Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of being in the Saddle ❯ Being Trusted: Leading to the Offer ( Chapter 31 )

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Work was brisk, we had a couple of problems but nothing that took too long to fix, we had pills for that. Tomorrow we'd have a new lady who had to be shown the ropes in front of the camera, but I had filmed one of those many times now. Honestly though, my mind was elsewhere.

Would she or wouldn't she? 

In the end I was delayed, and came home around eight PM, an hour later than expected. It wasn't deliberate, but as a consequence it limited the time Girl could earn. 

Once home I had a quick bath, picked out the clothes for Girl to wear, and wolfed down the now lukewarm food Ranma had made for us both. Pretty good, even if it wasn't hot. 

I just finished when Ranma came around the corner looking radiant. 

Now, like how I didn't insult Ranma about the tapes, she didn't insult me by asking how I'd know they were watched. 

The dress, the makeup, the way she perched on the chair, the physical mimicking was eerily nostalgic. 

"How did you know which one was the one that I'd filmed?" I asked her. These were the raw tapes and didn't have the credits, or obvious labels. 

"What, didn't you do all of them?" Even her mock confusion was copied from the tapes. "Just kidding. That one had those sweeps you did." She swept her arms in the same way I had done so with the stand. 

Damn Martial Artists, even us cameramen aren't safe.

Our movie had to be a short one, a Japanese drama, which turned out to be Ranma's kryptonite. Tired as I was, she barely kept her eyes open and her hand in mine. 

Movie over, we then proceeded upstairs. I hadn't bothered moving my bed back and forth after that first photo-op, so the set was ready and unchanged. 

The first roll was taken, a mix of Bridgette poses and her regular cheesecake. After I loaded the second film roll in and without a word the poses changed. 

It was like I was doing the shoot with that idol all over again, only now she was packing some serious tits and red hair. 

The third roll was the other model, and Ranma even briefly undid her pigtail to make it more distinct. This one, while not mine, was one I had snagged a copy of to learn from, and was pretty much the gold standard of what to do as an idol.

My model had been innocent, awkward, and earnest. This one had been a veteran of at least a year or two and far more composed. 

As I turned away and loaded the fourth and final roll for the night I heard a sound that made me repress a smile. 

The sound of someone in a dress and makeup climbing quietly onto my bed. 

The sound of obedience. 

I turned and took in the sight for a moment. Only a moment, I was a professional after all. 

"Lesson two: the bed shoot." I said calmly.

Many a photographer and cameraman have been raked over the coals for sullying the "purity" of an idol. It represented such a paradox, all the fans lusted after the girl, but wanted her on the pedestal untouched. 

Thus doing the bed shoots were very tricky, a delicate balancing act of innocence and lust. It wasn't their bed, and if a camera lingered too long... 

But it was my bed, I just had to be careful not to spook the one posing upon it. 

All too soon it was over. 

-=-=-=-

We were both yawning as I finished developing the last of the film. 

A good crop too, Ranma laying on my bed with various poses, all with a bright and earnest smile. 

The bed shots could be better, I could move the lights or change the covers to a lighter shade. Still, thirty photos survived my criticism, and once again Ranma accepted them all. I'd have to make sure she vetoed any slips should they occur in the future, it would be essential. 

You'd think it was silly, teaching Ranma to say no. But what it did was taking a binary black-and-white line and turning it into a thousand shades of compromise and justification. 

Still... 

There was no fear, no hesitation. She trusted me and my camera.

"Congratulations, you have successfully paid all of your debt." I offered my hand to shake. 

Her smile was like the sun coming up as she shook my whole body with her handshake. Fuck she was strong, I always forget until she reminds me like this. 

Make no mistake, Ranma Saotome could destroy me utterly if I fucked up even slightly. 

It was part of what made this so thrilling.

We went downstairs, her to get the invoice ready, me to the bathroom. Yes, the room with the bath. I ducked inside the mirrored closet and took stock.

Four red dots today. That means over the course of four separate hours she had been in here. 

Worst case it was to change briefly or quickly examine something in the mirror.

Best case, a bathing scene and some extensive practice in front of the mirror.

Four hours I couldn't watch, at least not now. I couldn't even sneak the films upstairs tonight. All I could do was stack them in a pile, load up four more from their cases, and hope tomorrow would be even better. 

But Nemo-sama, I hear you whine, Ranma has no more debt, why would you expect any more? 

Answer, because I've lived in Nerima for ten years, and Ranma was no fool. 

Arrogant? Yes.

Uneducated? In some ways very much so. In others surprisingly not.

Prideful? Hell yes.

Confident to the point he could slap someone with it? Indeed.

But not a fool.

I hummed a bit of a tune as I flushed the toilet for the noise and went out to make tomorrow happen. 

-=-=-=-

I signed my name on the invoice with a flourish, accepted my carbon copy, and handed over the rolls of film to Ranma, a routine we had established early on. I still didn't know where they went.

"Finally free and clear." I said approvingly. "Going to celebrate tomorrow or are you going to stockpile?"

The perplexed look on her face told me that she had yet to see beyond her triumph. As I wasn't 'Sir' right now, I didn't bluntly tell her any real explanation, thus once again Ranma had to come to the conclusion herself.

After a moment of pondering though, the answer was apparent. 

"Shit happens?" she almost phrased it as a question. Almost. 

"And preparations are what separate the best from the average." I definitely phrased mine like an answer. "Or at least allow them to stockpile for the next problem." 

And there would be a next time, a next problem, a next something. Ranma knew that intrinsically. 

But how to stockpile when Sunday was going to be a near total waste? 

Ranma knew the answer. 

"Got any other tapes?" 

I nodded stoically but inside I was cheering. "I'll pick out some before I go tomorrow."

-=-=-=-

I was awake at my usual time in the morning but I stayed in bed, going over each day in a sequence.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Girl for casual and cleaning, makeup, hand holding, and finally videos to learn from. 

Was I going too fast? 

Each step prior to this week I had planned out with care. Each step forward came about when Ranma came to the conclusion and made the decision. And by being the one coming to and making the decisions, they bound far stronger than if I had said them. 

But now I was outright offering things and pushing the steps without Ranma reaching the conclusions. 

It could go horribly wrong, but I dearly wanted more. The photos were nice, I was working on filling an album, but they could be more.

Just one more little push. 

-=-=-=-

Every time Ranma had been over here I had come down at the same time, like clockwork. 

Thus when I came down almost thirty minutes late, it was to a cool breakfast and a bemused Ranma. 

Food was shoveled in at a pace that almost impressed the martial artist before I was rushing back up stairs. 

Down I came with eight tapes from my work room.

Each was labeled in my own mix of British shorthand and kanji, something I came up with while chair-bound and bored out of my skull. It made for a decent filing system as well. 

Last night Ranma had performed, now it was my turn to perform, and I had to make this look good. 

The eight tapes made a wobbling tower, one barely stable as I rounded the corner to the living room. 

Ranma sat in his kitchen chair enjoying in no small part the fact that I had a day of work ahead of me while he was in the clear. 

One tape almost fell as I glared at the martial artist before I leaned back and pinned it with my chin. 

Tapes safely placed down on the table in front of the TV, I began the sorting process. There would be only three, like before. 

"Yes. No. Yes. No. No..." I trailed off and looked over at Ranma, tape clutched in my hand. "That reminds me, do you have any plans for lunch?" 

It was a possibility he had plans, but at the shaking of his head I continued. "All right then, around lunch time, if I can get the time free, I'll call the house, give you directions to a place I know. Sound good?" 

Absently, I placed the tape down behind me without looking, waiting for his response. 

After a moment of thinking, he shrugged and nodded. That was my cue to get back to the tapes. 

Three selections on the table, four in my hands. A grimace at the time on the clock had me running back upstairs with four tapes in tow.

And then I was off to work.

I jogged briskly for two blocks and turned the corner before I slowed down and took a deep breath, then I started walking calmly. 

I hope that worked. 

Of the eight tapes, four were nature studies and were tagged as such in my shorthand. They went back upstairs.

Three were more idol videos, and the last... that was my gambit. "Accidentally", left behind, clearly not one of the three I wanted to be watched as it wasn't in the pile, so if Ranma did, well that wasn't my fault now was it?

What's a Gravure Video between friends?

-=-=-=-

Work was a tense affair. Not for me, I was a veteran after all, but for the director Aoki. He was famous, or infamous rather, for being able to pick up new talent. The problem is that when they showed up for their "photo spread with optional video", and found that it wasn't actually a glam shoot, as you can imagine many walked out. Others needed the money and just a bit of coaxing. So, whenever we had a Noon shoot with Aoki, it meant two at the earliest as he cajoled and pleaded. We all knew that.

When I called my house at eleven-thirty the phone was picked up on the third ring. Had Ranma been watching something? I couldn't tell from the haggling happening behind me.

"Yeah?" Not much phone etiquette for the teen, but understandable with his life. 

"Still game for lunch?" I winced at the noise behind me as one of our girls was trying to calm down the irate 'model' and going over her rates. "I'm thinking about heading out a touch early."

"Sure. Should I bring anything?"

-=-=-=-

Yeah, we have women working here, and not just on their backs. Three of the five makeup artists were women, as were two of the lighting and sound crew, and half the editing and censoring crew, and that was not even counting management and shipping. We shot porn for men, women, and the odd mixes you can only find in southeast Asia. Straight, Gay, BL, Yaoi, Yuri, 'shota', Peelers, Bondage, S&M, Rape-rips, 'Idols', 'Gravure slips', and of course Poolsex, we filmed as much fucking as fucking what done. We did have our specialties, but you don't get to be successful in porn or filming porn by being picky.

And if you heard half the crap the women said around here, well, consider your innocent mind blown all the way to Toledo.

 M*A*S*H, 1972-1983. Watch it, plenty of good phrases, accents, and ways of speaking in it. Also a damn good series.

-=-=-=-

We met at the nearby station and I shepherded Ranma to a Ramen joint that I and many of the staff would frequent in the evenings. 

I picked it for a couple of reasons, mostly as the food was good (I was a sucker for the Kinoko Soba), but also for something I knew Ranma couldn't resist.

"Kaiju Buta Yarou Ramen?" Ranma's eyebrows slowly rose. "And is that picture accurate?"

A more valid question there has never been, especially when you saw how small the regular bowl was next to it.

"Yep." I nodded. "While I haven't tried it myself, I know of others who have attempted to climb the Kaiju," I smirked. "And failed."

"And you're buying?" Genma had taught him well.

"My treat. Call it a celebration for becoming debt free."

I was treated to a cocky smirk that got Ranma into such trouble with all the ladies. Into, and out of it sometimes.

"You're on!"

-=-=-=-

Yes I was tugging at his strings, pride foremost, stomach second, and leading him about. 

He needed another win, another victory after his defeat of the debt, the hits had to keep on coming.

Now, you know I've studied the Martial Artist carefully in his natural habitat of Nerima. I've listened to many recordings of his time at the Tendos, gathered gossip, and built a fair gestalt of his patterns.

And, like I was tracking wildlife, I knew where to set my traps.

Given a challenge, Ranma would attack it until he'd won, or, learned enough that it was no longer necessary to win. This should be obvious by now.

But after a second win, especially soon after a hard earned initial one, and he'd often get overconfident.

Plus, it was worth it to see the gobsmacked look on the Owner's face as Ranma ate the entire frigging thing.

And that led us talking as Ranma belched and picked at his teeth with a toothpick.

"Ranma, I've been thinking." I began, sipping my after meal tea. "Stop me if you spot any flaws in my logic here."

He nodded, gesturing for me to go on.

"Nabiki," Oh how he tensed even now as I said her name, like it was something unpleasant he had stepped in, "She ruined your entire travel set, bedroll to tent-cover, right before she got you kicked out."

"Yeah." His face was heading back to being serious, prior victory forgotten as it always was with him.

"Even when you go back," I didn't say if, that implied things I didn't want him to focus upon, "She'll have that on you if nothing else."

He nodded, "Yeah, something like 'how was your camping Saotome', or something leading like that."

I also nodded, "Indeed. She'll try to lead you to revealing things, and I've figured out that you don't want her or anyone to know about me." I took in his gobsmacked expression with a smile.

"It's just-um...", He floundered for a moment, trying to find the words.

I ignored the slight blush on his cheeks. Ranma was terrible at expressing things as a guy, which is why I wanted him to be so. As without a way to express it, he internalized it all the harder.

"Don't worry about it." I waved him silent, "I understand."

And then I struck with my offer.