leather thong with metal studs fixed to the business end. The top drawer of the table is about a quarter opened and inside I can see a large pink plastic something-or-other – a strap-on dildo, no less.
The room is damp and clammy. There’s a convector heater by the washbasin. A smell of unguents and emollients , rubber and cigarettes.
Vera is now sipping a Cherry B and going on to Olive about how she paid £19 for a beaver-lamb fur coat that had a ripped lining and how she took it back. She finishes the conversation we had interrupted and then turns to us.
‘Who have we got here then?’
‘This is Tim who’s helping me and this is Sambo who’s going to do a turn.’
‘He looks clean enough … but tell him to go and wash it and tell him I don’t want his gravy going all over the bedspread .’
‘You hear that, Sambo? Wash yourself properly over there and don’t shoot it over the furnishings or you’ll be for thehigh jump. Tim, you go and get the equipment … and don’t lose the keys.’
When I got back with the Photax floodlamps and Joe’s carrier bag Clarence was standing naked in the corner washing himself and Joe was counting out £1 notes to Vera and Olive, who were holding them up to the light to see if they were genuine.
‘I want the lamps looking down here.’
I plugged them in and set them up.
‘OK, girls. Positions.’
Joe takes an old battered twin lens reflex Rolleicord from the carrier bag. It probably dates from about 1938. It was probably thieved. He then cleans the 75mm lens with a dirty handkerchief after breathing on it (the lens, that is). The lens is scratched and still covered in grease. The camera’s casing is dented and covered in mildew. Joe must keep it in the van.
‘A lovely camera this, Timmy. Had it years. Never lets me down.’
He reaches into the bag again and produces some rolls of HP3 black-and-white 120 film (and only 12 exposures a roll).
Vera and Olive take their dressing gowns off. Olive is completely naked while Vera is wearing a cream-coloured suspender belt and stockings. They sit down on the bed and wait, Vera still sipping her Cherry B and Olive now smoking. Vera has biggish firm breasts with very large erect nipples. Olive’s breasts are small and point up at the end. They’ve both got passable figures. It’s their faces that look worn and used.
Clarence is now standing next to Joe waiting for instructions . He’s still got a half-smile on his face and looks like he isn’t quite with us yet.
‘Over there then, Sambo.’
Joe accidentally drops the camera and curses. He picks it up and shakes it to make sure it is still working. A Rolleicord! I suppose I would not have been moresurprised if he had turned up with a Speed Graphic. With Joe, the f-stops here, you could say.
Clarence sits on the edge of the bed next to the girls. He’s a big guy all right and the girls have noticed.
Vera turns to Clarence and tells him that there is not to be any kissing. They don’t do that. Plenty of sucking, yes, but no kissing. Clarence continues smiling. He’ll do as he’s told.
Joe then produces an old Avo light meter! An Avo! Not even a Weston! An Avo. I haven’t seen one of these in years. They stopped making them in the late 1930s. It belongs in a museum. Little cream-coloured thing in Bakelite with a flat light receptor – not even a dome. Joe holds it in the direction of the girls, taps it, takes a reading and then twists the calculator disc for the exposure. I’m not even sure the thing is working and neither is Joe. Then he guesses the exposure just to be sure and throws (yes, throws) the Avo back in the bag. He sets the Rolleicord and shakily holds it at waist level telling the three of them not to move. I don’t think it would have made much difference if they had, Joe’s hands are so trembly the camera is vibrating anyway. That and the grease on the lens diffusing the image is going to make for a thin blurry neg. But will the punters
The room is damp and clammy. There’s a convector heater by the washbasin. A smell of unguents and emollients , rubber and cigarettes.
Vera is now sipping a Cherry B and going on to Olive about how she paid £19 for a beaver-lamb fur coat that had a ripped lining and how she took it back. She finishes the conversation we had interrupted and then turns to us.
‘Who have we got here then?’
‘This is Tim who’s helping me and this is Sambo who’s going to do a turn.’
‘He looks clean enough … but tell him to go and wash it and tell him I don’t want his gravy going all over the bedspread .’
‘You hear that, Sambo? Wash yourself properly over there and don’t shoot it over the furnishings or you’ll be for thehigh jump. Tim, you go and get the equipment … and don’t lose the keys.’
When I got back with the Photax floodlamps and Joe’s carrier bag Clarence was standing naked in the corner washing himself and Joe was counting out £1 notes to Vera and Olive, who were holding them up to the light to see if they were genuine.
‘I want the lamps looking down here.’
I plugged them in and set them up.
‘OK, girls. Positions.’
Joe takes an old battered twin lens reflex Rolleicord from the carrier bag. It probably dates from about 1938. It was probably thieved. He then cleans the 75mm lens with a dirty handkerchief after breathing on it (the lens, that is). The lens is scratched and still covered in grease. The camera’s casing is dented and covered in mildew. Joe must keep it in the van.
‘A lovely camera this, Timmy. Had it years. Never lets me down.’
He reaches into the bag again and produces some rolls of HP3 black-and-white 120 film (and only 12 exposures a roll).
Vera and Olive take their dressing gowns off. Olive is completely naked while Vera is wearing a cream-coloured suspender belt and stockings. They sit down on the bed and wait, Vera still sipping her Cherry B and Olive now smoking. Vera has biggish firm breasts with very large erect nipples. Olive’s breasts are small and point up at the end. They’ve both got passable figures. It’s their faces that look worn and used.
Clarence is now standing next to Joe waiting for instructions . He’s still got a half-smile on his face and looks like he isn’t quite with us yet.
‘Over there then, Sambo.’
Joe accidentally drops the camera and curses. He picks it up and shakes it to make sure it is still working. A Rolleicord! I suppose I would not have been moresurprised if he had turned up with a Speed Graphic. With Joe, the f-stops here, you could say.
Clarence sits on the edge of the bed next to the girls. He’s a big guy all right and the girls have noticed.
Vera turns to Clarence and tells him that there is not to be any kissing. They don’t do that. Plenty of sucking, yes, but no kissing. Clarence continues smiling. He’ll do as he’s told.
Joe then produces an old Avo light meter! An Avo! Not even a Weston! An Avo. I haven’t seen one of these in years. They stopped making them in the late 1930s. It belongs in a museum. Little cream-coloured thing in Bakelite with a flat light receptor – not even a dome. Joe holds it in the direction of the girls, taps it, takes a reading and then twists the calculator disc for the exposure. I’m not even sure the thing is working and neither is Joe. Then he guesses the exposure just to be sure and throws (yes, throws) the Avo back in the bag. He sets the Rolleicord and shakily holds it at waist level telling the three of them not to move. I don’t think it would have made much difference if they had, Joe’s hands are so trembly the camera is vibrating anyway. That and the grease on the lens diffusing the image is going to make for a thin blurry neg. But will the punters
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