Double Shoot

Now I realize that my mentality isn't pure. Although I'd want to believe it's just a typical man's imagination, I can now state with certainty that even a fleeting thought of mine may cause a sailor to flush, all because of what happened recently. My perspective has changed, as if I were looking through a different lens, and if there's one thing I can say with certainty, it's that one's perception is crucial. It can change the meaning of the most fundamental things. A reddish hue is achieved. Tears turn into sweat. Instead, sexual relations devolve into incest.

Maybe "filthy mind" is a better description. All that matters are the details. As befits my profession, I take a one-point view, similar to a snapshot. But it wasn't until lately that this shadow side, or id, as Freud would put it, started to seep into my work, subtly impacting both the subjects I photographed and the reactions they received. It's ironic that this sinister path also had innocent beginnings.

My interest in photography evolved into something more substantial than just a hobby. A camera was always present in my family's lives when I was growing up. There were more picture albums than books scattered over the house. There was graphic documentation of every significant life event, no matter how small. Under the cellophane, in binders on shelves, is a record of every significant event in my life, from my sister's first steps to my graduation, birthdays, holidays, and family trips. Behind the camera, my dad would take pictures whenever he got the chance. Looking at these moments via a lens instead of his own eyes makes me wonder if he truly experienced them. Despite his immense talent, I find it funny to reflect on my childhood recollections of my father mostly accompanied by the sound of clicking and flashes of light.

I overcame my fear of the camera and began to include photography into my everyday life. I suppose I inherited my dad's keen eye for photography, because I was an instant pro with a camera. I felt completely at ease with the lighting and framing. The manual for my first SLR, which I received when I was sixteen years old, was something I devoted every waking moment to learning. Everything from ISOs to F-stops to shutter speeds was crystal clear to me. Thus, this became my vocation, as one could expect. I adapted to the changing times, but my heart always belonged to film.

I began offering my photographic services as a freelancer the moment I earned my bachelor's degree and the years passed. The publication of numerous senior projects in multiple local and one national magazine gave me a great head start, although the process was far from easy at initially. After this, I moved into the city proper from my parents' house, which was on the outskirts of San Francisco. I was fortunate enough to have a lovely apartment that served as both my studio and my home, and good fortune continued to smile on me. You can see that I seemed to have everything under control, but occasionally things can derail your plans.

Dinner with the family was a weekly occurrence. For generations, it had been a tradition in my family. There were four of us, and we were all rushing to set the table while passing cheerful small talk about. I overheard my mother as I was pouring the wine and making jokes with Dad about my latest photo shoot.

With the pasta in the sink, she spoke to Kayle and asked, "Have you told your brother yet?"

Kayle glanced at me and shook her head in disapproval. "Mm-Mmm."

My sister and I exchanged looks, and I said, "One sec. pops." "What's up?"

As she settled into her seat, she rolled her eyes. Thanks, Mom. It's a bit of a revelation, but I was planning to wait until after dinner.

"What is happening?"Again, I inquired.

"Your sister had a little bit of an opportunity," my dad added as he started servicing himself.

My mom poured herself a glass of wine and snuggled back, saying, "Let her tell him, Charles."

"You know how I have been dabbling in designing clothes? Well, Kayle took a deep breath and turned to me. The reaction has been really encouraging, and I've been enjoying myself immensely while doing it. Like you and photography, I have an innate talent for it. Especially for curvy women like Mom and me, I have a great sense of style that is flirtatious and enjoyable.

"Something for girls with curves," Pops said with a laugh, raising his glass to his lips.

Hey there, Charles!As a result of Mom's napkin swat, Dad flinched.

Irrespective of its intended meaning, Dad's remark was nearly spot on. My sisters and mother were both physically attractive, but I hadn't paid much attention to their figures. They aren't overweight because of their yoga practice, but they do have the curvaceous figures that men tend to find appealing.

"Anyway, I've been immersing myself in this, and last week, my professor shared some images of my work with her buddy, and they were absolutely thrilled!"They asked to see more, and I want to blow them away."

"Holy crap, Kayle! That's awesome!"

She was absolutely overjoyed. "I know, right?" she exclaimed. A broad smile spread across her lips, and her emerald eyes gleamed with delight. "Right now, they're only interested in a handful of my pieces. I have a swimsuit, a few tops and shorts, and a summer dress. My next goal is to showcase my abilities and take it to the next level in terms of presentation and style. So, Jason," she began to manipulate her cutlery around her plate. "I was wondering..."

"You want me to be your photographer, don't you?"

"Don't worry, I'll pay you. It would mean a lot to me, and you are the best photographer I know."

"Sis, don't worry about it. We're family; I got your back." I cracked up. We need to know: "So, what are your thoughts?""

"I was considering a trip to the beach. I thought it would be the perfect setting to showcase my spring and summer wardrobe. It's just a thought."

In response, I grinned and said, "No, I like it." "Have you thought about models yet?"

Wide eyes widened in her. She grabbed her mouth and said, "Oh no, I completely forgot." Her eyes widened in surprise. "Sorry, Mom! I keep swearing around you."

Mom dismissed it. "Honey, I keep telling you; you're twenty-one. You're an adult."

"I know. It's still weird."

I asked, "When did you want to do it?" I was trying very hard to return to the subject.

"What?" Kayle asked me directly. "Oh, I was hoping by the end of next week. I don't want the offer to grow too cold, you know."

I said, "Gotcha," while thinking deeply. "I don't know who I can grab with this kind of notice. How many girls do you need?"

"Just one. I want to keep it simple."

"What about you?" Dad inquired of Kayle. "This is your line. You're a lovely girl. Couldn't you do it?"

"I don't have any trouble doing it. Hell, I wear the clothes anyway, but isn't that a little tacky to showcase your line like that?" Kayle inquired.

My hand shook in disapproval. "I wouldn't recommend it. You want it to appear like your line is for anyone and everyone. That message may not come across if all they see is you in your clothes."

"Hell, then use your mom."

Another smack from her as she yelled out, "Charles!" on him.

"What? Why not?"

My gaze sped up to our mom in an instant. She is Kayle's source of charisma, although I never gave her any attention. Her mixed Irish and Japanese ancestry showed in her beautiful features. Her shoulder-length, crimson hair was always cropped short. The wine may have brought out her lovely skin, pink cheeks, almond-shaped green eyes, and petite frame. Oh, I must admit, she would be ideal.

"Oh, that would be so awesome, Mom! Please! It's just a couple of dresses and swimsuits!" cried Kayle.

Like, "Swimsuits, nice!" I said in jest.

"Jason!" Mom shot me an icy stare.

"Hey, don't mind me. I'm just the photographer." I burst out laughing. "I'm sure they're not harmful anyway, Mom. It's not like your daughter's been spending hours crafting bikinis."

As the room fell silent, Kayle shrank into her chair.

"Aren't those bikinis?" Mom inquired.

A bashful nod was Kayle's response.

I looked over to my mom instead of Kayle. There was a hint of unease that I could detect. "Well, Mom," I shrugged and said. "I'm down, if you are. It's always exciting to work with a new model. You game?"

She stole a quick look in my direction, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the glint in her eye. Mama shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "The things I do for my kids," she quipped, gulping down her drink and nodding in agreement.