I laugh. “Just Dex’s fish. They are all exotic.”
“Yeah, I really didn’t know what I was getting into when I said I’d help. I have to feed them and check their water temperature twice a day. The auto lights over the tanks upstairs are broken, so I have to adjust them manually until they get repaired.” She shrugs her shoulders, unintentionally pushing her breasts together. I don’t even bother looking away. I thoroughly enjoy the view of her cleavage in a black bikini halter top. “I’m just going to say it—Dex hustled me.”
We both break out in laughter. Dex is the kindest, goofiest dodo on the planet. It’s from all the years of breathing in an oxygen tank underwater. He couldn’t hustle someone if he tried.
“How much is he paying you?”
“Nada. Free rent for the summer.” Avery licks her lips before she hangs her head. “I would’ve done anything to get away from home.”
I suck down half my beer in one glug. “I take it you live with Mason?”
“Yep.”
“What’s your game plan when the summer is over then?”
She drops her jaw before showing me a cute pout. “I thought we said the hot tub was for relaxation?”
“True.”
She drains her bottle and I move across her to get us another round, but she stops me. “Wait, I want a clear head when I talk to you tonight.”
“Oh? About?”
“After I unintentionally poisoned Dex’s fish this morning, I did run an audit on your website…your entire business actually. I went through your service page and looked at the packages you offer.”
I grumble. So much for relaxing. “All right, tell me. What am I doing wrong?”
I watch her entire demeanor change. Her shoulders straighten. She sits up a little higher. Even her chin slightly elevates. This is exactly what it looks like when a queen is about to give a command.
“You’re not doing anything wrong. Your portfolio is great, but you are missing out on a lot of opportunities for revenue. First and foremost, you’re not charging enough for any of your services. Second, you have headshots, family portraits, and boudoir photography on the same service pages.” She purses her lips and shakes her head. “I understand the need to be versatile, but you have to separate your boudoir clients. My suggestion is to keep your current website and place a link to a private site—eighteen and up. Require an age confirmation for entry and then show a warning of explicit images. All tasteful examples. Tease the idea, don’t become a landing page for perverts. But I think you need to demonstrate that you are capable of more risqué shoots. You said you photograph full nudity sometimes, right? I checked out your competition. They are far more forward with the services they provide. Bold sexuality and female empowerment are welcome in the current market. Women don’t want to hide anymore. It’s a great time to be in boudoir photography. You just have to give your potential clients a way to find you.”
Avery continues on about separating the sites and driving the right kinds of click traffic to two sides of the business. She discusses rebranding and merchandise ideas for additional streams of revenue. I try to soak up every word, but she’s talking so fast, my head is spinning.
“What’s your annual income before operation costs?”
I finally experience the shame Avery says she feels around me all the time. This is how it feels when you think someone is so far out of your league. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Finn, I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m trying to tell you there’s potential here. Are you making nearly 150K a year? Because you should be.”
“Barely a third of that.”
“I can get you there,” she says with such confidence. “Give me the summer. I can definitely get you on track.”
I scoop a handful of water and wet my hair. “I happened to check out your website too. As much as I want your help, I can’t afford you. Sixteen grand, minimum?”
She cringes. “Oh, that’s outdated. Mason must not have updated the website. I should’ve caught that. We don’t take clients for less than twenty-five now, but that includes investment into paid advertising—look, Finn,” she says, holding up her palms and shaking them in the air, “it’s neither here nor there because I’m offering to help you for free…kind of.”
“I couldn’t ask that of you—”
“Actually, I’m asking it of you.” She shrivels again. Her queen-like presence, diminished. Avery looks so nervous all of a sudden as her thumb knocks against the water line, making little splashes. “A trade. I help you…you help me.”
“You want a free boudoir session?”
She scoffs with such force, she chokes on her own spit. “Oh, hell no. No, no. No. Seeing me is one thing, but photographing me? Documenting all my insecurities with a camera that adds ten pounds? No…no…just no.”
And now, just like that, I want her naked in my studio more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Just to prove to her that she doesn’t see herself accurately.
I touch my fingertips to my temple. “What do you want then? I have nothing I can give you that’s worth twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Yesterday…” she says as though it’s an explanation.
“Say more.”
Her eyes shift to the left, away from me. “I was with the same man for four years.”
“I know. You told me…”
“Never once did he see me naked with the lights on.”
“Really? Not in four years?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. He never acted like he wanted to. The way you”—she clears her throat and forces herself to look at me—“talked to me and…touched me. It made me feel brave. I want to be able to do that. I want to stop missing out.”
“Missing out on what?” I can feel my forehead crinkling. Where the hell is she going with this?
“Good sex. I want to know what men like and I want to enjoy it. I will save your photography business if you teach me how to have good sex. That’s the deal.”
Holy shit. I need another beer. Actually, I need a whole keg.
Reaching over Avery, I grab another bottle. I don’t bother grabbing the opener. I angle the tip against the side of the deck and pound the bottleneck. The lid rolls away as the beer foam spills over my hand. I chug the entire thing, trying to buy a little time to think. Avery is patiently quiet. She’s nervous but not pushy.
“So you want me to tell you what positions men like best or something?”
She shakes her head. “No. I could watch porn for that. I need you to show me. I need practice and real-time feedback, so when I do get back out there, I’ll know next time…” Her bottom lip trembles and she quickly covers her mouth.
“Next time you’ll know what?”
Inhaling deeply, she composes herself. “That if things don’t work out, it’s not my fault because I suck at sex.”
Where does her prick of an ex-boyfriend live? I really want to pay him a visit.
“I understand how crazy this sounds, but last night it seemed like you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me—”