I have no idea why she popped into my mind again, but she did and it wasn’t the first
time. The first time I saw Lily was nearly twenty years ago. I remember it as if it were
only yesterday. She was only eighteen at the time and married. It was at a Halloween party
at a friend’s house. She was with some guy, her husband I assumed, and she was dressed
like a fairy princess.
Lily was one of those young women you don’t forget…you don’t want to forget. Tall,
maybe five feet eight or nine inches tall, lean and built for speed. Nice rack, too. But
it was her face that arrested my attention. Angelic is an overused description, but in her
case it fit perfectly. A beautiful face framed by short blonde hair with startling deep
blue eyes and beautiful soft lips that smiled a lot. Lily became my dream girl. My fantasy
girl.
My name is Taggart Wilson, and back in elementary school my name was shortened to
Tag and it stayed with me through the years.
I had just opened my photography studio on Gillis Street at the time. I got out of
the Navy and was full of piss and vinegar, ready to set the world on fire with my talent
as a world class photographer. Okay, that world-class thing was mostly in my mind, but I
was good. I was also lucky.
The luck part came when I entered a photo contest and while I didn’t win top prize,
I placed in the top five. That got my name out there and I landed some nice assignments. I
was lucky to shoot some top models over the years and I made a lot of money.
I stayed a bachelor by some artful dodging and more good luck. It wasn’t that I
wanted to be single. I was just too picky. Of course I realize that now, but at the time
I was being selective. I was looking for the perfect woman and of course there is no such
thing…or so I thought.
My town is small, but it’s a suburb of a larger city. I chose to live in
Greenville, but spent a lot of time in the city. I like the idea of living in a small
town. Since the interstate highway opened it’s only half an hour’s drive to the
attractions of a big city. Not that there was all that much to attract me. The theater,
some nice restaurants, and a wider selection of commercial female company. Hookers, in
case I was too subtle. I am not now nor have I ever been a fan of the club scene. Much
too loud and too crowded for me.
I had just finished a layout for a major men’s magazine. It had been an exhausting
location shoot in Mexico. Exhausting because I had to work with three beautiful
professional models. Beautiful, but dumber than a bag of rocks. All three tried to outdo
the others in silly demands. What should have taken three days, took six days. What
should have been a pleasant trip to a tropical paradise was a journey to hell.
It was on the flight home that I decided to retire and just get out of the rat race.
I fondly recalled the days before I had to work with prima donnas and models that thought
their shit didn’t stink. Back when I worked with mostly amateur models who were excited
just to have a professional take their pictures. Ladies who did whatever I asked without
complaining.
Over the years I made a lot of money and I was able to save a good portion of it.
Some good investment advice helped a lot. If necessary I could live nicely from the
interest I had coming in. I lived a simple life for the most part. I drive a five year old
domestic SUV and I don’t chase after fashion. I lived in a large two story house that I
bought with the proceeds from my first big assignments. Over the years I refurbished the
house from roof to basement. Several years ago I moved my studio from Gillis Street to the
house.
By remodeling what had been, in earlier times a dining room and a living room, I
made myself a nice studio. Since a lot of my work was location shooting, I didn’t need a
huge studio so it was perfect for me. My living space was upstairs. I had a nice place to
watch TV and sleep and that was all I needed.
Having made the decision to scale back my work I felt a sense of relief. I wanted to
get back to the basics of photographic. I sat down and revised my fees by slashing them. I
had charged as much as five thousand dollars for a studio session and as much as fifty
thousand dollars for a location shoot. When I say slashed, I really mean I mutilated my
fees.
The first thing I did was get rid of all my film equipment. All the large format,
medium format, and most of the 35mm cameras. I purchased another top of the line digital
camera to go with the one I had and upgraded my computer and software. That meant I could
sell all the darkroom equipment also.
The darkroom was in what had been the original kitchen. I removed all the blackout
curtains and replaced the glass I had painted black with clear glass. I hired a
professional company to come and replace the floor covering and get rid of the chemical
stench.
When I was all ready to go, I placed ads in the local paper and listed my new fees.
My rates were very much in line with the local studios and chain stores. The fact I had a
recognizable name helped bring in the customers. In fact I had to hire a young woman to
take care of scheduling and act as a receptionist.
My former patrons, editors, publishers and agents, were highly pissed-off that I was
no longer doing location shoots or high dollar studio work.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Emmitt Rawlings bellowed at me over the phone.
Emmitt was the editor of a very large fashion magazine. “You are at the top of your game,
Tag! Why would you even consider going back to shooting bucktooth, pimple faced kids? Get
real!”
I didn’t try to explain my reasons to Emmitt or any of the others who fussed at me.
For the first time in a long time I enjoyed what I was doing. I leaped out of bed every
morning ready to make some magic with my camera. I felt so good I even joined a gym and
was working hard to get my soft body back into shape. I jogged almost every day and it was
working. I lost fifteen pounds of fat and I felt good about it. I still had a way to go,
but I was getting there.
The girl I used as a receptionist had gone for the day and I went to investigate the
bell that tinkled when the door was opened. There she was, standing in my reception room.
My fantasy girl. The girl I had seen all those years ago at a Halloween party dressed as a
fairy princess. I had completely lost contact with her. Someone told me she and her
husband moved to the city. But there she was standing in my reception room. Twenty years
rolled away like a mist.
Twenty years that had not changed her one tiny bit. She was still the most beautiful
woman I ever saw. Twenty years in which she had not aged a minute. She still looked like
that eighteen year old girl I saw at a party. I closed my mouth with an effort. I wondered
if it was possible that this lovely creature could be the daughter of my fantasy.
“Hi, I’m Tag Wilson,” I managed to say without sounding like a complete moron. “What
can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment,” she said. “I took a chance you might be
opened. Do you take walk-ins?” I didn’t, but I’m adaptable. A closer examination proved
that this was the original fantasy girl and not her daughter after all. The years had been
exceedingly kind to her.
“No, but I can always make exceptions,” I said.
“I’m Lily Irwin,” she said holding out her hand which I made an effort not to
snatch. It dawned on me I had never known her last name. “Frankly, I’m here on an impulse.
I just moved back to Greenville a few months ago and I have no current pictures of me. My
best friend, Darla, said you were the best photographer in…” she laughed. Her laugh was
like the tinkling bell over my door. “She said you were the best photographer in the
world.”
“I’d be a fool to argue with that,” I said.
“I’ll admit I’ve seen some of your work, Mister Wilson,” she said smiling at me
prettily. “I’m not interested in doing nudes and that seems to be what you are famous for.
Isn’t that right?”
“I have done some nudes from time to time,” I said and informed her I answered to
Tag. “What exactly are you interested in?”
“I really don’t know,” she said with her tinkling laugh. “Darla insisted I come and
get some professional pictures. She bet me a hundred dollars I wouldn’t and I really
wanted to take her money. What do you charge?”
“A hundred dollars,” I said with a smile. “That way it won’t cost you a dime.”
“Well, maybe it will,” she said, her smile fading. “The bet is that I pose wearing
lingerie and swimwear. I’m not sure I want to do that.” I took another closer look at her
figure. My initial appraisal was correct. She still had the body of a teenager.
“Why don’t you ease into that style of modeling,” I suggested. “We can do some shots
of you wearing a parka and mukluks to start off with.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said, her smile back again. “When
would you have time to do me?”
“It’s best done quickly,” I said, Ignoring the impulse to blurt I’d do her anytime
or any place. “Did you bring some changes?”
“No…ah, yes, some,” she said looking flustered. “No lingerie or swimwear. Some
shorts and a halter top and a couple of dresses.”
“Good. Go get them and let us proceed with the proceedings,” I said.
Fifteen minutes later she was back in the studio. I was surprised that my hands were
actually shaking. I was surprised, because I have taken photos of thousands of women.
Maybe even ten thousand. The beautiful Lily, my fantasy girl, was sitting on the modeling
stool in my studio.
| 
