Alleviating boredom during lockdown restrictions? Helping out a friend in need? Discovering that he looked pretty? There were so many reasons for Luke to try being Lucy. So why wouldn't he? This is just a bit of fun, with over 30 photos. Apologies to those that don't like stories with images; but I do.

I felt guilty. This weird situation wasn’t any fault of my own, but I wished that I were able to do more. Somewhat selfishly, I’d have been grateful for something to do; although I knew others were in much more difficult circumstances. Six months ago, the idea of a summer off work would have been fantastic. The reality under these weird conditions materialised to be quite different. Initially, something quite boring.

“Argh!” John called out in his bedroom, “Bloody arseholes!”

It sounded like he was having another tough day. We were all finding the situation challenging, but financially speaking, I was doing okay. John, on the other hand, I knew was starting to worry about his newly formed small business and his personal finances.

I heard him stirring upstairs in the bedroom that he was working from, before starting to head down the stairs.

“Alright mate? How’s it going?” I asked, with a cheery smile.

“Fucking nightmare, mate,” he answered with a resigned shake of his head, “I’ve lost another one. That’s the third this week; and it’s only bloody Thursday. I’ve got three other clients that I’m really struggling to supply, and I’ve got this terrible feeling they’re waiting until the end of the week to fire me. I’m really wishing I’d stayed at work; I’d be in your position now.”

Three months before Covid struck, John was one of my colleagues. He had worked in the brands marketing team, whilst I was in an admin role in the procurement department. With both of us at the start of our careers, and in our mid-twenties, we were in quite junior roles. However, when he announced that he was leaving to set up his new business, everyone though it was a brilliant idea; and destined for massive successes.

John had all the skills needed to be that success story. His niche photography come modelling agency would benefit from his creative skills, a business brain and his reputation for being a really hard worker. His willingness to take a risk was what set him apart.

When the country was sent into a nationwide lockdown, we didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. With my employer unable to trade during the lockdown, I feared that I’d be laid off, and that it would be me that would struggle to pay my half of the rent. Those worries were eased by the government support that was announced.

My employer would receive eighty percent of my salary from the government, and my employer asked the workforce to take a cut in pay, so that the company would be able to survive. We agreed to that. Eighty percent of my pay, even though that wasn’t a fortune, was plenty when there was nothing to spend money on. No holidays, no nights out, no dates. Once the bills were covered - and maybe a bit more food and booze than usual - I was actually saving more money than I had been before.

John slipped between the cracks. As a self-employed person, with only a couple of months of trading history, he wouldn’t have been eligible for any government support. And early on in the lockdown, he was confident he wouldn’t need any.

With folks staying at home - whether working or furloughed - they were wearing more casual clothes. That, John thought, would see his clients - typically fast fashion firms serving mostly young women - selling more loungewear to young women. More adverts on social media. More photos. More models. More profit for John’s business.

His business wasn’t that complicated. He was basically a middle man between models and the fashion brands. When Instagram influencers weren’t getting good enough quality photos, John would fix that. When the fashion brands weren’t finding the right models, John would take care of that, too. He also handled all the logistics, to simplify things for the fashion brands. One address for them to distribute their samples to, one supplier that was going to invoice them.

And John was right. The demand for more models, for more photos of new product ranges - especially loungewear - took off. For about a month it was going brilliantly. John was getting briefs from clients old and new. He was receiving products from the brands, and sharing them out amongst his crew of go-to models. All that was different was that it wasn’t John’s photography skills being used; given the travel restrictions. Whilst the results weren’t as good as what John achieved, with a bit of Photoshop, he was able to maintain the quality of his output. The brand owners had all been happy.

“When all this started to go tits up, I thought it would’ve been caused by the competition,” John lamented.

“The competition?” I asked, “I thought you were the only agency doing this?”

John sighed, “I was. I pretty much still am. Too small for the established players. What do they call them? New entrants. They’re always snooping about. It’s only my failure to honour contracts that even allow my clients to talk to them. I’d had this so well sewn up. I was so surprised when my clients accepted the terms I proposed.”

Not wanting to trigger John, as he had been on edge of late, but I was curious, “So, what’s the problem, if the demand is still there? I’ve not wanted to pry; but know you’ve been having it tough,”

“Ah, Luke. I’m not sure! I know that’s it’s one of two things. Maybe it’s both! I’m spending most of my day arguing between couriers and the models. I’m going around in circles all of the time, stuck between ineptitude and downright thievery.”

“How do you mean?” I followed-up.

John took a deep breath, “Well, I’m sometimes not receiving the samples the brands tell me they’re sending. With the tight turnaround times they need, by the time the couriers sort out what are always their errors, I’ve missed the deadline.”

“But,” I half paused, “that’s not your fault. I mean, isn’t the sender choosing the courier?”

“Tell me about it,” John nodded. “But Luke, that’s not the half of it. I’m sending stuff out to models by courier; and having the same problems. I reckon it’s a fairly even split between the couriers screwing up and the models falsely claiming to have never received the clothes. My turnaround time, when allowing for all this bullshit, is about twice the length allowed for in the contract.”

“I don’t get it. What’s the problem with the couriers?” I asked, not being a fan of online shopping, and not that used to receiving parcels.

John snorted a laugh, “What’s right with them? Actually, that’s a bit unfair. Maybe. They were fine before Covid. Now they’re overwhelmed with demand, and can’t get signatures because of isolation. They’re meant to get some evidence of a fulfilled delivery, but it’s like a black hole.”

“Oh, I see,” I answered, “Can I help in any way? You know, I’m going stir crazy. So bored all of the time!”

John smiled, “I know you claim to be bored, but I wish I was in your position. Eighty percent of my old salary, to do nothing? You know, if I’d waited three months before quitting, I could be getting paid by them whilst I set up my business!”

“That’d be a bit cheeky! But I’m sure you’ll get through this tricky patch. You would let me know, if I could help, wouldn’t you?”

“Fancy a bit of modelling, do you? Have a swimwear contract that I’m about to fuck up!” John laughed.

I joined John in laughing, “Not sure I’m the swimwear model type. Not sure my absent six-pack would make the Speedo’s look too good. Unless skinny and pale is this season’s look?” I joked.

“Ha!” snorted John, “No, not this season. And not sure how you’ve not put weight on during this lockdown; everyone else has, and you’re eating all the time! And anyway, it’s a bikini brand I’ve got the contract with. Bet you’d help to sell more of those though, than you would Speedo’s!” he said with a smile.

“Oh, very funny! Maybe I could help sort out the couriers or the models. I do work in procurement, after all?” I offered.

John had a look on his face as if he was thinking hard about it, “Yeah, maybe. There’s quite a bit of history involved now, but yeah, thanks, I’ll think about it. Don’t want you fucking things up worse though!”

“Fuck you!” I laughed, “Haven’t you got some work to be getting back to?” I joked.

“Yeah. Those thieving girls don’t shout at themselves!” John replied, before adding, “Joking!” after seeing my frown.

***

There wasn’t much to do of an evening. I spent most of it on my own, with John logging off from his work m at around 10pm. I’d watched enough box sets and films to last a lifetime. Alcohol had become a bigger part of my life, and John was drinking more than me.

It was about 11pm, I had nearly finished a bottle of wine that I had opened about three hours ago. John was on his fourth beer; drinking them at a rate of one about every fifteen minutes.

“You know,” John said, after what had been quite a long silence, “I think you could perhaps help with my business.”

“Oh yeah? Want me to get those couriers in line for you?” I enquired

“Actually, I think you could help me with some of the modelling,” replied John

Despite his matter-of-fact tone, I was sure he was taking the piss, “Oh yeah, bikinis is it?” I joked back.

“Erm, no, that might be pushing it a bit too far. I’ll be straight with you though, it is women’s clothes, but just gym wear and stuff,” he mumbled out.

“Straight? Wanting me to dress in girls clothes for you? Not the best choice of words, mate,” I said, us both laughing. “You’re such a piss taker!”

“No, hear me out,” John went on, shifting himself to sit upright, “with a bit of help, my lighting and photography skills, and then a fair sprinkling of magic Photoshop dust, I think it’s doable.”

“Piss off!” I laughed.

Nothing more was said about it. We went back to our drinks, and the latest episode of the fifth season of a show we would never have considered watching before lockdown. It’s amazing how desperate we had become, and how far our expectations had been lowered, in search of some entertainment.

***

“Fuck!” I heard John cry out from his bedroom come office.

“Well, mate, looks like I won’t need your help with the bikinis! They’ve just sacked me via email,” John announced, as he walked into the lounge, where I was watching daytime TV.

“Sorry, mate. Was that a big contract?” I asked, more so just to say something. I wasn’t really that interested in learning about his finances. I felt quite nosey.

“No, not really. They didn’t have a big budget. Not many girls buying bikinis to sit on the sofa all day. I think they were trying to build some demand, in advance of this lockdown hopefully ending in time for summer. Still got my two biggies. Fingers crossed,” John said, crossing both of his fingers.

“And which is it do you think I might be able to help with?” I surprised myself in asking.

“How do you mean?” John asked.

“What you mentioned last night. Or was it just the beer talking?” I replied, with John’s face showing his acknowledgement.

“Oh, the gym, sports, loungewear firm. My first client. I’ve been prioritising them for weeks,” he advised.

“So, how would it work?” I asked, wanting to offer John a glimmer of hope, “I mean, it’s more than me putting on a tracksuit and you taking photos, right?”

“Well, that’s broadly it, actually. We’d need to do something with your hair. I can get a wig from somewhere. Makeup, even if a bit shit, can be fixed with Photoshop. I can also change your body shape, adjust your face, whatever. It’s one or two stages up from airbrushing. I really just need someone of about the right frame size. Why? You think you can do it?” the anticipation in John’s voice clear.

I paused, not sure what I was getting myself into, “Well, if it’s that’s straightforward. I suppose so.”

“Brilliant! Thank you so much! I mean, you’ll get paid, and all that, but I am so grateful. Cheers mate!” John raised his glass to me.

“So, like, when do you need to respond to this brief? That’s what you call them, right?” I asked.

“Yes. And next Wednesday. Have to email them by midday. It should be one day for a contingency, a day for photoshopping. So, how about shoot on Monday? Gives time for me to get you a wig,” John was in full-on planning mode. I could see him thinking things over.

I nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine. Unless Boris is announcing tonight that the lockdown restrictions end on Sunday night. However, looking at the number of cases, I doubt that.”

“If that were to happen, that’s problem sorted. And sorry to be a pain, but would you be able to look at getting some makeup? I’m not expecting a work of art, but flat skin and defined lips makes it so much easier to work it up in Photoshop. I just mean from the supermarket, whatever they’ve got. I’ll pay you back,” he asked, somewhat sheepishly.

“Erm, yeah. No problem. I think. No idea what I’d need, or even if they sell that at the supermarket. I’ll have a look online for some hints.”

“Cheers mate,” John excitedly proclaimed, “This is so good of you.”

We continued our drinking, and continued our new favourite hobby, chatting about Covid news.

***

With no real structure to the week, days merged into one another, and the distinction between weekdays and weekends was completely lost. Before I knew it, it was Sunday.

“Here you go, mate. This just arrived,” John said, as he passed me a large box.

“What’s this?” I asked, as I took the package from him.

“It’s the wig,” he advised, “My other client had one spare from one of their own shoots. That’s my other client, of just two. Bloody hell. Incredible how quickly this went off the rails. Anyway, they tell me it’s a good quality one; real hair or something. Not sure where they get real hair from though. You don’t reckon it’s dead people, do you? Like organ donation?”

“No, you prat!” I laughed, “People sell their hair. What colour is it?”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. It should be blonde, and straight. That’s what was in the brief from my client. You want to check that, maybe try it on before tomorrow?”

I followed John’s suggestion. Upon inspecting the parcel, I saw it was labelled Full Lace 613 Blonde, and a load of numbers that made no sense to me. I opened it up and it immediately became apparent why it was such a large box. The blonde wig sat atop a full-sized polystyrene head.

Taking the head out of the box, I saw there was a selection of tapes and glues included. The wig also had a lace fringe at the front. As there were no instructions included, I went to YouTube for some guidance as to how to progress. I’d been spending lots of time on there, lately.

***

“Morning mate,” John cheerily said as I entered the kitchen, “sleep well?”

“Morning. Er, yeah, guess so,” as I started to make myself a coffee.

“Ready to get going as soon as you’ve had your breakfast?” John asked.

“Yeah, sure. Not like I have anything else on!” I smiled

“Great. Well, here you go, this is your first outfit,” he said, passing me a clear polythene bag, containing something made of pink material. “Don’t worry about how it might look when you put it on. It will be a bit tight. We can sort it out either here or later on the computer.”

“Tight? So, I’m a bit of a porker, am I? Not as svelte as your normal models?” I joked.

“No, not at all. It’s meant to be tight. The shooting plan says it’s gym wear; a crop top and leggings.”

I took the package upstairs, along with my coffee. It would take me a while to sort out my wig, and get my makeup applied. I’d not told John, but I had been practising. Without work or anything else to give me something to focus on, this had become a bit of a project for me. I’d spent hours over the last few days watching YouTube, applying makeup, wiping it off, and repeating.

“You weren’t joking, when you said this outfit would be tight,” I said to John, as I walked barefoot into the kitchen.

“Yeah, it,” John said before looking up and pausing, “Oh, wow! You look really good. I mean, wow, like really good.

“Stop taking the piss! You said you can fix it all with the Photoshop editing,” I argued.

“Well, I was expecting to fix a lot more. I mean, you’ve got boobs. I was expecting to add shadow to give the effect. And, erm, where’s your dick?” John asked with some urgency.

“Ha!” I laughed, “It’s just tucked away like drag queens do. I googled it. Bloody uncomfortable!”

“And what about your tits?” John asked, still confused.

“They’re just socks,” I laughed, “The top has some kind of inbuilt bra. I thought I’d fill it, rather than leaving it all saggy. It’s kind of pushed the skin on my chest together. Kind of looks like cleavage, doesn’t it?” I asked, looking down at myself, and then up to John.

John had a funny look on his face, and wasn’t exactly making eye contact, “Yeah, it does. And what about your makeup, and you’ve shaved?”

I explained to John how I had been practising. How today had turned into a project, to give me some purpose to focus on. Today was the first time I’d done the makeup with the wig, and I was still getting used to the long hair; especially how it had a tendency to get stuck to my lipstick.

We made a start. It was all very simple. I’d pose around the house, and John would take photographs. It wasn’t rocket science, after all. John clearly knew what he was doing, with clear plans and instructions, reinforced by reassuring compliments and praise.

There were four or five separate outfits, mostly gym wear and one that was more like a tracksuit; some came with trainers, along with the clothes. John had me try and tie my hair up for some of the photos; without hair clips and bands, it wasn’t easy.

“The clients don’t mind all the shots being in the house? They don’t expect you to fork out for proper studios?” I asked, as we were nearly done.

“No. We usually sneak around posh hotels, for the fancy backdrops. Right now, because people can’t go to those places, they’re trying to sell the idea of still spending money on their clothes whilst at home. So, photos at home are what they want,” John advised.

“But who would wear this, to workout at home,” I asked, looking down at the blue-grey set that I was wearing.

“Probably no one. But that’s not the point. If these photos are used, the girls looking at them will just want to look as good as you do. They won’t be thinking about working out.”

I blushed at John’s compliment. Soon after we were finished; and John had all the photos he thought he needed. I headed back up to my bedroom, my legs swishing together up the stairs. My room was a mess, with several outfits scattered across the room. I spent a few minutes putting them back together and into the bags that they came in. Once I had changed out of the last outfit and put the wig back on the polystyrene head, I took the parcels downstairs to John.

“What do you want done with these? Do they need to be sent back?” I asked, gesturing to the plastic bags I’d placed on the kitchen table.

“Well, the models usually keep them. They don’t go back. Do you want them?” he asked.

I didn’t know if he was being serious, or not. I realised too long had passed for me to say no, without it looking strange that I’d thought about it for so long.

“I can just add them to my stockpile in the garage. All those outfits that were sent out and then had their shoots cancelled,” John added.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s a good idea. I don’t like stuff being thrown away.”

***

“Hey, Luke, you want to see the photos?” John asked.

“Are you done? That was quick,” I suggested.

“Yeah, I’m done. Made good progress. And no distractions; this week’s sample deliveries all arrived,” he said with a smile.

It was only Monday evening so we’ll ahead of schedule. I followed John out of the living room, where I had been watching TV, and upstairs to his bedroom.

“Do you want to grab a seat from your room?” John suggested, “I don’t get many visitors!”

I pulled up a seat alongside John at his desk, and followed the clicks of his mouse across the large Apple monitor.

“Right,” he said, “These are the finished, edited versions. I’ll drop them into an email later, but won’t send until Wednesday. I don’t want the client thinking I can deliver two days ahead of schedule; even if I am trying to keep them sweet.

I simply nodded my acknowledgement, bracing myself for the embarrassment that was about to come.

“This was the first outfit,” as John clicked through several images.

I just nodded, and made a quiet ‘aha’ noise of acknowledgement.

“And this was the next one. That second photo is so sexy. They’ll never use it though,” he went on.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about my housemate describing a photo of me as sexy; regardless of how edited it was. At the same time, I was upset the photo wouldn’t be used.

“This is the other outfit. The one that wasn’t gym wear. I think they’ll use the one from sat in the car. Really cute,” John continued clicking through.

I think I was a bit uncomfortable, from John’s comments. Despite agreeing it was a well edited photo.

“This is the last but one outfit. I didn’t take too many of this one. It’s one of their worst sellers, and they never promote it.”

“And these were of the last outfit. Definitely my favourite. You look really good. Perhaps it’s the outdoor light.”

“Well done, John. They’re really good. Do you have the originals? Just out of curiosity?” I asked

“Yes, of course,” said John, as he clicked around his folders. “They’re not as edited as you may think.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, with you taking care of your boobs, your, erm, downstairs and your makeup, I erm,” John was struggling, “you were very pretty. It’s really good, because it has saved me hours of work.”

“Bullshit!” I claimed, with a laugh, “I bet the editing is practically a deep fake.”

“Okay, let me show you. In all the photos I edited the lighting. A few highlights here and there. Here’s the first photo,” as John brought up a before and after editing view, “All I did here was add a necklace.”

“Hmm, okay. What about the others?” I was curious.

“Well, nothing really in the second set. Just tidied up your hair a bit. I mean, there’s a messy bun, and then there’s a messy bun,” John joked.

“Right, okay. Keep going. What about the outfit that they don’t promote?”

“Erm,” John paused, “I kept the necklace in, and changed the colour of your nails. I just kept the necklace, in the outfit that wasn’t gym wear. Everything else is you.”

“Okay,” I replied simply.

“And for the outdoor ones. My favourites. A bit of jewellery. Nothing else.”

“Oh,” I was somewhat shocked.

“So, Luke, how does it feel to learn you make a pretty damn hot gym bunny? Sorry, mate, I couldn’t resist,” John teased. “Anyway, the going rate is £600 for a half day shoot. I’ll probably get that to you next Wednesday, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” as I left John’s office in a state of shock.

“You forgot your chair!”

***

“You know how I said that the clients loved the photos? Well, so did my other client,” John casually mentioned over the usual evening drinks.

“Yeah?” I asked, without being particularly interested.

“Yeah. They were wondering whether she was available for an assignment. It’s quite unusual that a specific model is asked for. I guess it’s quite a compliment,” John offered.

“Quite the compliment that I’m this hot gym bunny, is it?” I teased. “You know I’ve seen some of the comments on those adverts.”

“I’ve apologised for that; and those comments were very complimentary too. You up for another couple of hours work?” John asked.

“Complimentary? I thought they should have been deleted! I never wanted to know what those sad horny guys wanted to do, let alone to me! Look, I’m not sure. It’s not that I don’t want to help. It’s just that I’m worried who sees the photos. I know we don’t have that many shared friends, and that my friends won’t be looking out for me doing this, but it’s quite a big risk,” I suggested.

“I understand. Not sure I’d want people seeing me dressed up like a hot,” John paused, “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

We both laughed.

About an hour had passed, with the usual chit chat and pretending to serial dramas that we really weren’t interested in.

“Is it more of the same? You know, like gym wear?” I asked.

“Erm, I don’t know. I didn’t get that far,” as John reached for his phone. “It’s casual wear. Two ranges. Only four outfits in total. Same as last time; just in and around the house. That should be about an hour.”

“What’s casual wear? Like jeans and tops?” I asked.

“It’s anything between loungewear and going out outfits,” John answered, “I mean, you’d not wear it around the house, but probably wouldn’t wear it if you were going out-out. You interested?”

I nodded, “Maybe. I do want to help. It wouldn’t be dresses and high heels though, would it?”

“Erm. Maybe, yeah,” John answered, “It’s just photos. You don’t need to walk anywhere in them.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just, well, there’s something so much more feminine about dresses and high heels. Not sure I want to be prancing about in that kind of stuff.”

“Don’t prance then,” John sarcastically suggested, “It’s just an outfit for a modelling gig. It doesn’t mean anything. Does it?”

“Okay. I’m in.”

John smiled broadly, “That’s great! They’re sending the product sample in the next couple of days; shall we do it as soon as they arrive?”

“Yeah, fine with me. Just one thing,” I paused, getting John’s nod to acknowledge he was listening, “Last time you said you saved lots of editing time because I’d done a decent enough job with the makeup and given myself boobs?”

“Yeah, you did. And?” he said, encouraging me to continue.

“Well, I only got the boobs by filing the bras that were built into the gym tops. I’m guessing that whatever they send this time won’t be like that. Should I wear one of those tops like a bra?” I asked.

“That’s an idea, yeah. It would be trickier to edit these kinds of clothes to add tits. You could also have a look what’s in the garage. I’ve got a list of which suppliers sent what package, and what kind of stuff should be in there.” said John, as he took his phone from his pocket, and sent me the information he offered.

“Cheers mate, I’ll have a look tomorrow.”

***

“John!” I called up the stairs, “You’ve just had a delivery.”

“Cheers mate, I’ll be down in a minute,” he called back.

“John Tay Limited, for the attention of Lucy?” I read out loud to whom the package had been addressed, once John had come down stairs to collect it. “Who is Lucy?”

John looked a bit shifty, “Ah. That’s you. It’s just because they asked for you specifically, they asked who you were. They also put the models name under the ads, you know ‘Lucy is wearing blah blah.’ It’s nothing to worry about. It’s me that’s pays you; you won’t get cheques made out to Lucy Davies.”

“Okay. We doing this then?” Surprising myself with my enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I’m nearly ready to go. Just a few emails I need to send. How long do you need to get ready?”

I told John that I’d need at least an hour. Without knowing when the packages were going to arrive, I’d not done some of the prep work that I had last time. In addition to attaching the wig, applying my makeup and getting dressed into the first outfit, I’d need to shower and shave my body.

I took the parcel up to my room, and unpacked its contents onto my bed. There were six separate packages contained inside, numbered one through six. I was expecting four.

I opened the parcel marked number one. It was a sweatshirt and some joggers. I don’t know why, but I think I was a little disappointed. I’d mentally built myself up to wear a dress around the house, in front of my mate, and it appeared wasted energy.

Parcel number two was some jeans shorts and a silky jazzy-pattered top. Parcel three and four, I both first thought were dresses; they were, in fact play suits or rompers. One with a leaf print and the other dots; both came with accompanying sandals and handbags; and the first one had a belt. Number five was a red, patterned dress. It too came with a handbag, sandals and also came with a belt. In fact, the same belt as before, “What a waste, I thought to myself.” The last parcel was a silky lightweight dress; in fact, I think it was a nightie.

I took my shower, shaved my body, applied my makeup and attached my wig. I had dug out a bra and a pair of panties from John’s stock in the garage. I put those on, taking care of myself like before, and then dressed it outfit number one.

“Looking good,” said John, as I went into his office, through the open door. “Shall we get started?”

I nodded my agreement, and we made a start. This time, knowing that the photos wouldn’t need as much photoshopping as had been previously expected, John showed me some of what he’d shot. The screen on the back of his camera was small, but he seemed pleased with what he’d got.

We were in the garden for most of the time I was wearing the second outfit. John wasn’t convinced that this would be a top seller, and wanted to save the indoors for more likely outfits.

As I headed upstairs to get changed, John said that we’d be in front of the house for most of the shooting we’d do for the next two. This made me a bit nervous. Whilst we didn’t really know any of our neighbours, I’m sure they knew two guys lived in our house. I didn’t want them thinking I was a crossdresser, or that we were having visitors over and breaking lockdown restrictions.

I had also needed to adjust the straps on my bra. These two outfits were the same, in different prints. The halter neck meant my bra straps were showing in their normal positions. I didn’t want to create work for John, when he’d have to edit them out later.

“Wow. You look gorgeous,” beamed John as we met in the lounge.

I could feel my cheeks going red from his compliment. I did, however, feel quite pretty in this outfit.

“You okay to make it outside in those heeled sandals?” he went on.

“Yeah. I made it down the stairs okay,” as I stepped outside, away from the carpeted floor and onto the hard concrete driveway, my heels clicking as I walked.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I got this for you. It’s not a present; just one less thing to edit in later,” as he held up a small pendant necklace, “Can we put it on now?” he went on, as he opened up the chains clasp.

I nodded, and turned my back to John, moving my hair out of the way, as he draped the necklace on me, before fumbling to close the small clasp against my back. In the light breeze, his fingers tickled against the small hairs on the back of my neck.

“Just one more to go, Lucy,” said John with a smile. I wasn’t sure if he was happy with progress, or just teasing me about my new girl name.

“Well, there are two more packages. It was meant to be four outfits, wasn’t it?” I said.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot to mention. The first outfit, the sweatshirt was added in last minute. They were let down by a model they work with directly,” said John with a wicked grin, likely pleased he was the white knight for once, rather than the one doing the letting down. “They also said they’ve thrown something in for you. It’s from a new secret range. I don’t even know what it is yet.”

I went back upstairs, for the final outfit in the shoot. The dress was very light and silky; it practically floated as I stepped into it. I was able to put my bra steps back over my shoulders. Once I had put my belt and shoes on, I had this urge to twist and spin, to make the light skirt flare up. I giggled to myself, before heading downstairs.

“What are you smiling at?” asked John.

“Nothing. Do you like my dress? I think it’s cute,” I surprised myself in saying.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” John said with a grin.

“Great stuff!” John exclaimed, “We’re done. Thanks Lucy, you’re easily my favourite model”

“Ha!” I half laughed, “And you’re my favourite photographer! Do you want to see that other thing they sent; the one supposedly for me?”

“Oh, yes, please. I’d forgotten about that. If it’s so secret, it might be a new area for them; I might need to think how I can make sure they give the shoot to me, and who would be the best model,” John said.

“Hey, mister! I thought I’m your best girl?” I teased.

“Yes, sorry babe. You’re my number one,” he jokily replied, with a wink.

I went upstairs and changed into the silk and lace nightie that I’d been sent.

“I’ve made you a cup of tea; don’t let it go cold,” called John through the house.

I stepped into the kitchen, where John was uploading images onto his computer. “Well, what do you think?” I asked, posing in the doorway.

“Wow!” answered John, with a pause, “You look great”, as he eyed me up and down. “Very sexy.”

“I think that’s just your cabin fever speaking; too long without female company. It’s really soft though, I think it’s real silk. Here, look,” I suggested, as I put my upper leg and hip towards John.

“Yeah, really nice,” he said, as he watched his own hand stroke the material against my hip. “You want to see some of these photos?”

“Sure,” I said, as I picked up my cup of tea, sitting next to John on the kitchen bench.

***

“I thought you’d want to know. My client loved the photos. They expect to feature all of the outfits in their campaign next week.” John explained, as he popped his head around the lounge door.

“That’s great. Do you get any more cash when they use them? I asked.

“Nah, it doesn’t work like that,” he replied, shaking his head, “I have to provide a number of photos against a brief. If I hit their brief, they use them. If I miss the brief, they can complain. They’re happy, so nothing to worry about. Thanks again for all your help. I know I was maybe spreading myself a bit thin with all the new clients, but I don’t think I’d be so on top of things, if it weren’t for you.”

“That’s okay. I’m happy to help,” I smiled back.

“They both want to work with Lucy again, you know. Would you be up for that?” John asked.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not so bad. At the end of the day, it’s a shave, and a couple of hours of my time. Oh, and a free nightie thrown in,” I joked.

“Ha, yeah,” John snorted, “Well, one of my clients is thinking about trying to push some evening wear; going out clothes.”

“Why would they do that? People can’t go out anywhere?” I was a bit confused.

John nodded, “They explained they think there will be loads of pent up demand to get dolled up, and go out-out, as soon as we can. They want their products to be the ones women are looking forward to wearing. Buy them now, and then buy them again whenever lockdown ends, when they find they’ve put on weight!”

I laughed. “So, what’s your other client wanting you to promote?”

“Well, it’s really Lucy’s help that they want. I don’t, however, think you’ll be up for it. So, it’s not a problem if you’re not. No pressure, whatsoever. It’s not a product range that’s detailed in my contract with them, so it would be incremental business,” John explained, somewhat nervously.

“Go on,” I encouraged.

“Well, it’s the folks that sent the nightie. They’re launching an underwear and nightwear range.”

“I’d be okay with that,” I fed back.

“Really? Bras, panties, and well, I’ve seen the stock photos, it’s pretty sexy lingerie,” John asked.

“Yeah. Happy to give it a try,” I replied

“You’re a star!

***

“Here you go,” said John, passing me a parcel that he’d just had delivered

I took the parcel, and rested it on my lap, as I sat on the sofa. “Okay, thanks. Which one is this? The evening wear or the lingerie?”

John sat down next to me, “This is the evening wear. It should be three dresses.”

I opened the box, and took out three dresses. Not much to any of them, all clearly very short.

“When are we doing these?” I asked

“Tonight?” suggested John, “It won’t be dark, but if we leave it a bit later, the lighting from outside will hopefully give a night-time vibe. I hate it when I see photos out of context.”

“Yeah, cool. I’ll be ready for what, about 9pm?”

John was really complimentary about how I looked in the dresses. They were all really nice. He had, however, noticed that I had put a bit more effort into my makeup. I thought it was logical for an evening look to be different to what I had been doing for gym wear or more casual clothes.

Having not shot evening wear for some time, it took a little bit longer than had been expected. It was close to 11pm, by the time we had finished.

“I’m knackered!” I moaned, “I never could have guessed that getting dressed and posing for photos could be so tiring.”

“Sorry, Lucy. You were great; it was all my fault. Really happy with what I’ve got though. Thanks.”

“Well, show how sorry you are, and get me a drink. I’ll be in the lounge,” I said, before walking to head into the other room.

“You not getting changed, first?” John called after me.

“Can’t be arsed,” I shouted back, “I’d fall asleep if I went upstairs.”

“Here you go,” said John, as he passed me a glass of white wine, before sitting next to me on the sofa.

“Cheers babe, you’re a lifesaver,” I thanked.

“Ha! Babe?” John asked.

“Yes, babe?” I teased.

“That was my favourite one, I think. The red really suits you. You looked amazing in all of them, though” John said

“Thanks. I think it’s my favourite too. With all three having their own shoes and handbags, I am building quite the collection.” I said, whilst taking a sip of my wine.

“You’re keeping them?” John asked.

“Well, if I’m to believe all the compliments you keep giving me, I’d be silly to throw them away”

***

“Morning,” offered John, as I walked passed his open office door, on my way to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

“Hey, good morning!” I said cheerily.

“You’re in a good mood. Still up for the shoot this afternoon, now you’ve seen the product?” John asked.

“You ever just wake up in a good mood, for no reason? And yeah, I’ve checked out all the stuff we need to get through. There are quite a few sets that we need to shoot,” I replied

“Sorry about that. They are paying for a full day’s shoot. The deadline also isn’t for a few days though; so no worries if we don’t get it all covered today. Nothing too skimpy that we’re going to struggle with, and need a bit more Photoshop?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. I’ve tried it all on, and I think I have a few tricks,” I replied with a wink, as I headed downstairs.

“So, where do you want me?” as I was again John’s doorway.

“Holy shit!” said John, with a broad smile, “How on earth are you doing that?”

I shook my head, “You don’t want to know! Like what you see though? Think I’ll do?”

“Lucy, I don’t want to make things awkward, but you look stunning. So incredibly sexy. I can hardly believe it. My clients are going to love the shots we’re about to take,” said John

“That’s just the lingerie and that cabin fever again. I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Are they all like that?” John asked.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” I replied, teasingly. “I think the next set is cute, but it’s not as in your face sexy as this one.”

“Well, that’s some fluffy slippers for the collection!” I joked.

“Ha! Yeah, and a lot more. We going to be seeing these items making an appearance around the house, now? Or you just building your own stock pile?”

“You want to see more of Lucy, do you?” I teased.

“I wasn’t saying that, I mean, it’s up to you. I’m cool,”

“Oh, well, if you don’t want me to. I wouldn’t want to force you to see me, in these things. I think there’s just one more set. Where do you want me?”

“Is it one of the sexier ones?” John asked.

“Yes. It’s my favourite set,” I replied.

Without a moments hesitation, John shot back, “On the bed. Your place or mine?”

“Your room is probably a bit tidier than mine,” I suggested, “It’s your backdrop for your video calls, isn’t it?

I headed off to change into the last set, and John set up his room, moving some furniture around to get some better shots.

“It’s a long time since I’ve had a beautiful woman in my bedroom,” joked John.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Get a move on, it’s freezing in here. Thanks for leaving the window open!”

John grinned, “Well, I can warm you up, whenever you want,”

“Ha. Ha. Come on, let’s get this done. I need the loo.”

“Yes, you’re right. Probably a good idea. I can’t go on much longer like this,” John agreed.

“How do you mean?” I asked

“Erm, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve got some serious blue balls going on here. Sorry.”

“Well, you can tell your client that the lingerie has the desired effect!” I joked.

***

“When’s the next shoot? Or am I surplus to requirements now?” I asked John.

“Not a chance. You’re my number one girl, remember? I think something is going to be confirmed tomorrow. It’s more evening wear. I’m not sure it’s for you; or for me at all,” he answered.

“Oh yeah? Why so?”

“Well,” John paused, “The client wants some outdoor photos. They’re worried that all the shots online are starting to look quite similar. I’ve had no joy to date in arguing with the authorities that I am travelling around on business, so that restricts me to models that I can meet during the one trip out of the house that we’re allowed for exercise.”

“Yeah, and? What’s wrong with me?” I asked.

“You’d be willing to do this outdoors. In public?”

“What? You ashamed to be seen with me?” I teased, “And anyway, didn’t you tell me that the adverts my photos are used for are seen by hundreds of thousands of people online? I practically am doing this in public,” I advised.

“Sorry, I’d love you to do it. Brilliant! So, how would we do it? We’re allowed out of the house once a day, and we have three maybe four outfits to shoot,” John was thinking hard.

“Well, depends on the outfits, the locations and how long you have. If we’re walking there, it won’t be far. Assuming the outfits are similar dresses to last time, I don’t want to be changing behind trees. If the timeline allows, how about three or four walks, over a couple of days. No need to change en route, then. It will be good to get you some fresh air, too. I worry how long you work each day.”

“Ha! Don’t worry about me. I’d be much worse off, if it weren’t for you. And yeah, that sounds a good idea. If I get them to send out the products now, I can free up some more time. How about you start thinking of some possible locations? Bars that we can make it look like we’re visiting might be a good start,” John asked.

“I’m on it!” I assured

***

“Will this do?” I asked.

“Yes. Perfect,” John fed back, as he started to take pictures of me.

I’d found some bars and hotels in walking distance from our house, that I thought might be suitable. Not walking distance in heels, so I wore trainers and changed when we arrived.

“You look incredible, Lucy. You have such a great figure, and cracking legs.”

We were only there a few minutes, enough for John to get a handful of shots, and then check that he had what he wanted. As we started to walk off, John stopped me.

“Aren’t you going to change back into your trainers?” John said, gesturing towards his rucksack.

“No, I’m okay. I’ll just hold your arm, to keep me safe.”

The next day it was the same hotel. John was happy that he could get some different angles.

“Right up by the door, Lucy,” he instructed.

Looking back over my shoulder, I saw he was photographing me, “Are you taking shots of my arse?”

“Yes. You can hardly blame me, I’m only human. It looks so good in that tight satin.”

“Well, as long as you concentrate. We don’t want your blue balls distracting you,” I joked.

“Too late, babe” he said, blowing me a kiss

“I’ve been having a think about the next place. I think we can use the garden at the bar at the end of this street. If we take a glass, and fill it with a drink, it would look really authentic. What do you think?” I asked, as we were heading home, me once again clutching John’s arm.

“Not just a pretty face and cracking body. If I ever get so big as to need a location finder, the job is yours. I think that’s a great idea,” John smiled his approval, moving my hand from his arm and taking it in his, as we continued to walk home.

“That’s such a pretty photo. You look so beautiful, so happy,” John said, as he was taking me through the photos from our last session. “I think we should keep that one for ourselves,” he smiled.

“Yeah, it nice. If I had any social media as Lucy, that would make a great profile picture.”

“Yeah, beautiful,” John reinforced.

“Not so bad yourself,” as I took his hand, before we headed off home.

***

“So, what exactly does this mean?” John asked, after trying to follow the latest government announcement.

“Well, it’s complicated,” I advised, after watching the full briefing, and having clarified some of my own points of confusion on other news websites, “Basically, hospitality can open with restrictions. And we’re not limited to only leaving the house once a day.”

“I often don’t leave the house at all,” joked John, so what about pubs, and bars and restaurants? What are these restrictions? It seems to vary around the country, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. For us, it’s seated only; so no ordering or drinking at the bar. Venues have to close by 10pm. Masks must be worn when not sat at a table. And it’s a maximum of six, with no mixing of households. So, you’re basically still stuck with me!” I summarised

“Fancy going to the pub then? When they open?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

The following weekend, we went for a quick drink at our local pub, after having to book a table for two-hour slot. Took much of a spontaneity out of it, but it was still nice to be somewhere different.

“So,” I started, “Is this the end of you needing me?” I asked “Things should start to get back to how things were before now.”

“Maybe I don’t want things to get back to being how they were before? As I’ve told you, you’re my number one girl. Not only do I need you, I’d miss you too much. Kind of got used to Lucy being around,” John advised.

“Ha! Let’s see if you’re still saying that when the girls are back out and about in their skimpy little outfits, and you feel like you’ve got six months to be catching up on!” I joked.

“How about we see if I am still saying that when you’re out in your skimpy little outfits. Can I take Lucy out for a drink tomorrow? As a thank you.” John asked.

“Ha! There’s no need for that. But yeah, sure. Why not.”

***

“Can I be honest, Lucy? I’m having much more fun tonight, than last night. Is that really rude?” John asked.

“No, not really. I’m having a good time, too,” I smiled back

“I know I’m sounding like a broken record, but you look so pretty. I don’t remember that outfit though. Is it from the stash in the garage?” John wondered

“No. I got it from town this morning. You like it?” I asked

“Yeah, it looks great. You buying more clothes then?”

“Well, I can’t be relying on whatever briefs land on your desk. I could have a wardrobe of just sexy little dresses, bras and panties,” I laughed.

“And I’d not be complaining,” winked John.

“John?” I asked,”Is this like date?”

“Yes, I was kind of hoping so,” he smiled.

“Good. I can look forward to my goodnight kiss then, and you asking if you can take me out again.”

“Yes, you definitely can,” John laughed.

We walked home hand in hand, and made out on the sofa for what felt like hours. It was amazing to have John’s hands exploring my body, but I had to stop him going too far.

“What kind of girl do you take me for?” I teased, “Not on a first date.”

“So? Let me take you out for dinner? Tomorrow?” John asked.

“I can hardly wait,” I replied with a smile, and a tender kiss on John’s lips, before heading off to bed.

“So?” I asked on the way out of the restaurant, as John led me towards the door, “Your place or mine?”

***

The second and third lockdowns were much more fun; and life generally got a lot more interesting.