At first, Charlette seemed unsure of herself; though he had a feeling it would pass soon enough.  Seemingly on the cusp of saying something, she held her tongue instead.  Her migration toward the water suggested she was rallying at the prospect of being photographed.  A smile and compliment later, and Paul was convinced she actually wished to go through with this.<br/><br/>He still had no idea whatsoever on how to direct her.  So he proceeded to do what any professional (as she called him) photographer would do.  Paul began to take pictures of her.  Though sadly, he sorely missed the<i>clicks </i>and<i>whirrs </i>from his old<i>Nikon.  </i>Digital cameras were just too quiet for his taste.<br/><br/>At first, he just stood there, snapping shot after shot.  He then began to alternate between horizontal and vertical views.  On top of this, he experimented with his own poses: standing, sitting, kneeling, lying on the sand on his stomach, even shifting to his back to snap her upside down.  Paul moved around, too, capturing her at different angles.  One thing that remained constant, however, was no matter what angle he viewed her, curves of varying lethality was always in the frame.<br/><br/>For some reason, a Soundgarden song popped into his head:<i>Hands All Over.  </i>It wasn’t so much the tune’s<i>lyrics</i>, as he believed it leaned toward political shenanigans.  But the<i>title </i>stood out for him.  And it didn’t take a 4.0 GPA to realize why.<br/><br/>You horny yet, Old Man?  Paul brushed off the inane, but fair, question.  He and his camera had further focusing to do.