I was in many school plays in elementary school, even the holiday concerts that were optional. I loved the theatre even though I had terrible stage fright. I would get so anxious before I was going to sing or act that it took much of the joy out of performing. However, I generally loved to entertain people and it was as close to a feeling of love I believed anyone could feel. It was all love and warmth when an audience was enjoying your performance. When I graduated from elementary school and went to Junior High, I continued with the arts by participating in chorus. I sang a solo or two during those three years. Until I started to wrestle, in seventh grade, I thought I would always be involved in the theatre. I was auditioning for one of the school’s major productions, when sports won me over and I made it my priority for the next six years.
I didn’t think too much about theatre for the rest of high school, other than going to every performance I could. I stayed engaged with music, thanks to my godfather, who bought me a guitar at a garage sale. I loved it and brought it to school often. I was taking lessons during lunch breaks from a member of the school band. She was hot.
My father’s cousin Michael was a world-class photographer and musician, who toured a lot. I always looked up to him. He played with the Eagles from time to time and many of the sixties bands. He lived on the West Coast, but would visit every time he came to New York. He gave me some lessons and from that time on, I knew I would be playing the rest of my life. I continue to write love ballads and play guitar to this day.
As talented a musician as he was, he also was an amazing photographer. He would sell stock photographs through a photo agency called The Stock Market, which later became Corbis Stock Market, when Microsoft purchased the company. He always photographed our family when he visited, to say thank-you for the hospitality. He would hand color the prints. To me he was amazingly talented and we had a great rapport, even though he was my father’s age. The summer after I graduated high school, he wanted to photograph me for the agency he was selling his work to. He asked me to find the prettiest girl I could and invite her to model.
I was so excited because his photographs were routinely used by the largest magazines and publications in the world. Even companies the size of American Express were licensing his photos from stock. He offered me a cut of anything he sold and I was hoping to score a campaign. That night, I went to every bar, searching for the hottest girl I could find. After going to Uncle Sam’s and every club I knew, I came up empty. For some reason, it was a slow weekend. No one seemed to be around. Maybe everyone was in the Hamptons, but I was too young to know about the east end back then. I continued my search at smaller dive bars. When I entered a pub in Levittown, I found her. She was tall and slender. She was exactly the type he described. Her looks and outfit made her a dead ringer for Pat Benatar. The resemblance was uncanny. Women and guys were all over her, asking if she actually was Pat Benatar.
She was rather shy, or at least she came off that way. As I started to tell her about the opportunity the bartender started pouring us free drinks. I knew him. He was a cool guy who could see I was making headway with this beautiful woman, so he hooked us up. I was a generous tipper so he would always do right by me. After a few drinks, she agreed to do the shoot the following day. We were both excited. I showed her some of his prints, which she thought were extraordinary. Not surprisingly, everyone always told her she should model, but she truly was the shy type.
The following day I picked her up and we shot with my cousin, as I have always referred to him, even though he is my father’s cousin. I’m not quite sure what that makes him to me. We went to a local park. He made it fun by making sure she kissed me for photos and we got really cozy. I was surprised that as soon as the camera came out she went from shy to bold. She was striking poses, hamming it up and having a great time. It was a different story for me. I was just about puking from stage fright as soon as the camera came out.
She was a few years older than me and certainly seemed to know how to handle herself in front of the camera. For a while my cousin was flirting with her and I thought she was going to start something with him, but when the shoot was done, she asked me to dinner to celebrate. There was a lot of hand holding and cuddling going on during that shoot. I was bursting out of my pants almost the entire time, even during the shots my cousin had us running.
She took me back to the bar we met at and had appetizers, drinking as much as we were eating. We did shots for hours and before I knew it she was hanging all over me. I would say she was probably four to six years older than I was, so she had more life experience. She certainly had more experience drinking shots. I was getting hammered. We sat at that bar and drank shots for hours. At one point a guy said something off color to her. When he refused to apologize, I got into a fistfight with him. It didn’t last long, as my friend the bartender threw him out. I did take a punch or two. She was turned on by the fact that I defended her honor and within minutes was dragging me out the front door, kissing me passionately the entire way.
We went directly to the back seat of my car. That was a common thing back. At eighteen, where were you going to take a girl to have sex? Not at your parents’ house. So many people would use the back seat of their car. It was very common at drive in movie theaters like the one in Westbury. So, we went at it, right into the middle of the brightly lit parking lot. She was wearing leather pants for the shoot, as was I. It was a challenge to get them off. Eventually we had our clothing off and were going wild. She was a very physical kisser and lover. At first, she took control.
As soon as she spread her legs, I inserted myself into her. She was so wet. Although we were in the back seat of my car, it seemed very romantic. As soon as I started to stroke back and forth, she started to cry, so I stopped. I would stop and look at her. She would look at me, confused, wondering why I had stopped. Each time I stopped pumping and thrusting she would stop crying and as soon as I started again she would start to cry. It was not a loud cry of anguish, as if she had lost someone she loved. It was more of a crying whimper, but she was definitely crying.
I was only eighteen so hearing a woman crying while I was making love to her was more than a bit disturbing. I had never experienced it or even heard about anyone crying during sex. I was more concerned that something was wrong with her, than getting laid at that point. I continued to stop frequently, until she just came out and said that she couldn’t help it. She explained while still whimpering that anytime she did it she would cry. She asked me to just ignore it, but it was impossible. However, looking down on her, with her extra-long legs on the ceiling of my car and her tear-filled eyes staring into mine, started to turn me on. I kept going, but for the longest time she did not cum. Nor did I. We were too buzzed.
It felt like we were screwing forever. Then, without much change in my pendulum type rhythmic pumping, she grabbed me and pulled me very close to her. She made sure my head was tightly squeezed against the side of hers and she came. Her cries increased in intensity to a point someone would have thought I was forcing her. She screamed “no, no, stop, stop,” while at the same time was crying rivers, yet holding me close to her in a vise-like grip, not allowing me to pull out of her, or move my head away to see what was wrong. She had the longest and most pronounced orgasm I ever heard a woman have. It seemed to go on for minutes. I was cuming as well, but it was very quick. She milked the moment for everything she could, using her legs and vagina to squeeze my cock incredibly tight. After I came I thought it was over, but with her crying and screaming, I got hard instantly and came again. This time I had a long pumping orgasm that seemed to last a very long time. I hadn’t experienced anything like it before. I’m not sure if it was the crying or her acting like she was being taken against her will, was what turned me on. It was both sexy and weird.
After we came the second time, she wouldn’t let go of me for at least an hour. She cried violently in my arms, staying in the missionary position, not allowing me get off her. I was getting worried and had no idea what to do. It went from strange, to being a turn on, to being strange again. Finally, she let go of me and we got dressed in almost complete silence. We didn’t say much of anything on the ride home. We kissed as I dropped her off. She said she wanted to get together the next day and pick out the best shots for her portfolio, a portfolio my cousin was going to give her as payment for her time. She also had to sign the release for the stock photo agency.
When I called her the next day she made believe she didn’t know who I was and said she wasn’t interested in the photographs. She said she was only interested in meeting at the bar again. I had to get a release signed, so I went. She signed the release and then just left. As she left, the bartender that had served us the night we met, brought extra-large shots for the two of us. He made a toast and asked, “did she have a good cry?” It became apparent that last night had not been the first time she walked out of that bar into someone’s back seat.
Within a few months our photos were turning heads. Many of the other photographers from the stock photo company started to call and ask if I would shoot for this sports magazine or that. I wound up modeling quite a bit. I rarely discussed it as I always thought each modeling job would be my last. I was content to take the clothing they were offering as payment, or at times, actual cash. Being around so many photographers I learned a lot and started photographing my girlfriends for the same stock agency
That’s how I became a photographer and a model at the same time. Eventually after two crazy runway gigs, I made the decision to never model again. When the money was right or the photographer was well known, I did, but mostly I stuck to photography. Not only because I was kind of gifted with the camera from day one, but also because I loved creating with women, as much as I loved making love with them.
Although it was the first time I slept with a woman who liked to cry, it wouldn’t be the last. My midlife crisis took that experience to a whole different level.