Page 2 of Shutter and Sin
It is easy for me to assume he didn’t hear a word of what I just said, because he keeps scrolling. Suddenly, he pauses. His eyebrows raise slightly and that smirk returns to his face.
“So apart from being a photographer, you’re also into making adult content.”
It isn’t a question. He knows.
My face burns. Oh God.
“No! No! No! You can’t go through those. Focus on the fucking senator!”
He tilts the camera toward me slightly, showing me the picture he’s looking at. It is one of me in a red lingerie set that I’d taken for my OnlyFans. Fucking hell!
“Nice shots,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving. The light from the screen teases his features. “I love how well you captured all the angles. The lighting on your skin is perfect here.”
I am about losing it.
“Didn’t you hear a thing I just said? Stop looking at those!”
“How much do you charge for these?”
Is he deaf or something?!
“None of your damn business!” I yell exasperatedly. I wish I can move my hands.
“I’m asking as a potential customer,” he says, his tone deceptively conversational. “This one with the black lace. How much for the full-resolution file?”
I don’t say a word, tugging at the ropes.
He looks up at me. “I’m serious. Name your price. I’ll pay double whatever your subscription costs.”
“I won’t sell shit to you, you pervert!” I snap, feeling my heart begin to thump hard and my hands grow damp.
“Pervert?” he actually sounds hurt. “I’m trying to support your business. You may not know but I love to support small businesses.”
The way he says it, anyone who hears will think he is referring to a clothing store business. He starts cackling to himself like it’s some internal joke only he gets.
“You’re disgusting,” I spit out.
“I’m being helpful. Though I have some feedback. This angle here, with your legs crossed like that. You should have arched your back more. Would have shown off your ass better.”
This fucking bastard.
He keeps scrolling. “This one on your side is great. But honestly? You should’ve pulled the bra down a little to show some nipple. Your subscribers would definitely pay extra for that.” “I don’t do nudity!”
“Shame.” He stops on another photo, studying it closely. “You’ve got the body for it. This one right here, the white set. If you’d taken off the panties, I’d pay you seven hundred thousand rubles just for this shot.”
“Seven hundred thousand?” The number slips out before I can stop myself.
And he knows it, because he grins, certain he’s got my attention now. “See? I knew you’d be interested in selling. How about this. I’ll buy your entire collection. Everything on this card. Name your price.”
“They’re not for sale to you!”
“Everything’s for sale, Zoya. You just haven’t heard the right number yet. What about custom content? I could commission you. Specific poses, specific outfits. I’d pay very well.”
“What would you even do with them?” My voice is down a notch.
His tone drops an octave, turning low and hungry. “Jerk off to them, obviously.”
My face burns hotter. I feel the pink patches spread through every surface.
