There was that triumphant whir as the film spiraled and spun around and around as the little silver knob was turning the film back into its tiny little shell of darkness.

“Miss, please hold your pose. That means not moving. I’m merely changing the film, it will only be a minute,” Denn pleaded as the model fidgeted and scrunched up her face unnatractively. He tried to turn the wheel faster, but it only seemed to be on one speed, hand power.

Denn quickly grabbed another roll, loaded it and waited patiently for the model to resume her place. She sighed, looked bored and began furtively examining her nails.

“Excuse me,” Denn prodded. She looked up, rolled her eyes, flipped her hair and immediately resumed the pose they had left off with with perfect precision. Denn silently grumbled to himself, wondering how he got stuck photographing these pin up girls for calenders that the boys in the navy would hang up in their war ships and talk dirty to at night. If only he could go where the real action was…