This strategy seemed to work. The girls felt at home in the "studio" environment with the breeze from the ocean acting as a natural wind machine while the flash was popping and popping. The tension from yesterday was still polluting the air, and the looks I got from the Russians left no doubt about who the asshole of the crew was, but most importantly I got my shots.
After the "studio" session we explored the tropical surroundings and the private beach, entertaining the local fishermen who were picking shells and crabs in the low tide nearby.
But as the day faded and the Russians retreated to their quarters with their upside-down smiles, I went over all the material. Due to all the stress and complications, I had not achieved what I was hoping for, so I had to do the inevitable - ask my dear wife to save this trip. You can read all about it tomorrow.