Through the Dom's LensBy: Doris O Connor
Sally handed Maddy another tissue and winced in sympathy. Allergies were a pain in the ass, but she didn't think she had ever seen such an extreme reaction before. Maddy's beautiful almond-shaped eyes were swollen so badly she could hardly see out of them. Red blotches marked her usually flawless skin, and Sally had lost count of how many times her much prettier sister had run to the bathroom since Sally had arrived with Maddy's emergency antihistamine subscription.
It was pretty obvious, however, that Maddy would have to miss this photo shoot, which was a shame, because Maddy had talked of little else for weeks.
Junsako Frederikson, or Master J, as he was known, was the bondage photographer, it seemed. Well, Sally knew that. She'd been secretively following his work for the last year now, ever since she'd discovered the world of BDSM Erotica, and had taken it upon herself to do some research into the subject.
Not even to her sister would she admit that, though, or how the hot poker of jealousy had stabbed at her insides when Maddy had landed this job. To be tied up and photographed by the expert in Shibari work—her panties flooded at the mere thought—it would be all her secret fantasies wrapped up in a neat little bow.
Sally smiled at the thought, until Maddy's wheezy statement registered.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
"I said," Maddy coughed again, and Sally passed her the glass of water her sister could only sip through a straw. Maddy rolled her eyes and tried again. "You will just have to go instead of me. It's too short notice to get anyone else, and you just don't stand up Master J."
"Aren't you forgetting one important thing, here?" Sally slapped her sister on the back as Maddy choked on the last mouthful of water, and Sally squeezed her thighs together. This was ridiculous. The mere thought of meeting Master J and her clit throbbed like crazy and arousal hummed through her veins. Thank goodness Maddy was too doped up on her allergy meds to notice.
"What I would I be forgetting in this?" Maddy asked. "People always comment on how alike we are, so he'll never suspect you aren't me. Please, Sally, I wouldn't ask, but I need this job. If I turn him down, I may never work in this field again."
"Dramatic much, Maddy?" Sally rolled her eyes. "Folks have been able to tell us apart perfectly well since high school. For starters I weigh at least twenty pounds more than you do nowadays, and—"
Maddy cut Sally's impassioned little speech off with a wave of her hand.
"Poppycock. Nothing a trip to my stylist won't cure, and besides I was supposed to gain weight for this job. He's looking for a model with much more curves than I normally have. That's how I got into this mess in the first place. I've been eating non-stop to gain some weight, and clearly that didn't agree with me." Her wheezing got heavier, and for the umpteenth time Sally wondered whether she shouldn't take her sister to the hospital.
"Yes, well, about that, are you sure those meds are enough? You don't need a shot or something?"
Maddy shook her head.
"No, I'll be fine now that you've got me my meds. If you really want to help me, then do this for me. He might not even pick you. This is an audition, and he is so fussy with his models, you would not believe, but I need to make an appearance."
The unobtrusive plaque on the wall simply read Frederikson Photography. Set in a side street off London's West End no-one would have guessed this simple solid oak front door would lead to Master J's home. Maddy had explained that he lived at the studio when in London, and the butterflies that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in Sally's tummy since her incorrigible sister had talked her into this insanity took off like a flock of birds.
Sally pressed the intercom button and waited.
"Can I help you?" The melodic voice sounded oriental, and Sally hastily cleared her throat.
"Maddison Wood here. I have an appointment at 11:00 AM." The lie stuck in her throat, but it had the desired effect. The heavy door buzzed open, and Sally faced a narrow staircase. Decorated in neutral colors, the hallway held prints of Master J's work, and Sally wiped her clammy hands on the sides of her clingy silk dress. The aquamarine fabric clung to every one of her generous curves, and Sally had had to admit that she looked good in it. Maddy's stylist, an overly camp individual called Bernard, had rolled his eyes and waved his perfectly manicured hands.