"Mother-daughter models" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Lydia)

CHAPTER TWO

Scott Nelson cursed as he made a second attempt to park his car with the U-Haul trailer hooked behind. You'd think that after four months of hauling this damned trailer around the country, he thought to himself, that I'd be able to park it better than this.

When he found that the U-Haul people had the police in three states looking for the trailer, Scott had painted it a dull gray and carefully disguised the license with a thick coat of grease and mud.

Scott had no intention of stealing the trailer. He would return it and pay what he owed on it just as soon as he got settled somewhere. Inside the trailer were the keys to Scott's new career as a commercial photographer.

Photography had once been his hobby and he had invested thousands of dollars in equipment. His pride and joy was the huge special tank for developing color film. Scott had paid almost thirty thousand for that one piece of equipment and had been shocked to learn that on the used market he would be lucky to get six thousand for it.

But Scott Nelson wasn't about to sell his equipment. He'd spent fifteen years working in an accounting office and saving every dime he could for his hobby. When he and Joyce broke up, Scott had resigned his accounting job to set out to pursue his life-long dream – to become a commercial photographer.

The first several months had been an adventure. He'd done some marvelously creative work in Omaha and Denver, but the financial rewards did not break him even. So he picked up odd jobs here and there while he sought an avenue to make photography pay off.

The past month had been a nightmare! He hadn't been able to find one assignment, and odd jobs had been almost impossible to find. As a result, he'd landed in Dallas with less than three hundred dollars to his name. For the last week he'd been sleeping in the car to save money. And for the first time Scott Nelson was considering selling his equipment and looking for work with an accounting firm.

"Scott! Scott Nelson!"

Scott turned as he climbed out of the car and found himself staring at one of his oldest friends, Harry Halliday.

"Harry!" Scott exclaimed, walking over and shaking his friend's hand earnestly. "My God, Harry, what are you doing in Dallas?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing!" Harry responded with a broad smile. "Hey, let's have lunch together."

Scott hesitated, thinking of his seriously depleted funds, then agreed. He hadn't seen Harry Halliday since Chicago! Harry had been a junior executive with a sporting goods manufacturing company and on his way up the corporate ladder. Harry was close to Scott's age, but looked much older now.

The two friends walked down to the Golden Pheasant restaurant and sat down to a dry martini and lunch. Harry explained that he was still with the same company, but that they had moved their offices to Dallas.

"Say," Harry remarked as the waiter removed their salad plates, "you may be the answer to my dreams, Scott. Do you still tinker with photography?"

"It's my business now, Harry," Scott replied with a smile. "I'm a free-lance commercial photographer now."

"Great!" Harry said. "I'm looking for a creative photographer who I can trust. We've got a new product, a super golf cart that's really revolutionary. It's about ready for the market and we need to create some classy brochures. Sound like something you might take on?"

"Well…" Scott hesitated momentarily. He'd take on anything, but he knew that he couldn't appear too anxious, even with his old friend.

"I'll level with you, Scott," Harry continued, misunderstanding Scott's hesitation. "When I said that this golf cart is revolutionary, I meant just that. Our competitors would love to get their hands on this, believe me! We know they'd love to rip us off, and they will just as soon as they can work out our new principle. So we're keeping it under tight wraps. The man we hire to do our photography has to be one hundred percent trustworthy. You can see why I have been hesitant to contract with anyone for the work."

"I understand, Harry," Scott laughed. "Unfortunately, some of the men in my new profession have been known to sell industrial secrets."

"Exactly! And with us that would be a disaster. Do you develop your own film?"

"Sure! I carry my lab with me," Scott said. "What did you think I had in that trailer… broads?"

"Both color and black and white?" Harry persisted, after a laugh.

"Right."

"Honestly, I think fate shoved us together this morning!" Harry said enthusiastically. "We're already months behind getting the material on this prepared. What brought you to Dallas, Scott, an assignment?"

"Well, as a matter of fact…"

"Look, Scott, I can understand you have to honor your assignment. What I'm wondering is if you can put it off for a while and take us on immediately?"

"Well…" Scott began slowly. "I'd have to return the advance they gave me," he said hesitantly, hoping Harry wouldn't see through this minor ploy.

"Of course! We wouldn't have it any other way! Look, Scott, I'll give you a five thousand dollar advance this afternoon. Would that be enough to entice you?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Harry," Scott remarked, hoping he had been able to control the elation in his voice. Five thousand dollars! "You haven't even asked me what I'll charge you for the work."

"Scott, we'll pay you the same as we've been quoted by the top photographer here in Dallas. Is that fair?"

"Sure, Harry," Scott smiled. "But you'll never know if you could have hired me cheaper."

Both men laughed heartily and Harry Halliday picked up the check. He gave Scott a card and told him to come right over to the office to pick up his advance.

Scott Nelson looked at the sky as he unlocked his car and gave a silent prayer of thanks. Harry's assignment would undoubtedly be dull and uncreative – after all, what could you do with a golf cart, but it was at this moment in Scott's life a true lifesaver!

The H. E. Merrill Custom Sporting Goods Company, Inc. offices were located in a semi-modern building in an industrial center near the Preston Hollow section of Dallas.

When Scott arrived, he was ushered into Harry's office and he noted on the door that his friend was now executive vice president of the company. Harry met him with a check for five thousand dollars in hand.

"How's that for service?" Harry smiled. "Look, I'd like to take you on a tour of our plant, but they've just called an executive meeting. So how about in the morning?"

Scott said that would be fine, picked up a couple of brochures on the company's products and climbed back into his car. He drove downtown to the Republic National Bank in the hub of Dallas and opened a checking account with the Merrill Company check.

It was almost six o'clock when Scott finally located the perfect apartment house. The rent was reasonable, six hundred dollars for a one bedroom furnished apartment, and the manager included the use of an unused storage room near the laundry area for Scott's equipment. There was even running water for his tanks.

The two months rent and three hundred dollar security deposit made a sizable dent in his new bank account, but Scott for the first time in months felt that he had a real workable setup for his equipment and a nice place to live.

The apartment house was by no means luxurious. It was an average unit, perhaps a little rundown from better days, but still quite respectable. There was a swimming pool behind the car ports and each unit was air conditioned against the almost incredible summer heat.

By the time he had unloaded the trailer, Scott was exhausted and lacked the energy to set his equipment up. He looked in the phone book and found Harry's number listed. Scott called Harry from a pay phone down the street and explained that he would need an extra day to get all of his equipment arranged and working. Harry agreed immediately and told Scott to come in the day after tomorrow.

Early the next morning Scott tackled the old storage room. He mopped it out and then began arranging his equipment. Garden hose he bought at a local hardware store served for the drains he needed, and he rigged his own makeshift lighting and electrical connections.

Scott was surprised to find the apartment almost completely deserted during the day. Even the manager worked. He was used to being alone when he looked up to find a pretty young girl standing in the doorway to the storage room.

"Hi!" she said a little shyly.

"Well, hi!" Scott smiled. "My name's Scotty. What's yours?"

"Kathy. Kathy Marsh. I live in number twelve. What are you doing?"

"Well, Kathy, I'm setting up a developing lab. I'm a commercial photographer and this is where I'll develop all the pictures I take. Say, you don't happen to have some friction tape, do you?"

"I think my mother has some. I'll get it," she said, turning and trotting away.

Scott smiled after the girl. She was young, probably thirteen or fourteen, but one of the prettiest little girls he could remember seeing. She had a sweet, angelic face that he knew would photograph beautifully. Her hair was golden blonde and she wore it long and straight. It served as a halo around her gorgeous face.

When she returned with a small roll of friction tape and shyly handed it to him, Scott became very aware of the young girl's body. She was in that blooming stage that made men turn when she passed. Her breasts were full and firm on her slender chest and the forty-eight-year-old man could swear he could see her pointed nipples pressing against her sheer blouse. Her waist was narrow and her hips full and flared. Scott appraised her long, slender legs and felt a small twitch in his balls. She was a beauty – a real beauty!

"Are you going to work here during the day?" the pretty young blonde asked.

"Sometimes," Scott replied as he peeled a piece of tape and sealed a connection on his developer.

"I'm glad," Kathy said softly. "I get lonely here during the day with nobody around. Maybe I can help you?"

"Well…"

Scott wanted to tell her that he really didn't need any help, and that with her body she'd be more of a distraction than a help, but when he saw the pleading, anxious look in her eyes he didn't have the heart.

"Well, I guess I could use some help at times, Kathy," he smiled.

"Ok, great!" the pretty child said eagerly.