бидевушка (bgirl)My name is Jill. I just turned forty nine this year. I been a full time mom/wife since college. My kids are all off to school now so I wanted to find a job. I finely got hired by a local photographer to greet customers and assist in the studio. My boss Tony is great, he has been teaching me about all the equipment and even the camera at work. Most of the pictures are portraits, school photos, etc. when I got to work today our schedule was pretty empty, we just had one customer scheduled for a five hour photoshoot after lunch. My boss told. E I could go home early today, because today’s photoshoot would include some nudity. I assumed it was a female model, but found out later is was a tall, athletic male model.
As I walked into the studio, the heavy wooden door creaked open with a familiar sigh. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla filled my nostrils, mingling with the earthy undertones of the dark mahogany floors. My name is Jill, and I've worked here for a few months now, assisting Tony with his photography business. Today was supposed to be a slow Friday, with only one client booked in for a five-hour photoshoot after lunch.
He was a tall, well-built, young man around twenty years old and had an air of confidence that seemed to fill the room. His skin was slightly tan, a testament to his athleticism, and his face was chiseled to perfection. As he turned around, I caught a glimpse of the tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. It was intricate, a blend of vibrant colors and delicate lines, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Oh, you must be Jill," he said with a smile, his voice smooth and deep. "Tony's told me a lot about you. He speaks very highly of you." His accent was deep south, almost exotic, and I found myself hanging on to every word.
"Well, he's been teaching me a lot about the studio business," I replied, trying to steady my nerves. "I'm looking forward to learning more about lighting today."
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly," he said, walking over to one of the massive softboxes set up on a nearby stand. "My name's Jake, by the way."
"So," he said, clearing his throat, "what do you think of the city so far?" His voice was still smooth and confident, but there was a hint of nervousness in it now. I could tell he was trying to make small talk, to break the silence.