Great googly moogly, it's all gone to shit!

Gah. How to start. The most logical place is at the beginning I suppose, but it's much more fun to drop you straight into the action.

I'm in a bra and panties, draped on the shining black bench of a baby grand piano. The black bra with red lace that I love so much accentuates my curves perfectly (I mean, it is a push-up bra, if it didn't help with aesthetics, I'd return the damn thing). My thighs are slightly apart, back arched, head tipped back, my hair cascading down my back... and 1 angry guy at the door. 

"This is a family-friendly environment!" 

Right... at 2pm on a Friday, while the cheeldrens are still in school, with the main window covered and a secondary window that's hidden from major lookage not covered but not exactly super visible,  barely anyone there, no kids in sight, sure it is. Whoops, I guess.

I'm at the VSO's school of music. To be honest with you, I'm still feeling a little guilty over this, complete with mild adrenaline rush, even weeks later, but hey, there are worse things to happen than to be kicked out of a classroom I essentially borrowed for a couple hours for free for a gorgeous photoshoot.  That's what Delilah, my photographer, assures me anyway. I told them it'd be a photoshoot, they didn't inquire further, and frankly, I'm more understanding about the fact they don't want me on top of the piano over anything else. I used to play a bit, I know how much they are to maintain, and I mean, wiping sexy sexy buttprints off it has gotta be the worst thing to ever transpire to this teaching piano. Because children's hands are 100000% cleaner than my freshly-showered ass. Right. While Mr. "Please Think of the Children" is still going on, I'm just glad I don't have my glasses on. Embarrassment is much easier to deal with when the world is fuzzed out, at least in my experience. Try it sometime. When something horribly embarrassing happens, cross your eyes a bit and see how not being able to quite see the thing causing the embarrassment helps. Or take off your glasses. I don't know your eyesight.

He's still talking.  Something something he says, with all the righteous indignance of my cat's haughty glare when I walk in on her using the toilet. Honestly, she does. My mother still takes quite a bit of pride in that. It's quite the experience, walking in, getting glared down by a cat on your toilet, and your natural reaction being "Oh, sorry!" then turning around and walking away. Then of course, comes the realization about 2 seconds later when you think "Hey, she's had the chance to go to the bathroom all night and when she was up before me... and she waited until I was about to... Isis!"

Back to reality. Mr. PTC has left, and oh so graciously given Delilah and I time to put the room back to rights and clear out. I throw on the InuYasha sweatpants I had worn to the shoot back on, along with whatever else would cover my child-scaring shame. We debrief a bit while putting away the instruments, the chairs, and everything we'd moved to make the space work for us. I wonder out loud if there's a back way to leave so I don't encounter Mr. PTC, but neither of us know the building, and the longer one dawdles, the more likely a run-in. We finish cleaning up, I finish stuffing my heels and lacy things in my bag, and we make good our escape. She leaves, going to her studio, and I hustle down the street, finding something else to do so I can burn up the rest of the adrenaline.

And so ends the great photography escapade. My pics are still being edited, and I still need to go to her studio sometime and finish up the rest of the session since I was way too rattled to be able to finish it that day. Til next time lovelies!

Ayla