"Excellent, Nana, you were fantastic," Hiro praises, his voice smooth and laced with satisfaction. "Those shots are going to be incredible. You have a natural talent for this." He pauses, a sly glint in his eyes. "Now, for the next part of our little test run. We need to see how you work in a couple setting. Male students will also be participating in the final poster campaign, you know, to broaden the appeal."
Nana's eyebrows rise in surprise. "A couple photoshoot? I don't remember that being mentioned."
"Just a light one," Hiro assures her, his tone casual. "Nothing too intense. Just some natural interactions, showcasing the clothing." He gestures towards the entrance of the photo club. "Ah, and here's our other participant now."
The door swings open, and Takashi steps into the room. Nana's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of something akin to dismay crossing her features. Takashi, the senior student she's consistently avoided, stands before her. His attempts at dressing nicely only serve to highlight his ungainly figure, his ill-fitting clothes straining across his ample frame. His face, already somewhat unpleasant, is stretched into an overly enthusiastic grin, revealing uneven teeth and making him appear even less appealing.
Memories flood Nana's mind: Takashi's persistent attempts to talk to her in the hallways, his lingering gazes that made her skin crawl, the awkward gifts he'd tried to give her. She'd always managed to politely brush him off, creating distance between them. Now, trapped in this room, she can't escape.
"Hello, Nana," Takashi greets, his voice thick with a nervous excitement that makes his already unpleasant smile even more unsettling.
"Hi," Nana replies, her tone polite but cool, a stark contrast to his eager enthusiasm.
Hiro steps forward, his arm casually draped across Takashi's shoulder. "Nana, this is Takashi. Takashi, this is Nana. You two will be working together for this part of the photoshoot. Think of it as a… fashion-forward couple, showcasing some of the more dynamic casual wear." He glances at Nana, a knowing look in his eyes. "These photos will be intended for the fashion show promotions, and also have some commercial potential down the line." His words hang in the air, the underlying implication clear: Takashi 's presence here is no accident, and Nana is expected to cooperate.
Takashi's eyes bulge, his breath catching in his throat as Nana stands before him in the revealing dress. The bare expanse of her shoulders, the tempting curve of her cleavage, the way the fabric clings to her breasts and hips – it's a feast for his starved gaze. The glimpse of her thigh through the slit in the skirt sends a jolt of anticipation through him, and he fantasizes about the moment his hand might brush against it.
"Alright, you two," Hiro's voice cuts through Takashi's reverie. "Let's start with a simple couple pose. Just stand next to each other, facing the camera. Natural, relaxed."
Takashi shuffles closer, his eagerness making his movements jerky. He stands too close, his scent – a cloying mix of cheap cologne and nervous sweat – invading Nana's personal space. His eyes dart over her body, lingering on her breasts, her waist, the curve of her thigh.
"Okay, Takashi, maybe move in just a little closer," Hiro directs, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "We want to convey a sense of… connection."
Takashi eagerly closes the gap, his arm brushing against Nana's.
"Good," Hiro says, snapping a few shots. "Now, let's try one with Takashi placing his hand… gently… on Nana's waist. Just a light touch, suggesting intimacy."
Takashi's hand hovers for a moment, his fingers twitching with barely suppressed desire. He settles his hand on her waist, his grip firmer than necessary, his thumb pressing into her side.
"Hmm, Takashi, could you maybe angle your body a little more towards Nana?" Hiro directs, his instructions a thinly veiled excuse for more contact. "And perhaps put your other hand… casually… on her other hip? Just to create a balanced frame."
Takashi's eyes gleam. He eagerly complies, his hands now framing Nana's hips, his fingers splaying across her flesh.
"Okay, now Nana, could you lean into Takashi just a little?" Hiro instructs, his voice smooth and manipulative. "Just a slight inclination, suggesting a closeness."
As Nana leans in reluctantly, Takashi's arms instinctively tighten around her waist, pulling her against his bulky frame. He can feel the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, her scent filling his nostrils.
"Perfect," Hiro lies, snapping furiously. "Now, Takashi, let's try one with your hand… maybe resting on her bare shoulder? Just a light caress, suggesting affection."
Takashi's eyes light up with anticipation. He carefully reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as they make contact with Nana's bare skin. His touch is hesitant at first, then becomes a slow, deliberate caress, his thumb stroking her shoulder in a way that feels possessive and unwelcome. With each unwanted touch, Takashi's lustful desires escalate, the photoshoot becoming a perverse fulfillment of his dark fantasies.
Hiro's instructions become increasingly suggestive, veiled beneath the guise of artistic direction. "Nana, try arching your back a little more," he coos, his gaze fixed on the way the movement accentuates the curve of her spine and pushes her breasts higher against the tight fabric. "And Takashi, maybe move in closer, like you're whispering a secret in her ear."
As Takashi leans in, his breath hot against Nana's neck, his hand on her waist subtly tightens, his fingers splaying across her lower back, dangerously close to the curve of her buttocks. He savors the feeling of her yielding flesh beneath his touch, imagining his hand slipping lower, cupping the roundness he so desperately desires. His groin presses insistently against her backside, a blatant, unwelcome intrusion that Nana can't ignore. He relishes the sensation, the soft give of her flesh against his hardening member, a silent, possessive claim.
"Now, Nana, turn your head slightly, look over your shoulder with a sultry gaze," Hiro directs, his lens focused intently. This pose forces Nana to shift, her back brushing more firmly against Takashi's chest. He seizes the opportunity, his arms wrapping around her waist, his hands splaying across her stomach, his fingers subtly digging into her sides.
"Takashi, your hand on her hip… maybe slide it down just a touch, towards her thigh," Hiro suggests, his voice a low purr. Takashi's hand obeys with a sickening eagerness, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of Nana's thigh, lingering just above the hem of her dress. He imagines the feel of her bare skin beneath his touch, the heat radiating from her body.
With each pose, Takashi's exploitation becomes bolder, more intrusive. His hand "accidentally" brushes against her breast as he adjusts his position. His arm lingers a moment too long around her shoulders, his fingers grazing her neck. His breath becomes heavier, his proximity increasingly suffocating. He drinks in every detail of her body, his gaze possessive and hungry, stripping her bare in his mind.
Nana feels a growing unease with each of Takashi's touches. His hand on her waist feels possessive, his breath on her neck sends shivers of discomfort down her spine. The insistent pressure of his groin against her backside is impossible to ignore, a blatant violation that makes her skin crawl. His lingering caresses feel invasive, his hungry gaze makes her feel like a mere object. She tries to subtly create distance, to minimize the contact, but Hiro's constant repositioning keeps them intimately close. A knot of anxiety tightens in her stomach, a growing sense of being trapped in a situation that is rapidly spiraling out of her control.
Hiro steps back from the camera. "Excellent work, Takashi," he says, his voice deceptively cheerful. "You really brought out the… chemistry between you two. The photos are going to be fantastic."
He turns to Nana, his smile widening. "And you, Nana, you were a true professional. Thank you for your patience and… cooperation." His gaze lingers on her face, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.
He begins to pack up his equipment, his movements brisk and efficient. "Well," he says, his voice laced with a false joviality, "I think that's a wrap for today. I'll send you both the edited photos when they're ready. You can expect them in a few days."
Takashi, emboldened by Hiro's praise and the absence of his controlling presence, seizes his chance. "Hey, Nana," he says, his voice thick with a nervous excitement. "How about a selfie? To… commemorate our collaboration?"
Nana hesitates, her gaze darting nervously towards the door. She wants to escape, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Takashi. But the room is empty, and she feels trapped, obligated to endure one final moment of unwanted proximity.
"Okay," she replies, her voice tight, forcing a strained smile.
Takashi's face lights up. He pulls out his phone, his hands trembling slightly as he positions the camera. He steps behind Nana, his bulky frame looming over her. His arm snakes around her waist, his grip possessive, pulling her flush against his chest. Nana can feel the heat radiating from his body, the unpleasant scent of his cheap cologne filling her nostrils.
His other hand moves higher, his fingers splaying across her shoulder, then sliding downwards, tracing the curve of her side. He presses his hand against the outer curve of her breast, the contact brief but invasive. Nana flinches, her breath catching in her throat.
He angles his body, pressing his groin against her buttocks. He can feel the soft give of her flesh, the warmth emanating from her body. He imagines his hand slipping lower, cupping her buttocks, feeling their firmness.
Nana's forced smile falters, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disgust. She wants to pull away, but she's frozen in place, trapped in Takashi's unwanted embrace.
Takashi snaps a few photos, his face a mask of triumphant lust. He savors the contact, the feeling of his body pressed against hers, the power he wields over her.
Finally, he steps back, his eyes lingering on her body, his gaze possessive and hungry. "Thanks, Nana," he says, his voice thick with desire. "You were… amazing."
Hiro has already vanished, leaving them to endure Takashi's unwanted advances. Takashi lingers in the photo club, feigning interest in some scattered equipment, his eyes constantly flicking towards Nana. He knows she's uncomfortable, and a perverse sense of power swells within him. He enjoys her unease, the subtle tremor in her hands, the forced politeness in her voice.
Nana, desperate to escape his presence, retreats behind the flimsy curtain of the changing area. She fumbles with the zipper of the dress, her fingers clumsy with a mixture of frustration and lingering anxiety. Just like before, the zipper catches halfway down her back, refusing to budge.
"Uh, Takashi?" she calls out, her voice strained. "Could you… could you possibly help me with the zipper again? It's stuck."
Takashi's head snaps up, a predatory gleam in his eyes. This is his chance. He approaches the curtain with a deliberate slowness, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Having some trouble there, Nana?" he asks, his voice oozing a false concern.
He steps behind the curtain, the enclosed space suddenly feeling suffocating. Nana stands with her back to him, her bare skin exposed from the mid-back upwards. The sight sends a fresh wave of lust coursing through him. He discreetly pulls out his phone, angling it to capture her back view as he "helps" her.
"Let me see," he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive. His fingers brush against her bare skin as he pretends to struggle with the zipper. "Hmm, it seems quite stuck. You have such a… delicate back, Nana. So smooth…" His touch lingers, his thumb tracing the line of her spine. "And those curves…" His gaze travels down to the gentle swell of her buttocks, barely concealed by the fabric of the dress. "A man could get lost in them."
He continues to film, capturing her every subtle movement, the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way she holds herself tensely. "Almost there," he lies, the zipper slowly descending under his manipulation. He savors the moment, the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips, the power he holds in this enclosed space.
Finally, the zipper reaches the bottom. Nana pulls the dress forward, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She turns to face him, her expression a mixture of gratitude and a desperate desire to leave.
"Thanks, Takashi," she says, her voice tight. "I should… I should probably head home now."
"Wait," Takashi says, his smile widening, his eyes still lingering on her body. "I was wondering… would you maybe want to grab a coffee? On the way back? We could… talk more about the photoshoot. And other things."
Nana's stomach clenches. The thought of spending more time alone with him fills her with dread. She wants to refuse, to run, but a cold fear grips her. She's alone with him, and his persistence makes her worry he won't let her go easily if she rejects him outright.
"Okay," she says, her voice barely a whisper, forcing a weak smile. "Coffee sounds… fine."
"Great!" Takashi exclaims, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "I'll just wait for you out front then." He lingers for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her once more, before finally stepping out from behind the curtain.
Nana clutches her dress tightly, a wave of nausea washing over her. She needs to change, to get away from him, to try and erase the feeling of his unwanted touch. "Could you… could you give me a minute to change first?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
Takashi shrugs, a knowing smirk on his face. "Sure, no problem. Take your time, Nana. I'll be waiting."