I first noticed Y_ in an antique store on Dixie Avenue one warm Florida evening. She swooped past me in this very crowded place— her breasts brushing against my shoulder, which immediately got my attention. As she went by me, it was as if I did not exist, but I really did, because I got the distinct impression, her breasts touching my shoulder was not completely accidental. She was about 6 feet tall, quite shapely and had red hair. I thought of taking her picture but there was nothing there except her size and her demeanor which was at that moment, totally self absorbed. My indecision ended abruptly when my friend Donna walked up to her and said hi. They spoke for about a few seconds and then Donna called me over to introduce her to me.
“Hello”, she said in a very thick Zsa Zsa accent.
Donna told her that I was a photographer and she replied,
” That’s interesting, darlink, I am also a very world renowned artist.”
Yuch! I thought, as I raised my camera and took her picture.
“On no, you can’t do that!” she shrieked, “I am a very well known artist and you just can’t take my picture like that.”
Right! I raised my camera and fired off a few more.
” I have an international reputation and it is very important to me how my images are used.” she said
Donna’s husband, Stuart, who was a lawyer interjected. ” Not really. As a world renowned artist, you are in the public domain and anybody has the right to take your picture as long as they do not use it in a commercial way.” She ignored this and persisted. “This could have legal implications darlink.” By now I had decided that I did not like her and her feelings and legal threats were of no concern to me. so I took a few more pictures of her.
“Darlink, why don’t you just erase the pictures on you camera. Its very easy. All you have to do is press one of these buttons.” She approached me very aggressively and with her right hand reached over to my camera and fumbled around with some of the buttons. I pulled back. She approached me again. This time she started rubbing her tits on my shoulder. “I have a digital camera also, darlink. Its one of these buttons I think.” as she started reaching out for my camera.
“Back off!” I said firmly
“You have to understand, darink, I am a world famous artist with a reputation and I have to have total control over how pictures of me are used. These things can get very embarrassing if they are used incorrectly.”
What a crock of shit, I thought.
“At least let me see them.” she said as she approached me again, and again rubbing her tits against my shoulder. Her tits were beginning to have an effect on me. I said OK and we looked at the pictures on my LCD.
” You don’t really want to use these.” She said. “Why don’t you erase them.” This time she was really pressing her chest into me. She was using all of her worldly artistic charms, and I began to relent.
” I will make a deal with you.” I said. “These pictures are not really good. If you let me take a few that I like, I will erase these.” She agreed.
” But my husband has to be in it also.” she added. Fine!
She grabbed her husband who had been talking with someone else and said, “Darlink, this photographer vants to take a few pictures of us.” He stared into the camera like a deer, frozen in the headlights. I took 5 quick pictures.
“Let me see them,” she said, leaning over my shoulder and again pressing her breasts into me. “OK,” I said, “but don’t touch my camera. I began to flip through the pictures on the LCD as she commenced with a critique.
“This one is OK, erase that one, that’s so so, erase, this one, maybe this one, I’m not sure”
“I like em all.” I said
“You only need one of them” she replied.
“I like em all.” I repeated
“What about the ones you said you would erase from before? You promised me!” I did promise her so I erased them.
“Let me check” she said as she again pressed her chest into my back. I showed her I had done so.
She was not done yet. ” Now about the ones with my husband, you don’t really need all of them do you? You only need one.”
“As I said, I like em all.” I repeated as I walked away. She did not follow me.