out tomorrow. I love this city."

Ethan nodded, "Me too. I can't believe I ever left. Were you not
waiting for me long?"

"I went through three cappuccinos," said Chastity. "So, that would be
about an hour. It's a good spot. You come out of the subway right in
front of the window."

Once they were in the elevator, Chastity gave him a warm hug, "How are
you holding up?"

"Me?" asked Ethan. "I'm doing great. I've got clients stretched out
around the corner. This is exactly what I wanted."

"What about the death threats?" asked Chastity.

"What death threats?" asked Ethan.

"The press is saying you've been getting death threats for shooting
the pictures of me and Sondra."

Ethan shrugged, "The press is making that up."

"So, you're not getting death threats?"

Ethan hugged her a little tighter, "I didn't say that. I've been
getting a few, but I never bothered to tell anybody about them. The
press is just guessing. Either that, or they're making the threats and
then writing about them."

"I hope you're being careful," said Chastity.

"No more than usual," said Ethan, stepping out of the elevator. "I
survived six years covering wars in the Middle East. I'm not going to
start jumping at shadows because some aggrieved Christians don't like
what I do for a living. Besides, the ones that make death threats are
never the ones that actually kill people." Even as he said it, Ethan
knew he would be more careful for the foreseeable future. He really
hadn't been worried about the threats, but it wasn't a good idea to
tempt the gods of irony by saying such things.

That night, they came closer to making love than Ethan had expected
they ever would. Afterwards, Chastity slept where she lay, curled
against his side.

                                  -=-
                                  
"This is your last chance to be a rotten bastard," said Chastity.
Ethan opened one eye. She was sitting, cross-legged and naked, on the
bed next to him. For the first time, she wasn't even wearing colored
contacts, but looking down at him with her own eyes.

"Excuse me?" he asked sleepily.

"This is your last chance to be a bastard," Chastity said again.
"You're ruining my perfect record and making it very hard to leave."

Muttering sleepily, Ethan said, "Sorry, Chaz. Nothing comes to mind."

"You could try calling me a freak," Chastity suggested.

Ethan reached up and stroked her cheek, "My sweet, beautiful freak."

Chastity scowled, "That didn't help." Rising from the bed, she picked
up her panties and slid them on. She collected each piece of her
outfit slowly and deliberately until she was completely dressed.

"Say goodbye to me, Ethan," she said when there was nothing else to
put on. "Don't get up. Just say goodbye."

Ethan sat up straight. Chastity looked like she was ready to bolt if
he made a move towards her. Then, she bolted towards him. Ethan
wrapped her in his arms, holding her for as long as she consented to
be held.

                                  -=-
                                  
"I saw your girlfriend on the Grammys last night," Jordan said. He was
sipping an eight-dollar beer at what Ethan refused to refer to as his
favorite watering hole in spite of the fact that he was spending three
or four nights a week there.

Chastity had been right. Once Ethan had gained a little bit of
notoriety, packs of feral models had descended on McGinty's, his
favorite hangout, ruining what made McGinty's worth going to. There
were models here too, of course. But, they belonged here. With the
loud music, bright lights, and host of oily predators ready to pounce
on an unwary neophyte who wandered too far from the herd, this was
their natural habitat.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ethan said as reasonably as he could. "She
was never my girlfriend."

"That's good to hear," said Ethan. "Because she was canoodling with
Sanford Smith."

"Who the fuck says 'canoodling?'"

"My grandfather used to," said Jordan.

"Was he as big of an asshole as you are?" Ethan asked.

"No," said Jordan. "He was a bricklayer. He couldn't afford to be as
big of an asshole as I am. Bricklayers don't get famous."

The model on Jordan's arm laughed as if he'd said something funny.
Ethan wondered if he had. A few weeks of working in the upper echelons
of fashion had made him realize just how far off the sensibilities of
the industry were from his own.

                                  -=-
                                  
Renee arrived at Ethan's studio promptly at ten AM. In spite of the
fact that she had only two blocks to travel to get from her office,
Ethan was impressed. Among the models he worked with now, punctuality
was something that happened to other people.

He was about to comment when he realized who else she had with her.
Sondra smiled, then hugged him fiercely.

"Sondra," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you I was going to provide you with an assistant for today,"
said Renee, smiling. "One whose discretion we could trust. Does she
meet your approval?"

"Certainly," said Ethan. "She's probably overqualified."

Sondra laughed nervously, "You're too sweet, Ethan."

"Is the hairdresser here yet?" asked Renee.

Ethan shook his head, "Most likely, she'll be here in a half hour and
be stunned to see you already here. She's used to working with
models."

Renee favored him with a small smile, "You need to work with more of
my models, dear. They know to be on time."

"Renee fired one for being late," said Sondra. She didn't laugh out
loud, but the laughter was there in her eyes.

"I didn't want to," said Renee. She let out a sigh. "I should never
have threatened to. But, once I threatened, I had no choice. It nearly
cost me the agency. But, it has had its advantages."

"Oddly," said Ethan. "None of your models have returned my calls. Why
is that, Renee?"

Renee turned her head enough that there was no eye contact when she
spoke, "I told them not to."

"Why?" asked Ethan, more curious than angry.

"If you still want to work with my agency after the wedding, I'll make
sure they all know that your shoots are to be a priority."

Ethan frowned, "I appreciate that, but it really doesn't answer my
question."

"No, it doesn't," said Renee. She sounded sad and a little tired,
"But, you'll understand after today, Stringer. My life is about to
get...very complicated."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Ethan.

Renee sat down on his couch and ran her fingers through her hair, "You
really mean that. Don't you, Stringer?"

When Ethan nodded, she laughed, "God, I could have fallen in love with
you once."

Ethan was so surprised by the statement that he didn't know what to
say. Renee had a faraway look in her eyes, "Right after you left for
Europe, Katie suggested that the two of us should run away and follow
you. She thought we would be safe there."

"I was in Sarajevo," Ethan pointed out. "'Safe' is not the first word
that comes to mind."

Renee chuckled, "She meant safe from Wayne."

Ethan sat down on the couch next to her. He didn't want to know, but
he found himself unable to stop the question, "What did Wayne do that
made him more frightening than bullets and bombs?"

"I don't think he was ever more frightening," said Renee. "But, it
might have been a pleasant change. At least with bullets and bombs,
you know when you're wounded and by what. Katie was always more
frightened of him than I was. Fear would never have worked on me."

Ethan thought he'd put all this behind him, but found that, given the
opportunity, he had to probe into the past, "Why did you stay with him
then?"

Renee's laugh was like an open wound, "I was his masterpiece. He read
me like a book. And, every time I figured out what he was up to, he
read me again. When I was first with him, I thought I wanted to be
wild. So, he showed me how to be wild. When that wore off and I felt
like my life was out of control, he let me think I was in control of
everything--that the other women were my bailiwick, as if they had
always been my idea. For a long time, he knew how to twist every
impulse I had, good or bad, until it served to bind me more tightly to
him."

Ethan hadn't even realized he was reaching for her when Renee said,
"Don't, Ethan. Don't touch me. If you touch me, I'm going to start
crying and I want this shoot to be perfect." As she sat up straighter,
Ethan saw the emotion disappear from her face and the reappearance of
the mask of serenity that was so good he hadn't realized until now
that it was a mask.

"Where are the dresses?" she asked, her voice calm and even.

"It's in the dressing room," said Ethan. "I'll show you..."

Renee rose, "I'll find it. I don't want you to see the dress until
it's on me."

Sondra laughed, "That's not the way it usually works."

Ethan whirled. He'd forgotten she was there. By the moment of surprise
on Renee's face, so had she. A brief smile flittered across her mask,
"See where the hairdresser is. Won't you, please?"

After Renee disappeared around the corner, Ethan sat, watching the
last place she'd been. After a few long seconds, Sondra asked, "Would
you like me to call the hairdresser?"

Ethan shook his head automatically, "I'll take care of it."

Sondra pursed her lips, "Let me do it. Remember. I'm your assistant
today."

"All right," said Ethan, still trying to absorb everything he'd heard.

"Should I make some coffee while I'm at it?" Sondra asked.

Ethan heard the note of amusement in her voice. He had a feeling she
would get a kick out of making coffee if he said yes, but he answered
truthfully, "I usually pick up coffee for myself and my assistant on
my way into work."

Sondra nodded and smiled. She was already rifling through his Rolodex.
When she found the hairdresser's card, she called, introduced herself
as "Mr. Ford's assistant" and did at least as good a job of handling
the woman as his real assistant would have.

"Very nicely done," he said when she got off the phone.

Sondra smiled at the compliment. Coming over to the couch, she sat
next to Ethan. Looking him in the eyes, she said, "Chastity told me to
send you her love."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, "I'm sure she didn't say that."

Sondra laughed, "I see. You spend a few hours between my best friend
in the world's legs and you think you know her better than I do."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"For the record," said Sondra. "That was exactly what she said. She
told me that it was safe to love you now that she'd moved on." When
Ethan frowned, she put a finger on his lips, "She told me that you
made her want to stay in New York and not worry about her career. She
also told me you were a better man than you gave yourself credit for
and that I was to give you this..."

Ethan should have realized what she was doing, but he refused to
believe it until her finger moved away and was replaced by her lips,
kissing him gently and firmly, one hand in his hair. As she broke the
kiss, she even ran her teeth over his bottom lip like Chastity had
done so many times.

"What was that for?" Ethan asked, his heart pounding.

"She told me to give you a kiss for her," said Sondra sweetly. "Plus,
I wanted to thank you myself."

"For what?"

"For making Stitch happy for a while;" said Sondra. "for making her
able to see herself happy in someone's bed; for helping me realize I
wanted her in mine." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, "I may owe you
more than a kiss for all that."

Ethan shook his head, "She and I wouldn't have even wound up together
if you hadn't..." He couldn't think of a word that seemed suitably
reverential to describe what had happened in his studio that day, "You
don't owe me anything."

Sondra laughed and clapped her hands, "They're right about you. Renee
and Stitch both say you're a good man. I don't think I completely
believed them until now. Most men would have jumped at such an offer."

Ethan closed his eyes like his head hurt, "That was an offer? I wasn't
paying attention. Make it again. I'll jump this time. I promise."

Sondra laughed and hugged him, "Why don't you show me the new studio
set up? I'm sure I'll have a million questions."

                                  -=-

After the hairdresser had left, Sondra went into the dressing room to
help Renee get into her dress and to try on her own bridesmaid's
dress.

By the time they emerged, almost an hour later, Ethan was as nervous
to see them as if he were waiting at the altar. At Renee's request, he
hadn't looked at the dresses once they arrived, only put them in the
dressing room. But, when he'd moved them, they'd seemed heavy. Besides
that, they'd clanked and groaned as if they weren't dresses at all,
but some sort of armor.

It turned out that Ethan wasn't far from right. At first glance, the
dress looked fairly normal. Then, Ethan noticed that the lacing up the
front was a diamond of black and red that started at the base of her
throat and ended just below her breasts. The center piece was made of
supple, white leather stretched taut by the lacing. Beneath her
breasts, the dress was a corset with stiff boning that served to make
her breasts even more prominent. The skirts were made of a glossy,
white leather. Even the choker was white patent leather.

Standing behind her and holding her train, Sondra was dressed in a
black, velvet sheath dress, her waist corseted, her breasts lifted and
separated by reddish boning that glinted in the low light. In her
public image, Sondra had always had a certain innocent charm that
added to her sexiness. It was gone now, but somehow left her no less
sexy.

Ethan must have stood stock still for at least a minute. Neither woman
moved while he stared at them. Finally, he said, "Wow."

Sondra smiled, "I think he likes it."

"I..." he said. "I..." he tried again. Finally, giving up, he said,
"Words fail me."

Renee smiled, "That's the idea. Fortunately, photographs will do where
words fail."

"Are you really getting married dressed like this?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, yes," said Renee.

"And that will embarrass Wayne?" asked Ethan.

Renee shook her head. Her hair, now a mass of curls on top of her
head, barely moved, "No. He'll act embarrassed at first. But, it will
please him very much. It will make him think I am completely his
creature."

"But, you're not?"

Renee smiled coldly, "Take my picture, Ethan."

Ethan did, taking more than a hundred pictures of her in the
traditional bridal poses or standing with Sondra. When they took their
first break, Sondra disappeared into the dressing room.

"I still don't understand how this is helping you get revenge on
Wayne," said Ethan. "I hope you know what you're doing, Renee."

"I do," said Renee. "Help me with my bodice, please."

By the time he got to her, Renee had unlaced the bottom half of the
diamond so that Ethan could see bare skin underneath, "What do you
want me to do?"

"Unlace the top," said Renee. "Then, help me retie the lacing."

Ethan started to work, but found it hard to get at the thin laces
without resting his hands on her. After a minute, Renee said, "Don't
worry about what you touch, Stringer. Remember. I asked you to do
this."

Ethan nodded. Resting his hands on her breasts did make it easier, but
more distracting. Worse, Renee laid her head on his shoulder as he
worked.

When the leather centerpiece came out, the dress dropped past Renee's
shoulders, momentarily exposing her breasts before she pressed it back
into place with her arm. Even after all he had seen, the sight still
took his breath away. For a long time, Renee had been the most
beautiful woman he'd ever met. Even when she'd been dating his best
friend, he'd imagined those breasts many times. In her modeling
career, she'd never allowed herself to be photographed topless to
confirm his imagination.

Under her instruction and with hands shaking slightly, Ethan managed
to tie the diamond back into its shape. Now, without the leather piece
over the top, Renee was as exposed as she could be without actually
being indecent. Her tan skin showed in strong relief against the white
silk. It seemed that, if she breathed long, the whole thing would come
apart. But, Ethan, having tied it in place, knew that was an illusion.

They went through many of the traditional poses again. Going with the
flow of the shoot, it took Ethan a few minutes to realize that the
poses had become steadily more provocative. By the time it registered,
Renee was on her knees, Sondra cupping her face, their lips scant
inches apart.

The next break came after less than a half hour. Opening what Ethan
had thought was a makeup case, Sondra extracted a thick leash. Like
most of Renee's dress, it was made of white leather. Sondra attached a
silver loop to the choker around Renee's neck and the leash to the
loop.

Sondra stood next to Renee and stroked her hair. Renee stayed kneeling
on the floor, looking up at the chanteuse. Without breaking her pose,
she said, "Keep shooting, Stringer. We've got a lot to do yet."

Ethan did as he was told. There was no question now what the pictures
were. In every shot, Renee looked up submissively at Sondra. Even
though Ethan knew the poses were just that, the whole thing was
becoming very arousing.

While Ethan shot, Renee said, "Do you want to know what the chink in
Wayne's armor is, Ethan?"

"Yes," said Ethan. He said is almost absent-mindedly, still focused on
his work.

"Of all the perverse things he did to me," said Renee. "Of all the
perverse things he made me do, he never let another man touch me."

Ethan stopped taking pictures and just looked at Renee. She was
wrapped around Sondra's leg, her head on the younger woman's thigh,
the bridesmaid's dress having ridden up to her waist. Renee nodded
against her and, even with no need to pose, Sondra closed her eyes and
let her head loll back.

"When Katie left him for another man," said Renee, her eyes
half-lidded. "A man he couldn't destroy...he went berserk. I've never
seen him so angry or so flustered. Do you know what I'm going to do to
him?"

"Tell me," said Ethan quietly. "I would hate to guess wrong."

"I'm going to fuck twelve men," said Renee. "One for each month I'm
going to stay married to that son of a bitch. Even better, I'm going
to fuck the twelve men that will hurt him the worst. Of the twelve,
only two are men I would ever want to be with on my own. I want you to
be first, Stringer."

Ethan had figured out what she was going to say, but refused to accept
it, told himself his imagination was getting the better of him. But
now, it was out there. He took a few seconds to control his breathing.
Then, he said, "I won't do it, Renee."

She didn't flinch, "I'm betting you will. Sondra, give him the leash."

Renee did as she was told. Given the choice of taking the leash or
dropping it, Ethan held it loosely in his hand. Renee still knelt next
to him as she had Sondra.

"Don't do this, Renee," said Ethan quietly.

"Take your shirt off, Ethan," said Renee. "You don't look much the
part in a sweatshirt."

"I..."

"Pose with me," said Renee. "I can't make you do anything you don't
decide to do."

After Sondra had taken a few shots, Renee wrapped herself around
Ethan's jeans-clad leg and ran one arm up his bare chest, "Tell me the
truth, Stringer. Don't you want to fuck me?"

Ethan nodded, not trusting his voice.

Renee ran her hand up the back of his leg, the back of her thumb
brushing against his balls through his pants. The touch was
feather-light, but enough to send a chill like a bolt of ice water up
Ethan's spine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Open your eyes," Renee purred. "Let the camera see that you're
enjoying yourself."

It was close enough to advice that Ethan had given a model less than a
week ago that he couldn't help but grin sardonically. The camera
flashed and Ethan knew, without being able to see, that the picture it
had captured would say far more than the smile had meant to.

Renee laid a kiss on his ribs, just above the waistline of his pants.
Rising slowly, she kissed her way up his side and across his pectoral
before biting his nipple hard enough to make him gasp. When she didn't
let go immediately, he buried one hand in that mass of curls and
pulled her head back. For a moment, he held her in tableau, the camera
flash firing again and again. Ethan looked down into her face. Renee
grinned up at him. The grin was feral, her pupils open wide with
desire. For the first time, Ethan realized that she might actually
want this. He'd known she was intent on doing it, but had imagined she
was going through it with a joyless sense of determination. He hadn't
imagined her enjoying it.

"Oh, Renee," he said, more a shaped exhalation than words. Releasing
her hair, he pressed her head into the crook of his neck. Renee kissed
him gently, then nipped at his skin. Ethan wrapped both arms around
her, crushing her body to his. Renee looked up, lips close enough to
be kissed. For a second, Ethan hesitated.

"Please, Ethan," she purred. "I'll beg if you like."

Ethan kissed her, one hand rising to support her head. Renee moaned
low in her throat. To Ethan's ear, it sounded more like relief than
pleasure. Ethan lowered his head to her throat, kissing her there,
feeling her pulse with his lips. Renee held his head with both hands,
pushing it lower so that he was kissing her breasts in between the
laces of her dress.

He reached for the laces he'd done up earlier, but Renee stopped him,
"Not yet, Stringer. Leave it on a while longer."

When Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow, she gave him a conspiratorial
wink, "I want you to fuck me in my wedding dress. Do you know what
this dress says, Ethan?"

Ethan looked down, taking in all of her, "It's saying quite a bit, I
think."

Renee smiled, "A lot of that is just for you. Wayne doesn't listen as
well as you do. To him, it says only one thing--that I belong to him.
I want him to see you taking me in this dress. I want him to know that
you took what was his. I don't just want you to fuck me, Ethan. I want
you to own me. Take me away from him."

She kissed a line down the center of his chest, pausing at the flat of
his belly as her fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. Ethan,
already straining against the confines of his pants, sprang forth as
she pulled down his pants. Once he'd stepped free, Renee pressed her
face into him, his cock against her cheek, her nose buried in his body
hair. She inhaled deeply of his scent, pressing her hands into his
buttocks. Ethan moaned and stumbled a little before regaining his
balance. Renee gripped him in her hand, kissed the underside of his
cock. A shudder rocked his body. She licked him from base to head in a
single motion. Ethan moaned again. Nearly overstimulated, Ethan caught
her head, forcing her to hold still long enough to take him into her
mouth. Whatever sliver of self-control he'd held onto until then
dissolved on her tongue. His hips pistoned forward, pushing him all
the way into her. Renee took it easily, running the tip of her tongue
over him as he drove into her time and again, fucking her throat. All
the while, the camera flashed, recording each act.

When Ethan tried to pull away, Renee dug her nails into his buttocks,
holding him tightly. She teased him with her lips, tongue, and just a
hint of teeth. He was far gone enough that the latter didn't faze him.
Still, he was losing the last vestiges of self-control.

"Renee..." he moaned in warning.

She took him out of her mouth, still holding him in her hand, stroking
him gently, "It's all right, Stringer. We've got all day." Then, she
gripped him hard enough to nearly send him over the edge, "Make me
yours, Stringer."

Ethan nodded. Renee took him back into her mouth. Ethan's resistance
gone, it didn't take long before he came. She held him in her mouth
until the tremors ceased.

                                  -=-

While Renee was in the dressing room freshening up, Ethan wrapped
himself in a red, terrycloth robe. Sondra was preparing the cameras
for another shoot. He wanted to ask her how she was taking this, but
didn't know the words.

Sondra seemed to understand, "This Wayne," she said without looking up
from the camera. "He is a very bad man. Renee is very strong, but not
with him. I'm glad you're helping her get free."

"This must be...weird for you," Ethan said. It was an inadequate
statement, but the best Ethan could find.

Sondra's smile was almost shy, "I'm helping her get free, too. I
understand a little about bad men. Besides, this must be weird for
you, too."

"That's an understatement," said Ethan, grinning. "Still, if you'd
rather not be here for the rest of this, I could probably..."

"Wayne's set his sights on me, too," said Sondra as if she hadn't
heard the last sentence.

A chill went down Ethan's spine. It made sense, of course. From
everything he'd learned about Wayne, Sondra would be exactly the sort
to catch his attention. For all Ethan had seen of Sondra since meeting
her, he sensed that, at heart, she was an innocent.

"Even in his reduced circumstances," said Sondra, sighing. "Even with
what I know about him, he is still very good at making you forget what
he is."

"Reduced circumstances?" asked Ethan.

Sondra nodded, "I keep forgetting you've been out of touch. Ivan
Vandevoort and his son Randall are in jail for having broken just
about every law in the country."

"I don't follow," said Ethan. "I haven't paid a lot of attention to
the Vandevoorts when they were in the news."

"It's just as well," said Sondra. "From what Renee has told me, they
get most of it wrong anyway. They portray the Vandevoorts as if they
were the British royal family, amusing but ultimately irrelevant."

"I always thought of them more like the Kennedys," said Ethan. "But,
then, I never did like the Kennedys."

"Try the Medicis and you would be closer," said Sondra. "But, even
that's not quite it. They've been around forever. Wayne once bragged
to Renee that Vandevoorts brought the first slave ships to the New
World." She laughed in a way that had nothing to do with humor, "While
Ivan was in charge of the Vandevoorts, he had Wayne as his
second-in-command on the Vandevoort Foundation. Publicly, he voted to
give more than half a billion dollars to the NAACP and the UNCF.
Privately, he told Renee that he wished he still lived in a time when
he could have bought me, used me until he got bored, then sold me at a
profit."

At Ethan's sharp intake of breath, Sondra gave him a smile that seemed
to thank him for having a normal, human reaction to such a statement,
"I almost fell for him," she said quietly. "I had it in my head that
Renee was the enemy, marrying him for his money. I was going to be his
'beautiful African princess.' Renee saved me from him before I did
anything too stupid. That's why I want to be here. That's why I want
to help any way I can."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, "All right. But, what does Ivan and Randy's
trial have to do with Wayne?"

"Ivan used to control two of the three big chunks of the Vandevoort
empire. When he went on trial, he lost control of all of it to his
daughter. One of the first things his daughter did was strip Wayne of
every position of power in the family. Everyone in the family thought
Tryne was completely out of her depth to run the family. The most
likely candidate to take the reins of power away from her is Wayne.
She let them think that until, one day, they all wake up to find out
they're out of jobs, out of position, and out of the game they didn't
even think she knew how to play." She grinned, "I, for one, would like
to meet her and shake her hand."

"Shake whose hand?" asked Renee, striding into the room. To Ethan, she
looked as if she'd managed to completely erase the effects of the last
two hours except that the diamond-shaped centerpiece of her dress was
still missing.

"Tryne Vandevoort," said Sondra.

"She..." Renee strode across the room to stand by Ethan. "...is as
dangerous as any of them. And, what did I tell you about Vandevoorts?"

Sondra lowered her head in mock penitence and said in a stage mumble,
"I'm not to meet any more Vandevoorts until I learn how to handle
them."

Renee smiled, "Very good. How do I look?"

Sondra's grin was wicked this time, "Get rid of the photographer and
I'll show you what I think of how you look."

Renee's face went through a quick series of emotions--shock,
amusement, and concern all flickering across her face, "Oh, dear. Here
I am trying to protect you from being corrupted by Wayne and I ended
up corrupting you myself."

Looking at the concern on Renee's face, Sondra laughed, then looked
embaraassed for having done it. Quietly, she said, "I like your brand
of corruption much better. Thank you."

"Well, then," said Renee, her joviality sounding only a little forced.
She pressed herself against Ethan's side, wrapping her arms around his
chest and laying her head on his shoulder, "Let the corruption
continue. Are you ready for our next shoot, Stringer?"

Ethan nodded and kissed her just above the ear, "Far readier than I'm
comfortable admitting. Hearing about Wayne's fall from power has taken
a big weight off my mind--like how he was going to grind me under his
heel when this all came down. I do have one question for you, though."

"All right," said Renee.

"What sort of effect will your humiliating Wayne have on his bid to
take control of the Vandevoort family."

Renee looked surprised, pleased, and amused, "Oh, dear. Stringer, it
looks like I've corrupted you, too. It never even occurred to me that
was possible."

                                  -=-

The next photoshoot started out as just that--a photoshoot. Like a
surprising number Ethan had done in the last few weeks, it was
unusually understaffed for a photoshoot. They were doing without
makeup artists, hairdressers, or even an assistant to the
photographer. Ethan dragged in props and set up lights himself, making
sure everything was right before they began.

For his own part, he hadn't brought anything to wear for a photoshoot.
He'd dressed to be behind the camera, not in front of it. Fortunately,
wearing only his jeans, he looked all right for what they had in mind.
He would never be a professional model, but surviving the last few
years had kept his stomach flat and muscles defined. That worked here,
too. A real model would have been too pretty anyway.

The first set of shots was set up like a traditional marrying couple
shot, except that Ethan wasn't wearing a tux. Both of them stood,
facing straight ahead, barely touching. Then, they turned as if facing
each other, but really faced the camera in one-quarter profile.

In older wedding photos, couples looked at each other. Mike Connor
used to collect turn-of-the-century wedding photos and claimed you
could tell what sort of marriage it was by looking at their faces.
Ethan didn't always see it. But, he liked the idea and had proposed it
as a transitional pose.

Pressing herself more firmly against him, Renee looked up into Ethan's
face and smiled at him. Ethan looked down. When their eyes met, his
breath caught in his throat.

Rationally, he knew Renee couldn't really be looking at him the way
she was and mean it. Her eyes were open and trusting. She looked at
him like a woman deeply in love. He knew rationally, but the response
to her was so visceral that it did an end-run around the rational part
of his brain and made his knees weak.

After Sondra had taken enough shots, Renee smiled, "You look
thunderstruck, Ethan."

Ethan blew out a long breath and said quietly, "I am. It's been a long
time since anyone looked at me like that."

Renee reached up, touched his cheek, and came away with a tear Ethan
hadn't even realized he'd shed. Raising her finger to her lips, she
licked the tear away, slowly and deliberately. Then, going up on
tiptoe, she licked a long line from the hollow of his throat, along
the line of his chin, and up to the corner of his eye. Then, she
hugged him tightly. As seductive as she'd been a moment before, there
was nothing seductive about the hug. It was just comfort.

"I should clean up before we go any farther," said Ethan. But, when he
tried to turn away, Renee held onto him and shook her head.

He tried to pull away again and she shook her head in the negative.
Seeing the set line of determination in his face, she said, "Sondra,
you're the photographer. Do you think he needs to clean up?"

"No," Sondra said, softly and immediately. "Not if he doesn't cry
anymore. He hasn't made his eyes puffy. Right now, it's just very
sexy."

Renee let go of Ethan's arms, letting him know he could go if he
needed to. Instead, he said to Sondra, "Give me the blindfold."

The blindfold was a thick strip of black silk. Standing behind Renee,
he held it in both hands in front of her. Renee leaned back against
him, laid her head on his shoulder and looked up.

Ethan gave a heavy chuckle, "I hate to cover up that look."

Renee smiled and kissed the side of his neck, "I'm sure you'll see it
again."

Ethan nodded and laid the silk across her eyes. With one hand, he
lifted the mass of her hair over his shoulder and tied the blindfold
across the back of her hairline. When he cinched the second knot,
Renee shivered violently against him.

"Cold?" Ethan asked. Renee shook her head in the negative, her hair
sliding across the backs of his shoulders. Ethan let his hands fall to
caress her, one on her stomach, the other on the bare flesh of her
chest. She trembled again.

"I want you, Ethan," she murmured against him. "I've wanted you for a
long time." Her finger traced his body from navel to neck before her
hand buried itself in his hair, drawing him down for a kiss.

Until that kiss, everything had been, to a degree, staged. They had
moved and posed mostly with the camera in mind. Now, Ethan's hands
came up almost of their own volition. He stroked Renee's bare flesh
wherever he found it. His lips rained kisses wherever his hands had
touched. Renee writhed against him, her breathing shallow.

When he started to untie the lacing on her dress, she whispered, "Go
ahead and tear it. I have another one just like it."

Ethan didn't need to be told twice. Taking the edges of the diamond,
he tore outward with such force that he heard Sondra gasp behind him.
The dress came apart as if it had been designed to do so, baring Renee
to the waist. His mouth descended hungrily to her breast, taking the
nipple between his teeth and licking the tip of it. Renee moaned and
started to collapse, but as soon as Ethan tried to guide her down to
her knees, she resisted. Ethan let off on the pressure, but Renee
growled at him, "Force me to my knees."

Ethan nodded, took her hair in one hand and wrapped the other around
her waist, not taking his mouth from her flesh. Slowly and firmly, he
pulled downward, forcing her back into an arch until her knees gave
way. He lowered her to the blankets he'd laid beneath them, towering
over her, not letting go of her hair. His mouth moved to her other
breast, licking, sucking and teasing the nipple. Without moving her
head, Renee let the lower half of her body writhe against him, her
skirts rising up with each undulation. Beneath her dress, she wore
white knee-high stockings and garters. When the skirts had risen high
enough, she pressed herself against the leg of his jeans and he could
feel her hot wetness through the fabric. He wrapped his arm under her,
lifting her so that they could be flesh against flesh.

Ethan tried to lay her on the blankets and again, she struggled,
wrapping herself around his torso so that it was hard to bend his own
waist.

"Force me," she growled again. "Come on, Ethan. Don't make love to me.
Fuck me. Own me."

Ethan hadn't realized he'd been holding back until he stopped. Taking
Renee by both shoulders, he slammed her backwards. He'd padded the
floor beneath the blankets, but he still drove her down hard and fast
enough to knock the wind out of her. With the last vestige of his
rationality, he worried that he'd really hurt her, but she bared her
teeth at him in a look that was pure, feral joy and squeezed her legs
around his waist hard enough to hurt. Ethan writhed, raising his hips,
then slamming them down against her hard enough to break the lock.

Reaching down, he shucked out of his jeans and, in the same fluid
motion, drove himself deep inside of Renee. She tried to rise to meet
him, but Ethan kept her pinned, pounding away at her with a savagery
that surprised him. Renee wrapped her arms around him, moaning
continuously in his ear. Her fingernails etched scarlet trails down
his back as he pummeled her. She cried out again and again, almost
sobbing her pleasure.

Ethan lost track of time, fucking Renee relentlessly. Eventually, he
became dimly aware that Sondra had stopped taking pictures and,
looking up, saw her standing at the door to the other room. She smiled
softly, waved to him, and stepped through the door, leaving him alone
with Renee.

Ethan didn't care. He'd long since gone past doing this for any reason
than that he wanted to possess the woman beneath him. He'd wanted
Renee for a long time and knew he would never get this chance again.
So, he would make the most of it.

Pulling out of her, he growled, "Roll over."

Renee nodded and rolled, "I was hoping you'd ask. Wayne is very proud
that no one's ever been there but him."

It took Ethan a few seconds to realize what she was talking about.
He'd just meant to take her from another angle. But, with the offer
made, he didn't hesitate. Straddling her, he drove himself into her
from behind.

Renee cried out, "God, Ethan. It...hurts...I think."

Ethan couldn't help but grin as he paused in his thrusting, "You think
it hurts?"

Renee nodded emphatically, "For God's sake, don't stop. Hurt me,
Ethan. I want you to hurt me. I want to love having you hurt me."

Ethan thrust into her, hands holding her hips for the best traction.
Renee cried out time and again, her body trembling and almost limp
beneath him. Soon, her individual climaxes seemed to melt into one
prolonged wave of pleasure. 

When Ethan finally came again, he did so violently. Renee held him
firmly inside of her, still rocking against him until he had to roll
away with a moan. Renee rolled against him, laying her head on his
chest, closing her eyes against the pleasure that still rocked her.
She still wore the dress, but it was torn and bunched above her waist
and below her breasts.

Less than a minute later by Ethan's reckoning, Sondra stepped back in
the door and went to the Hasslblad. Renee opened her eyes and looked
up long enough to say, "Get this scene from every angle. I want to
make sure it stays in Wayne's mind."

Wedding Photos
Part 3 of 4
by Vulgar Argot
(MF, oral, anal, voy, cuckold)

--Vulgar Argot
  http://storiesonline.net/library/author.php?id=2020
--
"Vulgarity begins when imagination succumbs to the explicit."
  --Doris Day

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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