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Pricing

As a creative photographer, it’s my job to tell the story of your life. I want to make sure we’re a good fit, both in style and personality, so I can capture the true essence of who you are. Supreme customer service and quality of product are extremely important to me, so time constraints prevent me from accepting every job.



Boudoir Photography

Boudoir Session Fee - $300
90-minute session
Wardrobe styling
Access to the Client Closet

Product Packages

Silver - $575
6x8 album with 12 images
8x10 mounted metallic print
Light retouching

Gold - $925
8x8 album with 20 images
11x14 mounted metallic print
Flash drive of all retouched high-resolution files

Platinum - $1,225
10x8 album with 34 images
11x14 mounted metallic print
Flash drive of all retouched high-resolution files

*A la carte products available



Creative Portraits

Starting at $500

Many types of photography fall under Creative Portraits. All sessions include a mixture of film and digital photography.

  • Artists, musicians, actors, dancers, etc
  • Personal branding
  • Modeling portfolios
  • Pets
  • Couple and engagement sessions
  • Individual portraits
  • Senior portraits
  • Branding deals


Maternity Photography

Session - $500
90-minute portrait session
All high-resolution images

*Prints, albums, and flash drives available


Family Photography

Session - $500
90-minute portrait session
All high-resolution images

*Prints, albums, and flash drives available


Wedding Portraits

I no longer photograph weddings or elopements. I am offering wedding portraits for couples who didn't get a chance to take incredible portraits on their wedding day. Now's the chance to celebrate with epic wedding portraits! Pricing starts at $800.


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sophomore Year—November, 2013

When I got into Maddy’s car I choked on her nasty perfume, and before I even got the door shut, Caitlin handed me my fake ID. It was a good fake. The photo Maddy’s guy took of me looked just like one from the DMV. And just like that, I was 21.

Taylor was next to me in the back seat, her compact two inches from her face. “Hey,” she said, dabbing highlighter on her cheekbones.

“Hey,” I said, peeling off my scarf and jacket.

Maddy turned up the music and said, “Alright, bitches. Here we go!” and Taylor and Caitlin cheered.

I looked out the window, the woods flying past as we headed to Dartmouth. I didn’t really want to go to a frat party, sweaty jocks drooling all over me, but Maddy had gotten me the fake ID and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

A misty layer of fog had settled over the county, turning everything a sickly grayish color in the dark. I just wanted to be with Glen, stolen away in his house, his hand on my throat, squeezing out my breath, my blood coursing through my body. Or in a dark alleyway on campus, pinned between his body and a wall, my skirt up around my waist, panting as we moved. Those nights in the alley were thrilling—the idea that he would risk so much to have me, his hands groping me, pulling at my clothes, his mouth tasting me. Being with him was like drowning in warm water—terrifying and surreal, exhilarating once I was safe. It was like he couldn’t get enough of me, like he was starving for me. He didn’t realize I was hungrier than him, yearning for him every second, walking around with my hands twitching with want. And only when I saw him again would I feel full.

***

“Where’s Caitlin?” I shouted, barely audible over the thumping music. It was so loud I could feel it pulsing through my body, rattling my bones. Taylor shrugged and kept dancing, popping her hips and swinging her hair like a head-banger. Maddy was grinding on a frat guy in a polo shirt, his hands all over her ass. Pathetic.

I hadn’t seen Caitlin in an hour, since she’d walked off with some guy in search of another drink, and I had a nagging feeling something wasn’t right. I wove my way through the crowd, having to turn sideways and squeeze in between B.O.-laden dancers. Between that and the smell of stale beer, I had to breathe through my mouth. I hated parties that were packed with drunk, stumbling, stupid people. I shoved a guy who wouldn’t move, and he landed on his ass, cussing at me. “Idiot,” I mumbled.

Caitlin definitely wasn’t on the first floor. I checked the bathrooms, kitchen, beer pong table, and bar. My heart started to beat harder as I headed up the stairs and the music waned and the crowd thinned. I knew what happened upstairs at parties like this.

After searching three bedrooms unsuccessfully and being screamed at by half-naked college horn dogs, I was starting to panic. Could she be outside? She wouldn’t have left with someone, would she? I pushed open another door and a saw a couple on the bed, the guy on top of the girl, between her legs, her skirt pushed up around her waist, her sweater bunched up above her naked breasts. When he screamed at me to get the hell out, I almost did. Until I saw the girl’s purple shoes.

“Caitlin?” I called. But she didn’t move, and when I entered the room and saw her face, her eyes closed, her arm hanging limply off the bed, I flew at him, screaming, “What the hell are you doing? Get off of her!” I hit him over and over, grabbed at his sweatshirt, pulled his hair, trying to pull him off.

“What the hell?” he said, getting up.

I dropped to my knees and patted Caitlin’s face. “Caitlin! Caitlin, wake up!” I looked over my shoulder at him. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” he said, zipping his pants. “She’s fine.”

“She’s not fine! She’s passed out. What is wrong with you, you sick rapist?” I checked her clothes, relieved to see her panties were still intact. I pulled down her skirt and covered her breasts with her sweater. I slapped Caitlin’s cheeks and screamed her name, and when her eyelids fluttered, I gasped, “Oh thank God, thank God…” I sat her up, looked up at the frat guy, and screamed, “What did you give her?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, fleeing the scene.

“Caitlin…” I smacked her cheeks again. “What did you take? Did you snort coke?”

“Nnnnoo,” she slurred.

“Come on, get up.” I pulled her to her feet and hooked her arm around my shoulders, almost folding to the carpet under her weight. “What did you take?”

“No.” She could barely talk, barely open her eyes.

I led her out of the room, and as I passed her date-raper in the hall I said, “You’re lucky I don’t call the police, you sick bastard. She’s sixteen!”

“What?” His face blanched white and he started begging like a little pussy. “I didn’t know she was jailbait, I swear!”

“You’re sick!”

I walked her into the bathroom and put her on her knees in front of the toilet, then shoved my fingers in her mouth. She shoved at my hand, moaning a refusal. “You have to throw up,” I said, grasping her hair with one hand and shoving my fingers in her mouth and down her throat with the other. She started to gag and heave into the toilet, liquid pouring from her mouth. “Good girl,” I said as I stroked her hair. “Good girl.”

I had to leave her on the bathroom floor to go downstairs and get Maddy and Taylor. Maddy was pissed she had to leave her jock frat boy so early, no doubt planning on staying the night, and she went to get the car with a pissy “Fine.” Taylor ran up the stairs with me to Caitlin’s side.

We cleaned Caitlin up in the sink as she cried. I kept wiping her tears, but they kept coming and I had to give up. Then we carefully walked her down the stairs, almost tumbling to our deaths several times, and poured her into the back seat.

I laid Caitlin’s head in my lap as she moaned. “What did you give her?” I asked Maddy and Taylor.

“Nothing,” Maddy said, and Taylor shook her head in agreement. They swore Caitlin hadn’t taken any drugs and I believed them. They used drugs with the abandon of toddlers, but they were always brazen and honest about it.

I’d never seen anyone pass out like that two hours into a party. Did someone roofie her drink? Was it the frat guy who was writhing on top of her while she was unconscious?

Maddy looked at me through the rearview mirror and said, “Don’t let her puke in my car.”

“Maddy!” I chided. “It’s not her fault.”

Maddy had to pull over six times for Caitlin to throw up, and Taylor and I held her hair back and told her it was okay, everything was going to be fine.

It was a long, silent car ride back to Maddy’s house.

***

The next morning I woke Caitlin up to bring her a cup of peppermint tea. “How’re you feeling?”

She draped her arm over her eyes. “Like I’m dying.”

“Tea,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her.

She sat up and moaned, then took the tea cup and sipped. “Thank you.”

I handed her four Advil. “Works every time.”

She swallowed them dutifully. “God, what happened last night?”

“I found you passed out.”

She made a little “Mm hmm” sound.

“Under a frat guy.”

The shocked look on her face told me she didn’t remember.

“Did he?” she said, her voice trailing off in dread.

“No. I found you in time. He pulled your top up. And your bra.”

She covered her eyes with a hand. “Oh God.”

“He had your skirt up when I ran in there. If I hadn’t found you…” I squeezed my eyes closed. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“God…”

“What happened? What did you take?”

“Nothing! I had like two beers, I swear.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and held the steaming cup of tea to her cheek. “We were making out on the bed, and yeah, he had his hand up my top, but…” Her eyes were vacant as she looked past me, thinking. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

I’d heard of things like this happening all the time, of girls waking up naked next to someone they didn’t even know, unable to remember anything from the previous night. “Do you think…” I sighed. “Do you think you were drugged?”

Her brows pinched together in concentration. “Maybe.”

I was so angry—angry at that sick frat boy who was unzipping his pants on top of her, at Maddy for taking us there, at myself for letting Caitlin go off with some random guy. I, of all people, knew what could happen. I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have let her go by herself with a guy I didn’t know.

“Hey,” she said, placing a clammy hand on my wrist. “Thank you.”

I put my hand over hers. “Don’t.”

“No, really.” Her eyes were intense on mine. “You saved me. Thank you. I owe you.”

“I’m your friend.”

She nodded and pressed her lips together.

“Drink your tea,” I said, and she put her lips to the cup and drank.

***

I spent Sunday in town at the Bake and Sip, studying for a huge art history test. The Renaissance art was depressing and beautiful, the drape of the bodies, the feathering of the light. I stared at them for hours, memorizing paintings, imaging what life must have been like back then. Before I knew it, it was 9:30, and I only had half an hour to get back to Merrill.

The door jingled as I opened it. When I stepped onto the sidewalk the cold air hit me and I looped my scarf around my neck, protecting myself against the dark night. I headed down Main Street toward the bus stop, and when I passed the alleyway next to the music store a hand clamped around my arm and yanked and I screamed as Glen pulled me into the alley.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, rubbing my arm, my heart ready to explode out my chest. “You scared me.” I reached for him but he backed away.

“What the hell is this?” he said, holding his phone up to my face, displaying a photo on my Instagram of me dancing at the Dartmouth party with Taylor.

My stomach leapt. I hadn’t told him I was going, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I tried to keep my life with Glen separate from everything else, knowing crossover was dangerous. If the delicately balanced pieces of my life bled together, it would ruin everything.

“I went to a party at Dartmouth with my friends,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“So you went to whore around with college guys?”

“No,” I said, already starting to beg. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

His face hardened and it scared me because I’d never seen him angry. “Did you screw anyone while you were there?”

The words hit me in the chest and I felt myself make an “oof” sound, like someone had chucked a kettle bell at me, knocking out my breath. I opened my mouth to answer, but there were no words. My confusion was swallowing me whole.

“I didn’t realize you were such a whore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” My groveling sounded pathetic, like when I begged my father to not send me to Allenbrook. “Why are you so mad?”

“Maybe we aren’t what I thought we were.”

“No!” I begged, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry!”

He pulled away so hard I tripped over my feet. His eyes narrowed and it sent a chill through me.

“I love you,” I said, tears springing from my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would upset you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again.” I reached for him and tried to kiss him, but he grabbed my face, my cheeks clasped hard in his hand.

“Keep your filthy mouth off me,” he said, squeezing harder, and I yelped in pain.

When he let me go he shoved me and I stumbled, rubbing my cheeks. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to fight.”

He laughed and it echoed through the alley. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me sobbing like a little girl in the dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sophomore Year—November, 2013

When I got into Maddy’s car I choked on her nasty perfume, and before I even got the door shut, Caitlin handed me my fake ID. It was a good fake. The photo Maddy’s guy took of me looked just like one from the DMV. And just like that, I was 21.

Taylor was next to me in the back seat, her compact two inches from her face. “Hey,” she said, dabbing highlighter on her cheekbones.

“Hey,” I said, peeling off my scarf and jacket.

Maddy turned up the music and said, “Alright, bitches. Here we go!” and Taylor and Caitlin cheered.

I looked out the window, the woods flying past as we headed to Dartmouth. I didn’t really want to go to a frat party, sweaty jocks drooling all over me, but Maddy had gotten me the fake ID and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

A misty layer of fog had settled over the county, turning everything a sickly grayish color in the dark. I just wanted to be with Glen, stolen away in his house, his hand on my throat, squeezing out my breath, my blood coursing through my body. Or in a dark alleyway on campus, pinned between his body and a wall, my skirt up around my waist, panting as we moved. Those nights in the alley were thrilling—the idea that he would risk so much to have me, his hands groping me, pulling at my clothes, his mouth tasting me. Being with him was like drowning in warm water—terrifying and surreal, exhilarating once I was safe. It was like he couldn’t get enough of me, like he was starving for me. He didn’t realize I was hungrier than him, yearning for him every second, walking around with my hands twitching with want. And only when I saw him again would I feel full.

***

“Where’s Caitlin?” I shouted, barely audible over the thumping music. It was so loud I could feel it pulsing through my body, rattling my bones. Taylor shrugged and kept dancing, popping her hips and swinging her hair like a head-banger. Maddy was grinding on a frat guy in a polo shirt, his hands all over her ass. Pathetic.

I hadn’t seen Caitlin in an hour, since she’d walked off with some guy in search of another drink, and I had a nagging feeling something wasn’t right. I wove my way through the crowd, having to turn sideways and squeeze in between B.O.-laden dancers. Between that and the smell of stale beer, I had to breathe through my mouth. I hated parties that were packed with drunk, stumbling, stupid people. I shoved a guy who wouldn’t move, and he landed on his ass, cussing at me. “Idiot,” I mumbled.

Caitlin definitely wasn’t on the first floor. I checked the bathrooms, kitchen, beer pong table, and bar. My heart started to beat harder as I headed up the stairs and the music waned and the crowd thinned. I knew what happened upstairs at parties like this.

After searching three bedrooms unsuccessfully and being screamed at by half-naked college horn dogs, I was starting to panic. Could she be outside? She wouldn’t have left with someone, would she? I pushed open another door and a saw a couple on the bed, the guy on top of the girl, between her legs, her skirt pushed up around her waist, her sweater bunched up above her naked breasts. When he screamed at me to get the hell out, I almost did. Until I saw the girl’s purple shoes.

“Caitlin?” I called. But she didn’t move, and when I entered the room and saw her face, her eyes closed, her arm hanging limply off the bed, I flew at him, screaming, “What the hell are you doing? Get off of her!” I hit him over and over, grabbed at his sweatshirt, pulled his hair, trying to pull him off.

“What the hell?” he said, getting up.

I dropped to my knees and patted Caitlin’s face. “Caitlin! Caitlin, wake up!” I looked over my shoulder at him. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” he said, zipping his pants. “She’s fine.”

“She’s not fine! She’s passed out. What is wrong with you, you sick rapist?” I checked her clothes, relieved to see her panties were still intact. I pulled down her skirt and covered her breasts with her sweater. I slapped Caitlin’s cheeks and screamed her name, and when her eyelids fluttered, I gasped, “Oh thank God, thank God…” I sat her up, looked up at the frat guy, and screamed, “What did you give her?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, fleeing the scene.

“Caitlin…” I smacked her cheeks again. “What did you take? Did you snort coke?”

“Nnnnoo,” she slurred.

“Come on, get up.” I pulled her to her feet and hooked her arm around my shoulders, almost folding to the carpet under her weight. “What did you take?”

“No.” She could barely talk, barely open her eyes.

I led her out of the room, and as I passed her date-raper in the hall I said, “You’re lucky I don’t call the police, you sick bastard. She’s sixteen!”

“What?” His face blanched white and he started begging like a little pussy. “I didn’t know she was jailbait, I swear!”

“You’re sick!”

I walked her into the bathroom and put her on her knees in front of the toilet, then shoved my fingers in her mouth. She shoved at my hand, moaning a refusal. “You have to throw up,” I said, grasping her hair with one hand and shoving my fingers in her mouth and down her throat with the other. She started to gag and heave into the toilet, liquid pouring from her mouth. “Good girl,” I said as I stroked her hair. “Good girl.”

I had to leave her on the bathroom floor to go downstairs and get Maddy and Taylor. Maddy was pissed she had to leave her jock frat boy so early, no doubt planning on staying the night, and she went to get the car with a pissy “Fine.” Taylor ran up the stairs with me to Caitlin’s side.

We cleaned Caitlin up in the sink as she cried. I kept wiping her tears, but they kept coming and I had to give up. Then we carefully walked her down the stairs, almost tumbling to our deaths several times, and poured her into the back seat.

I laid Caitlin’s head in my lap as she moaned. “What did you give her?” I asked Maddy and Taylor.

“Nothing,” Maddy said, and Taylor shook her head in agreement. They swore Caitlin hadn’t taken any drugs and I believed them. They used drugs with the abandon of toddlers, but they were always brazen and honest about it.

I’d never seen anyone pass out like that two hours into a party. Did someone roofie her drink? Was it the frat guy who was writhing on top of her while she was unconscious?

Maddy looked at me through the rearview mirror and said, “Don’t let her puke in my car.”

“Maddy!” I chided. “It’s not her fault.”

Maddy had to pull over six times for Caitlin to throw up, and Taylor and I held her hair back and told her it was okay, everything was going to be fine.

It was a long, silent car ride back to Maddy’s house.

***

The next morning I woke Caitlin up to bring her a cup of peppermint tea. “How’re you feeling?”

She draped her arm over her eyes. “Like I’m dying.”

“Tea,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her.

She sat up and moaned, then took the tea cup and sipped. “Thank you.”

I handed her four Advil. “Works every time.”

She swallowed them dutifully. “God, what happened last night?”

“I found you passed out.”

She made a little “Mm hmm” sound.

“Under a frat guy.”

The shocked look on her face told me she didn’t remember.

“Did he?” she said, her voice trailing off in dread.

“No. I found you in time. He pulled your top up. And your bra.”

She covered her eyes with a hand. “Oh God.”

“He had your skirt up when I ran in there. If I hadn’t found you…” I squeezed my eyes closed. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“God…”

“What happened? What did you take?”

“Nothing! I had like two beers, I swear.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and held the steaming cup of tea to her cheek. “We were making out on the bed, and yeah, he had his hand up my top, but…” Her eyes were vacant as she looked past me, thinking. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

I’d heard of things like this happening all the time, of girls waking up naked next to someone they didn’t even know, unable to remember anything from the previous night. “Do you think…” I sighed. “Do you think you were drugged?”

Her brows pinched together in concentration. “Maybe.”

I was so angry—angry at that sick frat boy who was unzipping his pants on top of her, at Maddy for taking us there, at myself for letting Caitlin go off with some random guy. I, of all people, knew what could happen. I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have let her go by herself with a guy I didn’t know.

“Hey,” she said, placing a clammy hand on my wrist. “Thank you.”

I put my hand over hers. “Don’t.”

“No, really.” Her eyes were intense on mine. “You saved me. Thank you. I owe you.”

“I’m your friend.”

She nodded and pressed her lips together.

“Drink your tea,” I said, and she put her lips to the cup and drank.

***

I spent Sunday in town at the Bake and Sip, studying for a huge art history test. The Renaissance art was depressing and beautiful, the drape of the bodies, the feathering of the light. I stared at them for hours, memorizing paintings, imaging what life must have been like back then. Before I knew it, it was 9:30, and I only had half an hour to get back to Merrill.

The door jingled as I opened it. When I stepped onto the sidewalk the cold air hit me and I looped my scarf around my neck, protecting myself against the dark night. I headed down Main Street toward the bus stop, and when I passed the alleyway next to the music store a hand clamped around my arm and yanked and I screamed as Glen pulled me into the alley.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, rubbing my arm, my heart ready to explode out my chest. “You scared me.” I reached for him but he backed away.

“What the hell is this?” he said, holding his phone up to my face, displaying a photo on my Instagram of me dancing at the Dartmouth party with Taylor.

My stomach leapt. I hadn’t told him I was going, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I tried to keep my life with Glen separate from everything else, knowing crossover was dangerous. If the delicately balanced pieces of my life bled together, it would ruin everything.

“I went to a party at Dartmouth with my friends,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“So you went to whore around with college guys?”

“No,” I said, already starting to beg. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

His face hardened and it scared me because I’d never seen him angry. “Did you screw anyone while you were there?”

The words hit me in the chest and I felt myself make an “oof” sound, like someone had chucked a kettle bell at me, knocking out my breath. I opened my mouth to answer, but there were no words. My confusion was swallowing me whole.

“I didn’t realize you were such a whore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” My groveling sounded pathetic, like when I begged my father to not send me to Allenbrook. “Why are you so mad?”

“Maybe we aren’t what I thought we were.”

“No!” I begged, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry!”

He pulled away so hard I tripped over my feet. His eyes narrowed and it sent a chill through me.

“I love you,” I said, tears springing from my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would upset you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again.” I reached for him and tried to kiss him, but he grabbed my face, my cheeks clasped hard in his hand.

“Keep your filthy mouth off me,” he said, squeezing harder, and I yelped in pain.

When he let me go he shoved me and I stumbled, rubbing my cheeks. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to fight.”

He laughed and it echoed through the alley. Then he turned and walked away, leaving me sobbing like a little girl in the dark.