I Can Use Filthy Game Currency In The Real World
Chapter 74: Killer Body

Chapter 74: Killer Body

"Holy crap," I muttered under my breath, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

The sight hit me like a freight train. I’d figured Emma would stumble out of the office with at least a blanket draped over her shoulders or maybe a hastily thrown-on shirt. Nope.

She stepped into the room buck naked, one hand pressed against her chest, the other shielding her lower half. Her bare skin glowed under the soft light—every inch of it exposed, vulnerable, and impossible to look away from.

"Damn, she’s got a killer body," I thought, my eyes tracing her curves before I could even pretend to be subtle.

She avoided my gaze, her cheeks flushed, but it didn’t matter—I’d already taken in every detail.

Her full breasts strained against the delicate lace of a bra she wasn’t even wearing yet, a teasing image burned into my mind.

Her stomach was flat and smooth, dipping into a tiny waist before flaring out into wide, sculpted hips that practically demanded attention.

"Should we head over there?" I asked, nodding toward the bed in the corner.

"Yeah, let’s do it!" she chirped, her voice brighter than I expected.

While Emma disappeared to slip into something—anything—I fiddled with her camera, my fingers fumbling over the buttons until I got the hang of it. It was simple enough. Point, shoot, capture the magic.

When she came back, still clutching herself modestly, I guided her to the bed I’d scoped out earlier. She followed, hesitating as she perched on the edge, her hands still guarding her body like a shield.

"Alright, here we go," I said, lifting the camera. "Let’s start easy."

Emma sat there in just her underwear now, the tension in her shoulders softening as she settled in. Her shyness was fading, and watching it melt away only fueled my confidence. I was calling the shots here, and it felt good.

"How about we try one from behind first?" I suggested, keeping my tone light.

"Oh, yeah, sure!" she replied, her voice tight but willing.

"Kneel on the bed and turn around," I said. "Push your hips out toward me just a little."

"Like... this?" Her voice wavered as she shifted into position.

I swallowed hard. She rose to her knees, twisting gracefully until her back faced me. With a small adjustment, she tilted her hips my way, and—good lord—it was like the air got sucked out of the room.

A thin white thong hugged her curves, barely covering anything, leaving her firm, pale hips swaying slightly as she found her balance.

They were begging to be touched, and I had to grip the camera tighter to keep my hands steady.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," I managed, my throat dry. "Hold it right there."

Click. Click. The shutter snapped, crisp and deliberate, cutting through the silence. Emma peeked over her shoulder, her hands still cupped over her chest and lower half.

"Um... your hands are in the frame," I said, nodding at the screen. "Could you drop them just a bit?"

"Oh! Right, sorry!" she blurted, jerking her arms up too high in a flustered rush.

She looked incredible already—her creamy skin catching the light, the sweep of her waist flowing into those jaw-dropping hips. The thong only made it worse, drawing my eyes like a magnet.

"Just a tiny bit lower," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Maybe lift your arms like you’re tying your hair?"

"Got it. And... spread my legs a little more, right?" she added, reading my mind.

I nodded, barely breathing as she adjusted. These weren’t random poses—they were straight out of late-night videos and steamy photo shoots I’d seen online. She followed my directions like a pro, but there was still a stiffness in her movements, a flicker of nerves holding her back.

"Emma, you’re doing great, but try to loosen up," I said, stepping closer. "The tension’s showing in the shots. Want to see?"

I moved beside her, holding the camera out so she could peek at the screen. The images glowed—her body in a loose t-shirt and panties, her hips stealing the show, the frame cutting off just above her neck. Anonymous, raw, and stunning.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, leaning in. "Yeah, I see it. I’ll relax, I promise."

A faint scent hit me as she shifted—something sweet and warm, her natural smell mixing with a hint of perfume. It was dizzying.

"Hey, manager?" she said softly, snapping me out of it.

"Yeah, uh—take a breather," I stammered. "Get comfy. No rush."

"Okay!" she grinned, and just like that, the awkwardness started to fade.

From there, she moved like she was born for this. She turned casually, tying her hair up in a messy bun, stretching her arms overhead, letting her hips jut out naturally. Every motion flowed, effortless and bold.

"Man, this is intense," I muttered to myself, my pulse racing. How do pros handle this without losing it? The excitement was electric, surging through me in waves I could barely control.

"Alright, let’s switch it up," I said, clearing my throat. "Face me now, same pose."

"...Okay," she replied, her voice steady but quiet.

She turned slowly, still kneeling, and met my gaze. Her front wasn’t as dramatic as her back, but it didn’t need to be. Long hair spilled over her chest, brushing the edges of her bra, while her lower half sat bare and unapologetic.

"Like we talked about—neck down only," I said. "Push your hair back a bit? I want the bra shot to pop."

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Swish. Her hands swept her hair back, revealing everything—the t-shirt hugging her frame, the white bra peeking out, simple but devastating. Her breasts, perfectly proportioned, filled out the look without trying too hard, and the thin straps teased just enough to spark wild thoughts.

"Hold it together," I whispered to myself, zooming in through the lens. My eyes wandered downward, and I knew I was in way over my head directly at her panties.