Leah's Home Lens

Leah's Home Lens

Bridy McAvoy

Leah

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Leah was only trying to tease her photographer neighbour, but it went too far. Now Owen is blackmailing her into posing for ever more explicit photographs. She never realised just how much of an exhibitionist she could become, nor how much Leo, her husband, would enjoy watching her via the recordings from the CCTV system. Just how far can she fall? Can she turn the tables on Owen before she's in too deep? Does she want to? Who is actually blackmailing who?

 

 
PUBLISHED BY: BlueWood Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-877546-62-4
PUBLICATION DATE: 2010
WORD COUNT: 55737
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 4 4 4 4
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: Erotica, BDSM, Contemporary, Multiple Partners, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: Erotica, Multiple Partners, Bondage, Submission, Photo, Model, Modelling, Blackmail, Video, Exhibitionism
 

EBOOKS BY BlueWood Publishing

EBOOKS BY Bridy McAvoy

 
EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT Bridy McAvoy/2010

Thirty five minutes later—I’d really pushed the speed bubble—I pulled off the freeway onto the downtown loop, counting the minutes until I could walk in through the front door and say sorry to my gorgeous, sexy wife.
Pulling into the top of our quiet road, I spotted something slightly odd, stopped at the curb and watched as a hundred yards in front of me, I saw Owen, our neighbour, walking up our drive carrying a large aluminium case. Not only that, but Leah was standing there, holding the door open for him, and smiling. I could see their mouths moving as they chatted. Obviously the case Owen was lugging was rather heavy.
Odder and odder. I knew Leah couldn’t stand Owen. She often found it difficult to be civil to the man, but there she was smiling and chatting with him as she invited him into our house. Definitely something strange going on. Leah seemed to be very well dressed as well, not exactly dressed to kill, but certainly not in her Saturday casuals. Definitely odd.
I suppose I’d watched too many crime movies, seen too many trashy TV dramas, but some sixth sense told me not to carry on and pull the car into the drive. The door was closed, there was nothing else to be seen from where I was, so I quickly fishtailed into a U-turn, turned left and then left again into the road behind us. The houses were separated by a band of trees from the next street, and the lot behind ours was vacant. Perfect for a little surreptitious spying.
Parking in front of the empty lot, I purposely crossed the open ground and slipped into the narrow band of trees until, peering around the thick trunk of one, I could see the back of the house. There was no movement to be seen, obviously whatever Owen and Leah were up to, was happening in the front of the house, not in the back, or the yard.
He’s a photographer!
Suddenly I remembered Owen was a very keen amateur photographer. On the couple of occasions we’d been in the house, I’d seen several examples of his work hanging on the walls. Very good work too.
Come on, get a grip.
I sprinted across the lawn to the back of the house and stopped at the edge of the deck. Leaving my shoes on the bottom step, I padded silently across the wooden boards to the patio door of the dining room, which was as usual ajar. The cool breeze blowing from the yard into the house was often a godsend on a morning like this, despite the air-conditioning.
Maybe, she’s having some portraits done. Well done Mickey Spillane!
Moving slowly, I edged the door open wider until I could slip inside. As soon as I was I froze; I could hear the murmur of voices from the lounge. Luckily our house faced the morning sun, the lounge would be brightly lit by the sun streaming in through the large windows, and the dining room was in comparative shadow, hopefully rendering me invisible. I edged closer to the archway through to the rest of the house and slowly peered around the corner, praying I was still hidden by the relative shade.
“Well, Leah, what do you think of those shots?”
I could see Leah was sitting on the couch, slowly leafing through the photo album on her knees, primly pressed together beneath her knee length navy skirt.
“They are very good, Owen. You’ve captured her perfectly.”
“Those are just the starting poses. Wait ‘til you see the next few pages.”
Owen was fussing around in the open space in front of the couch, setting up odd pieces of equipment. Some looked like music stands, topped with translucent looking umbrellas with boxes in front of them. It took me a while to recognise the studio lighting equipment he was setting up. In the meantime Leah turned over another couple of pages and then gasped.
“What’s the matter?”
“She’s . . . she’s nude!”
“Yes, but the pictures are beautiful, don’t you think. Wouldn’t you like to pose like that?”
“Don’t be silly, Mia’s your wife. That’s between the two of you. I’m not posing like that for you!”
Owen chuckled.
“There’s nothing wrong with a good artistic nude.”
“I’m a married woman, and more importantly I’m not married to you. She is.”
“You are a very beautiful woman, Leah, and the camera is going to just love you. Surely, you must have wondered what it would be like to pose like that?”
Leah shook her head, but I could see her eyes were returning to the page open on her lap.
“No, never.”
He shrugged and switched the lights on, one by one. The room was even brighter now, helping to conceal me in the gloom of the dining room even more.
“Well, I said I would take some photos of you this morning while your husband was out on business, and I will. How far you want to go in front of the camera is entirely up to you. Shall we get started?”
“I’m not doing that.”
Leah held the book up to show Owen the page she had been looking at, unknowingly showing me too. I knew Mia, Owen’s wife, was a stone fox, but the nude picture of her turned partially away from the camera, showing her full breast in three-quarter profile and her shaven mound, took my breath away. Somehow I kept quiet, realising Leah’s denials hadn’t really sounded that sincere. As she looked away once more, almost reluctantly closing the album, I caught a quick crafty grin fleet across Owen’s face—obviously he’d picked up the subtle nuance too.
This just might get interesting. I could feel myself begin to respond to the situation, my trousers becoming a tad uncomfortable.
“Stand up please, Leah. Let’s start with a standing shot.”
Leah looked steadily at him for a few seconds, clearly considering her actions and what she was committing herself to. Then, decision made, she rose to her feet and stood there, hands on hips in front of the couch facing Owen and his battery of lights.
“Rule number one, Leah, you have to smile. Unless the photographer asks for a different expression, he expects his model to smile, or at least pout.”
 

 
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