Sara

Martin went over to his hi-fi and selected a playlist. "Can you dance? On your own? Lets catch the spirit of youth." The music blared. Sara had not danced on her own since university a long time before.

She heard the command and obeyed, "Dance Sara, dance. Now. For yourself and for me."

Martin grabbed his camera and started taking shots of Sara as she first swayed and then gradually speeded up and became more expressive as she recalled the all the times she mirrored the Bollywood dancers in the movies. She was pointing and pursing her lips at the lens. She shook her hips and waggled her shoulders. She turned and shook her butt, looking over her shoulder provocatively.

As she turned and faced Martin again he noticed she had undone the top three buttons of her blouse. She did another sequence of shaking herself until she turned sideways and looked at the lens under eyebrows. She slowly slid the blouse and her bra strap off her raised shoulder and pursed her lips into a kiss. Sara burst out into a full belly laugh and stopped moving. She was slightly out of breath.

"Oh. That was so much fun. Thank you Martin." Before he knew it she bounded over to him and gave him a brief hug.

"Better be getting back now. Let me know how they turn out. Can you include a few for me to send to Ahmed?" Sara stopped for a moment and looked directly into Martin's eyes with a serious expression on her face. "Does that settle our debt, Martin?"

Martin said straight-faced, "Of course not. We have to do that again at least one more time."

Sara caught the tease. "Right. I can see that. No more until after delivery though." Then in a more somber tone, "Thank you. You have been wonderful. When may I expect to see the prints?"

"Give me a couple of days. I'll also give you a memory stick with the shots on it; you can transfer them to your computer. I'll only print out the best, but all will be on the memory stick. Is that OK for you?"

"Better than I expected."

Sara packed up and left giving an awkward handshake as she left. She felt elated yet a certain cultural backlash made her experience shame at the same time.

Martin delivered the prints and stick as promised. No commitments were made to each other for future association.

Sara used the pictures to get into two well-established galleries. They asked for pictures of the rest of the pieces for their records. She could not understand why they needed them when they had the works themselves.

Sara also started to send pictures of her works to Ahmed, and included some shots of her. He liked the sari shots. She had not realized how transparent the blue dress looked until she was trolling through the shots to send. Eventually she sent one of the milder blue dress side view shots on to Ahmed, expecting him to be mad. He wrote back that the photos of her were getting better and better. With her confidence raised that Ahmed would not get angry with her, she sent one of the more explicit front views that showed her underwear quite clearly. All he wrote back was, "You are so hot baby. Enjoy your freedom."

This encouraged Sara even more and she sent a few of her dancing in her daughter's outfit. When they talked on Skype Ahmed was rapturous about hot she still looked after twenty-five years of marriage. He complemented her on her legs and they were still in the same shape as when they first married. Finally Sara sent the last shot of her with her bare shoulder looking sexy as she could.

The next Skype conversation Ahmed tried to get Sara to undress for him, but she was reluctant and refused. He told her to get some more candid shots of herself taken. He was insistent and told her to go further as he loved the shots and wanted to see more. She was ready to cut him off. He seemed to have been drinking.

He got up, adjusted the camera angle and started to dance Bollywood style, all the time calling on Sara to dance with him. "Let's dance baby." He was a too old and uncoordinated to do that and looked faintly sad. She felt embarrassed for him.

She almost shouted, "I'm tired now. Have to go soon. Good night darling. Go to bed now."

She glanced at his bed that was to one side of the picture. She did not believe it at first and then looked closely as Ahmed danced away in the foreground. There on the wrought iron bedhead frame was a bra hanging. Sara closed the picture.

The anger that flared up in Sara was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She tried to rationalize what she saw, but could come up with no innocent reason as to why a bra was on his bed. He was cheating on her. She knew she could not kill him across tens of thousands of miles, although she wanted to at that moment. She thought back to their conversation. He wanted her to be sluttier. She wondered if he showed her photos to his girlfriend.

Sara cried herself to sleep. When she woke in the morning she went to the studio and started work with black clay. Her work reflected her mood. Dark pieces with twisted shapes incorporated.

She worked long hours in the studio for the next week. After the studio sessions she exercised until she dropped in the gym. She dissipated her anger by pommeling the clay to express her sense of betrayal followed by wearing out the treadmill.

It seemed like the first time ever that Shamina noticed her mother's mood. She cautiously asked her mother what was wrong. They had never been close. Although she understood the circumstances, Shamina emotionally still resented being snatched away from her friends and an easy life with servants who cleaned up after her. All Sara would say is that her dad was acting strangely.

When he had not heard from Sara, Ahmed tried Skype without success, so he e-mailed. Normally Sara initiated the e-mail exchanges. He received only curt replies and some raw, practical information about accounts and Shamina's circumstances. He was certainly puzzled but it never occurred to him his domestic arrangement in South Africa was to blame. He simply missed seeing the recent slightly racy shots of his wife.

It perversely entered his head that Sara was really a prude and was unwilling to show him any more. He disappointment centred on the fact that his second wife would not have the stimulus of seeing the photos Sara sent. He thought it strange since he was still sending substantial, by his standards, regular monthly check to Sara and that should be enough for her to indulge him a bit.

Sara's anger and disgust settled. She remembered Ahmed telling her to enjoy her freedom. She was doing this by producing more ceramic pieces. These gave her great joy. Part of her wanted more. There was a streak of revenge that emerged from deep in her psyche. It was fuelled by an increasingly unattended libido. Ahmed had always serviced her regularly, if a bit unimaginatively, based on what her girlfriends used to tell her about their sex lives.

The only good news was that Sara's work was being bought through the two galleries she had joined. Although she only saw half of the sale price she supplemented her income from Ahmed by at least a half when her studio expenses were figured in. Most of her original stock had sold, but she had no portfolio record of her new work. She thought of Martin. She could afford to pay him now, but wondered if she could get another session for free with a little bit of wild behaviour.

Sara bumped into Martin as she arrived at the Centre and he was leaving. Initially they talked business, superficially. "I was going to call you. I have some more of my pieces to document." She described what had to be photographed, the where, and when were all arranged. "Maybe we should talk about payment up front this time?" Sara asked looking under her long black eyelashes. Martin was on edge anticipating another hot session. "Still $50 per pot for you. $70 for anyone else."

Sara looked at the floor the way she had mentally rehearsed, "Things are still tough financially. I don't get much sent over from Ahmed, and much of that goes on daily living and Shamina. Any chance of another arrangement?"

"Well. Let's see now. I'll have to think about that." What Martin was really thinking was how he could get Sara in a lot less clothes than before.

"I am in the middle of an excellent catalog illustration shoot with lots of toys, hardware and of course clothes. Would you model some clothes for me for the catalogue?" Martin actually had a genuine need for a darker skinned model as already proposed by the client. He had not yet got around to arranging it. "The clothes are not up-market but quite presentable. I normally pay $50 per hour for a model, so lets say you put in one hour for every two pots I photograph and you get my super deep discount. Would that work for you?"

Sara thought that would be less fun than before but was willing to give it a try. "Sure let's do it." Arrangements were made for the shoots of the new ceramic pieces and for the clothes.

"I'll need your measurements. For the clothes and shoes."

"I'll email them to you."

As Sara arrived for the photo session mid-morning Martin drew her aside and slyly said, "Don't let them see you sweat. Just bluff it out. But first the paperwork. Please sign these releases." She signed without reading the documents.

Sara did not understand his other comment until she entered the dressing room. A make up artist and a dresser were in attendance. Martin's words rang in her ear. She greeted them and boldly asked, "What's first?" and sat in front of the make-up girl.

The session went well. It was getting late. Sara was still on a high as she changed and changed again. Martin's original sense that the lens loved Sara and the feeling was reciprocated was borne out as he photographed the catalogue pieces. When there were just two outfits left, Martin asked Sara if she could manage the rest on her own. Sara said, "Certainly." Martin told the other girls they could leave early and beat the traffic. They were delighted. Martin took shots of the last two items. He then suggested Sara wash off the face make-up, but not get fully dressed yet.

Sara was excited to see where this was going. Martin now had the music going in the background. Sara emerged from the back in a robe. "Ah. All cleaned up I see. Good. Would you like to try some swim ware I am doing for another client?" Sara nodded. She hoped not too enthusiastically. Martin brought in a selection of pieces. "Lets go with all the blue and green items only."

Sara was pleased she had trimmed her pubic hair recently. It was the first time she had been nude in the dressing room as she slipped out of her clothes and into the bathing costume, glancing at herself in the mirror as she did so. She wondered if Martin might come barging in on some pretext as she changed, half hoping he would do so. She was still on the high from earlier.

She pulled on a one piece. It fitted well. When Sara entered the studio she started bopping to the funky music playing. Martin liked what she was doing and released the camera from the tripod. He started shooting. Sara played to the lens as she had been all afternoon. Martin climbed a ladder to get high shots and then lay on the floor to get low ones.

Sara withdrew to change room and put on another one-piece, although the two parts were held together with just an open mesh. She and Martin did their now ritual dance. Sara was now giving more over the shoulder sexy looks at the camera and bent over pushing her butt toward him. She didn't know Martin had started a video camera to one side of the studio.

The next outfit was a two-piece with high-rise sides. Sara found new ways to look at the lens and then adopted a confrontational pose hooking her thumbs into the sides of the lower part of the costume and worked it down her hips so it pulled directly across her lower stomach just above her pubes. She could feel herself getting horny and sexy.

The last two pieces were true bikinis. Sara once more played with the material pulling it one way and another to reveal more but not quite all. He nipples never showed, nor her pubic hair. The last piece was a thong; She presented a lot of her back to the lens, and also pulled up the sides of the lower half to create a camel toe around her vagina as she bobbed to the music. The top triangles barely covered her dark areola. Martin snapped away.

Sara seemed to be reaching a crescendo with her dancing when the four opening notes of Beethoven's fifth ring tone on Martin's cell phone distracted them both. Martin looked at who was calling and turned the hi-fi off. "Gotta take this. My catalogue client." Sara just stood there for a few moments looking lost with her shoulders slumped. As Martin spoke on the phone, Sara drifted into the back room and put on her own clothes. She was near to tears.

By the time she emerged back into the studio, Martin was also standing looking lost. The moment of uncharted possibilities was gone for now, perhaps forever, they both thought.

Sara looking crestfallen spoke first. "I should go. When can you do my pots?"

"I have to complete the catalogue spread in five days. The catalogue people were on the phone pushing me. They are my biggest clients. I have to put them first. I'll take your pots a week from today. OK?"

"Guess so." Sara put on her brave face. "Of course. Text me with the details of the pot shoot." Sara felt her anger rising and rather than vent it on Martin she rushed out without looking back.

Martin called after her, "There'll be no charge." He was not sure if she heard him.

At home Sara slumped into a hot bath. She used the shower head on the flexible hose set to pulse mode to masturbate for the first time in decades. She felt just as horny afterwards as before. It was no real help. She needed a good fuck.

Sara's sleep was intermittent. Shamina called out as she left she would be late getting home. Once more Sara sucked in her emotions, prepared herself to work and went into the studio with a deep sense of unfinished business wracking at her soul. Her pots that day were angrier. The ensuing days followed a similar pattern.

Martin called. Sara was icy and Martin stiff in their conversation. Arrangements made for the shoot at Sara's apartment.

Martin carted what seemed like a truckload of stuff into the living room that Sara had cleared to one side with Shamina's help. Martin set up with little conversation and they got down to photographing her pots. Martin could plainly see the greater emotion in the angularity and dark colours in the works. At the end, Sara put on one of her favourite Ravi Shanka albums and made them a cup of tea.

Martin opened. "That was a brutal end to our last session. I am so sorry, but it could not be avoided. It was a great shoot. You were terrific."

"How did I look?"

"Look? Amazing as I said. The client loves how you look too. She has insisted I use you again soon with the next season's offerings. It'll be in just under two months. Would you do lingerie and swimwear for them as well as the full ensembles? They sell those in the summer catalogue."

"Really. That would need thinking about." Sara was silent for a few moments. "How revealing are the lingerie pieces?"

Martin lied. As casually as he could he said, "Oh less revealing than that thong." Actually that was accurate as far as area covered was concerned but not true when transparency was considered. "Without being coy about this, you would have to shave or wax completely." He gestured downwards.

"Instead of doing a barter for my pot shots, could I get paid in cash?"

"That could be arranged."

"I think I am worth $75 per hour though." Now Martin was put on the defensive.

"I'm not sure they'd stretch to that."

"Ask them for me. Please." For the first time in quite a while Martin witnessed Sara's great smile and great white teeth. He knew he was sunk. He could afford her since he received $100 per hour for their requested models.

"Sure, I'll ask them. I'm pretty sure they will go for it. I brought three of four articles along with me that are their typical lines. Like to try here in your own home?"

"Now?"

"No time like the present. Anyway you can test yourself as to whether you are prepared to do this in the studio with the others there."

"Give me them." Martin scrabbled around in a case and brought out the lingerie. Sara held up each piece and looked at them without comment. "Settle down over there. I may be half an hour. Do you have time?" Martin nodded as he walked over, hiding his erection as best he could, to the armchair that had ben moved to the corner of the room.

Sara headed straight to the bathroom, drew some hot water and carefully shaved herself around her pubes and did her armpits over again. She selected the most conservative of the bra and pantie set and put them on. She examined herself and agreed that it was no worse than the bikini she had worn previously. The only differences were that she was cold as far as the modeling was concerned, but she was in her own home.

Martin had turned the lighting off. It was getting dark outside, so he closed the curtain. The light was subdued. Sara almost crept into the room. He could only see her faintly. She turned up the music volume and proceeded to dance for Martin in the half-light. She slowly found herself responding, without thought, to the music as her concerns fell away. The music sped up and so did Sara. She twisted and twirled. Suddenly she stopped, "Ready?"

Martin had to shake himself out of his reverie and turned on the lights. He started to photograph as she resumed her dancing.

"How does that look?"

"You're doing just fine." Sara's looks and movements mesmerized Martin. "Try the next piece." Sara went to her bedroom and changed. When she returned she went to her iPod and fiddled with it. The music changed to a sultry track. Sara's dancing responded to the music.

"Aren't you going to photograph me?" Martin had forgotten why he was there. He raised his camera and noticed that Sara seemed to add another, sexier, dimension to her movements. Now she was seducing the lens and him into loving her.

Then she left again quite abruptly, only to return wearing a skin toned semi transparent teddy with spaghetti straps and nothing underneath it. She had put on similar colored self-supporting stockings from her own drawer and included a pair of her own high heels. It took only a few moments for Martin to fall under her spell again. He raised the camera. She flirted with it.

Martin knew Sara should be doing more than catalogue shots. She was sexy as hell. She turned the music up and said, "Damn the neighbors." Sara danced as if in a dream, her eyes returning to looking at the lens mixing in shy with brassy looks, then switching to coy and then innocent. She was the whole package.

Martin thought he was having a hallucination when there was second Sara. But she was wearing a red teddy of a slightly different design. It took many seconds to realize that Sara's daughter Shamina was the second model. She was so much like her mother as to height coloring and looks. Sara did not see her for over a minute as she continued to adore the lens. Shamina had her own dancing style, more in the modern idiom, and stayed in the background, but was as sexy as her mother.

Sara suddenly became aware of Shamina's presence, screamed and brought her arms up over her breasts.

"Shamina! What the hell are you doing here, dressed like that? Cover up, now." Sara had gone quite red. "Go. Go. Now. Get a robe." Shamina just stood looking at her mother smiling as Sara raged at her, quite forgetting her own predicament.

"Mum. Muuuum, just calm down. You look as hot as hades. Wow. You are so...so ...oh, hot doesn't even to start. Calm down." Now Sara had her hands on her hips and was looking hard at Shamina. She heard Shamina's words and they were seeping into her consciousness. She was hot. Deep down Sara knew it. She also knew she was horny and once more about to be frustrated.