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GEMMA
“That’s the last one.” I lifted the camera from my face and let it hang from the strap around my neck. “You did amazing.”
Ellen let out a breath that was half laugh, half relieved exhale. “Thank goodness. That was terrifying.”
I flashed her an encouraging smile. “Yet you did it anyway, which is pretty much the definition of being brave.”
“Yay me,” she murmured with a soft chuckle, clutching the sheet tighter around her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and her legs were tucked beneath her as she leaned against the back of my velvet chaise. “I don’t think I’ve been this anxious since the day I got married.”
Snagging a robe from the hook on the wall, I crossed the room toward her. “A different kind of nerves, though, right?”
“Yeah, this time no one’s expecting anything of me but me.” She gripped the sheet in one hand while taking the robe from me with the other. “It’s not like I sent invitations to my boudoir photo shoot like I did with my wedding. I don’t even plan to show them to anyone else.”
I turned around to give her privacy while she stood and slipped into it. “You never know. Once you see how gorgeous you are in these photos, you might want to plaster them everywhere.”
“You’re sweet, but I don’t see that happening.” When I turned back, Ellen was cinching the belt at her waist, her expression and body language more at ease than it had been when she first walked in. “Thanks for making me feel…not ridiculous, I guess is the best way to put it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t feel ridiculous because it’s the last thing I’d call you.” I lifted my camera again, cradling it in both hands like the extension of myself it had become. “Brave and beautiful are definitely more fitting.”
She blinked rapidly, the corners of her mouth turning up. “I almost canceled this morning. I kept looking at myself in the mirror and wondering what I was thinking when I decided to do this. I’m thirty-six, recently divorced, and I haven’t worn anything remotely sexy in a year. It just felt like pretending, even if only for myself.”
“I see a lot from behind my camera lens. Please trust me when I say you weren’t pretending. You were reclaiming yourself.” Her gaze flicked to mine. “That’s what boudoir is about for most of my clients, even the ones who originally book the session because they want photos for their partner. At their heart, my photo shoots aren't for someone else, just women remembering they’re allowed to feel sexy for themselves.”
“How did you get so smart?” She shook her head with a laugh. “I’m old enough to be your mom, but here you are, schooling me on something I should’ve realized on my own.”
I rolled my eyes. “Only if you were a teen mom.”
“Okay then, big sister.”
“That’s more like it.” I winked before walking her through the upload process, pointing out how the files I would share with herwere encrypted. Then I handed her a card that had a password printed on it. “I’ll send a secure link to your private gallery tomorrow. You’ll have full control—download, delete, whatever you want. No one else will ever see these photos unless you choose to share them. This password will get you in, and the link will expire in two weeks. If you need longer than that, just let me know. They’ll be numbered, so you can just tell me which ones you want me to fully edit and print for your package.”
She clutched the collar of the robe, pulling it tighter across her chest. “Thanks. I appreciate how careful you are with them.”
I headed into the front of the studio so she could get dressed. When she joined me, I helped her gather her things, offered her a bottle of water from the mini fridge, and double-checked that she had everything.
At the door, Ellen paused and looked back at me. “This meant more than I can say. I feel as though maybe I can look at myself without flinching now. Like I undid some of the damage my ex did to my self-esteem.”
My heart squeezed. “That’s exactly what I hoped for.”
She reached for the door handle. “You’re really talented, Gemma. And not just with the camera.”
“Thank you.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Drive safe, okay?”
“I will.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and I stood there for a second, letting the stillness settle. The space always felt different after a session. Warmer, somehow. Especially with clients like Ellen who’d come to me hoping to reclaim some of their femininity. They were the reason I started doing boudoir shoots in the first place. And why I never wanted to stop.
I left the music playing at a low volume, just enough to keep the silence from feeling too loud, and moved around the studio for my usual post-session routine. I powered down the lights,unplugged the softbox, and coiled the cords with practiced hands. Replaced the lens cap. Folded the white sheet Ellen had used and added it to the laundry basket.
Then I moved to my desk and slotted the memory card into my editing laptop. A secure connection dialog popped up immediately, and I entered the password without hesitation. The photos began to transfer, thumbnail by thumbnail, and I opened the encrypted drive to prepare the backup.
I gave the file transfer a few more seconds, then clicked over to check my to-do list for the day. I still had a couple of emails to send and a small stack of receipts I hadn’t entered yet.
I leaned back, stretched my arms overhead, and let my gaze drift toward the back corner where my little kitchenette was tucked against the wall. I wasn’t ready for dinner yet, but I was hungry.
I grabbed a granola bar from the drawer and perched on the arm of the loveseat while I unwrapped it.
