Sometimes things aren't planned

It's funny how something just happen. I was leaning out my window watching the fireworks, when Kevin the record producer pulled up below my window. He'd just finished a days recording in the studio with his Rap crew. Notice I didn't say band. That's because I'm super cool, and up with the word on da street. I shout out a "Hi!"
He looks up, sees me and shouts "I want you to do some filming for me."
"You mean photography!" I corrected him.
"No filming. I want you to shoot a video for me on Friday night."
"What sort of video?"
"I'm seeing a grainy black and white amateur, Blair Witch type video which I can later intercut with full colour glossy stuff."
"Yeah I can do grainy and black and white."
"Great I'll call you in the week and arrange something."
Of course I can do grainy black and white amateur film because I'm a shit film photographer. Even if I do have a professional outside broadcast video camera. So that's what I'm going to be doing Friday night.

Meanwhile I went to see Jamie Lee Curtis. She made me coffee and we sat and chatted. I mentioned the sexy photo thing to her. She looked straight at me with her blue eyes, giggled a bit then "Oh I've already had sexy photos done of myself."
"You have?"
"Sure. D'ya wanna see them?"
"Of course." I said, and she skipped off upstairs. I watched her from the bottom of the stairs. She came down with a few A4 sized glossies.
The first was a head and shoulders shot of her apparently naked except for a white feather boa wrapped round her shoulders. Another had her lieing in a bed with a satin sheet wrapped round her, supposedly naked again but revealing just a hint of cleavage.
"They're a bit..." I started.
"Yes?" she was looking for praise.
"They're very nice. But..."
"But what?" I could see her deflating by the microsecond.
"They're a bit tame."
"Well do you think you could do better?" she challenged me.
"Ah do you think YOU could do any better?" I counter challenged.
She said nothing, but flashed me a Mona Lisa smile whilst looking up through her hair in a faux Princess Diana attempt at shyness.

I walked home later, my mind racing, with thoughts of how far I could push her whilst staying within the bounds of taste and decency. By the time I walked past the pub a hundred yards from her house, taste and decency were blown away with the breeze. I'd even ditched the idea of taking a camera. You know what I'm saying.

Rock on dudes