Maddie was wearing a short-sleeved ribbed top in olive green; she began to pull it over her head. Damian took the first photograph while her face was concealed by the material, her raised arms tangled, so that the expanse of her midriff and her burgundy satin Wonderbra were the stars of the shot.
'What a weird choice of pose,' she said crossly, her hair sticking out where the acrylic polo-neck had crackled it into static life. Damian photographed her pouting face.
'Skirt next,' he said. 'I want to know if your knickers match your bra.'
Maddie unzipped the dull beige work skirt and began to crumple it down over her hips. Once it reached her bent knees, Damian took a picture of her, leaning down to push it to her feet, first from the side, then from the back, enjoying the view of her satin-clad bottom.
'Might need a wide angle for that!' he teased. 'Very nice. Ooh, suspenders too! Ooh, matron!'
'I asked her to wear those,' said Phil matter-of-factly. 'She knows I like 'em.'
Maddie straightened, attempting to retain a little pride while she was clad only in her underwear. 'Look, I'm happy to pose for you, but can you stop being so . . . laddish? This isn't a shoot for bloody Nuts magazine – it's a favour.'
'No, it's not a favour, it's a payment,' Damian pointed out. 'But I'm sorry. I'll try to stick with the tasteful theme from now on.'
'How about if I take over?' suggested Phil. 'I apologise on Damo's behalf – he's young and doesn't always understand the . . . social niceties. I'm trying to knock him into shape, believe me.'
Damian made a playful swipe at his mentor, but handed him the phone nonetheless. Phil, businesslike from the start, strode over to Maddie and took a few quick shots of her standing upright with her arms folded beneath her breasts and her face betraying remnants of the storm.
'Now then, Maddie, let's have your arms . . . out . . . one hand on a hip. I want to see that sexy underwear. Strike a pose.'
Maddie relaxed, breaking into a smile. 'Come on, Vogue,' she sang, shifting into role. She pirouetted and leant over, arched her arms and parted her legs for all she was worth, until Phil asked her to remove her bra. She reached around to the back, fumbling for the clips, then Phil held up a hand.
'Stop,' he said. 'Damian, could you give her a hand?'
Damian moved up behind Maddie and unfastened the garment, throwing it over on to the bed.
'Great, now stay there, Damian, and put one hand on her shoulder and one on her stomach . . . ah yes. That's sexy!'
Maddie gasped at the feel of his unfamiliar hand on her bare flesh, as well as the consciousness of being exposed to him. What did he think of her breasts? Would he like to touch them? The top of her head fitted in snugly beneath his chin and his body felt stable and supportive behind her, something she could fall into.
'Maddie,' said Phil, his voice a little lower, a little gentler. 'What would you say to Damian touching your breasts? Say no if you like, but it would look so . . .'
'It's OK,' said Maddie quietly. 'He can touch them.'
Damian's large hands moved to cover them, weighing them up from beneath first, then encompassing the full mounds, treating them tenderly and with respect. Phil photographed the pair, Maddie with half-closed eyes, her head rolling back into Damian's neck while he moved his head down to bring his chin to her shoulder, clearly tempted to taste her skin. 'I want to kiss you,' he said hoarsely. 'Would you mind?'
Her reply to this was to turn her head, catching his lips and welcoming him into a long and sensual kiss.
'Oh God, that's beautiful,' whispered Phil, capturing the moment, the lips fixed together, the hands flicking at Maddie's stiffening nipples, her legs weakening so that Damian hooked one of his in front to keep her upright. The eroticism of it made Phil wonder how long he could continue as mere onlooker. Perhaps he should speed the action up somewhat. 'What if he puts one hand in your knickers, Maddie?'
'Mmm hmmm,' she consented, pushing her bum back against Damian's hard crotch. One large hand travelled slowly down her stomach and into the waistband of the burgundy satin French knickers. Maddie had to part her thighs a little, wobbling on unsteady legs, to provide unhindered access for the wandering fingers. Damian groaned as they slid between her lips, finding them wet and ready for some serious attention. His wide palm rested against her mons while the fingers rubbed and probed. Phil's photographs depicted the large bumps of his knuckles straining against the satin while Maddie rotated her hips, her mouth still caught against his, her sighs absorbed by his tongue in her throat.
'OK,' said Phil unsteadily. 'Turn her around to face you and take down her knickers now.'
Maddie let out a meek 'oh!' at the withdrawal of Damian's fingers from her secret spots, or was it the return of his tongue to his own mouth? Nonetheless she allowed herself to be moved around, her stomach up against the hot bulge of his cock, while her recent model peeled the knickers and stockings down slowly, revealing her smooth tan bottom to Phil inch by inch as he snapped hungrily. The silky material dropped to the floor, looking eerily like a pool of blood in colour and dispersal. Damian, it seemed, no longer needed to take direction, and he lowered an unprompted hand to knead her buttocks, re-establishing their kiss while the other hand resumed its work between her legs.
'Fuck, I can't do this any more,' said Phil, tossing the mobile phone on to a bed. 'Make room for me.' He nudged up against Maddie's back and began to nip the back of her neck, one hand joining Damian's in the steamy damp while the other reached around to claim a breast. The addition of the extra hand prompted Maddie to lift a leg and wrap it around Damian's thigh, inviting the different sets of fingers to keep up their double pressure. There was a pinch of a nipple, a bite of a lip, a forefinger sliding easily into her willing opening, and Maddie no longer knew whose; Damian and Phil were no longer divided in her mind but were a conjoined many-tentacled being, drawing her down into inner space. The light from the surface was fading; the place where she was Maddie Crooke from the Capital City office was far above her, indistinct and fragmenting. She had fingers everywhere, inside her and outside, on her nipples and in her hair, and now there was one gliding along the crack of her bum cheeks, which were being prised apart, extending the accessibility of her sex as well as revealing the little private part of her that only Phil had ever known.
A voice rasped at her ear. 'Remember last year, Maddie? Remember what went up here?' A thumb pushed gently at the ring, not forcefully enough to penetrate, just enough to make Maddie squirm. She could hardly believe in retrospect that she had let Phil do that. That it had gone in. That it had not been . . . unpleasant, although she had decided after the event that it would probably never be repeated. But now, with Phil's thumb planted at her back door and Damian's fingers plugging her pussy, she began to recall its illicit appeal, the tricks he had used to dissolve her resistance, and she began to push back, moaning uncontrollably.
'Oh, Maddie, you're on fire tonight,' crooned Phil. 'So hot. Isn't she, Damo?'
Damian, freeing Maddie's lips, put his own to her other ear. 'Hot as,' he said reverently. 'So fucking wet.'
'How hard is he, Mads?' asked Phil, resting his upright cock between the bottom cheeks he was still holding open. 'As hard as this?'
Maddie grasped Damian's shaft and gasped, 'Yes, hard.'