A woman asks another woman to take professional photos of her as she writhes around on the floor. She is sheepish and semi-apologizes for taking advantage of the moment to get her work done (the work of selling her product, namely herself). The woman with the 35 millimeter camera shrugs; she's not too happy about this, but acquiesces. I happen to have my camera and also take pictures. We are snapping fast as the woman poses and smiles sexy and twists and looks cute, and changes and looks pouty, etc. She has whips or seaweed things she twists around with and I think that a bit strange, but she must have meant that to happen, as she doesn't seem the type to leave things to chance and probably planned it this way. One shot is her on her tummy with her hands behind her back with the whip-like things around her, like a bondage thing. Then her show business partner, another woman, enters and they want pictures of them both. I agree and they choose to sit on a flower print couch. "How's this?" they ask. I say, "No, it would be better on the other couch, the yellow one, the print is too busy." Now my mother is sitting on the flowered couch and asks, testily, if she should get up and out of the way. I say, "It's not you, it's the couch." So we move the flowered couch and replace it with the yellow love seat. There is a lace curtain (like in my apartment) behind it. I snap some shots and see, to my delight, that behind the lace curtain is an ocean with girl children playing in it and the photos are now superimposed shots of the two women's heads surrounded with these laughing, playful girls. I take a number of shots because it is so pretty and nice. Then I stop and say to the women, "I need to tell you what I see here, because I guess that's not what you really want for your professional photos." I describe what I had seen.