‘Erm, well, yes, it’s possible. Hardly any of the girls use their real names anyway and as for covering your face up, yes, some women do that. Though I should say not in the mags like Bling. They only use professional models. You’d be better off sending in your pictures to someone like Froth, who deal with the er... (how shall I put this?) amateur enthusiasts. With Froth you can just send in polaroids or normal 35mm snaps that you take at home and get those printed. You would have to send in ID and a model release too but this would be for publication or anything, just for our records. That would probably be your best bet,’ I told her. I’d have to make sure I got hold of a copy of that issue of Froth, that was for sure.
WPC Kensington gave this some thought and said she liked the sound of it.
‘How do I go about getting my pictures taken?’ she then asked.
‘Well, you just, I don’t know… do you have a husband or a boyfriend or someone who could take them for you?’
‘Yes, but I really don’t want anyone knowing about this. I’m just doing this for myself, no one else,’ she explained.
‘Well, you could set the camera up on a self-timer.’
‘That’s a possibility I suppose. Or you could take them for me,’ she then suggested, and I had to go over and collect my socks again. ‘I know it’s a bit of a cheek, me asking you this, but as far as I’m concerned the fewer people who know about this the better, and you are a professional. Could you do this for me?’ she pouted. ‘I’ve got money, I can pay you for your time.’
How does that expression go? Fuck me!
I couldn’t believe my ears, here was WPC Kensington, who only last week had me in cuffs, offering to give me money to take pictures of her rhubarb. Naturally, this didn’t need even a second’s hesitation, though I tried not to act too keen in case I gave her the creeps.
‘Of course I’ll take them for you, and look, don’t worry about the money. It would be my pleasure,’ I told her, and she could be sure about that.
WPC Kensington broke out into a big nervous smile and thanked me.
‘Do you want to do them here, tonight?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but I’ll just have to nip out across the road and get some film for my camera. I won’t be five minutes, it’s literally just across the road. You will wait, won’t you?’
She merely nodded by way of reply and gave me a little smile.
I pretended to check my pockets for my keys while adjusting the lie of my jeans, then jumped up out of the sofa and headed for the door.
‘Just five minutes, that’s all I’m going to be. Don’t go anywhere,’ I almost pleaded with her.
I threw myself down the stairs and out of the front door as if the hounds of hell were after my ass. The late night shop, which was usually a leisurely ten minute stroll away, suddenly seemed like the other side of Middle Earth. I sprinted as fast as my legs could carry me, terrified that WPC Kensington would get cold tits and do a runner while I was away. I kept pleading to who ever was listening, ‘Please, please, please, let this happen,’ almost sobbing at the prospect of returning home to find her gone. I didn’t think I could take the disappointment if that were to happen.
But then, what was I getting so worked up about? I was, after all, only going to take pictures. She hadn’t promised to shag me or anything. In fact, the possibility of sex seemed distinctly unlikely, seeing as she had a ‘husband or boyfriend or someone’ and had approached me because I was ‘a professional’.
Oh bollocks.
Should I try it on? Should I try it on like Howard always did and suggest some pictures of her sucking someone off (and leave it up to her to work out who I was talking about)? Oh yes, very smart move. She’d see right through me and have her clothes back on and me in cuffs for the second time this week before I could say ‘Jack Toff. Of all the people to try it on with, a policewoman was perhaps not the smartest.
In fact, what if this thing was a ruse, a honey trap to get me to incriminate myself even further and I was walking right into it?
That thought stopped me in my tracks.
Of course that was what this was. How was I being so blind? My little head was doing all the talking and my big head the listening but it would be both of us, together with our attractive virgin backside, that would end up in the slammer.
No wait, that couldn’t be it. That would be entrapment. She’d asked me to take the pictures, there was nothing illegal about that. As long as that was all I did, take a few pictures of her, there was nothing they could get me on. It would be a completely wasted operation. In fact, it might even be a good way of getting the other charges against me dropped – by showing persecution. Okay, so that’s all I’d do, just take a few pictures.
I wondered how far WPC Kensington was prepared to go with the ruse.
Would she actually do as she’d said and take her clothes off for the camera, or would she bottle out at the last moment when she realised I wasn’t taking the bait?
I returned with two rolls of film after fifteen minutes and found her still sitting on the sofa.
‘I hope you don’t mind but I helped myself to a scotch just to calm my nerves,’ she said, and I told her that was quite all right. She could have as much as she needed.
I loaded up my camera, a simple 35mm Canon and asked her if she was ready.
‘Shall we move you over onto the bed then?’ I suggested, and she downed the last of her glass.
‘Okay, let’s do it.’
I put on some music to relax us both and positioned her on the bed. She had a knee length skirt on and dark stockings and when I told her to open her legs, I saw that she had on matching pants and suspenders. I snapped away as she lay there spread-eagled in-front of me and my woody soon lost all reservations and returned with interest.
‘Undo a few of your buttons on your blouse,’ I told her and she complied. If this was a sting, I had to admire her dedication. Time to get her to do something dirty.
‘Okay, rub the front of your panties with one hand and pull down your bra with the other,’ I half-said half-choked. Again she complied without hesitation and when her nipples popped into view I felt a head rush I’d not felt since watching Zoe strip all that time ago.
‘That’s good, that’s really good. Now lose the blouse completely. Take it off and sling it to one side.’ SNAP SNAP SNAP. ‘Now the bra, lose the bra.’ SNAP SNAP. ‘Okay, cup your tits and lick one of your nipples.’ SNAP SNAP BLIMEY.
At least I knew she wasn’t wearing a wire. There was now no hiding the bulge in my trousers and I even pointed it out to WPC Kensington to diffuse any potential awkwardness.
‘It doesn’t matter how many of these I do, I just can’t help getting a hard-on.’
‘That’s good,’ she smiled, eyeing my packet. ‘I’d be upset if you didn’t get one.’
‘Take your skirt off,’ I told her. SNAP.
WPC Kensington lay just in-front of me in her undies and high heels, rubbing herself all over, panting hard and looking me straight in the eye.
Okay, I thought to myself. Let’s see if you’re really ready to go through with this.
‘Lose the pants.’
She didn’t even flinch. She lifted her bum and slipped them off, then opened her legs, showing me everything.
SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAPPIDY SNAP...
‘Damn it, hold on, I’ve got to change the film already,’ I told her. I knew I should’ve got 36 exposures. Unlike most models I knew, WPC Kensington didn’t attempt to cover herself up while my shaky hands attempted this fiddly operation. She just lay there, stroking herself all over and staring at the ceiling.