It was a hot day in June. Sweltering actually. I'd finished my last lecture of the day at three in the afternoon and felt in need of a shower. I walked back to my digs along roads that seemed to buckle and move in the heat. It was probably my imagination. Or heatstroke!
As I turned the corner I spotted one of my co-tenants who had a flat on the floor below mine. She was a mature student, I estimated her age as about thirty. She was a Black African, tall, slender, and very good-looking. We hadn't chatted, just the odd "Good Morning" to each other.
She was standing next to her old battered Fiat car, and it was obvious she was trying to change a wheel. As I approached she looked at me in exasperation.
“Do you know how to change a wheel?" she said, in a somewhat terse way.
She'd raised the car on a jack and was now trying to loosen the bolts. I pointed out it was easier if the tyres were on the ground. I picked up the handle for the jack and let it down. She didn't look impressed that I had just undone the only achievement she'd managed thus far.
I picked up her wrench and with a fair amount of effort, I managed to loosen the bolts. I raised the car, removed the wheel, and replaced it with her spare. Whilst all of this sounds very easy, the whole exercise was completed with several expletives, forty minutes of sweat, and more dirty looks from my companion than might have been expected.
Once the car was back in working order, and the tools neatly stored in the boot, her mood seemed to soften and she realised I was now very dirty, very hot, and very sweaty. As if trying to demonstrate this thawing in our relationship she was profuse in her thanks and offered me a cool drink in her apartment.
We made her way to her flat, and she poured a long glass of homemade lemonade, and not the beer I was hoping for. The lemonade turned out to be delicious and a second one was poured as the first barely touched the sides of my throat.
She noticed the oil stain on my jeans. Then she noticed the general grubby state I was in. She looked horrified and offered me a shower, and said she would wash my clothes. I suspected she was more concerned with the risk of me soiling her sofa.
In response, I said that I wouldn't remove my clothes for anyone whose name I didn't know. We both laughed as she realised we hadn't introduced ourselves. Her name turned out to be Jessica Mustafi, originally from Ethiopia.
I agreed to the shower and as she had a washing machine, I was happy to accept her offer to wash my clothes. I returned with a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt from upstairs.
Her shower was ensuite, and I quickly stripped in her bedroom, leaving the soiled clothes on the floor. Taking the towel she provided, I went to the bathroom and enjoyed a hot, refreshing shower, enjoying using her delightfully fragrant shower gel.
I emerged from the shower and dried myself. I opened the bathroom door to find her in the bedroom.
"Sorry," she said, "just getting your clothes."
She scurried from the room and I quickly dressed in my white tee and shorts.
I emerged into her sitting room to find a glass of white wine waiting for me. I sat down and we started chatting. She thanked me again for my help. She told me she was doing post-graduate research into genetics.
She was a handsome woman - about five foot six, with an elegant figure and skin a smooth dark chocolate. Her hair was jet black and longer than her shirt, but perfectly matched her wonderful face. She wore a loose blue top, with short sleeves and a low-cut V-neck, which accentuated the swell of her nicely rounded breasts.
As we chatted, we began to laugh more and more. When I started a little low-level flirting, she admitted she had a long-term boyfriend who was working in Edinburgh. She went on, "I have a little problem you might be able to help me with.” My attention was grabbed!
She explained that her boyfriend was missing her, and had requested some "reminders" of her. I was somewhat confused.
"He has asked me to send him some pictures to remind him what he is missing," she said. "I'm sure you can imagine what sort of pictures, and what he'll use them for," she continued.
"How can I help?"
In response, she got to her feet, exposing her lovely legs as she crossed the room. She fetched a box and gave it to me. I opened the box and took out an Instamatic camera.
"He gave me this so I could take some erotic pictures. You can help me take them! I guess you will have a good idea of what will turn him on, too."
I smiled at the idea of becoming a porn photographer. The film was expensive and we had twelve to take as a test. We discussed poses, starting with a few of her clothed exposing more and more of her body. The last one was going to be very hot, very explicit!
She decided on a change of clothes. I'd suggested some lacy underwear, some makeup, and her most sexy clothes. I offered to help her pick out some pieces from her wardrobe. She declined the offer but returned looking quite stunning.
We started in her sitting room, and she posed on her leather recliner. She looked fine, but the pose was missing something. I adjusted her position to reveal the curves of her calves and thighs. With some hesitation, I started to unbutton her blouse. Amazingly, she didn't object and smiled at me. I left the bottom one and opened her blouse exposing the lacy white bra and her heavenly breasts. I stood back and assessed the pose. She looked so sexy and arousing. And this was just the first shot!
I positioned myself below her level, so I got a great view of her legs in the foreground and her breasts and face at the back. I took the picture. We both seemed nervous as we waited for the interminable time for the picture to develop. I peeled off the cover and we stared at the image. Well, it wasn't going to win any art prizes, but it wasn't bad. She smiled and seemed happy with my work.
The next few followed in similar vein, with an ever-decreasing amount of clothes. We changed positions and locations. For the final one of the first set, she had stripped (with encouragement from me) to just her white bra and panties. She had an antique oak dining table which I emptied of various items. I got her to lie flat on her back on the table. I positioned myself over her and took aim.