I'd always felt comfortable discussing personal and intimate matters with her; indeed we'd spent a number of evenings long after her husband had gone to bed, sitting up with wine or coffee and discussing personal matters we'd never think of mentioning with others.

I'd finally taken Kay aside and in a hesitant and clumsy fashion (unsure of myself in these new waters), tried to explain how I found her exciting and would she be interested in sleeping with me? Or perhaps a threesome, with me joining her and her husband?

She put me off in a kidding fashion and refused to accept or refuse my invitation. I thought she was just unsure, or didn't know how to gracefully refuse me. I had no idea of what she'd actually do: that is, tell every single person she knew that I was hot for her, had begged her to leave her husband for me, etc. etc.

I was stunned when mutual friends told me about this, and very angry that she'd for whatever reason betrayed my confidence and trust like that. I didn't know what possessed her to do such a cruel thing, but I determined to get revenge.

In the meantime I pretended nothing had happened, ignored the rumors and snickers floating around me, and remained the close friend I always had been.

One day as she and I shared coffee in her kitchen, she mentioned how her husband was ignoring her. She felt she wasn't attractive enough, or he was letching after young girls or something, and she was angry about the neglect.

I tried to cheer her up, complimenting her on how nice she still looked. She complained that her husband was always looking at cheesecake and pornographic photographs and computer images, and paid very little attention to her in bed any more.

I suggested that perhaps some provocative photographs of _her_ might shed a different light on things, might remind him of her as a sexy woman. She dropped into the usual cynical baiting mode, accusing me of just wanting to get her naked. I teased her right back. "What? You keep complaining you don't look sexy any more, that your husband isn't interested. Here's a chance for you to show off, to look and feel sexy, to get some photos you can tease him with (like making him wonder how and when they were taken, hmmm?), and you're copping out, just like always! Hell, I've seen you in bathing suits and bathrobes, and even in that shorty nightgown that time, when you forgot the bottoms and answered the door half asleep! This won't be any different!"

She blushed at the memory of that little incident. However the reminder of the years of closeness seemed to reassure her. She thought for a few minutes, and then surprised me with her decision. "All right! Let's do it! When and where?"

I coordinate our photo session for the next day at a local motel I know about. I explain I'll be using a digital camera so we don't need to worry about getting the photos developed anywhere. "Not that we'll be doing any sort of X-rated stuff anyway .. unless you'd _like_ some X-rated shots?" I tease her again, knowing she has no intention of anything beyond some modest cheesecake shots. She likes to flirt, but has no plans to get into anything more serious.

The next day I pull up in front of Kay's house. Her teenage daughter is in front watering flowers. She's a pretty girl, slim like her mother but with a fuller pair of breasts, their size and youthful uplift obvious through a skimpy top. I wave and she returns the wave with a smile. I've known her since she was a little girl.

Her mother comes out of the house, dressed in a silky white blouse, a short skirt, a big shoulder bag, and functional- looking sandals. Her tanned legs are trim and her short hair suits her. She looks very slim and fresh, a typical suburban housewife off for a day's shopping with a friend.

"We're going to check out a new greenhouse. I'll be back in time for supper."

Her daughter waves to us as Kay climbs into my van.

"You look great! And you seem like you're in a good mood too!", I say to her in greeting.

"Well, it's not every day a girl gets invited to a professional quality photo session!" she smiles in return.

"Well, I think you'll be surprised at how exciting and attractive the photos will turn out."

We drive to a quiet little motel on the outskirts of town. I've already registered, so I drive directly to the ground-floor room and park the van. We climb out and I use my key to enter the motel room.

My laptop PC is already set up on the desk, with the digital camera connected via its data cable. I'd been testing the linkage to insure all the hardware and software were working correctly.

I show my prospective model the equipment. "I can take high-quality digital photographs and view them right away by downloading them to my laptop. If they aren't what I want, I can take them again."

She seems disinterested in the hardware, in the logistics or the arrangements. I'm sure she's more interested in moving on to the opportunity of teasing and tempting me, of flaunting herself in front of me, knowing I'll do nothing to interfere with her cruel little game.

"What kind of shots do you plan on taking?" she asks.

"Well, I thought some casual poses in your street clothing to get you used to modeling, and to let me sort out the lighting and flash. Then perhaps some more erotic shots. You brought some other clothing or accessories you'd like to wear, right?"

Kay opens the large purse and pulls out a folded piece of white fabric. Holding it up against herself, I see it's a long dressing gown, sleek and elegant. I compliment her on her choice: it's very pretty and should show up well against her slim figure.

Setting it down on the bed, she reaches back into her big purse and, blushing slightly, pulls out a set of black silk stockings and black high heeled shoes. The heels must be five inches tall, with slim straps for the ankles. I smile to myself: we used to call these "Come fuck-me pumps", and I wonder if she knows that.

I tease a little. "Well, the gown is almost innocent, compared to those stockings and shoes! You're really going to test my self control, aren't you?" I smile to show I'm kidding and she smiles back.

"Well, you said this would just be a photo session, so don't get any big ideas!"

"I know, I know .. just kidding."

We get down to photography. I set her in a chair, adjust my single portable lamp and experiment with the lighting a little. I take several shots from different angles with her seated, legs crossed, one shot with one leg pulled up and arms crossed over it a la Marlene Dietrich. After each short series I hook the digital camera up to my laptop and check the results: between the lamp and the camera's flash, they're acceptable, with tone and fill better than I'd expected.

Kay seems to enjoy being the center of attention: her color is high and she moves languidly, unafraid to show a long length of tanned leg and thigh as her short skirt hikes up during some of the poses. I catch a glimpse of her white bikini panties as she moves her legs about.

I take other shots of her standing, draped against a door, sitting on the desk, etc. She's at ease with me and the camera now, and continues to enjoy herself as she poses and flirts.

"Ok," I tell her, "let's get some nice shots with that pretty dressing gown you brought. You'd better change in the bathroom, so you don't really shake me up." I tease her and she responds with a batting of her eyelashes as she throws me a kiss.

Kay picks up the gown, stockings and shoes from the bed and walks into the bathroom. I notice a lot of hip sway and a coy smile over her shoulder as she closes the door. She's getting a kick out of toying with me, I can see.

I double-check that my earlier preparations are all still in order. In just a minute or two she opens the door and walks out from the bathroom. The long white dressing gown is firmly tied with a silk tie, the lapels well closed up over her bosom. I can see her lower legs neatly encased in the dark stockings, and the extra high heels add significantly to her height. Obviously not used to the heels, she totters slightly as she walks into the center of the room. As she walks by me I check her body under the clinging gown: the heels change her posture, and her rump is more prominent, the boyish buttocks under muscular tension and her back forced straighter by the high heels. The fabric bounces in front, shifting as her breasts move to each step. Obviously she's removed her brassiere, and I wonder if she still has those bikini briefs on: I see no lines across her bottom under the white gown material, so she's probably removed them as well. Well, how daring of her: I'd never have thought she'd do that; she must like teasing herself as well as me.

I reposition her in the chair and repeat several poses we'd tried earlier. Relaxing, she agrees to show a little leg, to pull open the lapels of the gown for a little cleavage, etc......(cont)