I Can Use Filthy Game Currency In The Real World
Chapter 72: Wait… I’m the Photographer?!

Chapter 72: Wait... I’m the Photographer?!

I cracked open one of the doors just a sliver and peeked around, trying to spot if the photographer was in another room. But there wasn’t another room to check—never had been.

Then, without even thinking, I grabbed the camera sitting on the table nearby.

"Alex. Oh?" There was a little sticky note taped to the camera with my name scribbled on it. Alex. No doubt about it, that’s me.

"Huh?" I was totally thrown off. Wait, am I the one who owns this camera?

Knock—

"Manager?" Right then, Emma’s voice came through from the other side of the door. Am I seriously the one taking pictures here? Is this really happening?

"Come in!" I yelled for Emma to come inside while my hands fumbled with the camera. That sinking feeling I always get? It’s never wrong. How the hell do I even turn this thing on?

....

"Ha."

Yup, my gut was spot-on. I was the only employee in this whole damn company, stuck doing every single job.

I’d been nervous about the idea of using a model as a part-time fitting worker, but I never dreamed I’d be the only one running the show here.

It made sense why she thought it was weird that I couldn’t remember what Emma said during her interview. If this were a bigger company, I would’ve handled the interview myself, so forgetting the answers to my own questions probably looked shady as hell.

"Hang on a sec, just sit there and wait!"

"Oh, okay. No rush..."

I told Emma to plop down on a sofa that kinda looked like a photo shoot spot, then tried to figure out what to do next. I didn’t even know how to switch the camera on, but somehow I had to snap pics of this model.

I had no clue what clothes we were shooting today. Hell, I didn’t even know where the damn things were.

"Phew." I took a deep breath and forced myself to think straight. Okay, good news first: I’d get to take one-on-one photos of Emma. Plus, this company I worked for? It wasn’t your average underwear gig.

It leaned more toward selling adult toys and stuff, but that didn’t bother me one bit. Taking pics of Emma in skimpy outfits, though? Shit, this quest was almost too easy.

But the problem was obvious. I had to take the pictures myself. That was both a massive perk and a total pain in the ass.

First, I stepped into the office and messed around with the camera. I pressed every button I could find until I finally hit the power switch.

It flickered on, and I started playing with it. Thank God the icons and buttons weren’t some cryptic puzzle—pretty straightforward, actually.

There were a ton of options like the shutter button and some confirm thing, but half of them I couldn’t use anyway.

"Oh, hell yeah. Auto mode." Then I spotted it on the screen—an auto mode that adjusted the settings to match the room. Boom, camera problem solved.

Next up: the clothes for today’s shoot.

Right then, it hit me. When I’d stepped out of this tiny office earlier, I’d seen a box tucked away in the corner.

The second I remembered, I ripped it open. Sure enough, there were a bunch of neatly folded "underwear" pieces inside—bras, panties, the works.

"This is it." I just knew these were the outfits for today. I was set. All I had to do now was show Emma what she’d be wearing and start snapping pics.

"Well, fuck it. It’ll work out somehow." I was stressing about having to take the shots myself, but when I really thought about it, the quest wasn’t about nailing the perfect photo.

It was about getting Emma to figure out what she’s into.

....

"These?"

"Yup. We’ve got ten pieces like this today."

"Oh..." Emma stared into the box at the "underwear" and felt a mix of nerves and a weird thrill buzzing through her.

She already knew she’d be the one modeling this stuff—trying it on, posing for shots. She’d scoped out the "underwear" styles this company pumped out before.

But seeing it up close? Shit, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip.

The top piece in the box blew her expectations out of the water. A bra made of thin little straps, with soft, fluttering lace barely covering the tits? That was doable. You see that kind of thing in regular underwear all the time.

The real kicker was the bottom half. Matching white thong panties, made of the same flimsy straps as the bra, with a strip of lace dangling around the waist.

"T-shirt, thong..." The panties were basically just straps—no real fabric to speak of. The only solid part was a tiny cotton patch up front where the lace stitched on.

"Wow." Emma tried to steady her shaky nerves and play it cool, but that was easier said than done. Meanwhile, her manager—me—was over here messing with the camera, not giving her a second glance.

"Guess pros really are on another level...?" Emma felt a little calmer seeing me so zoned in on the camera. She steadied her trembling hands and picked up the white thong from the box.

No matter how you sliced it, this wasn’t "underwear" she’d ever wear for real.

"Uh... we starting with this?"

"Yeah, yeah!"

"Where do I change?"

"Well..."

Once she’d chilled out a bit, Emma finally asked the question that’d been nagging her.

"M-Manager, are you shooting this solo? No one else around?"

"Oh, yeah. Crazy, right? I’m stuck doing it all myself. Kinda embarrassing, honestly. Haha."

Emma relaxed a little more watching me talk like it was no big deal. I sounded like I was joking around on purpose to lighten the mood, and it felt pro as hell.

"Gotcha." Emma was a tiny bit let down, though.

She’d pictured a photo shoot with at least three people. A photographer barking orders, a brand manager lurking in the background, and some staff helping with the clothes.