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The Photog

By: Nicola_Italia1



It was a dry heat that was almost stifling as Natalie Brenner dropped off her bags. The flight to Kabul had been riddled with problems and the fact that she was one of the top foreign correspondents with the BBC didn't help.

She held dual citizenship with the United States and Italy on her father's side and the higher ups had agreed she should travel on the Italian one.

The city was in shambles with the infrastructure in desperate need of repair and money.

She needn't get too comfortable anywhere because she was headed to Iraq at the end of the week.

She was 33 years old with no children and a marriage that had ended years ago.

She was a lovely woman with soft brown hair and blue eyes and she had been told numerous times that she should have gone into broadcast instead of print journalism.

Her retort was a quick, "I'm not a talking head. I actually work."

Natalie followed the bell hop upstairs and changed into looser fitting clothes.

She emerged a half hour later and went into the bar inside the Hotel Kabul Intercontinental. It was the largest hotel in town where dignitaries and journalists stayed.

She walked into the bar and smiled. The gang was all there.

The world of the foreign correspondents was small and getting smaller.

Bob Lacosta was an award winning journalist with the New York Times and looked every inch the part.

He was bald with a large paunch, glasses and suspenders. He was a hard nosed journalist but engaging and kind. She guesses he was in his late 50s.

"There she is," Bob called out to her. "How the hell are you kid? Haven't seen you since-"

"Rwanda." Supplied Clifton Brown.

Clifton raised his brown eyes to met Natalie's and held them briefly before rudely surveying her body.

Clifton was an attractive man a little older than Natalie who worked with the Washington Post. He was tall and lean with ruffled brown hair to match his eyes. He was arrogant and irritating and Natalie surmised the reason he hated her most of all was that she had never slept with him.

Gideon Tamarelli approached her and caught her up in a hug which she graciously returned.

At 30, he was a gifted writer with premature balding and light blue eyes. He was sweet and she had always enjoyed his company. He was a writer with the Christian Science Monitor.

"We were wondering where the fourth wheel was," Gideon told her.

Clifton made a rude sound and she said, "Try to be decent, Cliff. Try."

She seated herself in between Gideon and Bob and asked lightly, "Where are the photogs?"

"Probably out drinking and smoking," laughed Gideon.

"Some things never change," she laughed.

"Yeah, and besides our regulars, Cliff has a new one," Gideon told her.

"Oh god! Are you breaking in someone?" Natalie asked.

There was nothing worse than someone new when out in the war zone. It rarely happened, but when it did, it caused a heightened tension for the reporter.

"Hell no! He's only new to us. He's on loan from the AFP. Walter came down with a stomach flu at the last minute," Cliff said.

"AFP? Well la-de-dah," Natalie said as she downed her Turkish coffee gritting her teeth as she did.

"And he's an asset because he speaks Farsi and Arabic," Cliff added.

"Wow. That is impressive. Hey Bob, is Quinn here?" She asked.

"Of course. I don't think they would let me come if she wasn't around."

"Great. I'll be back."

Quinn Stratford was the New York Times photographer and Bob's sidekick.

Gideon had a flamboyant black man named T.J. Hall who worked at the monitor while Cliff usually worked with Walter.

Natalie's own photographer was a quiet man named Graham Snowden who kept to himself but was very gifted.

Together the eight journalists had traveled the world in search of the next great story.

"God it's great to see you!" Natalie hugged Quinn.

Quinn with her spiky black hair and pierced eyebrows asked, "Hey have you met the new photog?"

"Walter's replacement? No."

"He's yummy in a moody sort of way. All dark eyes and looks."

"You're hopeless." Natalie smiled as she headed up to her room.

****

Dark eyes and looks. Moody. God, that reminded her of him, Natalie thought.

Natalie's first job as a reporter had been a crappy little community paper where the managing editor had only worked at the paper and McDonald's.

The pay was crap and the city editor didn't know shit and she worked there a year to gain experience before moving on to a better and bigger paper.

The other reporters had been fun and she had liked being with them -- but she had fallen for Reece Shah.

He was Middle Eastern with dark looks and moody ways and they had fought constantly. Any cliché that came to mind fit Reece and Natalie -oil and water, fighting like cats and dogs, the North and the South. There wasn't anything they agreed on from politics to religion to women's rights.

Everyone in the newsroom knew the newbie reporter and the photog hated each other but the stories still had to be written and put in the can.

Natalie had been working at the small paper for a month when they started working together on Sundays.

Sunday was a skeleton crew with only Natalie and Reece together until the copy desk came in during the afternoon.

"Come on," Natalie called over her shoulder as she headed out to his car with all his photography gear in it.

"What's up duchess?" Reece called after her.

"Breaking news. Hello? Your reason for living."

He followed her out lighting a cigarette.

"Do you mind?" She asked annoyed at his habit.

"Hey. When we're inside the car I won't light it. Last time I checked - you don't own the public street," he said.

She rolled her eyes and waited for him to finish his smoke tapping her small little foot as she sighed deeply.

They traveled to a hilly area to cover the small brush fire when she dropped her pen down his side of the sea.

"Oh damn. Sorry."

She brushed against his arm with her breasts as she reached for the pen.

He looked at her once before focusing back on the road.

Later that evening she was looking for an old photograph of a well-known doctor who had died the day before.

"I need an old 1950s picture of Dr. McWilliams, Reece," Natalie asked him. "The one who started that health clinic in Verde."

He was cropping out a teaser for the front page when she walked in.

"You know where they are Duchess," Reece told her.

Since the paper had gone digital, the old darkroom was used as storage. It was badly organized and cramped. Half the time it was badly lit and dark and she had only ever found one picture of the dozens she had wanted to find in the archaic filing cabinet. 

"Gee thanks." She moved past him swirling the black door that used to protect the negatives.

She went into the back and began flipping through old file folders and 8 x 10 black and white pictures.

She found a small picture of the old Doc but it wasn't the one she had wanted.

She walked to the black door and called out," Reece you there?"

"Yes." He called back.

"I can't find this picture. I need it."

"Jesus H. Christ." He muttered under his breath. "Some journalist." He walked ahead of her.

"Look less mouth, Reece. A journalist's skill is finding a story --- not some 50-year-old picture."

"Isn't it?" He murmured back.

God, she was a little bitch, he thought.

She wore tight trousers that showed off her ass and tight sweaters that showed off the rest of her. She teased and flirted with all the guys in the newsroom and it annoyed him.

She was beautiful but she was also a little cocktease.

He flipped past the picture she wanted and spoke, "So if I find this Doc's picture, what are you going to give me?"

Natalie breathed out a sigh of irritation and rolled her eyes. "My undying thanks."

She watched his hands as he flipped through the file folders. He had long, sexy fingers which were perfect for a photog.

He was sexy too. Not in a conventional way. But with inky black hair and those dark eyes -- he was hot.

Not that she had ever noticed. Mostly she just noticed his annoying opinions about everything.

"Thanks huh?" He asked. "I'd prefer a kiss."

Natalie laughed in the dark room. "I'm sure you would."

He looked her over once.

"Fine. A kiss. One." She looked over the room and then back at him as he held the picture in one hand. "Bastard. You had it all along."

He just smiled.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek trying to grab the photo from him.

"Yeah right." He said sarcastically.

He stood up and pressed her against the wall.

"I want a normal kiss. Not a grandmother's kiss, little cocktease."

With that, Reece pushed into her body with his and his mouth ravaged hers. It was filled with passion and desire.

He moved his hands from her waist to drag into her hair and bit into her neck.

She unwittingly moved her hands into his hair and moaned as he took her mouth again.

He turned her body quickly around and pressed her against a small two drawer filing cabinet.

He unzipped her jeans and before she realized he was pushing his thick cock inside her. She was dripping wet.

"Oh fuck." He said. 

She felt so good. All tight and wet and warm wrapped around his cock.

She gasped aloud as he pounded inside her tight cunt. She could feel his cock inside her and she wanted more. At the same time, she felt dirty and used. He was using her for sex like a whore.

Suddenly she pulled away from him and pulled her jeans up.

He laughed at her. "Sorry I started or sorry you stopped." 

She slapped him hard across the face. "Stay away from me, Reece. Don't you ever come near me again."

****

Natalie could hear the music playing in the street outside. A mournful song filled with sadness and bitterness and the call to prayer would soon follow as she dressed for dinner.

She wanted to dress for comfort but also for style. She chose black cotton pants with a white silk blouse and strappy black heels. She looked lovely and knew it.

The small gang had gathered together in the main dining room and she counted seven familiar faces minus the photog on loan from the AFP.

They were a good group of people each with their idiosyncrasies but with a knack for getting the best news possible to the people.

She was drinking a glass of iced tea with Quinn when she heard her friend say, "Oh there's the photog. He's coming our way."

Natalie pushed her hair back self consciously and turned on the bar stool.

"I'm Reece, nice to meet you," she heard him introducing himself to the others.

Natalie's heart sank. Mother fucker, she thought.

He came towards the two women and Natalie wondered if she could just turn around and walk away. What that be too rude?

"Hi, I'm Reece," He told Quinn smiling.

When he turned to Natalie his smile froze and vanished.

Well, she thought. At least he detests me as much as I do him.

"Hi Reece," she said in a bored but polite tone.

"Well, the little Duchess from California." He smiled but it was an irritating one.

"The AFP? Someone die? Or did someone owe you a favor?" She walked away leaving Quinn laughing under her breath.

She was still a little bitch, he thought. As he watched her walk away, he admired the shape of her ass and remembered it under his hands as he had pumped into her.

Still hot, he thought.

He would have her again.

The Photograph



This story was caught, filleted, and cooked in the FishTank. Final seasoning, before presentation, was added under the supervisor of Master Chef MatTwassel.

Once upon a time in a drab and dreary bank, at a nondescript desk worked a plain and rather ordinary woman named Helen. As supervisor of the safety deposit vault, Helen conducted the business of banking in a professional and appropriate manner. In fact, accepted procedures, polite conversations, and appropriate behaviors seemed to pervade all aspects of Helen's life - even her marriage.

But today was a Friday, and it was nearly closing time. Outwardly composed, Helen felt the low buzz of anticipation build inside her. The bank doors opened and Helen swallowed in anxiety. She forced herself not to look up. The gentle tapping of a cane grew louder. Helen stood and greeted her final customer of the day. "Good afternoon, Mr. Williamson. How may I assist you today?"

During Helen's 27 years with the bank, she had observed Mr. Williamson visiting the safety deposit vault countless times. But it was only after Mr. Williamson broke his hip that it became interesting. He required physical assistance during his visits and asked that Helen accompany him.

The new routine of Mr. Williamson's visits was always the same. Helen would turn the keys, pull the safety deposit box from the wall, and place it on the table. She would then open the lid and step far enough away to grant him privacy. 

Mr. Williamson, the skin of his aged hands translucent like parchment, would pull a photograph from the box and hold it unsteadily before him. His fingers would trace across the surface. Helen would watch Mr. Williamson's face gradually lighten, his eyes shine brightly, and his bent frame slowly straighten. The slightest of smiles would play across his lips, then purse into a kiss. He would slowly return the photograph to the box and close the lid. Like the monotonous flapping of a bellows returns a dying ember to bright flame, the repeated visits aroused Helen's curiosity.

Today was no different than any other. Helen pulled the box, opened the lid, and stepped back. Today was no different as Mr. Williamson picked up the photo, looked at it, traced the image with his fingers, smiled and blew that silent kiss. But today was different, because something completely unexpected happened. Mr. Williamson dropped the photograph. It sailed right out of his hand and seesawed down to the floor, landing face down.

"Oh," said Helen in the quietest of voices. "I'll get it."

Helen bent swiftly and picked up the photograph. By every code of professional conduct and customer privacy, she knew she should not turn the photograph over and look at it. But Helen did turn it over and she didn't just look at the photograph - she studied it. She simply couldn't help herself. The photograph itself looked old, and yet the image was fresh and clear. 

A girl in her late teens or early twenties seated on a park bench. Behind her, a long line of palm trees edged a white sand beach. The girl's face seemed innocent and carefree. Helen was drawn to her eyes, and she found herself looking deeply into them. The girl's eyes were wide in astonishment, or was it something else?

The girl wore a simple sundress. The dress, unbuttoned and pulled slightly to the left, revealed … a perfect breast. The girl's left hand, which had just pulled the material aside, had a finger extended beneath a very erect nipple. There was something about the finger, though; Helen noticed that it was somewhat blurred. When Helen realized that the girl was stimulating her nipple, she felt her own nipples respond. 

Helen's gaze lowered along the line of opened buttons until she arrived at the very center of the photograph.

The girl's right knee was bent with her right foot tucked just under her left leg. Her naked thighs led you to her exposed cunt. A wild patch of pubic hair crowned softly bulging lips - spread apart by the first two fingers of the girl's right hand.

Helen's focus dimmed, her hand trembled, and she gasped as a mild orgasm shivered through her. The stale air of the vault filled with the strong scent of Helen's arousal. 

Mr. Williamson carefully took the photo from her hand and returned it to the box. 

That night Helen practically raped her husband. "What was that all about?" her husband inquired afterward.

"I needed it," Helen told him simply.

Helen found that she needed it quite often. At first, her husband responded to her - gratefully, enthusiastically, vigorously and repeatedly. In time, his interest waned. Helen's did not.

The photograph had enflamed something long dormant within her. Her comfortable life, at one time so safe and satisfying, now seemed leaden and mundane. She engaged in wild flights of fantasy regarding the girl in the photo. Helen began writing stories about the girl. Many of the stories were romantic and sensual. But some of her stories were sluttish, and the scope and depth of their depravity frightened Helen. 

* * * * * 

7th of June - He was waiting for me in his office. I tried to put him off - to tell him that it was over. He wouldn't listen, or I wasn't very convincing. He simply unzipped his trousers and pulled my mouth to his cock. I felt him grow hard in my mouth and I smiled to myself at my talent. He fucked my mouth until my eyes watered and then he pulled his wet prick out.

"Did you bring it?" I nodded meekly as I pulled the sterling silver cake-serving knife from my purse. "It was a wedding gift, from his parents, I've never..."

He turned me around and bent me over his desk. I was squirming beneath him as he slid his hand up my legs. He tore my panties off, and then stabbed me with his cock. I was holding onto the edge of the desk as he pounded into me. That was when I noticed that his office door was ajar. Anyone could walk in and see us!

He held the silver handle of the knife before me. "Better get it wet. You know where it's going." My sphincter muscles clenched and spasmed.

I was late getting back to the bank. His cum was leaking from my cunt and my ass. He told me to bake my husband a birthday cake, on this his special day, and be sure to use the knife. I could hardly wait to get home. 

* * * * *

Helen didn't tell her husband about Mr. Williamson or the photograph, nor did she tell him about the stories she wrote or the fantasies she had. But she also didn't hide her diary very well. A few weeks after Helen had begun writing the diary, her husband began fucking her again.

Sometimes he squeezed and pulled too hard at her nipples. Sometimes he pounded her cunt relentlessly until she was satisfyingly sore. And sometimes when he ignored her pleas of "too much," when he sent her soaring to heights unimagined, she would find him glaring at her...as if she had done something terribly wrong. 

Late one evening, after a deliciously savage fuck that left her husband fast asleep and Helen desiring more, she was inspired to write a new story in her diary.

She went to her desk and opened the drawer. The diary was there, but it was upside down. Helen thought for a moment. That was when she knew. "He's been reading my diary. He thinks I'm having an affair. No, no - he thinks I'm a slut!" Her hand was between her thighs in no time at all. Her orgasm was the most intense she'd ever experienced.

In the afterglow of her delight, she thought of the photograph and all the changes it had caused in her life. She decided she wanted a photograph of her own. She wanted a photo of herself looking like someone's slut. She wanted a photograph that her husband could find.

She took dozens of photos of herself with a friend's digital camera until she had the one she liked. In the photograph she was sitting on a pillow leaning back, her arms draped across the headboard of their bed. Her hair, which was usually pulled back or done up, was loose and disheveled. Her make-up was different, too. It was softer and drew attention to her eyes. Bright red lipstick enhanced the fullness of her lips. A black lace corset pushed her breasts up and forward, one nipple spilling over the top. Garter straps hung uselessly, and a single black hose was gathered around her left calf. Her right leg was bent and splayed to the side revealing her cunt. But it was the expression on her face that made this particular photograph the right choice. She looked very satisfied.

Helen left the photograph where he couldn't miss it - especially after she told him where to look. She had sent him in search of some old costumes for a Halloween party they'd been invited to attend.

At the party that night she flirted shamelessly with every man there. During the drive home the tension in the car was suffocating. Quietly unbuttoning the top of her costume, she turned to him and asked if there was anything wrong. 

Without saying a word, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. He opened her door, beckoned her out, grabbed her, and threw her face down into the back seat of the car. He tore her costume off and fucked her. 

When they got back home he fucked her again and continued to fuck her throughout the weekend. He even fucked her in her ass. 

That night, his cum trickling from her anus, he slammed the diary on the night table. "Me or them," he roared. "I won't share you."

"But honey," she began.

"I know everything," he said. He jabbed the photo before her eyes. "See!" The photo shivered in his hands.

"You, I want you," she said meekly.

She did have one simple request.

In a drab and dreary bank, at a nondescript desk worked a plain and rather ordinary woman named Helen. For too many years Helen had gone about her duties in a thorough and efficient manner. Papers were marked as they should be, filed where appropriate, and the business of banking conducted in a professional, and otherwise unremarkable, manner.

On this typically dull day, Helen returned to her desk, having just helped a new customer with her safety deposit box.

There were two voice mail messages waiting for her.

The first was from her husband; thank God he didn't leave his name. "I want you. I want your soft lips. Lips I will kiss until they're swollen with desire. I want your breasts. I want to caress them and hear you moan as your nipples respond to my touch. I want your cunt. I want to hear you cry in ecstasy as I fill you again and again." There was a pause and a trembling sigh. "And then I want your wrists and your ankles because I am going to tie you to my bed." Helen unconsciously crossed her ankles and rubbed her wrists. She found the mental image of herself tied spread eagle to their bed very exciting. When the image changed to her tied face down, she shivered uncontrollably. She played the second message. Her husband's voice was pitched low, just above a whisper. "And I bought a video camera today."



The Photograph



Friday Night

We had finished a show up in Texas, Dallas it was, when I was approached by a man with a very different question for me.

"Do you still do photography in your spare time?" he asked. I was a thrown off a bit by the question, especially after a show.

"Yes I do, but it's not something I talk about very much, it's just a personal hobby I do." I replied. He smiled and put a thumbs up in the air, not to me but it was meant to be seen by someone elsewhere in the room. I stopped him as he was leaving and said, "I hope you're not looking for me to take pictures of someone, I don't do portraits, not for the general public." I began thinking of removing that tidbit of information from my bio at the band site.

"Oh, it's not anything like that, I promise I'm not doing anything you would object to." He said, and then he left. I was a bit uneasy about that exchange, but what could I do at that point? I finished breaking down my rig and the evening ended as usual, a trip to Denny's with band and friends.

Wednesday Morning

I was going through some new material for Conscious Nightmare when there was a knock at the door. I looked through the peephole and there stood a slight figure with a baseball cap obscuring his face and some long blonde hair. I pretended to not be home, assuming it was some kind of door to door sales pitch or something like that, but he knocked again. I could tell by his hand that he was actually a she. Fair skin, very feminine, I was kind of curious to see what she looked like. Then I found out. She glanced up at the lens on the outside of the door. Her eyes were a soft bluish grey, like a slightly overcast sky. Her face was quiet and gentle, her beauty wasn't one that grabbed your attention outright, rather it sunk in slowly and held on to your attention. Well, for those who like lovely women anyway. She smiled a bit, and that's all I needed. I opened the door and greeted her,

"Can I help you? I won't buy anything you're selling if that's the case." I said my standard greeting for strangers on my doorstep. She spoke, an English accent peppered with Australian,

"Mr. Thornn?" she asked. I nodded. "You may know who I am, I'm Naomi Watts.". I was floored. Guys like me don't get girls like her on his doorstep. I stumbled a bit for the next sentence, but it was like putting eggs in a dancing refrigerator,

"It's, uh, very nice to m-meet you, "I blurted, and froze, probably with a really dumb grin on my face. She smiled back and suggested we go inside,

"We should get in before the paparazzi find me here and take the piss out of me." She said, so I showed her in and looked around before I shut the door. Questions were piling up in my head rapidly; why was she at my house, how did she find me, what interest did she have in me, etc... I took her jacket and offered her a seat. She sat on the sofa and bounced a couple of times. "This is ever so springy, did you buy it like this?" she asked, smiling.

"It's old and I've had the springs replaced once or twice. " I answered, "It's probably due for it again. Can I get you something? Tea, water..?" She accepted the water, so I excused myself into the kitchen and walked into the doorway. Bonk. Shit. Not the thing a guy wants to do with Naomi Watts sitting on his couch. She laughed a bit on seeing I was okay. I got the glass of water and returned to the couch, and set it on the coffee table. She took a sip and held on to it. Her next comment answered a few questions, and raised a few more.

"Kirsten said you had a hard head." She stated with a smile. I blushed a bit, wondering what else our friend Miss Dunst had said. I tried to play it off, unsuccessfully,

"She's great, "I started, and "she gave me that guitar on the wall there." I said, pointing to the black ESP guitar on the wall hanger. I gigged with it more than I really should have, but it played so nice I couldn't put it down. She smiled and said, 

"That's a lovely guitar; you have so many of them too!" There were about 7 others on the wall with it, but that one was always kept in the center when I wasn't out playing. She continued, "She gave me a copy of your CD and I must say it's rather good." My head swelled. My band was getting noticed in Hollywood by the big names.

"Really? " I asked. "Thank you! That means a lot coming from someone as well known as you." I was blushing again. She smiled, and I think she was even blushing a bit as well. I took a second to return to here and now and now the questioning began. "What brings you to my house? I've never had a big name celebrity in my home before."

"Your photography." She answered. "I'd like someone to take a few pictures of me for my own personal enjoyment. Someone I could trust to not sell them to the rag-mags or make a name for themselves out of it. Kirsten told me you could be trusted." I was a bit surprised and curious. I wouldn't think Kiki would tell of the events in New York, but then again, girls will be girls.

"I don't really do portraiture, not that I'm turning you down, but I've seen your work at the David Yurman site and it's quite stunning. I'm afraid I'd not do you justice." I said. I didn't want to turn her away (I mean come on on, if Naomi Watts wanted me to be her car washer I'd be at her place twice a week with soap, sponge, and bucket) but I knew I was way below that level of work. She nodded in understanding and said,

"My work with David Yurman is exactly that; it's work." She said. "I want to have a few pictures away from the lights and make up staff and all that rubbish. Do you know it's almost impossible for me to get a picture taken on my terms, Kain?" She pulled her wallet out of her purse and produced her driver's license and showed me the picture. "My agent almost had to have the DMV emptied out so I could get even this silly picture in peace." I looked at the picture. She looked tired and a bit peeved. I nodded in understanding and took her hand.

"I understand what you're saying, even with my little bit of fame there's places I barely dare to go because of people crowding." I said, patting her hand. It was soft as it looked to be, the kind of hand men wanted with them frequently. "If a few pictures are what you want then I'll be glad to help you get them." She smiled back at me and put her wallet back in her purse. "Before we get anything set up, I need to know what kind of pictures you want, normal, glam, artsy, etc..."

She thought a moment. She nibbled on her finger while she thought. I liked that. Oh, to be that finger... "I'll let you decide." She said. "I'm going to use your judgment." I nodded in agreement, smiling. I began thinking about when she's want this done, since she made the effort to be at my house I thought maybe she'd want the pictures right then and there. I said,

"I'm free this afternoon; did you want to do this now since you're here?" She gave it half a second of thought and said,

"Yes, that would be good! I mean, I'm already here." She raised a hand for assistance getting off the sofa (it was a rather deep sofa) and off we went down the hall to the studio.

"I'll have to clear the studio a bit first" I said, "I'll need a few minutes." The computer sat awaiting input, brandishing a Metallica screen saver. My bass guitar was still hooked up to the sound board and cables everywhere. I put the guitar back on the wall hook and wound up the cables. As I did, Naomi was looking around at the various recording devices and notes from various songs.

"Isn't this one on the CD?" She asked, holding up a page from 'I Own You'. "I read the lyrics, it's so powerful!" she added.

"Actually all four of us wrote the lyrics, there were about 7 verses initially and we cut it down until we arrived at that page you're holding." I replied. She put it back on the table and shortly after I had it all ready. The corner of the room was empty, the white floor blending into the white walls and the white backdrop. I looked over at her and paid more attention to what she had on; a pair of Levi's, sandals, a plain white t shirt, and her Angels cap. Her outfit was very plain and casual except for the hat, worn as an attempt to disguise her from prying eyes. Apparently it worked as I saw no strange cars sitting on the street when I closed the door. I said to her, "If you want to freshen your hair or anything like that there's a bathroom across the hall." As soon as she thanked me I began hoping it was presentable. I didn't get many A list females in my house. While she was away I checked my camera; film ready, lenses ready, and lights ready. She emerged from the bathroom looking very fresh and clean, little if any make up, hair brushed free of hat head syndrome. 

"Where do you want me?" she asked. I directed her over to the bar stool I had placed near the empty corner of the room. It stood in solitude in a vast ocean of white. She sat on it, feet up on the upper rail and hands on her lap.

"Take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment, relax a bit and think pleasant thoughts." I said. She giggled a little and did so. As she did I could see how much this setting differed to her. No pressure to be perfect, no deadlines nipping at her heels, no obligations. When she opened her eyes they reflected the sense of peace she had found. I wondered again how much Kiki had told her about New York. I snapped the first picture. She blinked in the brightness of the flash and laughed out loud.

"Oh, I hope that wasn't eyes shut!" she said. I adjusted the flash unit and apologized.

"I'm sorry, "I said, "I haven't used these in a while, I didn't realize they were up so high." I stepped back and snapped another. She was half smiling, those pearly teeth peeking out from behind her lips. She had a bit of tension still, which I could understand, being in a strange man's house (well, potentially strange) and sitting for pictures that could never see the light of day outside of her home. I wanted to try something different. "Are you comfortable?" I asked. She looked around the room a bit and said,

"Well, I do have some nerves; after all I'm in the home of a man I've never really met." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

"Just give me a few minutes to get comfortable, you've been rather charming and polite and that's helped me." I smiled and said,

"Take all the time you need." She hopped off the stool and went over to the table on which sat the computer and some band notes. She kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes, as if to get kinks out of them. She did some stretches that resembled yoga, but then again what do I know of yoga? After about 10 minutes she returned to the barstool and sat. "Ready then?" I asked. She nodded and I raised the camera and snapped. She appeared a bit on the stiff side still. "Do you need another break to get situated?" I asked. She looked at me with almost a sadness in her eyes. Those beautiful steel blue eyes.

"I've been working in front of a bloody camera so long I can't get relaxed enough when it's for pleasure." She replied. I could see the circle of tension building up again. I went over behind the stool and put my hands on her shoulders and began to knead. She shrugged a bit, either in protest or to get as comfortable as she could. In either case she started to loosen up. "That feels nice" she said, softly. There were still some knots that wouldn't soften up, however. I thought a moment and spoke;

"Naomi, I want you to close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth, slowly." She did. I went on; "Think of someplace you go to get away from it all; your favorite room of the house, your vacation spot, an imaginary island in the Caribbean. Think of the calmness you draw from it." I said, still kneading. She shifted on the stool a bit and settled in. "There's a man there, you can't see his face. He comes over to you. He smells clean, a fragrance that brings you calmness and peace. He looks into your eyes. You see peace in his eyes, but there's also another sensation you can't put your finger on." I said. She took a particularly slow breath. I continued; "He takes your hand and leads you to a clear area. Your favorite soft music is playing. He leads you in a dance; a tango..." She giggled a bit and said;

"But I don't know how to tango..!"

"Its fantasy, so yes you do." I said, smiling. I continued; "Your body moves with his in rhythm, his strong hands and arms move you in time to the music. The song ends, you're face to face with him. You see his face for the first time. His eyes are deep green, like the meadows of Ireland in the springtime. His features are strong and bold, yet gentle. You gaze into his eyes and see something new; desire." She was relaxed. I stepped in front of her and got in close, whispering in her ear. "He desires you for the radiant goddess you have become, and you desire him for bringing you to this new state of being. He moves closer, closer, his lips are almost touching yours..." her breathing had changed, not the deep breaths of someone relaxing, but sharp breaths of someone on the verge of tears. Tears of release, of the weights of a normal life. What stopped me in mid sentence was her mouth upon mine. It was a soft kiss, almost an exploratory kiss. Almost asking herself what I would taste like, smell like. I was too surprised to fight it. An eternity later she pulled back, her eyes open. She looked at me with question in her eyes, but no ability to speak it. She cupped my face in her hands and opened her mouth as if to ask that question, but she never spoke. She pulled me to her, more aggressively this time; our mouths opened to take in the very essences of each other's being. Her tongue found mine, they did a dance of their own, warmth giving way to heat, desire overtaking sense. I pulled her close, right off the stool, her legs wrapped almost instinctively around my waist. She was breathing heavy now and so was I. I never heard the sound of the camera hitting the floor. We went into the hallway, stumbling into the walls, knocking pictures and knick knacks off of shelves as we went. We were clawing our shirts off, not wanting to part long enough to get the over our heads. Her t shirt fell open to my grabbing hands and her breasts spilled forth, I cupped and squeezed them. She threw her head back and took several ragged breaths as I caressed and nibbled at her nipples. She lowered her head and bit my ear. Hard. I loved it. We crashed into the bedroom and onto the bed. She tore my shirt over my head and began fumbling with my belt. While she found success with it, I managed to get her pants into a crumple on the floor. My boots were forcibly removed and we were free of the terrible bonds of our clothing. Her body was so warm, so very soft, and I became aware for the first time of the smell of roses. Her hands were on my buttocks and she squeezed hard. We rolled over back and forth several times until she was on top. She pushed herself off and climbed back on, hands on my chest and her mouth following. She turned around until her sex was inches from my face. Her juices had started running down her leg and I licked them off, relishing the taste of her desire. I pulled her closer and buried my tongue in the folds of her womanhood. She moaned, audibly, as I lapped away at her labia. I slid my tongue past the velvety skin and into her ache. She inhaled slowly, almost silently as I licked the length of her sex. She exhaled in a sensuous moan, ahhhh... She had taken hold of my pulsing erection, licking, stroking, and sucking it. Her tongue swirled around me head as her mouth sealed around it and she took it's girth in We were feasting on each other's juices yet not slaking that thirst that drove us. Her sweet tanginess was so very invigorating and despite a near flow of it I couldn't get enough. She rolled over and I didn't lose a beat. I buried my face in her sex and kept up the tongue lashing. My hands found her knees, slid up to her slender waist, and held on for dear life. Her fingers combed through my hair and she made fists, grabbing my long dark brown locks, pinning me to her hips. The slight pain of the hair pull only drove me further, further into her heat and further over the edge. She started bucking her hips, slowly at first, her moans becoming louder as it went on. Her legs tightened around my head, her hands tightened in my hair, and her bucking became arching. All at once everything locked. She was in freefall. Her moans had turned into panting, and were fading into normal breathing. After a few seconds she reached down and took my face in her hands, pulling me up to be face to face with her.

"Kain, " she said, out of breath. I didn't let her finish the sentence by kissing her still parted lips. She took my tongue into her mouth, juices and all and her legs found my waist again, wrapping tightly as if to imprison me in her depths forever. My throbbing member found its way into her heated passion, thrust in to the base in one motion. Her fingers bent, digging red nails into my broad shoulders. Her sharply inhaled breath matched mine as she raked fire across my back. Her moans were louder, and each one was shorter than the last. I drove myself into her, harder and harder, my own breathing becoming short torn breaths. Her eyes were closed as she grabbed my hair again. She pulled my face to hers and our mouths locked in embrace again. The very air was becoming thick with our sweat and heat. The phone fell off the nightstand. I slowed my pace a little, giving her a chance to take a few functioning breaths. She looked at me with her steely eyes, that gaze burning into me with such a fire. "Kain...ahhh...I...mmmm" She couldn't speak. I had picked up the pace again, faster, harder, deeper. Her eyes closed. She pulled my face down to her breasts. I needed no further suggestions. I took her nipple in my mouth and suckled, sending a tingle through her very core. She pulled me in harder , breathing heavier, almost groaning. I bit down on her nipple, causing her to be able to speak again. "Mmmmmyeah..." she said. I bit her nipple and took little nibbles around it, squeezing and massaging both breasts at the same time. She spoke again, "Mmmmyeah...ooh...Kain...mmm...yess..." We couldn't take much more. The sensations were getting unbearable. Something had to give. I was getting well past that point of no return. I felt it welling up within me, that tingle, those tightening muscles. She let out a terrific long moan just as I released myself into her silky depths. She clamped her arms and legs around me, burying her face in my shoulder. We exploded together in a flash of passion and desire. She threw her head back and cried out, "OOO-O-O-O-O-OHHHH,YESSSsssss...". She looked into my eyes for a moment. A tear fell from her eye as she kissed me ever so gently on the lips.

We lay on the bed for what felt like days, minds blank, and no sounds except the vague hum of the ceiling fan. Her head was on my shoulder, soft hand stroking my chest, my hand caressing her back. She took a breath and spoke,

"Oh my God," she said, almost a whisper "I didn't know how badly I needed that." She raised her head and looked at my face. "I don't know why I started that, I'm ever so sorry..." I stopped her with gentle fingers to her lips.

"Please, don't apologize," I said, "if there needs to be blame then it should be mine, I was describing the wrong things to get you relaxed". She put her head back down and continued the gentle strokes.

"Well I am relaxed, Kain" she said, and started laughing. I had to laugh also.

Wednesday Afternoon

We got some really great photographs, now that she was relaxed. She had taken a quick shower before the photography continued, just to be fresh. While the pictures were drying, we sat and had a nice chat, about her life as an actress, her hobbies, her pets. The buzzer went off too soon and we went into the darkroom to check the prints. The red light engulfed us as we pored over the pictures. She picked out the ones she liked the most and I wrapped them in newsprint to keep them safe. I took the rest and put them in a flat paper sack. One particular I had set to be put away last, it was the one I liked the most. A simple picture of her in blue jeans and a plain white t shirt (one of mine), sitting in the white corner, legs up to her chest and her face turned slightly away, daydreaming. 




The Photograph



"This one has to be my favorite." I said as I slid it into the newsprint.

"Really?" she asked, "What makes it your favorite?"

"This picture is Naomi Watts" I started, "no Hollywood, no glam, no glitz. It's pure you." She looked at it and smiled.

"I haven't been photographed like that in a long time." she said, "I'm glad you were able to do it. Thank you." She said, with a kiss. Her lips were so gentle as they brushed over mine. I noticed a delicate hint of roses about her. She took the newsprint and pulled the picture back out. "I want you to have this one. I couldn't possibly take this one knowing how much you like it." She said, putting the photo in my hand.

"I couldn't" I replied, "I want you to know where every print and negative from this session is at all times, I don't want you to ever worry that this photo is in the wrong hands." And I handed it back.

"Kain I know you won't use this picture." She said, smiling, "I know it will be safe in your house and never in the wrong hands." I was touched and flattered at the same time. I have to admit I was even a little misty. Not wanting to get myself into an awkward position, I accepted her offer.

"Thank you, Naomi, for letting me photograph you." I said gently, taking the picture. She put her arms around me and softly said,

"You're welcome" 



The Photograph



Her job had always been beauty, find it and make it sexy. From the time she was but a young girl, she had always been able to make a rock sparkle brighter than any diamond. Hers was a talent that not many had. She was Penelope Blanché, fashion photographer for a company headed by the Crimson Blade. She had majored is visual arts but her talent was no longer in demand in the world they lived in today. So when she had gotten the call from the assistant of the Blade Agency, she had taken it as it didn't compromise on her integrity too much.

His was the biggest name in the modeling world of that time, and she had been working for him for months now. With surprise and a trembling heart, she now walked up to the head office where her boss spent his time whenever he was not on a shoot, who's pictures would grace every major magazine label in the world. He was so beautiful. It was almost unreal. And the ethereal man had requested her personally to take the pictures for his next piece. She had been assuming that her time at the company had been passed in obscurity and anonymity. What had she done to catch his eye? This is what plagued her as she took the solitary trip to the intimidating office that housed the man who could make or break her career.

The low ding of the elevators as they opened echoed through her person, a song of fear and doubt and as her slippered feet touched the cold marble floor of the impressive upper levels she almost turned away to run. Why me? she kept thinking. He is Crimson Blade. The Crimson Blade. He could get any famous photographer to come to him with a nod their way! She was almost panicked but this could really make her career. She was a brave woman.

Squaring her shoulders, she took in a deep breath and continued on her way, knocking on the door briefly to announce her prompt arrival. A curt "Enter," came from inside and her heart quaked in her breast. She could feel her hands tremble. In fact it seemed her entire being echoed the tremors rushing through her hands. She felt shocked that she would allow this man to intimidate her so completely but, well it couldn't be helped. He was just that perfect. An angel among mortals.

Clamping the beautiful handle of a solid mahogany door with clammy hands, she stepped in quietly and immediately wished to disappear. There were a few people in the room. All of them crowding around no doubt Crimson Blade himself. But he was hidden from her. All she could see was a beautiful studio. The studio of her dreams. The floors were carpeted in the finest rugs. Everything was pristine white, shades of shadows from the lights and the darkening sky touched the walls as the spacious room seemed to stretch on for eons. Trying to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape she struggled to control her amazed joy at seeing her tools. So she stood there, looking like a child who had found Santa's factory of toys. 

Rapt...

All sounds escaped her as she floated in a fantasy where she always worked in a studio as beautiful as this one, her head laid on the door as she accepted being ignored. It was not something she was unaccustomed too. Because though she was pretty, in the world she lived in she was nothing even remotely special and people tended to forget that she was around. She did not mind much though. It allowed her more room to observe and plan her shoots that way. So lost in her reverie, she had not realised that she had started to walk around, her hands gently stroking everything with loving fingers. This was the world she loved most. She could almost weep. 

As the shadows continued to flicker over the walls, the staff worked on preparing the Great One for his shoot. No one had yet to acknowledge her presence. This would have made a lesser woman stamp her feet in anger and annoyance. It only made Penelope smile as her brilliant artistic mind came into work. She rummaged through everything and as her eyes caught a particular enticing shadow that danced over the mosaic crystallized window with its gothic design she felt a spark of creativity rush through her being. 

A rush. It inspired her and pushed her. She was its slave. She knew exactly how to make the Great One look as great as he was. His fierce sensual beauty needed to be portrayed in its stark perfection. A demon of lust, inspiring carnal thoughts from just a simple look. She continued to rummage through shelves until she found them. Four candles. They were long and slender. Sure to last for hours while she prepared for what was to be a rigorous evening. For the Supermodel was known to be demanding

Rearranging the set as she wanted, she moved with a sinuous grace of one accustomed to her work. She hardly noticed that everyone within the room had stopped to view her actions with rapt attention. That such a small woman would work with such joy. It gleamed within her eyes with each object she touched and stroked. And before their eyes they saw magic. Not the kind in faerie tales but the real kind as a talented muse worked to bring to life her fantasy. 

It was like a dance. A dance of pure joy. Interest sparked through cold crimson eyes that should never had been that frozen. They were eyes that begged for someone to set the fire back in them. Eyes that promised of a passion hidden deep within their bearer. With a glint, as light from the candle caught within their depths and were trapped forever, he gave a brief nod and immediately the room cleared. Barely paying any attention to the artists who exited the room he found that his attention was captured by an unawares sprite. It belonged to her now and he got up needing to watch the graceful limps flint over his office like she belonged there. He realised then that maybe he had created this office, the building, the world just for her.

Shaking his head at his foolishness, he made a slight sound within his throat, he sought to catch her attention. Muscles glistened as predatory moves took him silently to the shadows. He did not want her to notice that he was staring but he couldn't stop. She commanded his attention. But she hardly noticed him in turn and this infuriated him. He was not accustomed to this. Usually women fawned over him, though he found their attentions to him boring he wanted this one to look at him with adoration. And so with his silent grace he crept up to her. He was not really being sneaky, it was that her work so enthralled her that she was completely unaware of the world before her.

"Penelope..."

That one word brought her back to reality. Her heart slammed in surprise having being pulled out of her trancelike state as her shaky delicate hand rushed up to wrap lightly around her throat in surprise. She spun around so she could catch a glimpse of him. As her eyes met his in the shadows, her heart raced even more. He looked like a demon, a creature, wild, untamed. She couldn't help that tiny step of retreat and self-preservation before her nerves stilled around her backbone.

In a flowing move her body sank down slightly in a bow of respect as was their tradtion. "I'm sorry you startled me. I'm—" her words were halted as he stepped back. A barely audible gasp escaped her for she had stopped breathing in that moment. The shear beauty of the man took her breath away. Could he even be called a human, for no human could hold such power and beauty so confidently. She wanted to encase him in stone where his beauty would remain forever, a treasure.

Something wormed its way within her heart but she hardly noticed for she never even dared to think that someone like him would look at her as more than a commodity and so anything that could have been she would never give it room to grow and flourish as it needed. 

Intelligent eyes travelled down his body, taking in the moonlight slivery wisps of hair bond n a tiny black ponytail, to cascade flowingly down a muscled back, flowing white silk shirt he wore that hide the power that seemed to ooze out of his pores. His long claws, which had been his fashion, seemed to glisten with deceptive calm. Her eyes trailed down the black casual pants he wore and slight colour tinged her cheeks as inappropriate thoughts entered her mind, but she ignored them for she was a professional and he would fire her without hesitation if she was not up to the job.

He patiently allowed her perusal of his body, fighting the growing heat of reaction that coiled low in his stomach as he imagined all kinds of lustful thoughts going through her mind as she looked at him through eyes which she probably didn't know half drifted down, half slit. Fighting a moan of illicit desire, he struggled to shut off the images that had them both writhing on a bed, seeking fulfillment. It had been so long that he had met a woman who had the grace of this one. After years of pampered women who only had to look pretty to make money, he had gotten tired of the meaningless simpering that came his way and to meet a woman who knew and loved her work was like the most potent aphrodisiac. He almost groaned as she spoke yet again.

"No. No. No. This just won't do. This look is not right. You need to strip. I know exactly what you should be wearing and that is most definitely not it."

Closing his eyes on a struggle for restraint and control, he ignored what she had said as a fiery stream of molten desire spread through his entire being. The results of such simple words astounded him. He felt shivers rush through his body to follow in their wake rising strings of goose bumps. As it travelled an agonizingly slow trail down his body, pooling within his groin, a swelling so intense and instantaneous, like nothing he had felt since the days of his youth assaulted him. He couldn't suppress that growl as he felt the tightening of his shaft. He could not strip before her. His control hanged by mere threads of hard earned discipline, which threatened to shatter at the merest sound of her voice. But it felt so good. He had not allowed himself to feel that kind of pleasure for such a long time that the unexpected arrival of it so suddenly almost brought him to his knees

Luckily for him, she interpreted his growl for disapproval. He almost smiled as he imagined what she would think had she known the reason for his growl. Yet those train of thoughts were halted, or rather they stalled has his entire body froze, for Penelope, not liking his declination of following her orders had taken up the task of disrobing him herself. As the first touch of her feather soft fingers grazed his body, molten hot sensations assaulted him. He was trapped and so he endured. The most pleasurable torture. The wide spread lashes fanned his face has his eyes drifted close. He could not stop the sensations if he wanted to and he did not want to. It was the most amazing feeling and he indulged himself, testing his limits, his restraints.

Not realising what effect she was having on her employer, Penelope felt rather proud that she had gotten her way. She felt that she had made an impression, which she had. It was just not the kind that she would be expecting. And so the shirt came off. And as each of the tiny ivory buttons slipped through the slits, her breath hitched. She tried to keep from touching him, but her fingers would accidentally trail down an expanse of taught muscled flesh and her a tiny soundless gasp would escape her parted moist lips. Her face flamed with embarrassment and something else she denied vehemently. He was her employer and she was not attracted to him. Yet as her hands touched the skin above the hem of his pants she felt her entire being shudder with a tremor. The tremors remained within her fingers as she struggled to open the stubborn buttons. She wanted to leave, run away, but she had started and she couldn't back out now

Clenching his teeth as she stroked his body to keep the sounds of pleasure locked up even though they threatened to spill from his lips, he stood rigid still before her, both anticipating and dreading each brush of her fingers... nails... As she descended he found his control slipping and he knew he should step back, but he wanted to test his control for just a little while longer... just a little longer... 

He was unable to catch that sharp desire laden hiss that escaped his lips as her fingers stroked him so close to where he needed it. The thundering of his heart deafened him till it sounded like wild drums beat a call for desire within the room. He nearly perished on the spot, as her struggling fingers kept brushing over his need as she battled with the buttons of his pants. He would have gladly allowed her to continue had she known what those simply brief touches were doing to him. But he did not think she would be too happy to see the engorged arousal outlined through his tight boxers.

Veins almost popping in his neck, he swiftly stilled her hands, pressing them deeply into his arousal for a moment before he started to disrobe himself on his own. She almost looked like she was about to bend on her knees in grateful prayer. But she did not back down exactly. She seemed determined to be professional even though the red stain on her cheeks loudly proclaimed another story. 

Relieved, she stepped behind him and tantalising fingers stroked through his hair coaxing the tight ponytail out. She pressed her body into his back as she used him for leverage, her face set in determination to win the battle with the elusive material.

He stilled in his movements, as all thoughts of ever losing his erection died the moment her soft yet firm breasts pressed against his back. He didn't dare move for losing that contact a second before it was necessary. His eyes drifted down to the tented material, which showed blatant proof of his desire. He was not ashamed of his arousal, but he worried that someone like her would be shocked. He had to calm down before he took off his boxers. He took in deep breaths to aid but each gulp was fragranced in her scent and it only elicited more images. There was nothing he could do about it. 

"What do you want me to wear?" he asked, not turning to face her. She would soon be faced with his arousal and she did not need to see it any moment sooner than was necessary. She however had been too busy admiring the taut muscles of his butt. He was so beautifully shaped. 

"Hh? What?" she mumbled guiltily. "Oh right," she blushed as she rushed to gather the costume. She could almost see him in it. So sensuous. "You have to remove the boxers though..." her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of him before her, muscles corded over the leanest body parts, a proud look on his face. There was not an ounce of fat on him. She gulped, as she could not stop her eyes from trailing down over a flat stomach. Her eyes bulged as she noticed his arousal. It was thick, stretching the material of his undergarment. Taking a much-needed breath, she then swallowed to help a throat that had suddenly gone dry

Clearing her throat, "uhmm... Her-Here. Put this on." She walked to him and handed the clothing to him. As his fingers reached for it though it seemed that hers had lost their consistency as the soft material slipped thought nerveless fingers. "I'm sorry," she gasped in embarrassment as she quickly bent to pick them up. She came face to face with it. Her heart sputtered, freezing her where she was. She felt the ever-present heat of her face become even more prominent. Stumbling upright she mumbled an apology. It trailed away as she noticed the tormented look that cut over his harsh sensual face.

"I am sorry little one. I cannot control it. I want you." He said the words so simply. Yet the wealth of desire that coated them had heat pooling dangerously low in her stomach. She stifled the shivers that those words brought to her, yet all she wanted to do was purr. "Let's get this done Penelope. I do not know how long I can stand here without claiming you."

"O-ok-ay," she said and practically stuffed the clothing into his chest as she quickly turned around to give him the privacy he needed to get dressed. They both knew that it was impossible for there to be anything between them and so they would pretend that this was just a slight mistake, temporary insanity. She dimmed the lights slightly and lit the candles so that their flickering lights would catch the window perfectly.

"I'm ready," his deep masculine voice shimmered over her like fine strong liquor. She turned to him, drunk on the addictive tones that struck her over-sensitive being. He was... magnificent. The costume wasn't much. Just a vivid yellow belt, which doubled as, a loin cloth. Exposing his shapely thighs while leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no shirt to it, just a thick fur draped over his right shoulder and thigh. His hair flowing freely over his shoulders and chest, he was the physical entombment of desire.

As he walked his erection tented the material. He had moved to the window as she had indicated and she could see the agonized look on his face. It was like he was in the utter throes of pleasure while being tortured within the fires of deepest Hell. The tented material completely ruined the image. Standing behind her camera she could see that he was aroused completely and that just would not do.

"I-s there any-anyway you can... maybe..." she trailed off. His jaw clenched the word, "No," came out almost harsh. 

"I can't stop thinking of—" his words were captured by a low moan as smooth as silk as his eyes drifted close and his entire body shuddered. "I want you so much... Forget I said that." He took a deep shuddering breath as he tried to calm down but it was just not happening. Knowing that she was looking only seemed to intensify what he was feeling.

She felt joy rise in her chest as his words shimmered through her being. No one had ever expressed desire for her in such an intense tone. It made her feel... sensitive all over like she was going up in flames, tiny ones that licked over her skin, each stoking the other until they smouldered, building wanton images in her mind. While she waited for his calm, which never came, images of her own played in her head and so gone was she that she found a part of her, a brave part that wanted to tempt and dare. She had always been such a good girl all her life. Here was her chance to do something daring and exciting.

Taking a deep breath for courage, she said, "Well this just won't do. I guess I will just have to take things into my own hands," She tried to smile bravely but it came out trembly, needy. And that look had his enormous body shuddering. His eyes locked onto her as she came towards him. A beautiful rose in her cheeks. He didn't dare assume he had guess at her intensions. It would be too great that his fantasy would come true.

"What are you doing?" he asked startled as she sank to her knees so elegantly before him. The next sounds out of his mouth were those of muffled groans as inexperienced fingers lightly pushed the belt to a side, taking him tentatively within the softest palm. He nearly disgraced himself by falling to the floor on weak knees. Saved by the ledge of the window, he threw his head back, biting his lips as her fingers slowly circled his shaft, trailing experimentally over the length. The sensations were intense. His already engorged erection swelled till the veins throbbed visibly. He knew that he would be done in no time. He wanted her to go faster, but he feared pushing her, scaring her. 

Confidence growing, she started to stroke him firmly, loving the sounds that escape his lips. Her heart thundered. She had never done anything like this before but she truly enjoyed bringing that look to his face, making him make those sounds. Her fingers travelled over the blunt tip of his arousal and a strangled gasp escaped his lips causing her to moan out at the pleasure it brought her. She kept doing it, loving how this powerful man shuddered so openly under her ministrations. Her free hand moved to stroke his underside. 




The Photograph



"Penelope..." he rasped. "Please... wont... last..." those strangled words brought that first feminine smile to her lips. She wanted him to lose it and so she did something she had never done in her entire life. Licking her lips, she slowly darted her tongue out to taste the tip of him. She was amazed at the effect that had on him. His entire being froze... stilled like he was waiting for something. She couldn't wait however, She had gotten her first taste of him and she wanted more. She opened her mouth and slowly took him in. He was much bigger than she had expected and he stretched her mouth but he tasted really good. Something about having him in her mouth made more moisture pool between her thighs. She swirled her tongue around has her head rose to do it again. Grabbing hold of his bottom for better leverage she started to move steadily, swallowing as much of him as she could with each take. Hoping that she was doing it right.

He felt it start at the base of his shaft. Intense volcanic pleasure. He wanted to tell her so he wouldn't come in her mouth. He understood that this was her first time but words escaped him. Pleasure hummed through his entire being, finding ever nerve ending, building until he couldn't find it in him to think of anything but his release. It came hot and hard, ringing a shouted groan from his lips. His entire body shook from the shear force of it. Thrusting into her mouth he rung all the pleasure out until he felt satiated for the moment but not satisfied. 

She felt it coming, his hand fisted almost reverently through her hair as he started to thrust deeply into her mouth. Then he came, feeling her mouth with his essence. Sucking on the erupting shaft, she tried to bring him to the pinnacle of pleasure even in her inexperienced state. When his hips had stopped thrusting within her mouth she gave him a last lustful suck before standing up. The look on his face almost had her throwing herself into his arms. He was still leaning against the window, his hand just over his chest hear his throat and the other swinging loosely by his side as he gazed at her. It was like he was saying to her... I want you. The look on his face was so beautiful that she rushed to her camera and took several pictures of him in that pose. His body relaxed from orgasm as he looked at her still wanting more. His back arched so sensually, hair fanned softly over taut muscles. And it was all for her. The fire in his eyes that had not been there before smouldered with heated promise.

--------------------

It was a week since it had happened. Her pictures were developed. She looked at them now, longing and lust on her face as she prepared to send them off to the editor's desk save one. It had been a great experience, but there was no point dredging up the past, wishing for things that could never be.

She made her way home feeling sad. She had really wished that something more would have happened. Maybe he really had not enjoyed what she had done to him. Anxiety surfaced. She had been inexperienced in the way of pleasing men so it wouldn't have surprised her if she had not pleased him. Dejected she entered her apartment, and sighed for the hundredth time as she looked dreamily onto the picture that was Crimson. He looked like the true epitome of desire and she really wished...

Sighing she prepared to make dinner for herself, all alone again. She frowned as the phone rang causing her to burn her finger on the hot pan.

"Hello?"

"Have dinner with me tonight," came the growling response. "I can't stop thinking about you..."



The Photograph



Danny's wife offered me coffee as she explained that my best friend was out of town. I'd known of his trip but had forgotten. It was Monday night and I was here for the usual football game and beers. Michelle tolerated me. She was slightly suspicious, I think, of my single lifestyle and my influence over Danny. To tell the truth, we did not get along; we were opposites. I was sort of free and clumsy, taking things as they came and letting the next day take care of any trouble. Michelle was contained and totally in control. Things in the world seemed to move towards her as she needed them, events fitted themselves to her plans, people fell in line. She irritated me with her smugness and I'm sure I irritated her. She was tall, her flesh firmly shaped to her frame, unblemished and with a natural tan. She always wore her blond hair tightly scrimped into a bun. Her glasses were large; objects of practical use, not aesthetic in any way. Her clothes were likewise practical; they were like the model answers to questions the weather and temperature asked. I couldn't imagine her ever being caught out with the wrong coat or without a jersey if needed.

I sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and watched Michelle slide effortlessly through the required motions of making coffee. Her grey skirt fitted like a second skin around her hips and beneath her short, tailored grey jacket she wore a white top. The lapels of the jacket accentuated the mound of her breasts. In the background NPR prattled on. Outside a late fall sunset had painted the horizon an improbable pink. The tick of the radiators measured the slow passage of time.

"You can stay and watch if you want," she said in a voice that was almost husky.

"Watch what?" I asked, noisily sipping the hot coffee.

"The football of course, or whatever it is that you watch," she replied, annoyed.

I continued loudly sipping my coffee, mainly because I could see it irritated her. I could see that she didn't know what else to say to me, but she was too polite to just abandon me in the kitchen. Suddenly I remembered something from earlier in the day. Danny's car crookedly parked in the back of a restaurant on Route 7. But Danny had already left town.

"So what were you doing at the Lantana at lunchtime today?" I asked. Michelle first went pale and then a mottled red. It was most flustered I'd ever seen her.

"What are you talking about?" she stammered.

In these kinds of situations I let my instincts guide me. 

"The guy I saw you with in the restaurant. Who is he?" I had, of course, not seen anything of the sort. I'd just driven by and seen Danny's SUV crookedly parked.

She said nothing. Instead she pulled my cup away and filled it from the pot, spilling a little on the counter. Her hand was trembling.

"He's just a friend. Why are you asking me these questions?"

This time I sipped my coffee silently, looking at her from above the rip of the cup.

"He looked like more than a friend to me," I said, achieving a renewal of the blush. "Does Danny know about your friend?" I asked. Again she said nothing, this time turning away from me.

"Look," she said quietly, fearfully, "it's nothing. I just went to lunch with a guy from work. That's all, nothing happened. It was just lunch."

"And in the car afterwards," I said, wildly guessing, "what about that?"

Michelle spun around, her eyes now wide with a feral fear. "Were you spying on me?" she demanded.

I spoke calmly, softly, reasonably. "I saw what I saw. I wonder what Danny will make of this? I truly do; his perfect little wife out whoring herself in crappy Italian restaurants.

"It wasn't crappy," Michelle said. There was a moment of silence before we both laughed breaking the tension for a moment. She stepped closer to me and rested her elbows on the counter top, her face level with mine. There was a depth to her brown eyes I hadn't noticed before; a certain sadness perhaps. She gently bit against her bottom lip as she pondered her words.

"I know we haven't always got along," she said softly, "I don't really know why. Perhaps it's because I see in you something of myself, something I wish wasn't there. I love Danny," she went on after a short pause, "you have to believe that. I have my demons but he's happy; we're happy. I don't want to destroy that, I can't destroy that. So I'm begging you, Paul, please don't say anything to him. It will crush him. You know it will."

I ran my finger along the rim of the empty coffee cup, allowing her words to echo a while in the silence of the house.

"Then why suck off guys in parking lots?" I asked, fixing her eyes with mine.

"Please, I'm not trying to excuse myself. I know what I did was wrong. Jesus, don't you think I know what I'm risking when I do this stuff?"

"This stuff?" I interrupted. "How often do you do this stuff? How many men have there been?"

She stood up and walked away, pausing in the kitchen doorway. "I don't have to explain myself to you," she shouted, "fuck you, fuck you!"

I listened to her stomp angrily up the stairs. I fetched a couple of Danny's beers from the fridge and followed her. The bedroom door was closed. I didn't knock.

Michelle was sitting cross-legged on the bed. Her skirt was hiked up around her thighs, the stretched fabric of her red panties clearly visible. She made no attempt to cover herself. She had shed her jacket revealing the sleeveless white top. Across her lap was a magazine on which was spread the dried, crumbled leaves of marijuana which she was mixing with tobacco. A small freezer packet of dope was on the bed next an orange pack of cigarette papers and a cheap lighter. I shifted some of Danny's clothes onto the floor and flopped down into a plush green chair. I twisted off the cap of a beer bottle.

"Full of surprises aren't you" I remarked. She said nothing. I watched her expertly roll the joint and lick the gummed edge of the paper. She flicked the lighter and squinted as the smoke curled up before she inhaled deeply. A single bedside lamp battled the gloom of the day's end. Outside an autumnal breeze whistled through the telephones lines. I drank the beer down and opened another. Michelle shifted off the bed and doused her joint in my discarded beer bottle. She walked over to the window, her back to me.

"So, Paul the Inquisitor, what do you want to know? What will save my soul?"

"I'm serious," I said. "I think Danny deserves to know what kind of wife he has. I would want to know myself. Why shouldn't I apply the same standard?" She said nothing. I could see the uncertainty in her shoulders and in the tilt of her neck. She didn't believe me but she also didn't trust me. I pulled out my cell phone.

"Let me see, there are eleven numbers to dial, that's all. And then ... bang, your fake marriage is over. Eleven numbers and then just the slightest pressure on the send button and that's it for you."

"You're bullshitting me," she said quietly.

I started pressing the numbers, the electronic beep harsh in the dull silence of the room. She turned around, her hands raised in surrender. "Okay, okay, please. Let's talk," she stammered, "what do you want?"

I snapped the cell phone closed. "Tell me everything about today; what you did, everything. And take off the panties. I don't think a whoring slut like you deserves the dignity of panties. A little too much false modesty I think."

She looked at me, shrugged and reached under her skirt, pulled her panties down and stepped out of them before sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees tightly together, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Her bright red panties lay on the carpet between us.

"His name is Derek," she said, her voice a confessional monotone. "He works in one of the offices below us. I'd seen him in the corridors a few times. He smiled and I smiled back. I didn't think much of it really. Then he emailed me; just a playful email, nothing heavy. I emailed back. That's how it started." She paused as she took up the magazine and started to roll another joint. "He seemed to know me. Not the married woman, good daughter, efficient worker me; the other side of me - how much I like the attention of men; their gaze on me, especially that. For some reason I trusted him. We met for a drink after work. I told Danny I was meeting a girlfriend. Derek seemed so suave and sophisticated; a real gentlemen. But the look in his eyes was not gentlemanly," she smiled at this, the lamp throwing shadows across her face. The end of the joint flared as she lit it. "We made a lunch date in some far away place he knew; somewhere where no one would see us. We were thinking colleagues of course, not my husband's best friend."

"Tell me what happened in the car," I instructed.

"After lunch we sat in Danny's car just talking. I could tell he was nervous. He's also married with kids. I kissed him first. He was a good kisser. His hands were all over me; my breasts, under skirt, everywhere."

"Did he finger you?"

"Yes," she said.

"Did you suck him?"

"Yes."

"Did he cum in your mouth?"

"Yes."

I heard the 'plop' of a tear hit the magazine. I stood up and walked to the window. Michelle's panty drawer stood open; the hiding place for her marijuana. I picked out a white thong and stretched the elastic as I looked out over the neighbor's house. I could see the family all seated at the dinner table. Someone had told a joke and their faces were all thrown back in silent laughter. A cat on the boundary wall looked up at me, its eye caught by the flashing white of Michelle's thong. My own mouse was hunched silently behind me on the bed.

"How many others have there been since you promised to be faithful to Danny in front of all of us at the church?" I whispered.

"Paul, this has gone too far," she said, her voice attempting reasonableness. She got up off the bed and stood directly behind me, her hand resting lightly on my upper arm. "Please let's just end it now."

"Put these on and take your skirt off," I said ignoring her plea. She stepped back aghast.

"Fuck, this is mad. You can't do this. You can't, don't you understand?" She pleaded.

I stood there, the thong dangling from my finger and my cell in my other hand.

"Your choice," I said smiling. She yanked the thong from my hand and retreated to the shadows, pulling on the thong before stepping out of the skirt. I told her stand next to the lamp. She had long, strong legs and muscular thighs. Her ass was smooth and tight and the folds of her pussy were visible beneath the thin fabric of the thong. I instructed her turn around in the light of the lamp. Her long back was perfectly bisected by the deep valley of her spine.

"You're as bad as me," she whispered. "What would Danny say if he saw this; his best friend ogling his wife? You're no better than me," she repeated.

She was right of course. This really had gone too far but now I was powerless to stop it; it had its own logic, its own conclusion.

"Look at me," she said, while she posed for me, now caressing herself in front of me. "Is this what you wanted?" She laughed at me and sat down again on the bed, picking up a framed photograph from the bedside table showing her and Danny on their wedding day, hand-in-hand outside the church. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asked, a smirk on her face.

This was not a proposition I could easily contradict. More than anything in the world I wanted to have her, possess her, make her absolutely mine. It was a desire that was suddenly concentrated at the center of my existence; I couldn't imagine not fucking Michelle.

She turned the photograph towards me. It showed Danny on the happiest day of his life. I remembered his astonishment that Michelle, who he loved like a puppy loves its new owner, had agreed to the marriage. I remember him banging on my apartment door in the early hours to tell me the news; Danny breathless, excited, suddenly large in the world.

"We would be spitting on this" she said, holding up the photograph. I sat silently, my heart now thumping. "And, you know, Paul, if we do this we would have no control over how it will end." Then she spat onto the photograph, the gob of her saliva sliding down the glass across the face of her husband. "Your turn," she said, turning to me, her eyes flaming with a mixture of anger and desire. I couldn't look as she held out the blasphemed image, waiting for me to take it. Suddenly, I felt the tables had turned with Michelle now in charge. "What's wrong?" she asked, a flare of disdain in her voice; "Second thoughts?"

I took the photograph, careful to avoid the cold spit pooling at the bottom of the frame. My mouth was dry, spitless. I didn't want to do it but I couldn't see how I could avoid it. I understood her logic. I could contemplate fucking Danny's wife but I couldn't spit on a photograph of her husband. It was dark outside now, the room reflected in the black glass of the windows. I heard the neighbor's back door open and a child's voice call for the cat. Somewhere a motorbike briefly revved before roaring off into a distant silence. Still I held the frame of the photograph, immobilized by this brutal dilemma.

"I thought so," she sneered, "I knew you were weak, a nothing, and a nobody." She bent down and scooped up the red panties and her skirt from the floor, already tidying up and ready to dismiss me. I felt a surge of shame; shame for not having the courage to spit on the image of my best friend and the shame of appearing weak in the eyes of Michelle. With my free hand I reached out a grabbed her wrist, twisting her skin cruelly, pulling her close to me. I raised the photograph to my mouth and licked her cold spit from the glass, took it into my mouth and combined it with my own and spat our treachery into her astonished face. We danced in a mad embrace across the room until we fell onto the bed in a puff of dried marijuana leaves. Her hands fumbled with my pants, reaching for me as I drove my fingers into the split of her fleshy wetness. Moments later we were fucking, tearing at each other's clothes, desperate for the other's nakedness. There was no gentleness in this, no redemption or salvation. This was the rawest of new love; a love that is angry and would destroy the world for its own satisfaction. We exhausted ourselves, bruising and scratching and biting. Our orgasms were fists driven into the flesh of the other. Afterwards we lay on the bed sprawled like battlefield corpses in the heavy air of our sweat.

From high above I looked down on Danny's house with its neatly arranged flowerbeds, shrubs and winding paths. The neighbor's house was in darkness like all the others. Only the luminescent green eyes of the cat looked up at me through a window, a silent judgment in its expression. Through Danny's roof I could see Michelle breathing slowly, the smirk ripped from her face and replaced by beatitude of her recent ecstasy. I watched as her fingers reached across the quarter inch that separated us on the bed and, like beggars at the feet of royalty, approach my arm. She said something so softly that only a lover could hear, and I saw myself reply. I looked down on her matted pubic hair, her twice violated pussy. She had played with her desire, skating off on the thin ice of her secret needs and accepting the mouth and fingers and cum of her colleague in her husband's car. Exhilarated by the freedom of sliding across the world without friction she pushed on further away from the safety of the shore, further out on the ice. When the ice broke and she tumbled down she expected the hypothermic cold of deadly water but beneath the ice was fire, a consuming love fire that would turn her life to ashes.

My own improbable love for Michelle kept me floating high above the world. The guilt that would eventually pull me down to earth was no match for the buoyancy of new love. I was so high I could see right across the country to where Danny sat in his hotel room; the Monday night game over, he flipped through channels lying on the big bed, a beer in his hand. From up here I had dropped a bomb that was traveling at a steady, uniform speed down towards him, primed to detonate and explode Danny's small world. Watching him wriggle his toes in his socks and burp softly I thought of the residents of Hiroshima washing cups, making love, gossiping, patting the behinds of their children as the bomb fell silently; all those thoughts and plans, and hopes and loves were not enough to stop the bomb in midair, suspend it above the earth as the not-yet-happened. I tried to imagine Danny's Hiroshima. The bomb would come down, BAM! How would Michelle do it? A note left on the kitchen counter? – "I'm at my mother's. We need to talk." Or would Michelle be braver and wait for him to bound in from the garage, hefting his bags behind him and then tell him. She wouldn't beat about the bush – "I'm leaving you. I'm in love with Paul." And then he would know he was right all along; he wasn't good enough for her, he would never be good enough for someone like her. He would ask how long? And he wouldn't believe her when she said since yesterday.

I watched as we slipped into each other's arms like summer swimmers slowly submerging into a still pond. I watched as Danny, now stripped to his shorts, hugged a pillow beneath the duvet, holding on to a happiness that was already a shadow, falling into his final night's sleep before the explosion that would rob him of all his sleep.



The Photograph



This story produced many favorable comments and e-mails, many pleaded with me to continue with the characters in some way. Thus, as my fans know, Jeremy and Alex reappear in several of my other stories: Mel's Wedding and Temporary Girlfriend: Wedding, to name two. In these other stories, our friends from this story are even more active and playful than they appear in this 'mood story' written in summer 2007. I hope you enjoy this story as well as all my others. (My thanks to Jeriscol for his editing. )

*

It filled a wall that was over eight feet high and ten feet wide. There was no furniture in front of the wall, and it was the first thing you saw when you entered the room. It was unavoidable, and everyone that visited was forced to comment on it. You had to comment. It was a woman's face.

She was beautiful. The photograph was a candid shot; she wasn't looking at the camera. Her glance was just over and to the right in the shot. Her smile was infectious. 

The oversized photograph was in Jeremy's South Kensington flat. He had taken the photo without her paying particular attention to his presence. He'd reduced it to a head and shoulders shot then had it blown up by his favorite print house so he could paper his wall with her.

Her long, lightly colored hair was almost perfect; there was just one strand that was out of place. A sidelight caught it just right to highlight it. It drifted across her left cheek and had been in motion as Jeremy's camera froze the image for posterity. It gave her a relaxed and carefree look. Yet, her eyes betrayed a much deeper and more caring personality, one that Jeremy wanted to know more intimately.

The background in the picture was slightly blurred, but not so much that you couldn't tell she was at an outdoor party. About fifty other people were evident in the fuzzy background. 

She was dressed to the nines he recalled, but only the dark jacket and white v-neck blouse she wore showed in the photograph carefully revealing her sexy neckline. 

The occasion had been a wedding, but she was not the bride, only a chic guest, frozen in time by his Canon camera. Her name was Alexandra Cary Reid; people called her Alex.

Jeremy Foltz became a photographer in high school when he volunteered to work on the school newspaper and yearbook. He turned out to have a knack for taking superb and artistic shots of people. Even at that early age and then in university his classmates sought him out for his skills in making them look good; no, not good -- great, spectacular, magnificent, God like. 

At an early age, he developed darkroom skills, but gave them up immediately with the advent of digital photography. He quickly learned the manipulation of digital photos and was masterful with his computer and photo processing programs. He could work lighting magic with only the ambient lights in a room, adjusting their placement, and brightness with a rare competency even professionals a generation older didn't have. Give him a studio or the ability to set his own lights and strobes and he could create wonders for the eye to enjoy. Over time, his hobby consumed him and then became his vocation.

All that was almost fifteen years earlier. Now he was considered at the apex of his field. He was booked a year out, mostly for executive media shots and wedding parties. He was sought after by every bride in the country willing to pay the outrageous price he commanded for often turning a pig's ear into a silk purse. This was the expression he used with his close friends to refer to taking ugly or unbecoming brides and grooms and making them look spectacular in their engagement or wedding photographs. Of course, he did the same for guests too. The photo on the wall of his living room was an exception; it was untouched except for its size. 

Jeremy had taken over a thousand photographs at the September wedding where he photographed Alex. The photos and album that he produced were a personal gift from Jeremy to the bride and groom. The bride was his second cousin, Maddy. Everyone stood in awe of his work and the package he produced; it was significantly beyond what the new couple or their families would have ever dreamed of spending for wedding photographs. He'd even used the event to experiment with some new equipment and some daring photography outside his traditional wedding fare; the results nicely complemented the usual shots he also took.

Jeremy sat every night and studied the photograph in his living room. He'd come up one flight from his ground floor office and studio at the end of the day, pour a glass of chilled Sancerre wine he'd brought back from a trip to the Loire Valley, and sit on his sofa and stare at the woman. He could vaguely recall a brief conversation they'd had at the wedding, nothing profound but polite self introductions and small talk about the wedding, guests and of course the English weather.

Often, he wondered about his sanity. Was he obsessed with her? Was this just a fascination that would fade aware or was there some dark side within him that was struggling to emerge? Today he decided it was the former since he was taking no action to do anything other than appreciate his own photograph. On other days, however, he admitted his obsession.

Over time, he fell in love with Alex. Not one to talk aloud, he would think with her about his day, his problems, his frustrations, his joys, his bliss. Through the love, he had for her he found answers and ideas. He found he was more sensitive to his inner voice; he also grew to like himself more.

At the end of June, Jeremy was a guest at the second marriage of his aunt Jane. He was enjoying not being the regular photographer for the event; however, he couldn't resist the urge to bring his camera to the event to capture some more candid shots. Jeremy loved photographing people -- all people, especially at happy events, or at joyous moments in their lives. 

Jeremy had taken a few shots during the service as unobtrusively as he could, leaving the "hired gun" to scurry around as he usually did seeking the perfect shots and angles as the wedding ceremony in the old Norman church unfolded. After the service, the 300 guests strolled through the church gardens to an adjacent old country inn. The wedding party had clustered along a riverbank for the mandatory group photos whilst the guests had the luxury of an open bar at the inn.

Jeremy stood with a Pimms in his hand, camera slung over a shoulder, as he watched from a corner of the patio. His square jaw, athletic frame, striking six-foot height, and mid-thirties age set him well apart from the other guests, many of whom friends of his middle-aged aunt.

He didn't notice the attractive woman with the broad brimmed hat and bright summer frock until she was standing next to him with a gin and tonic in her hand. She turned to him and spoke, awakening him from his study of the wedding. 

"You're not running around taking pictures the way you were at Maddy's wedding. Are you off duty?"

He turned to see Alex; her impish smile and dimples only three feet from him. This was someone he knew so well, but didn't know at all. "Oh my God," he thought, "This is the woman papered on my living room wall!" He was simultaneously horrified and tongue-tied. 

After an awkward pause, during which he continued to stare at her she said "That wasn't a trick question. I remember your photographing everything at my cousin's wedding. I didn't mean to upset you. Did the shot you took of me there turn out? I'd love to see it. Jeremy, isn't it?"

After an awkward silence as he stared at her, Jeremy slowly got his brain in gear. "Oh, excuse me for my gawkish behavior. I didn't mean to stare. I didn't expect you ... or rather anyone as nice ... I mean, you ..." He took a visible deep breath and blurted out, "Yes, I'm Jeremy. Jane is my aunt. I'm glad you're here too Alex." 

He gestured towards Jane, and the group being photographed beside the river. The color rose in Jeremy's neck. He was genuinely blushing. Something he seldom did. Of course, he seldom had anything other than a business conversation with the women he worked with. "His brides" he called them.

She laughed. "She's something like my fifth cousin, ten times removed, too." She extended her hand in a friendly gesture. He noted her American accent again.

Jeremy shook her hand, still staring into her deep eyes. "I mustn't stare," he was telling himself. He thought, "My God, she's the most beautiful woman on the planet and so much better than my photograph of her. I'm in love with her and she doesn't even know it. I'm also being a dolt. Say something smart and witty."

He turned towards the mostly middle-aged and older crowd milling around the bar and patio. "Well, I don't have a cane or a walker. I sort of feel out of place here actually. And, yes, your photograph turned out very well." He paused wondering if he should tell her he'd splashed it across one large wall in his living room, then added, "I had a print made; it's in my, err, ah, gallery."

"Well, then, take my picture again," Alex said with a flirtatious laugh. She backed up a few feet and struck a pose. 

Jeremy's mind clicked into gear as he brought his camera up: composition, back lighting, aperture setting, fill-in bounce flash, aim, and fire. He clicked off a dozen shots in a minute, each better than the last as she played to the camera. She was laughing. He figured he was capturing and preserving beauty for posterity. He finally stopped, and she came closer again.

"What do you do with them?" she asked.

"Oh, I'll sort through these and make a little album for Jane so she has some candid shots of everyone here."

"What about you?" Alex asked. "Who'll take your picture?"

"Well, no one," Jeremy answered, but Alex was already reaching for his camera. "If you show me what to do I'll take your picture so you can be in the album too."

Jeremy gingerly lifted the strap over his head and moved to put it around Alex's neck. The camera, lens, and flash cost well over a couple of thousand quid and he wasn't going to take any chances, even if she were the most beautiful person there. The problem was the hat; he hesitated. How could he loop the camera over her hat?

Alex put her arm through the hanging strap and wound her wrist around the slack in it. He could see she had a firm grip and released the camera into her hands. "Hold the shutter halfway down for a second before you shoot. You'll see it auto-focus through the eye piece, then push the rest of the way down." He pointed at the camera's silver button.

Alex squinted at him through the narrow opening. He posed, smiled, and the flash went off. "I've got to get more into this as a hobby," Alex said, carefully passing the camera back into his loving hands. "I love photographs. My flat is covered with them. I think everyone I've ever met is on my walls somewhere. Will you email me this photo?"

"I'd be delighted, or you can come by ..." Jeremy stopped himself in mid sentence. He didn't want her to see herself papered across his living room wall. "No. Yes. Yes, I'll email it to you. Give me your card."

Alex dug in her purse and produced her McKinsey business card. The card indicated she was a consulting manager with the firm. While she did that Jeremy extracted one of his cards from his wallet. They traded cards.

"I'm impressed," Jeremy told her. "McKinsey is a fine company. Good reputation. Are you based here or in the States? I detect some American in your accent."

"Good guess. I was born here, but moved to the States in the 1980s when I was a tot. I grew up there, but I live here now -- as of six months ago," she added.

People were starting to sit for the dinner. "Do you know your table?" Jeremy asked.

"No," Alex said. "There's a seating assignments on the table over there," pointing to a table people were filing by as they entered the dining area of the outdoor tent beside the Inn. 

The two of them strolled to where there was a layout of the tables with little cards for each person showing which table they were assigned to. Jeremy was at Table 4, Alex at Table 8.

Jeremy reached over a took the Table 8 card with Alex's name on it and placed it next to his at Table 4, moving a random card from his table to the now empty Table 8 slot. 

"There," he said," at least we can sit next to each other for the meal. Come and join me." 

Smiling at his ploy, Alex joined him as they walked to Table 4 and introduced themselves to the others there. Jeremy knew a couple of the people from other family gatherings. He introduced his new but distant cousin.

The conversation was electric between the two of them. If there were other people at the table, or even at the wedding, they barely noticed. Jeremy was on his best behavior. He loved this woman but couldn't let her know, at least just yet. Later, they circulated though the tent, meeting people, danced some more, consumed the mandatory piece of wedding cake, talked incessantly to one another, and fell into a comfortable relationship.

Jeremy was pleased to learn that Alex was unattached and had no interests in anyone at the time. He shared his similar position with her. They talked about their jobs, families, education, life growing up, values, and even some quirks that they'd be embarrassed if anyone else found out about. There was an intimacy between them that was instant and hard to ignore.

As the wedding broke up they kissed goodbye. It was not any kiss of notice, only a quick buss on each other's cheeks. There was a promise to meet again and a "call me, we'll do lunch some day soon" tossed out by both of them. Jeremy was in heaven that he might see her again soon, but in his mind he knew that she'd have to take the first step. Handsome as he was, he was shy and not a ladies man. He had become more comfortable with her as the evening progressed, but still making that leap to ask for a date was not his forte. 

Friday Evening, Three Weeks Later

Jeremy was hunched over his computer eradicating the blotchy complexion of a seventy-something board member from one of the world's leading corporations in a photograph he'd taken the week before. The ring of his doorbell broke his concentration from his evening's work. He saved his work and went to the door.

He pulled open the door to see a well-dressed Alex standing on his doorstep with a broad smile on her face and her briefcase in hand.

"You didn't call," she said. "And, I'm not one to wait forever. Unless you have a new girlfriend or the Queen here for a photo shoot; I thought I'd drag you away for a glass of wine down the street."

Jeremy was speechless again.

After almost a minute Alex stated, "Well, I guess I've left you speechless again. I assume the Queen's not here then. Come on. Come on." She gestured towards the pub way down the street.

Finally, Jeremy's mind clicked into gear. "Wait. No. Yes. While, what I mean is you come in. I've got wine here: Great wine, in fact. I picked up a carload in the Loire only a couple of months ago. This is the perfect occasion." He didn't even think about the photograph on the wall of his living room as he made the invitation.

Alex came into the flat and followed Jeremy up the half flight to the living level. He gestured to her to enter the living room.

She stood frozen in the doorway. "Oh my God!" she blurted out as she saw the immense photograph of herself on the wall facing the door. "Wow!" 

Now she was the one that was speechless. Slowly she turned to him. "Why?" The look on her face was one of worry as well as puzzlement.

Jeremy smiled then admitted shyly, "I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen: Why not?"

Alex nodded silently. The look on her face remained.

He went on quietly. "I need someone to talk to, to share with. You fill that roll. Well, your photograph does. It's been here since Maddy's wedding where I took it. I know I'm a bit of a recluse but not with you here." He gestured towards the photograph again.

Alex asked almost in a whisper, "There's no one else in your life?"

"No, just you," Jeremy said as he barely gestured to the large photograph. After a long silence he added, "When we talked so much at Jane's wedding I was even surer I'd picked the right person to grace my flat. You are a wonder." He smiled warmly at her.

Alex turned to him and walked the two paces to be in his arms. He enfolded her automatically as she raised her head to his for their first serious kiss.

That kiss became another ... and another.

"I was afraid if you saw the photograph and what I'd done with it that you'd think I was a weirdo or be scared at my obsession. I forgot it was here ... otherwise, we'd be at the wine bar. I mean no offense, really."

Alex said, "Offense? I think it's wonderful to be obsessed over. No one has even been obsessed with me before, and I love it -- really love it. What a turn on. Now kiss me again."

They took their kisses to the sofa. The initial tender kisses of affection and caring they both gave each other gave way to more passionate kisses as the minutes ticked by. They cooed and talked softly to each other in a loving way.

Jeremy pulled Alex's hair away from the side of her head and ran his tongue around inside her ear, and then he licked, nibbled, and kissed his way up and down her neck. Alex purred like a contented cat and leaned into his attention.

Alex reciprocated, with passion and eagerness. Both ran out of available skin area that wasn't covered by clothing; soon one of her hands started to undo the buttons of Jeremy's white shirt. The other hand pulled his head into hers for another passionate kiss.

He took her assertiveness as an invitation to also start to smooth Alex's breasts through her smooth blouse, although tentatively at first. Not only did she not protest, she pushed into his advances. He could feel her nipples respond to his touch and her sexual excitement just as her hand started smoothing his bare chest. 

Jeremy became impatient as he worked on the buttons to her blouse. She kept a lock on his lips with hers, but worked from the other end of the row of buttons on her blouse. There was an increasing urgency in her moves. As it opened she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and tossed it to the side. Her lacy bra soon fell by her own hand.

Alex pulled Jeremy's shirt apart and thrust her naked chest into his with a gesture of further passion. Jeremy noticed that she was well endowed, not engorged but a bountiful handful. He pulled her to him and allowed her nipples to stroke across his chest. Both knew where the evening was going. There was no doubt now.

After another round of petting and intense kissing, Jeremy stood and picked up Alex from the sofa. He was surprised at how light she was. She put her arms around his neck while continuing to kiss him.

"The flats across the way can see in now that it's dusk. My bedroom is more private," Jeremy explained. He picked up her lithe body and carried her down a short hallway, up another half flight of stairs, and into a large and masculine bedroom with a king-sized bed. He set Alex on the edge of the bed with a kiss and stroke of her bare chest. He turned and adjusted the lights so the room wasn't totally dark, then lit a candle on the long dresser. He tossed his shirt into a corner as well as the rest of his clothing.

When he turned back to Alex, she had removed her skirt and been in the process of removing her pantyhose. Beneath he could see a white bikini style brief. In a second Alex shed that too and completely nude turned to him and held her arms out in a seductive welcome.

As he approached, she reached out and gently touched his inflating penis. She pulled his manhood to her lips and kissed the head of his tool, then in successive moves engulfed the head and then the entire rod into her mouth. She pumped her head back and forth several times. His head alternated between watching the pornographic act unfold at his waist and thrown back as another wave of pleasure washed over him. This was beyond his wildest dreams.




The Photograph



He wanted to please her too. After several minutes of the pleasure she was delivering, he reached down and pushed her back, extracting his now erect rod from her mouth. He kneeled before her on the plush carpeting and pulled her legs apart. She willingly complied. 

His tongue circled her trimmed pussy, licking each thigh near where her legs joined her beautiful body. There were slight depressions when her leg tendons and muscles stretched the skin, and he focused on these for a minute. Then he circled higher, above her visible slit on to her lower abdomen. His tongue missed not a square inch of skin as he teased.

Then he ran his tongue from navel in a straight line down to her slit. He jerked with sudden alertness. She was wet. Her taste was divine -- a mix of musk and nectar that only the gods could create. As he circled her vaginal opening, he found her clit. She jerked again as his tongue probed the erect nubbin within its protected folds of skin. 

He thrust his tongue into her vagina: Alternating between clit and hole as he aimed to bring her pleasure. Alex was moaning and purring as he attended to her. Several times she arched her back as a small wave of pleasure swept over her. 

Jeremy's fingers became part of the action to please. He penetrated her with two fingers as his tongue tickled her clitoris. The fingers sought and found the slightly rough skin inside that was probably her G-spot and went to work. Alex arched her back even further and emitted a low groan of pure pleasure.

"Jeremy, come up and make love to me. Fuck me. We can do all this later. I want you in me now."

He gave a last thrust with his moist hand then rose. The two of them shifted to the center of the bed. Alex pulled her legs up, and Jeremy rose above her and aimed his rigid cock at her gapping hole. He slowly thrust into her in one long, smooth stroke completing their union. 

Each of them felt the ecstasy of that first penetration. Backs arched and eyes closed as they both savored the experience. Both held the position for a few extra seconds to savor the moment. As they did they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

Jeremy extended his body onto Alex's, showering her face and neck with kisses and licks of love. Alex just kept saying "Thank you" and trying to kiss back.

Their bodies developed a slow rhythm. Both knew their brains were telling them to pump at full speed into one another, but their individual wishes to relish the copulation over rode the speed messages. Jeremy's hips thrust back and forth pushing his long and swollen member into her tunnel. 

Their controlled thrusts went on and on for many minutes. If either one of them felt the approach of the end an invisible signal was sent to slow down or vary the pace slightly, taking the edge off the moment. Both bodies developed a sheen to them -- a fine moist glow of sweat showing the effort they were both putting into their coupling. Finally, both seemed to agree to continue past the point of no return.

"Oh, God, I love you Alex!" he blurted out as he looked at her with such caring and devotion. 

She pulled him to her in a kiss of further passion and abandon, as she thrust her groin into his with even greater pressure. Her legs locked behind his back and she pulled him into her kiss.

"Oh Jeremy, never stop. Never stop."

In that minute both their bodies sensed an end to this act of love. Jeremy now rapidly pumped his cock into her slit with an urgency that swept over the two of them. Alex rose to meet each thrust with renewed effort, legs pulling him into her so that the coupling was never lost. 

Their climaxes arrived simultaneously. Jeremy felt her vaginal muscles deep within her start to massage and milk his cock in his final thrusts. An alternating tightness he had never felt before pulled him deeper in her final moves. He erupted, sending stream after stream of his white cream into her body. Back arched, he gave his final thrusts to be sure his deposits were as deep as they could go.

At the same instant, Alex felt the initial wave of orgasm sweep over her. Her hips rotated and pulled him closer; her arms pulled him into a kiss of all kisses. She did everything she could to welcome his ejaculation into her body, to create the oneness of their bodies. She ejaculated as well, flooding their union with a small amount of liquid to seal the blissful union.

Jeremy collapsed atop her, continuing his kisses. He pulled them onto their sides so he wouldn't crush her with his weight. Between the kisses, they showered on each other they panted and sighed and tried to catch their breath. The orgasm extended slightly as they held each other.

Finally, their passions subsided. Only the panting could be heard in the room above the noise of an occasional passing car outside. 

Alex finally added, "Oh wow! You surely know how to please a girl."

Jeremy nodded, still unable to speak through his gasps for oxygen. He pulled the sheet over their two naked bodies in one final gesture of strength and caring.

The two of them cuddled one another for many minutes in the afterglow of their loving. Hands smoothed breasts and chests. Kisses became gentler again. Looks of love replaced the grimaces of their passion from moments before. Their bodies remain joined for a long while. Nature was not so cooperative, however, and finally he slid from her moist warmth.

"Can I ask you something," Alex ventured.

"Of course."

"A long time ago you promised me a glass of wine; does that offer still stand? And, you should know that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast and I'm famished. Do you have any nibbles?"

He laughed, "Of course." They both hitched to the side of the bed. Alex went first; one hand clutching her pussy to stem the flow of body fluids from her body as gravity went to work. She ran into the adjacent bathroom as he yelled, "The switch is on the right."

Jeremy followed when he saw her rise from the commode with a pad of toilet paper held against her. 

Alex chided him with a flirty grin; "You filled me up lover." He pulled her to him and kissed her again.

"My pleasure my love. Any time. Any time."

She pulled her undies on being careful to place her paper pad in them. Instead of dressing again, she picked up Jeremy's shirt and pulled it on, buttoning only the two middle buttons for some sense of propriety as she walked through the flat. The shirt came to mid thigh, so she figured if any neighbors glanced in they wouldn't see much. She looked sexy but practical.

Jeremy pulled a robe from his closet door and pulled it on over his naked body. Then he led her back downstairs to the kitchen.

He uncorked a bottle of his favorite Sancerre and poured two glasses. He offered Alex one, but only after she kissed him again. They kept smiling at each other in a newfound joy and happiness.

Jeremy suggested an omelet given the late hour; Alex agreed. Soon, his hands were flying as he diced up some mushrooms, peppers and ham for the dish. In a few minutes, his culinary skills were proven as he delivered a quite tasty dish to the table. He brought out several other cheeses and a baguette as well.

"You're well prepared, aren't you," Alex stated.

"I do live alone. My guests are rare, but I do like to have a civilized dinner. So I tend to stock well. You caught me after a morning shopping expedition to Sainsbury's too."

They consumed the meal with little conversation except about the food. Alex helped in the clean up after the meal. When all was done she pulled Jeremy back to the living room.

"Come. I want to see my picture again."

The two of them walked down the hallway towards the living room. Alex noted the many photographs hanging there. At one point she stopped and pointed to a formal picture of the Prime Minister. "You did this?" she asked.

Jeremy nodded in the affirmative. Alex paid more attention to who the subjects were in his gallery as she went along the hallway. Every now and then a familiar face of a politician, corporation head, or movie star caught her eye.

They entered the living room. Jeremy switched on the track lighting that illuminated the wall with Alex's picture on it. The two of them sat opposite the picture on the sofa. Jeremy started pushing Alex's' blouse and bra aside from their earlier tryst.

"That is the best picture anyone has ever taken of me," Alex offered. She paused and hesitated then she turned to him with a serious look on her face. "While we were upstairs, you told me you loved me. Did you mean it? How could you know? We've only really talked or been together on a couple of occasions. And but the way, my hopping into the sack with you was not my normal behavior on a first date -- if this is even a date."

Jeremy leaned over and kissed her enthusiastically. "Yes, I love you. You see me as someone you've spent a total of eight or so hours with between a couple of weddings and the start of this visit -- before things heated up. I see you as someone I've lived with for the past nine months, someone I've shared my joys with, my frustrations with, my life with."

"You blow me away Jeremy. I do feel like I've known you for a long time, yet ..."

He interrupted, "I would love you even if there weren't a photograph on the wall. Further, I don't expect you to do anything right now except to accept what I offer. You don't have to tell me anything in return that you don't really feel. You should feel comfortable to say nothing at all. Good grief, the last thing I want to do is scare you off with how I feel; if I haven't already."

He went on, "I know I'm a bit of a nut case to have this infatuation with you, at least with your photograph. I was worried I'd find you were a bimbo and I'd have to change my decorating, but when we spent so much time together at Jane's wedding I learned you were even better than I'd dreamed about."

Alex started, "But you haven't learned my quirks yet, and I have a temper. I frustrate easily. I have some bizarre ideas about relationships. What if you find you can't stand something about me, something I do, some nasty habit or other? What will you do?"

Jeremy leaned in a kissed her again. "Just learn to live with them, I guess." 

He smiled at her then pulled her into him so he could encircle her with his arms. They snuggled together, just enjoying each other's company and the warmth and love of the night. Eventually, he picked her up and carried her upstairs again. He held her so she could click off the light switch with her toes as they left the living room.

In the bedroom, they shed their few items of clothing and embraced again in the middle of the large bed. Jeremy nestled into the "V" in Alex's legs, using tongue and fingers to excite her again. In only a few seconds, she was gasping as an orgasm shuttered through her body. 

"Oh fuck, Jeremy," Alex yelled as it swept over her. "I'll give you all night to stop. My God, do you know what you just did to me -- for me?"

Jeremy continued his attention, enjoying the taste of the mingled body fluids from their earlier love session. He worked hard, and soon Alex had yet another climax. 

"Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh no! Oh, not another one. Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Alex groaned into her climax, "Oh, you wonderful man." Her entire body shivered so hard the whole bed shook as though an earthquake has just moved all of London.

As her bliss subsided, Alex moved, and pushed Jeremy onto his back. She inhaled his flaccid dick, alternately sucking and releasing as she fondled the entire area. Jeremy fell back in surrender to the pleasure she offered. 

He hardened quickly and was pleased to learn that Alex knew how to deep throat him when he was at full extension, something he had only seen in a porn film years before. Yes, it was as spectacular as that film had made it out to be. Occasionally, Alex would growl around his organ or hum deeply as she fellated him. His pole was rigid and unbreakable. Jeremy stroked Alex's hair and told her encouragements as she continued her work on him.

"I'm going to have a choice in a few moments," he said quietly so as not to break the mood. "I can come like this, wherever you want me to, or we can fuck again. What's your pleasure?"

Alex stopped. Never losing eye contact with him, she drew her breasts up his legs, rubbed them around his erection, even pushing them together to surround his cock. She made several cycles to masturbate him with only her breasts, but then continued her journey up his body with her breasts until she was able to put one into his mouth. Jeremy sucked hard on the semi-erect nipple; it hardened immediately. He moved to the other breast to even the stimulation.

Alex rose, straddling his body, and without using her hands placed his erect cock at her entrance. After she centered her wet pussy over his erection, she pushed down until only an inch had penetrated her. She pulled up again until he was again just touching the engorged lips of her pussy, then she lowered herself this time adding a fraction of an inch to the penetration. She continued this motion over and over, each time adding only a fraction to his penetration of her tunnel.

After many cycles to her seduction of his cock, she finally mashed the trimmed hair of her pubic area into Jeremy's. As she did this, she leaned forward and again used her taut nipples to excite his chest. Lastly, she French kissed him with a soul kiss that told them both there was more here than a one night stand.

Jeremy's muscles were alert and sharp. He was deep in her velvet warmth and every bit of his energy and desire was focused through his cock into her entire body. He radiated love, caring and devotion for her.

They both started to thrust into each other. Jeremy warned, "Between your oral stimulation and how you just mounted me, I'm not going to last very long."

"Just cum in me when you want. I'm yours. You know that don't you?"

"Yes, I think I do," he said, hoping beyond hope that she really meant what she'd just implied. 

He leaned up and suckled on her breasts, using hands, mouth and tongue to excite her further. Then he used the fingers of one hand to find and excite her clitoris. She moaned and bounced harder atop his body, sometimes rotating her hips in a seductive and passionate manner that stimulated both of them in the places that elicited orgasms.

He felt it coming, probably before she did. Deep in his body he felt some muscles contract. Then the sensitivity of his cock changed -- it increased. He was more sensitive to Alex suddenly, and to everywhere their skin touched. His nipples went more erect than they were; Alex had touched them several times as they made love.

"I'm very near," he told her quietly.

"So am I," she whispered back.

The explosion hit them both together again. His climax was signaled by the extra powerful upward thrusts of his hips into her pussy, by the deep penetration of his penis in her vagina, by the ejection of another large dose of man fluid into her body. As the jets of liquid started to flow down his rod his back arched and he held her aloft, his entire mid-section arched away from the bed.

Alex's orgasm started deep in the warmth of core behind her vagina. She shifted her body so that the head of his cock massaged her G-spot more often as they thrust into each other. The muscles lining her vaginal walls contracted several times, pulling him in deeper, and signaling to him that she was ready. Seconds later every nerve ending in her vaginal area exploded with pleasure and bliss beyond description. In response, her body ejected some girl juice to provide additional lubrication to the area. The pleasure radiated upward and outward throughout her body. "Oh God, I've found heaven," she whispered. Her back arched as well, her head was thrown back and her erect breasts jutted out from her body as she made one final lunge downward to bring the ejecting cock head as close to her cervix as she could. 

Their two bodies froze for a few seconds as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss washed over each of them. Not a breath was taken. Not a muscle moved. Their hands were locked tightly together in their passion. Their body was as one. Their union was complete. 

Alex finally collapsed onto Jeremy's chest with a fit of shivers and shakes, not from cold but in recovery from the spasms of passion she had just experienced. Breathing restarted as well but not without a significant number of gasps for oxygen that wasn't available fast enough. 

Jeremy pulled her into him, still pushing upward with his hips to remain as deep inside her as he could. He found comfort in their coupling, particularly in this afterglow stage of making love. He held her tightly, surrounding her with his love and warmth.

Eventually, Jeremy reached over a turned out the dim light beside the bed and pulled the sheet up over their nude bodies. Alex cuddled into his embrace, but they remained joined.

Jeremy whispered, "I love you." 

Alex telegraphed her own feelings of love by immediately pushing her body down on his in response to his pledge, with a special focus to push with her groin into his. She kissed him with all the tenderness she could muster. They remained in that position until they gradually stretched out beside each other; arms entwined, and went to sleep.



The Photograph



It was a warm evening, the temperature in the low 80s. An occasional breeze wafted through the window causing the curtains to flutter sporadically. The kitchen clock, mounted on the opposite wall, ticked the minutes away, sounding loud in the stillness of the room. 

Ken Weber noticed neither the breeze nor the clock, his thoughts were inward, confused, angry. He was still trying to make some sense of what he had witnessed that evening. He had thought to surprise his bride-to-be by just showing up at her office at quitting time. He was supposed to be away for 5 days, but the training session had been cut short by a day due to the illness of the lead trainer.

He had arrived at her office building just as the workers were streaming out of the front door. His eyes had quickly picked up Connie's tall, slender form as she exited the building and he was about to call out to her, but the words of welcome died in his throat when he noticed the man who was with her. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice him, standing just yards away. It was their apparent intimacy that caused Ken to pause.

Connie's hand was wrapped in his arm and she was chatting animatedly, her eyes sparkling. Ken had stood there for long moments, too shocked to even think clearly. With a shake of his head he quickly followed the happy couple to the parking lot next to the office building. They moved down the last row of autos until Ken saw them headed toward the distinctive silver Jag that Connie's parents had given her for her 24th birthday that spring.

They were apparently oblivious to the few people in the area. Upon reaching the Jag she turned to her companion and Ken's heart had almost stopped when he saw her lean into Chuck Moore, place her hand behind his head and pull his mouth down to hers. It was no mere peck, it was a prolonged, deep kiss. Ken saw Chuck's hand descend to her ass and squeeze gently. Her quiet laughter was a dagger in his heart. He had seen enough. Ken turned and quickly moved from the parking lot. Upon reaching the street he hailed a passing cab and went home. He had a lot to think about.

********************

Ken Weber had met Connie Sterling at, of all places, a church social for singles. He was 24 and doing quite well at the investment bank where he worked since graduating with his degree in finance two years previously. The bank president had made himself Ken's mentor and it was virtually impossible for him to refuse the invitation.

Sterling had intercepted Ken in the hall. Placing a meaty hand on his chest, he rumbled, "Kenneth, I really must insist that you be our guest this Saturday. I know that you've been working your behind off in the office and at school and you do need to get out and meet people. Who knows, you may even see a young lady there that captures your interest," said Horace Sterling with a chuckle. "I also have noted that you do not seem to be a church goer, Kenneth. That shocks my wife and I. It is absolutely essential that you belong to a church. You must put your soul in the hands of those who can guide you."

Sterling had recently, for some reason, singled Ken out for his special attention, which while flattering, also tended to be a bit uncomfortable at times. Sterling was also the deacon of his church and his wife, Margaret, was the head of the ladies auxiliary and the primary arbiter of church social matters. 

Ken had clenched his teeth and forced a smile to his lips. He considered Sterling to be an asshole of the first order and a total hypocrite. In business he was an immoral shark with absolutely no sense of ethics or integrity. Ken had already made up his mind that this was not the location for any long term plans. He would stay for a couple of more years for the experience and then move on. Fortunately, he would be receiving his MBA in a few months. 

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the invitation and I'll certainly be there, baring any unexpected difficulties," Ken waffled.

Sterling's eyes narrowed a bit and his voice became just a little less jovial. "Oh, you'll be there, my boy. I know that you won't disappoint me," he said quietly, patting Ken on the shoulder and walking away.

Ken watched the tall, very stout man waddle down the hallway. "I'm not sure that I can take another two years of this," he muttered quietly to himself as he walked to his office.

"Hey, Kenny. I see that Papa got his claws into you," chuckled Reggie from the doorway. 

Ken looked up and laughed, albeit a bit feebly. "Hi, Reg - come in and take a load off".

Reggie Sterling was Horace's only son and as different from the father as night is from day. He was tall, blond and slim with a wicked sense of humor. He and Ken had gotten to be friendly and had astounded his new friend by freely admitting that he deserved to be VP of Community Relations only because he hadn't the talent to be anything else. "I get along smashingly with the ladies and their husbands don't find me to be a threat, the fools - so Papa made me a VP. Not a bad deal, Kenny, what?" and he laughed delightedly. He had a self deprecating sense of humor and almost constantly assumed the British nobility tone, a sly dig at the pretentiousness of his family. 

"Okay, Ken. What does the old man want from you now? It seems that he's had his eye on you for a bit" Reggie asked.

Ken related the brief conversation and the invitation that Sterling had extended, emphasizing that it was more like a command. "Damn, Reggie. I really don't know why your dad wants me there. It's really not related to anything to do with me."

Reggie seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Well, Ken...I'm not sure myself. You know what kind of religious nut he is, maybe he's worried about your soul," That very thought seemed to tickle Reggie and he laughed as he arose. "Don't worry about it, Kenny. I'll watch your back. I have a few suspicions and If something is going on, I'll know it," he said and he waved and left the office.

Ken looked after him for a moment, puzzlement evident on his face. He then shrugged and returned to the paperwork on his desk.

******************** 

Ken was no fool, he knew that he had to at least put in an appearance to appease Sterling so the following Saturday evening saw him park his car and stroll into the front doors of the huge, pretentious house of worship. There were a stream of people heading in the same direction and he allowed himself to be swept along into the main ballroom of the building. He glanced about him and noticed that while this was supposed to be a singles affair, there were quite a number of older, middle aged couples present. He was just a bit puzzled by this incongruity until he saw that almost all of them were accompanied by a much younger, single female. It seemed almost like a coming out party for the single girls of the congregation. Ken smiled to himself, "oh no," he muttered, "not this boy.

"Kenneth, Kenneth, my boy," boomed a loud voice behind him. "So glad you decided to attend this little soiree. I told my wife you would be here. Let me introduce you," Sterling put that meaty hand on his shoulder and turned him. Ken saw before him a heavy, buxom woman with an imperious glare in her eye, examining him as if he were a specimen on a slide. 

Ken quickly took the proffered hand, resisting the impulse to bow and kiss the huge stone on her finger. He had to supress the giggle this provoked. "Mrs. Sterling. I'm delighted to meet you," he said unctuously. 

Mrs. Sterling smiled, which appeared more of a grimace, and nodded to her husband. "Thank you, Kenneth," she wheezed, her adenoids obviously needing attention. "Please allow me to introduce our daughter to you. This is Constance," she said as she almost forcibly pulled a tall, blond slender woman from behind her. 

Ken was momentarily stunned. This was totally unexpected. It was hard to fathom. How could two so totally repulsive creatures like the Sterlings produce such an absolutely gorgeous woman. She was tall, just a bit shorter than his 6 feet, tall even considering her high heels. Constance was stunning with her blond tresses shoulder length and her eyes a deep blue. She was also blushing furiously and he could see the anger in her eyes.

Ken gathered himself together quickly. "Miss Sterling. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you. I hope that you'll save a dance for me this evening," and he made sure that her parents didn't see the wink or sympathetic smile. She looked at him quizzically for a moment and grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Weber. I think that's possible," she said quietly. 

Ken smiled to himself and wondered how she knew his last name. Well, that's rather obvious he thought. Looks like the ogres had him singled out as possible marriage material, which was rather peculiar. He certainly wasn't a part of the social set and he certainly didn't have the requisite bank balance for such an "honor". This was a conundrum that would require a bit of thought. 

Ken made it a point to dance with Constance as soon as the band started playing. "Looks like the old folks have designs, don't they? he asked with a smile.

Constance looked at him appraisingly. "You catch on quickly, don't you?"

"It really wasn't all that difficult," Ken laughed.

Constance sighed, a small frown on her face. "I'm really sorry about that. It's most embarrassing, but they insisted that I come with them tonight and since I still live at home, I really had no choice. This dance really fulfills your obligation, you really needn't ask me to dance again."

"If you don't mind, I would truly like to occupy your time this evening, and that has nothing to do with any obligations," Ken said softly.

Constance looked at him closely and was reassured. "I think I'd like that," she smiled.

They did dance that night and he, quite easily, managed to acquire her phone number. A few calls, some interesting conversations, and they started to date. Ken's interest in Connie was apparent and he was eagerly encouraged by both Margaret and Horace Sterling. It seemed almost ludicrous how they doted upon him and even started to call him "son." He would shake his head in puzzlement before he discovered the reason for the Sterlings interest in him as a prospective son.

Ken proceeded cautiously with Connie - after all, any impropriety on his part could come back to bite him in the ass. It was on their third date that things did get interesting. They had had dinner in a small French bistro and were strolling back to the car when Connie, her head almost on Ken's shoulder, whispered to him. "Honey, let's go back to the house. It's getting chilly out."

Ken's disappointment was apparent. Shit, he would have to face the dragons again. Connie looked up at him and commented casually. "Oh, Kenny. Didn't I mention that Mom and Dad left this evening for the weekend. They drove to visit my mother's sister." She paused, a glint in her eye as she grinned at him. "They won't be back for two days."

Back at the house, Ken didn't have time to worry about acting improperly. Connie had them nude and in her bed just moments after entering the front door. She was voracious, demanding and their wild coupling brought them to the crest and over in just a matter of what seemed like minutes.

Ken lay beside her, breathing heavily. "Jeez, Connie. If this is what sex is like with you, I'm gonna need a vitamin supplement," he chuckled. His eyes devoured her as she lay there, her skin bronzed and covered with a soft sheen of perspiration. She stretched lazily and reached down for his now flaccid cock, her ample breast pressing against his arm. 

"Better stock up, big boy. I love sex and I especially love sex with you," she murmured as she stroked him, smiling as she noticed a distinct new firmness to the equipment in her hand.

She then, suddenly, leaned over him and kissed him passionately, her tongue dancing and thrusting into his mouth. "Do you love me, Kenny?," she asked, almost breathlessly. "Tell me that you love me," she now demanded, pulling on his cock which was now rapidly stiffening.

Ken took her by the shoulders and looked at her intently. "Damn, you know something? I believe I do; I think that I've fallen in love with you, Constance Sterling."

"Good," she purred," because I love you and I want to be with you forever and forever, Kenny." Connie then suddenly lifted herself and straddled him. Ken expected her to impale herself on his now rigid cock, but she scooted up and managed to place her knees on either side of his head.

"Eat me, Kenny," she demanded. "Lick my pussy, make me come, sweetie." She lowered herself until her groin was pressed against his mouth and, almost in self defense, he placed his hands on the globes of her ass, lifted so that he could breathe and surrendered to her request. His tongue danced between her labia, teased her clit and plunged into the tunnel of her vagina.

Connie stiffened, tensed and with a wail, screamed her release. But Ken was not finished - his cock was now throbbing with his own desperate need. He quickly moved her down his body until she was placed properly, held her limp torso under her arms, and then plunged himself deeply into her. Connie had recovered enough to recognize what was happening and seemed to go wild, heaving and bucking until she felt Ken's discharge deep within her, causing another series of tremors in her body.

***************

The announcement of their engagement caused major ripples in the social fabric of the community. The small local paper featured it on their front page and photos in the paper showed a beaming Horace and Margaret Sterling with Connie at their side. There was a photo of Ken on page 6.

Suddenly Ken's position at the bank took a major turn. He was given more responsibility and it was apparent that he was being groomed for a major promotion. Ken's conscience was a problem for him - he knew that all of this largess was coming to him because of his coming marriage, but was at a loss as to how to handle it. He wanted to rise in the ranks because of his abilities, not because of his marriage to "the bosses daughter". 

It was a few months after the announcement of the engagement that Reggie Sterling strolled in Ken's office again and sprawled on a chair in front of his desk. "How's it going, Ken? Is Carol enjoying her new job? What is she now, some sort of administrative aide or something?"

Ken smiled indulgently. "She's the personal assistant to the Director of Human Resources at Keats Advertising in the city, Reg. If you contacted your family occasionally you would know that," his tone taking the sting from his remarks.

Reg nodded absently. He shifted in his seat and it was apparent that he was uncomfortable. "Kenny, I know that I've congratulated you, yet there is something that I feel you should know. I've debated with myself as to the wisdom of giving you this information, and have decided that it's something of which you should be aware."

Ken looked at his friend with some puzzlement. It was apparent that Reggie was a lot more solemn than usual, in fact, he didn't recall Reggie ever being solemn. "Ok, Reg - what's so important?"

Reggie took a deep breath and continued. "Early last year, and I hasten to add, before the two of you even met, Connie had an abortion. The old folks were scandalized, horrified and... well, whatever, you can imagine. What was even worse and even though she was spirited away to another state for the procedure, some word of it leaked and Connie was spoiled goods in the minds of our very forgiving and compassionate community.

"Do you see where I'm going with this, Kenny? That's the reason why my mother and father roped you in. You were this young, fresh faced kid from the bank with the right credentials. You were well educated, from the right school and with a lot of potential. Also, you knew nothing about this "little problem" and Connie would wind up with a good husband, making a good income and becoming a "big fish" in the community." Reggie paused, finding it difficult to meet Ken's gaze.

Ken was quiet for a bit, mulling over what he had just heard. "This was before Connie and I met?" he asked.

Reggie nodded. He then rose and started to pace, obviously agitated. He started to speak, hesitated and then with a sigh, sat down again. "I'm sorry, Ken. I've agonized about this, but decided that you had to know."

Ken nodded slowly. "Who was it, Reg? Who knocked her up? I think that I would like to know that."

Reggie grimaced, obviously not enjoying the conversation. "No definitive proof, but I believe I know. Connie was hot and heavy with Chuck Moore, the assistant pastor at our sister congregation in Downingtown, just a few miles away. The two churches get together quite often for community events, etc. The two were an item, but when Connie's pregnancy became known, he just disappeared. He hasn't been seen here since then. He stays quite close to home. So it's just a matter of putting the pieces together, although it's all just conjecture." 

Ken nodded again. "Yeah, just conjecture," he muttered.

Reggie leaned forward. "Kenny, I had to tell you, but I trust that while this is important, it really doesn't change anything. I told you this because I felt it was best that you hear it now and from me, rather than from some spiteful asshole who would try to make trouble later on. I know that Connie loves you and it's apparent that you love her. It shouldn't have happened, but it was all before you two even met. You do understand, Ken - right?"

Ken nodded again. "Okay, Reg. I understand and you're probably right. It was before we met. I don't see why it should be a major problem, but I am glad that you told me. Stuff like this would eventually make it's way back and I'll now be prepared. Thanks, Reg."

Reggie sighed, a smile of relief on his face. "Righto, Ken old boy. That's the attitude. I'm looking forward to the festivities." and he waved as he walked from the office.

Ken sat quietly for a bit. He was more disturbed that he cared to admit. His thoughts bounced about a bit. It was BEFORE we met, so no big deal. He accepted that, so why was there this little niggling uneasiness in the back of his mind?

***************

The date of the wedding was quickly approaching. In a little over three months Ken and Connie would be wed and the activities associated with that event came fast and furious. Caterers and musicians had been hired, the ballroom had been reserved, flowers had been ordered and the wedding list made up, culled, redrawn and culled again. 

Ken's parents had both perished in an small plane crash while he was in college and since he was an only child, there were very few names on his guest list. But, well over 350 guests were on the Sterling list, from family, friends, work associates and leaders of the community such as the mayor, congressman and major business owners. The final list would be just shy of 400 people. Ken was aware of the magnitude of the affair, but shrugged. He had little responsibility for any of it and it was just as well. He really had no stomach for the ostentatious display.

But, for some reason the information that Reggie had imparted seems to nudge at him. He realized that all of this was before he even met Connie, so he was puzzled that he couldn't just put it aside. This nagging just didn't seem to go away. Ken felt that he needed a little more information and with that in mind he pulled out the telephone book and made a call.

"Hi Pete, it's Ken Weber", he said after hearing his frat brother's voice.

"Kenny, jeez, it's good to hear from you. It's been too long. What, almost three years?" boomed Pete Penderman. Pete and Ken were quite close in college, but as was usually the case, had drifted apart after graduation.

"Yeah, Pete. It's a shame. We should get together for a drink or something. I don't get into the city that often, but how about if I drive in one day this week and we can meet."




The Photograph



"Sure, Kenny. I'd like that, but before you do, tell me what's bothering you. I know you just didn't decide to contact an old friend on the spur of the moment," asked Penderman.

"You're right, as usual,,Petey. I think I need to use your services. I'll tell you about it when I see you. How about Thursday evening. I can meet you at the Rittenhouse, ok?"

There was a pause. "Okay, Ken. I'll meet you there. I gotta admit, you've got me curious, and oh, by the way, congratulations on the upcoming nuptials. It was in the paper here."

Pete Penderman was the son of Hugh Penderman of Penderman and Penderman, Attorneys at Law, a prestigious law firm in center city. The very wealthy used the firm for situations discreet and sensitive and they had garnered an enviable reputation for handling matters in a way as not to offend the genteel sensibilities of the upper crust. 

Ken Weber's request of his buddy was simple. Discreetly find out as much as possible about an assistant pastor by the name of Charles Moore. The law firm had an outstanding in-house investigative arm and Ken was aware of this fact from conversations with Pete during their college years. Pete was curious, but he learned well. He said he would do as Ken asked, but also requested that he be informed about the rest of the story when appropriate.

It took very little time. A few days later Ken received a large envelope with all the pertinent data concerning this assistant pastor. There was much information concerning his early background, but it really got interesting when Ken got to the part about Moore's days at divinity school. It seems that Moore had transferred from the school in the Midwest just before his senior year to a sister school on the east coast. The rumor had been that Moore had gotten a fellow student pregnant, but the girl had dropped out and there was no hard information that implicated him. Interestingly, the rumor persisted which probably was the cause for the transfer.

There was additional information, but it was sketchy and based on innuendo and rumor. Things about strange relationships between Moore and some of the married members of his flock, and while there was a paragraph about Moore's relationship with Connie Sterling, the was no mention of her pregnancy or abortion. The Sterlings seemed to have kept that information pretty well hidden from sources outside the community.

The last item in the envelope was a 8x10 photograph of Charles Moore. Ken studied it intently for a few moments. Moore was a tall, slim, dark haired man. He was dressed casually in a sport coat with a polo underneath. He was smiling at a point just to the left of where the camera must have been. Ken slowly replaced the photograph in the envelope, refastened the clasp and placed the envelope in his briefcase. He then turned his chair and gazed thoughtfully out of the office window.

***************

Ken Weber lifted his head and glanced at the kitchen clock. He noted that he had been sitting and ruminating for almost 2 hours. He rose, stretched and padded to the bar in the living room where he poured two fingers of scotch and then added a couple of ice cubes. He sipped his drink and walked to the glass doors, slid them open and stepped onto the balcony of his condo. He leaned against the railing and gazed up at the sky, now filled with the sparkle of a myriad stars. 

Ken raised his glass in salute, a bitter smile on his face. He knew what he had to do. He drained the glass and returned to the living room where he carefully placed the now empty glass on an end table. He picked up the phone and dialed. It was time to put his plan into motion.

"Hello, Pete? It's Ken...

It didn't take long. In under two weeks Ken had all he needed. They sat in Pete's den, Ken glancing almost indifferently through the stack of photographs.

"Sorry, Kenny. They've been having at it ever since we started the investigation. They weren't even too clever about how they went about it. They were seen together often. It almost appeared that she wanted to be caught," Pete said quietly.

Ken nodded. "I'm surprised that you were able to get such clear shots. Where were these taken?"

"They rented a room for the afternoon at a motel in Jersey, across the river. The drapes weren't drawn together too carefully. My man just shot between the curtains," Pete snorted disgustedly.

Ken smiled. "Yeah, they weren't too smart at all. This date at the bottom of the shots, that's accurate?"

Pete hesitated and grimaced a bit. "Yeah, Ken - sorry. Shit, just a few weeks before the wedding too."

**************** 

Ken prided himself on his acting ability, his demeanor at the bank and with Connie and her parents changed not. When in bed with his bride-to-be he was still the amorous and considerate lover. He was aroused when appropriate, although it took a supreme strength of will. 

In the meantime the swirl of wedding activities continued. Ken smiled inwardly each time that Horace Sterling grossed about the obscene cost of the affair. It was approaching six figures, but Margaret and Connie quickly overcame his objections. 

It was on an evening just days before the wedding. They had just finished rutting (that's how Ken viewed it in his mind) when Connie turned to him and queried, "c'mon, Kenny. What's going on. What do you have planned?"

Ken turned to her in surprise. "What? What are you talking about, sweetie?"

Connie shook her head in impatience. "You know, Ken. You've been looking like the cat who ate the canary. You know, kind of smug and self satisfied. I know you, you have a surprise for me, don't you? C'mon, honey. Tell me...pleeeeze?"

It took a major effort for Ken not to laugh explosively. He managed to keep his mirth contained and moved to allay her curiosity. "Sweetie, you're just going to have to wait for the surprise. Let's just say that it has to do with our, ahh..honeymoon. Right, the honeymoon."

Connie bounced up and down on the bed. Ken noted almost absently that that wasn't the only thing that bounced. Her breasts had stopped quivering when she squealed delightedly. "I knew it, I just knew it. We're going to Paris. That's it, isn't it, Kenny. We're going to spend our honeymoon in Paris, aren't we?"

Ken smiled contentedly. "It's a surprise, sweetie...a big surprise. I'll tell you right after the wedding. You're just going to have to wait, sweetie. You're just going to have to wait."

***************

After the ceremony and at the reception, Ken strolled through the crowd, accepting the congratulations, smiling at everyone. He made his way to the small stage and looking about, noticed, to his delight, that Charles Moore was an invited guest. Taking the microphone from the MC he tapped it to make certain it was working and the asked the crowd for their attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen...folks," he paused, looking around the large hall, waiting for the hubbub to subside.

"I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you all for coming, many of you from distant places, to support my bride and I at our wedding. Doesn't she look lovely in her beautiful white gown?" Letting the applause die down Ken continued.

"I would also like to thank my father and mother-in-law for providing such a lavish reception." Another round of applause. Ken beamed at the Sterlings.

"As a token of my deep appreciation I want to give each of you a special gift from me. Taped to the bottom of each chair you'll find a large envelope. Please take and open it now."

Everyone bustled to retrieve the envelopes. Those seated at the wedding party table looked confused, there were no envelopes at the chairs there.

Inside each envelope was an 8x10 glossy of his bride and Charles Moore, in exquisite detail, having sex. The crowd erupted in shock and while there were gasps heard, there was also quite a few titters and laughter here and there.

Ken continued, over the noise. "My darling bride. Be informed that I've taken steps to have this farce of a marriage annulled. Have a miserable life." and he turned and walked out of the hall.



The Photograph



. Another slow start but feedback pls.

Saskia likes the Saloon Bar. Its deep carpet and low soft furniture give it a hushed feel. Patrons speak in funereal tones here. Listless, she picks at the absurd burger that is her staff meal. Employees are not allowed to eat here but she feels she will cry if she eats one more meal in the kitchen or in her pokey room. She's prepared to risk the manager's wrath to steal these few precious minutes of peace away from the vacuous bickering of the hotel staff. Late afternoon sun beats into the area, sharply illuminating everything yet it is a soothing place to be on this blustery evening. A few guests and regulars are enjoying the ocean views and a quiet drink. 

Saskia closes her eyes recalling her plunges from the Kawarau Bridge, her jubilant yells echoing around the canyon as the bungy snaps taught. The extra death defying leaps are the cause of her present agonising poverty. She opens her eyes and prods the hideous burger again, then pushes it away contemptuously. "I must get out of here!" she says to the dust motes in the shafts of light.

She daydreams again but now she visualises "The Walker" in his white sneakers, marching off south along the beach front. She has observed him every day this week and she imagines him striding along soon. She wonders about the colour of his eyes and the timbre of his voice. She contemplates how it might feel to be wrapped around his wiry brown body, how they might move together.

She dismisses this image but as she reaches for the evil burger "The Walker" materialises. Gone are the shorts and the distinctive sneakers, those are replaced by polished boots and neatly ironed jeans. 

"Damn, he has a wife," Saskia mutters to herself. 

He has a newspaper under his arm and a half of Guinness. After a moment's hesitation he selects a table nearby and carefully spreads his paper before taking a delicate sip of his inky black stout. Saskia drinks him in. Tension builds in her body as she watches him read, observes the precise movements of his perfectly manicured fingers as he turns each page. He immaculate, neat as a pin!

"No Ring," She muses. At last he reaches for his drink and looks up, directly at her. She smiles broadly then her cheeky tongue pops right out. His eyes drop straight down to his paper. She feels herself blush in humiliation.

"Verdammt, der gut ging!" "Damn that went well!" Saskia mutters. She takes a deep breath, "Okay be direct." She plonks herself into the chair opposite him. He looks up startled. 

"Hello," She smiles. "I'm Saskia."

"Um, hello," he stammers. "I'm Jason," 

"You're not walking today?" Mentally she castigates herself for the dumb question.

"Err, No, on Fridays I treat myself to a couple of beers and The Review. How do you know I walk?" His eyes are clear blue and his voice a gentle baritone. Her molten interior stirs.

"I've seen you go by, while I'm working," 

"Oh, I haven't seen you here. Are you German?" he finishes his drink. 

"Swiss, I'm backpacking. Completely broke too, so I have to work for a few weeks." 

He smiles and stands up, "Let me buy you a drink then?"

Saskia nods, "Okay but not here, we aren't allowed to drink here. Buy a bottle of wine then maybe we could go to your place."

Jason resumes his seat. "That didn't come out well, sounds like a scam."

Saskia blushes, "Sorry. I really am desperate to escape; I promise your wallet is safe and I'll buy you a drink when I get paid, please! I'm going nuts here. I need to get out, to have a sane conversation!"

"What about your safety, aren't you concerned?"

Saskia exposes the front page of The Financial Review, "Not really, I feel like I almost know you, besides you're a stockbroker or a banker, something in finance Jason. You're not a serial killer! My guess is you're a banker." Saskia raises her eyebrows, "am I close?"

"Yes. It's that obvious?"

"Yes and if the manager sees me here, I'm dead!"

He looks at the abandoned meal, "Do you want to finish that?"

Saskia stands smoothing her dress over her abdomen, "Nope, if I eat that I'll feel like a snake that swallowed a pig!"

Jason stands too. She is abruptly exposed to him, unmasked as clouds obscure the sun. Suddenly she is a pure Greek nymph with a delightful dusting of freckles across her cheeks. He feels an almost irresistible urge to stroke the inviting slope of her petite nose and to run his fingers into the explosion of curly hair that's cut perfectly into her jaw line. The spell evaporates as the sun bursts through, flooding the room with light.

Jason selects wine then the wind gusts blow them laughing and chatting the few hundred meters to his hilltop flat.

He pours wine while she flicks through his CD collection. She holds one up "I'm going to play this, I love it!"

"Sure, just not too loud," he points at the ceiling, "The neighbours".

Saskia inserts the disk then sinks into his couch. The caress of the cool leather excites her and she throws back her head, abandoning herself to the sensations and the music.

Jason prepares salad but he cannot take his gaze from her. Her bare feet are propped on his coffee table exposing a colourful tattoo. She looks utterly free sprawled in his couch, silently mouthing the lyrics of the song. Excited, he joins her in the sensuous leather embrace of his couch.

"Great sound!" she whispers.

"Thanks, I would die without my music," Jason relaxes into the sound too. They are quiet for a few moments until he asks, "Is there a story behind your tattoo?" 

"Yes," She grins. "I had a girlfriend once who had them all over her body. I really teased her about them until she pinned me down saying the only way to understand a tattoo properly was to have one! Eventually I did and these hibiscus flowers are the result. I love them!" 

"Cool, they're really stunning!" He sips his wine, "Why on your foot?"

"I want it to be seen of course! It hurt like hell but my girlfriend was right about never wanting to stop at one." Saskia runs her index finger along his arm. Goose bumps erupt across his skin. She reaches for his face pulling his mouth to hers in the softest kiss. 

The kitchen timer beeps, Jason scrambles to his feet, "Um, the food is ready. I've made enough for two."

"Great but I need to use the bathroom first."

"It's through the bedroom, it's an ensuite," Jason points.

Saskia returns as he is placing the plates on the table. She puts a framed photograph down too.

"What's her name?"

Jason blushes, "Clair Moffatt, what are you doing with that?"

"I saw it as I walked through your room, on your bedside table. I'm going." Saskia picks up her bag and shoes, "Thanks for the wine, come and see me at the pub. I'll buy you the drink I promised."

"Hold on Saskia, she's an ex, long gone!"

"How come she's still beside the bed?"

"I just haven't put her away, I've been too lazy I guess. Please stay!" Jason holds a chair for her. She looks dubious but takes a seat. They eat in silence for a few minutes.

"This food is really good," Saskia sips her wine. "When did she go?" 

"About a year ago."

"That's a dreadfully long time to be lazy Jason," she drinks more wine. 

He tops up her glass. "Yes I suppose so."

"Do you two still talk?"

"Not really, just a few e-mails."

"Why'd she leave?" 

"She went to Berkley to study astrophysics." Jason says turning the photo face down. 

Saskia sits it back up. "Why didn't you go?"

"I was going but I chickened out. I still had professional qualifications I needed to complete plus I really love it here. Clair was heartbroken." He frowns, "This is really none of your business Saskia, what's with all the questions anyway!" 

"As I walked through your room I saw the photograph. I won't be the cause of couple trouble!" Saskia drinks more wine. "Why is the photograph beside the bed? Do you imagine her when you masturbate?"

Jason flushes furiously, he gathers up the plates and deposits them clattering in the sink. "No, I fucking don't Saskia! Like I said, she is long gone! Why are you so irritated by the photo?"

"Before that beeper went off I thought we were making a connection, that's right isn't it, we were getting close?" Saskia has her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her knuckles. Her gaze is fixed on him.

"Yes," he whispers.

"Okay, so right after that, I walk into your room and see this lovely decor and big comfy bed. I think to myself, 'This is going to be great!' until I see Goldilocks there looking at me. Then I think, 'Oh shit, what a creep!' Jason I'm happy to satisfying my lust with casual sex but I won't make another woman an unwitting fool doing it!"

"Sorry, I see what you mean. I promise she is long gone."

"You haven't had another woman in there though, have you?" She raises her eyebrows inquisitorially.

He frowns, "Why do you say that?"

"No woman I know is going to get naked with Clair looking on."

"I suppose not," he looks glumly at the photograph.

"Do you miss her?" She leans close to his face.

He gazes into her mesmerising dark eyes "No."

"Good, Clair Moffatt has left the building!" She pushes the photograph which falls onto its face, "My friends call me Sas."



The Photograph



An older story, originally broken into three parts. Not sure if it is completely romantic towards the end, but what the heck.





I found it hidden away in the bottom of a drawer, a twenty-year old photograph of me and Jessica hugging and smiling. She'd been wearing her one-piece swimsuit, conservative in comparison to what the other girls had worn, but to me it had given her additional mystique. I just had to sit as I stared at it. What had happened to us? Not that we had ever really been boyfriend and girlfriend, but when she was gone I finally realised that I'd fallen in love with her and that now it was too late. I wiped a tear from my eye and continued to stare.

The photograph had been taken when eight of us eighteen-year olds had gone on a caravan holiday at Easter. By the end of the summer Jess was gone, but just looking at that picture of us with our arms wrapped around each other brought memories of that week rushing back. I was one of the few to have passed my driving test and have access to a car. I suspect that was why I was invited and I'd asked Jess if she wanted to come too. We took two cars down to the holiday site. The other six were all steady couples and it made the sleeping arrangements difficult for me and Jessie until I decided to sleep in the car and let her have the final space to herself. I was never sure whether she was disappointed or relieved by this. The eight of us had a great time, out on our own for the first time. It was a week long party of fun. John, the other driver in the group had taken the photo of me and Jess on our last day, just as we were packing everything up. He'd given it to me when Jessica had disappeared from our college lives that autumn. For months I'd carried it around with me until I realised it was hindering my attempts to get on with a normal life. So I had stashed it away in the drawer and tried to forget Jess.

I looked down again and saw her happy face and was determined to find out where she was, where she had gone. Our best guess at college was that her parents had moved away and she had gone with them, but there had been no sign of this when the summer holidays had begun, the first we knew about it was when she didn't appear for our first term. I scanned the picture and posted it on Flickr under the title 'Jessica, where are you?' with a comment underneath asking everyone for any information. I did the same on Facebook. I also got in touch with some of my old friends to ask if they had heard anything of her. Then I had to wait.

-----

It was a long wait too. I had to fend off several cranks pretending they were Jessie, but none of them knew the right answer to the question 'where was the picture taken?' It may have been possible that she wouldn't know that, having seen it only briefly, but I felt she'd know. After two months the picture had many, many views and nearly as many comments, but nothing from the person I wanted to see it. And then one evening after I'd started to give up hope I got a friend invitation on Facebook from a 'Jessica'. I checked that it was real. It seemed to be from her so I accepted. I also sent her an e-mail, asking if she really was the Jessie in the picture. Then I waited again. 'Kashmir' was playing on the radio when the reply came. All it said was 'Now do you believe it's me?' Attached was an almost identical photo.

We exchanged e-mails for a few days. I skirted around the questions I really wanted to ask and just asked safe questions about how she was and where she was. Her replies were always friendly and any questions she asked were in the same style as mine. It turned out she was living about an hours drive away, in a town I'd passed through quite a bit, but didn't know particularly well. After a week of pussyfooting around I asked if we could meet, expecting the answer 'no'. I was more than a little surprised in that case when she said of course. I thought a neutral venue might be best, so suggested a pub called 'The Black Buck' about halfway between us. Another quick agreement and then a time and a recognition signal were arranged in case we'd both changed too much.

-----

On the way over I thought about the fun times we had had together. Not just me and Jess, but our whole clique. We must have been the worst set of prefects the school had ever had, breaking more rules than the rest of the school put together. As I got closer to the 'Buck' I began to get vague pangs of worry, but tried to put them from my mind as I swung into the car park.

I paused at the door to the pub, suddenly unsure that this was the right thing to do. Maybe it would be better to remember Jessica as she was, or as I thought she was, rather than build this up as a grand reunion and find out my memories were totally at odds with a girl I hadn't seen for twenty years. I took my hand from the door. Suddenly there was a fondly remembered voice behind me.

"Second thoughts, huh?" 

I span around and was greeted by the dazzling smile from the photograph. I grinned back.

"Sort of. Too late now though." I held out my hand. "It's good to see you again Jess." She shook my hand, an amused look on her face and then pulled me close and hugged me.

"It's good to see you too Dave. It's been too long."

"It has Jess, it has." I pushed the door open "C'mon, I'll get the drinks in."

"I just need to check they're holding my room for me, and then I'll be in. Get me a Tia Maria and coke?"

"Of course. I wish I'd thought about getting a room too. Just have to hold off on the alcohol I suppose."

"Oh, you can share the room if you like. I'm sure they won't mind." I had a flashback to the caravan. Jessie saw the look cross my face. "You don't have to if you're worried what people think you know." She smiled that smile again, more knowing now. I grinned back.

"I think we're both grown up enough now to handle it. Thanks Jess. But I sleep on the couch if that's okay?"

"Sure Dave, if that's what you want. The room may not have a couch of course." She gave a wicked grin and went to find out about her reservation. My head spinning slightly with the suddenness of everything, I went and got the drinks in.

As we sat sipping our drinks we began to reminisce about our days at school together, the things we did either as a pair or part of a larger group. The jokes we had played or seen, the mishaps, the teachers we played up. The time passed swiftly and so did the drinks. I went to stand as the bar was closing and found my legs belonged to someone else. Jessica caught me before I fell and led me to what was our room. I couldn't understand it, my brain was functioning normally, but the rest of me was on holiday. And Jess had drunk as much as me, but she didn't seem to be affected. She opened the door and sat me down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry Jessie; I seem to have got carried away with the drinking." I was really upset that I may be ruining our reunion.

"It isn't the first time I've carried you to bed." She said soothingly.

"It isn't? I don't remember being this bad with you before."

"The Christmas we were eighteen? Leaving school at dinnertime and not going home until six o'clock? I got you home that day, and without your mom finding out." 

"You did? I don't recall..."

"Of course you don't. You barely remembered your own name, let alone mine, kept calling me Belinda, very disconcerting for a girl."

"I apologise extremely belatedly." My mind began to wander, but still connected to my mouth unfortunately. "Belinda? Belinda? I wonder... I know! Belinda Carlisle! I had a crush on her back then."

"I didn't really want to know that."

"Sorry." Suddenly I began to feel really queasy. My hand went to my mouth and I stood and began to stagger in the direction I hoped the bathroom was.

-----

It was embarrassing, throwing up like that in front of somebody I hadn't seen for twenty years. I felt so foolish, and really, really ill. Jessica seemed to just take it in her stride, as if happened all the time. She turned the shower on and told me to get under it, leaving me to it. I struggled out of my clothes and sat beneath the stream of hot water. It didn't do much for the thumping in my head, but it did make me feel less queasy and I didn't get the whirling pits when I closed my eyes.

It must have been more relaxing than I thought. I awoke with a start as daylight was creeping through the window. I held my head and struggled to sit up. I was in the bed. Guiltily I looked around me; there was no sign of where Jessica had slept. I slid out from the sheets and had another shock; I was naked! And the only one who could have moved me from the shower was Jess. Hurriedly I pulled on my boxers and trousers, wondering where a :) my shirt was: And b :) where Jessie was. Had she been forced to sleep in the armchair? Or had she slept in the bed beside me? I was going to feel guilty whichever it was. I was looking for my socks and shoes when Jess came into the room with my shirt.

"You're awake then? Good. I've managed to get your shirt cleaned and dried." She said, handing me the garment. I took it and began to put it on.

"Jessie, I'm so sorry. I've been nothing but a problem for you all night."

"Calm down Dave. It wasn't the first time I've put someone to bed, I got a lot of experience of that while I was in the RAF."

"But I took your bed and everything." I paused. "You joined the RAF?"

"Ten years." She said proudly.

"There is so much about you I don't know anymore. I should have asked you all those things before I met you again."

"Dave, you haven't changed a bit. You still worry about so many inconsequential things." She smiled. The word 'inconsequential' made me look from the bathroom to the bed for some reason. Jessica saw the glance and laughed. "Yes, I put you in the bed. As I said, it wasn't the first time."

"But... but, I was... you saw..." I spluttered, going a deep red. She was still grinning. 

"If you must know, I didn't look." 

I managed to calm down. I looked at Jessica and realised I was still hung up on her. I had to do something.

"Jess. Can we talk? There are a couple of things I need to say, and maybe a question I need to ask."

"We spent most of last night talking didn't we?"

"I suppose, but that was just chatting really. Please Jessie, this is important to me I promise."

"All right." She said with a shrug. "Why don't we go for a walk? It's a lovely day and you look like you could do with some fresh air still."

-----

She waited for some minutes as we walked, while I was trying to sort out how to say what I wanted to say without seeming crass or bluff, until the silence became too much.

"So, what was it you wanted to say?" 

Here goes nothing, I thought.

"The first thing is, I'm sorry about the caravan holiday, I didn't think it through."

"Why are you sorry? It was fun wasn't it?

"It was great fun, but I should have realised that the others would all pair off, leaving you with me. I hoped that it would be boys and girls bunking separately, but I know your shyness made you embarrassed when it happened the other way."

"I was embarrassed to start with, but I was kind of hoping that we'd end up together."

"You were?" It was a bit of a shock to hear that. "And I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I'm truly sorry Jess, but why didn't you say something?"

"Because you were right, I was shy. And so were you."

"Yes. Yes I was. It looks like I made a right mess of that too. I'm really, really sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing; we both could have done things differently." She smiled. "In any case, maybe it was all for the best. After all, we both kept an image of a perfect partner in our heads for twenty years didn't we?" 

I nodded.

"I suppose." I replied slowly. The phrase 'perfect partner' was bouncing round in my head.

"Was that all you wanted to say? You mentioned a question."

"Yes, yes I did." I held her hand, wondering how to put it. "What happened that summer Jessie? You just vanished without a word." 

Now Jessica looked away.

"Oh, that." She turned back around and took my other hand. "Well, my gran had been ill for some time and dad decided we needed to move closer. It was all a bit of a rush, and some things got forgotten."

"I can see that, but why couldn't you just come and say goodbye? You knew where I lived; it was only twenty minutes walk." 

Jess hung her head.

"My turn to say sorry." She looked away and then lifted her face to me. There were tears forming in her eyes. "I'd managed to convince myself that you didn't like me, what with the caravan holiday and everything, so I thought a clean break would be best for both of us. But I never stopped thinking about you."

"Jessie, why would I have asked you to come with me if I didn't like you? To make up the numbers?"

"I know, I know." She almost wailed. "I was just confused I suppose. I'd never been in love before." 

The words hit me like a hammer blow. I hugged her as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"Oh Jess, Jessie. What have we done? Between us we seemed to have screwed up a budding romance."

"Do you think we could try again?" She asked, looking up with reddened eyes. I held her closer, hugging her tightly.

"Of course we can." I smiled down at her. "It wasn't until I'd lost you that I realised that I loved you. Something else I'm sorry for." 

Jessie giggled through her tears.

"We seem to have spent most of the past day apologizing for one thing or another don't we?" 

I laughed too.

"We do." I led her back towards the 'Buck'. "What do you think we should do now?" She shook herself, and a thoughtful look crossed her pretty face.

"Well, are you busy the rest of the day?"

"Not especially, no. Why?"

"I've got something I'd like you to see. Can you follow me back to my studio?"

"Your studio? Are you some sort of artist then?"

"I'd like to think so." She smiled. "I'm a photographer. Mainly portraits, family groups and weddings. And I like to think my pictures are fairly artistic."

"I know what you mean." I said. "I take pictures too, not professionally, just for pleasure, planes and cars mainly."

"What do you do for a job now? I never thought to ask." 

I shuffled my feet and looked down embarrassedly.

"I'm ashamed to say that I'm a bin man for the local council."

"That's not a job I'd have connected you with, but why are you ashamed?"

"Because I know I could have done better. With you gone I couldn't be bothered at college, and messed up my exams. I bummed around for a year and then got a job as a 'temporary general operative'." I shrugged. "I found I enjoyed working outside, and I was good at it. Eventually they made me a RCV driver." I saw the look on Jessica's face. "Yes, I'm one of those who, once a week, get in your way when you're in a hurry." By now we were back at the pub. "Look, let's get our things, and I'll follow you wherever you want to go. Something I should have done twenty years ago." Jessica nodded and went to collect her bag. I went and paid off our bills and then waited for her by the door.

"Which car is yours?" She asked when she came out. I pointed at my Range Rover. "Nice. Mine's this one." She walked over to an Escort Cosworth that I had been admiring.

"Very nice." I said.

"It suits me." She got in and turned the engine over. It was a sweet sound. Then I heard the music on the stereo. It was Led Zeppelin IV. 

"That's amazing." I gasped out. "I was listening to that too."

"It was you that started me listening to this music back then." She smiled up at me. "Come on, get into your monster and follow me."

-----

We pulled up at the back of a row of shops. Jess slipped into a parking space that was obviously hers. Unsure where to park, I waited until she indicated the space next to her. She led me into her studio. It was light and airy and full of camera equipment. I couldn't help but look at some of it enviously. Jessie noticed my interest.

"What camera have you got?" She asked.

"Nikon D50 and a Tamron zoom." I swept my hand around. "Nothing as grand as this, but it does what I want mostly."

"I started all this with a Nikon, they're a good camera." She turned back around and headed for a door. "Coffee?"

"That would be nice."

"Through here." She said, motioning towards the door. "It's a little utility room where I keep some of my stuff that I don't have room for upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"I live over the shop. It's a bit small I suppose, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, but it suffices." I followed her into the utility room and sat on a stool she indicated. Looking around I could see several boxes of bits and pieces that looked like they had been recently disturbed. "Sugar?" Jess asked suddenly.

"What!?" 

"Do you take sugar?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Two please. I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else." I was blushing, and I knew it. Jessica looked at me and smiled.

"You still worry too much, and at your age too."

"Can't help it I suppose. You said you had something to show me?"

"Yes. There on top of the scanner." She pointed at a pile of pictures. I picked them up and began to look through them. There were more than twenty of them, mostly from the caravan holiday, a couple from the school trip later in the year and some from our last days in that final term together. But I was in all of them, mainly with Jess, a couple of times on my own. I looked up as Jessica handed me a mug.

"Jess..." I began falteringly. "Jessie, where did you get these?"

"Oh, I either took them or asked someone to take them with my camera. It was only an Instamatic back then though."

"But why? If I was that important to you, why didn't you say?" I was at a loss.

"Because... Because I was shy. And if I didn't ask, you couldn't reject me." She looked down, her eyes tearful once more. "It was stupid, I know."

"No, no it wasn't stupid." I stopped and thought. "Well actually it was pretty daft because..."

"Why?"

"Because that's the exact rationalisation that I used." I tried to grin, but couldn't. "We really screwed up Jessica. If one of us had got the courage up to say something, we could have been together."

"We wasted twenty years then?" A watery smile spread over her face.

"I suppose." A grin broke through onto my face, and then I began to laugh. Jessie giggled and then began to laugh too. I stood up and held her close, hugging her to me to make up for twenty years of wondering. "I think we'll have to do better this time." I said as we pulled apart reluctantly.

"We will. And the first thing we need is a new picture."

"How are we going to do that? We're the only ones here."

"Dave, out there is my photographic studio." She grinned. "I have all sorts of gadgets for taking pictures remotely. Come on." She led me by the hand back through the door.

I sat in the middle of the studio as Jessie set up the camera, the lights, and the remote shutter, marvelling at all the attention to detail. All I'd ever done to take a picture was point and shoot! I asked her what she was doing next weekend.

"Nothing I can't cancel." She replied. 

"Want to come to a car meet with me?"

"Sure. Shall I bring a camera?"

"That's up to you; I'll be taking mine though."

"I might do then, but I reckon you just want to borrow my big zoom lens." She said mischievously.

"Jessie! As if."

She laughed.

"Only kidding Dave. Of course you can borrow it." Finally she was ready and came to sit next to me. 

"How shall we pose?" I asked.

"How about recreating the picture you posted."

"Well there's no caravan, but..."

"Idiot!" She laughed, kissing me. "Smile."

-----

It had been six months after Jessie and I had been reunited and things seemed to be going well between us. Then I got a phone call from her one afternoon just as I was leaving work.




The Photograph



"Can you come over this evening? There's something I think we need to discuss." She sounded a little worried.

"Is it about the school reunion? I got an e-mail last night telling me about it."

"Maybe indirectly. It has some bearing, but there's something more important, and I don't want to discuss it over the phone." I took this in. "So, can you come over?"

"Of course, you don't think I'll pass up on an invite from my favourite girl do you?" I was jovial about it, but obviously something was on her mind, she just didn't sound her normal cheery self.

I arrived just as Jess was closing her photographic studio for the day.

"You're early." She said, letting me in. I shrugged.

"You sounded out of sorts, so I came over as soon as I could."

"Soppy sod." She hugged me.

"So, what is it that's worrying you? It isn't the reunion is it? I know that everyone wanting to meet you might be a bit daunting."

"No, not at all." She shook her head. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing everyone again." She looked down momentarily. "Come upstairs. I'll make coffee."

I stepped into the by now familiar self contained flat Jessica lived in above the studio and sat down. Jessie disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She definitely seemed preoccupied somewhat. I wondered how bad it could be. It was even more apparent something was up when she brought the coffee through. She looked really nervous, so nervous her hand was trembling as she handed me the mug.

"Just sit down and tell me Jess." I said kindly. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"It can." She said, tears forming in her eyes. "It's something I should have told you a lot earlier." She paused and looked away, unable to look me in the eyes. Now I was worried too. "The fact is Dave, I'm still married." 

I nearly spilt coffee everywhere. 

"WHAT! You're kidding, right?" 

She shook her head.

"We've been separated for ten years, since I left the RAF. I haven't seen him since, but we're still married. I'm really, really sorry." She hung her head. I'd recovered a bit by now. I put my arm around Jessica and held her close.

"Don't start with the apologies again." I kissed her head. "But you might have hinted, and then I wouldn't have made that remark the other week about us setting a date..." I paused, realisation hitting me. "Oh! That's what brought this on, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"So, what are we going to do then?"

"You don't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you? You're my girl now." I smiled at her and she grinned back. "Well then, what's the plan? I presume you have one? And that's why you left it till now to tell me, so I couldn't stop you?" 

She grinned again, nodding.

"Well, I spoke to my solicitor and he says that estrangement won't be hard to prove." 

"Not after ten years apart."

"I've got the papers and found Mike. He's coming round tomorrow..."

"And you want me here." I finished for her.

"Actually no, quite the opposite. I'd like you to stay away. This is between me and Mike."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Certain."

"Well I know you like to do things your own way, so all right. Just call me when he's gone." I sat back. "Now then, let's talk about the reunion. We are going together aren't we?"

------

It was after nine o'clock before she rang me. I was a little concerned. I was even more concerned when I got the call: Jessie was crying. 'We've had an argument', was all she would say. Ignoring how late it was getting I jumped straight into the car and drove there as quickly as I could.

Jessica opened the door to my ringing. Her eyes were red from crying, but more shockingly there was an obvious slap mark on her cheek. In a sudden cold fury I pushed past her.

"Is he still here?" I demanded.

"No. He left. I waited until he was gone before calling."

"You should have rung me straightaway Jess." I took her in my arms. "What happened?" I asked, calming down a little as I saw her face.

"Same as always with me and Mike. We started to argue and things got out of hand."

"I think I want a word with someone who hits women. Where did he go?"

"Dave, I don't think I should tell you. He was a bit drunk and I don't want you hurt. It's my problem, I should solve it."

"It's OUR problem now. Where?" I was now only just holding onto my temper. It was one of the things I hated, men hitting women.

"The little pub on the outskirts." She said quietly. "But I don't want you to go. It's not just Mike, it's me as well. It was always the same between us. We both had such explosive tempers"

"You don't have to protect him you know?"

"I'm not, it's the truth."

"But you're all right with me. I have a temper too you know?"

"You manage to control yourself, and so do I normally, but with Mike I just..." She waved her hand in despair. "Please be careful Dave."

"Jessie, I'm not going to try and beat him up, I just want to put him straight on a few things. Did he sign the papers?"

"He took them with him, said he would see."

"Something else I'll need to talk to him about. Don't worry; I'll call when I have some news." I slipped back out before she could protest any more.

-----

I asked the barman to point out Mike to me. I looked long and hard at him. He was sat with a pint glass, looking at it moodily. Pulling myself together I walked up to where he was sitting.

"You're Mike, right?"

He looked up at me.

"Yep. And I'm guessing you're Dave." He pointed to the seat next to him. "Jessie sent you?" 

I sat down.

"Actually, she didn't want me to come. She wanted to sort things out for herself." 

He took a drink and nodded.

"Sounds like my Jess."

"Except she's my Jessica now."

"Why should I listen to you?" Mike said with a sneer. I could feel my temper beginning to rise and tried to keep calm. "Running around behind some broad's skirt, sucking up to her."

"At least I don't hit her. Only losers hit women!" I snapped back, my temper going up several notches. 

Mike sneered.

"She deserved it." 

That pushed me over the edge. I swung my fist around and caught him full in the face, knocking him over. The sudden hurt in my hand brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry; I swore I wouldn't do that." I held out my sore hand and helped him back up. 

"Thanks." Strangely he was smiling. "I hoped you'd have the bottle to stand up to me. I couldn't just let Jessie go to any old wimp." He saw the puzzlement on my face. "Yes, despite all our arguments, I still care for her. You surprised?"

"Not really I suppose. I feel the same way."

"Good man!" He clapped me around the shoulder. "We should get on fine now." I was totally bemused by the turn of events. "By the way, did I hurt Jess?"

"You left a slap mark. It didn't look pretty."

"I'd show the damage she did to me, but this is a public place."

"She said that it was her fault too, the argument." 

He shrugged. 

"That was our problem; we just sparked each other off. Nobodies fault, so we decided to cut our losses." He sighed. "I kept hoping, but it's obvious we were never meant to be together. Incidentally, watch out for her knee in an argument." 

Mike smiled and I grinned back.

"Vicious is it?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

After that we just talked. It was really strange, I had sought him out with a cold fury in my heart but once I realised he was still looking out for Jess in his own way we got along just fine. As I was getting up to leave as they called time he handed me an envelope.

"I've signed the papers, I trust you to give them to Jessie."

"Thanks Mike. I hope you can find someone else." 

He just shrugged.

"Thanks for that. I have got my hopes for someone." 

We shook hands and I left.

-----

Jessica was still waiting for me. Without a word I handed her the envelope Mike had given me. She didn't open it, just putting it down and then hugging me.

"I'm so glad you're all right."

"We're all okay. Mike has a bit of a broken heart and is a lot sore between the legs, but I think he'll be fine too." 

Jess looked down.

"He told you then?"

"He intimated if I do get into an argument with you, it would be a good idea to keep away from your knee." I smiled. "But I don't intend to ever get into that sort of disagreement."

She kissed me.

"Thank you for that. Now I suppose we can start to make some plans."

"I suppose so, starting with the reunion."

"Oh, that first."

"Indeedy do. I reckon we need to get a taxi to the club. What do you think?"

-----

I heard Jessica's Cosworth pull outside my flat while I was still fiddling with my tie. I wasn't convinced that the tie was a good idea, but Jess had insisted. She wasn't going to meet all her old friends with a scruffy-looking partner. I knew she was onto a loser there though; scruffy-looking was my natural state, even with my best clothes on. I opened the door for her and went back to the battle with the tie. I heard the door close behind me and asked.

"You couldn't help me with this could you?" I turned around, the tie half done around my neck. And stopped and stared open mouthed at the gorgeous sight before me. Jessica positively shone in a figure-hugging shimmering full-length dress. She gave a little twirl.

"Like it? I do a little portfolio work for a couple of models and one of them insisted I borrow it." She looked at me. "Close your mouth Dave, you're dribbling."

"Sorry, but you look absolutely stunning."

"Thanks. You look a mess."

"I am a mess. I always was a mess, and I probably always will be a mess."

"Not tonight sunshine, I'm going to sort you out."

"Why bother Jess? Stood next to you I could wear a bin-liner and no-one would notice."

"I would notice. Please Dave, just for one night, let me sort you out."

"One night only then. Then you let me be me."

"Agreed." She walked over to my meagre wardrobe and opened it. "Not much to work with is there?"

"I've got the suit." I protested.

"That's a suit is it?" She sighed.

After half an hour of fussing Jess had got me looking presentable. She looked around.

"What now?" I asked.

"Where's your camera? We need a picture of this."

"You must be joking."

"No. Where is it?" 

Sighing I took my camera out of the drawer and handed it over reluctantly.

"Only on the understanding I take a picture of you as well."

"Okay. Its got a timer as well hasn't it?"

"I think so, why?"

"We could get another one of the two of us."

"We can try I suppose, as long as it doesn't take too long. The taxi should be here any minute." 

-----

As it turned out we managed to get the three shots we wanted before the taxi beeped his horn. Actually I took more than one of Jessie in all her finery, snapping several when she wasn't looking. Now we were outside the club where the reunion was being held, having confirmed a pick-up time with the cabbie. Jessica looked a little nervous now.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "I thought you were looking forward to it?"

"I was, I am. But I'm still a bit scared. There's going to be a lot of questions." 

I put my arm around her and kissed her.

"I'm worried too. But it will be fine. They're all just interested in you. And me I suppose."

"Why?"

"Why me? Because most of them went on to higher education and I didn't. I'll probably fit in less than you dear Jessica." 

She hugged me.

"Still with the worrying about silly things, eh?"

"You can talk. Come on, it's getting cold out here." With that we walked into the club hand in hand.

As we opened the doors and entered the function room, the drummer of the live band happened to look up. It was mistake on his behalf as the sight of Jessica in her slinky dress caused him to miss the drum kit. The rest of the group looked at him in annoyance and then where he was looking. The music ground to a halt. Now everyone in the room was looking at us. I desperately wanted to hide, but Jessica had already steeled herself and towed me towards the bar. The band started up again and soon old friends were gathering around us, asking how we were and where we had been.

-----

After an hour or so I was getting tired of repeating the story of how I had found Jessie again, but people were interested so I persevered. At least they weren't asking what I was doing now. I wasn't ashamed to tell them but it was so dull compared with the careers they had all seemed to follow. Jess was revelling in the attention, not caring how often she had to repeat herself. I picked up a few nuggets of information myself, things we hadn't talked about. After all, we had had twenty years of catching up to do in the past six months. I had decided that I wasn't going to get drunk so was being careful. Jessica had no such inhibitions and seemed to be drinking more than ever, but with no apparent effect. I wondered how much was too much for her and hoped I'd be able to spot when it was close to happening. For the moment though she was a gregarious as ever. My friend John, provider of the original photograph, came over and we began to chat. He was one of the few who knew the story of the reunion already and subsequently was more interested in my story.

"Come outside, it's a bit noisy in here." He said. Picking up my carefully nursed drink I followed him outside. "Tell me Dave, why have you never tried to get further up the success ladder?" He asked. "We all know you had the brains."

"But not the ambition mate. I found something I liked and just keep doing it. Oh they ask me to do odd things at times, but I just suspect that's because I get them done."

"You could have done more though."

"Don't nag. Anyway, I'm happy. Even more so now that I've got Jessie. There's a great feeling of satisfaction at times, especially when there are twenty cars stuck behind you." I grinned. 

He laughed and shrugged.

"Well, if you ever need another job, just call me."

"Thanks, I'll remember that. Now let's go back in, or Jess will have started a martial arts tournament or something."

-----

It wasn't as bad as that, but she had got up onto the stage and was making a speech. Or that's what I thought. What she was actually doing was making an introduction for someone else's speech. Mine! There was polite applause as she finished and friendly hands pushed me towards the stage. What was I going to say? I stumbled onto the stage, blinking in the light. I remembered what John and I had been talking about, and thought that something like that might do.

"Thank you for that introduction Jessie. I hope it was for me." A laugh ran through the room. "Well everyone, it's good to see you all again. As you can see, Jessica has managed to overcome her shyness." She blushed and got a couple of friendly prods. "Unfortunately I haven't and am in danger of drying up quite quickly. But before I do, I'd like to say a few words about contentment. I really only recently realised how happy with my life I was. Sure, I don't have a lot of money or a high-powered job, but I enjoy what I do. I enjoy my free time and my hobbies. When I found an old picture of Jess, I wondered what had happened to her and decided to try and find her. You know that story by now; she's been telling anyone who'd listen." Another laugh. "While that was happening in here, I was outside talking with an old friend and suddenly it came to me. Finding her and falling in love again had given me everything I needed to be satisfied, someone to share with." Jessica was blushing again. "So, as I'm running out of things to say, I just want to thank Jess for making me so happy." A round of applause rose up. I waved my hand. "And thank you all for listening to my rambling!" 

Thankfully I left the stage and Jessie hugged me and planted a kiss on my lips.

"That was lovely Dave. Thank you."

"Well, it was true." I disentangled myself from her. "Anyway, I need a drink now. And you're buying, volunteering me without asking you cheeky madam." 

She grinned.

"All right, I suppose I can splash out a little for someone who is so content. And I apologise for not asking, but if I had you'd have said 'no' and then you wouldn't have said those nice things." She kissed me again. "So I'm not that sorry."

-----

The taxi came and took us back to my flat. We dropped onto the sofa, both a little merry, and just sat quietly in each others arms. After a little while I stirred.

"Don't Dave. Let's just stay like this."

"But I need to get the blankets so I can bed down here."

"It can wait for a while. I got something this morning that I want to show you."

"Why have you waited until now to mention it?"

"Because I want to share it with only you, with no pressure from the clock or anything else." I was intrigued now. Jessica sat up and pulled an official looking envelope from her bag. She passed it to me, a barely suppressed grin on her face. I took it and opened it, taking out the contents. A quick scan told me that it was a court date for the finalisation of her divorce. I looked up smiling into her beaming face. "So, what do you think?"

"It's good news." I said waving the paper.

"I didn't mean that." Her look darkened slightly.

"Oh, I see. You want to set up another photograph."

"That's not it either!" She turned away grumpily.

"You mean you don't want pictures of our wedding?" She turned back to me slowly, the grin broader than ever. "Sorry. Think of it as payback."

"It's a good job we're sat down or my knee would have been coming your way, you horrible teaser."

-----

"Have you got the white balance set right?"

"Jess, leave him alone. I know he's your assistant, but I'm sure you've taught him how to take group pictures. Now stand still."

-----

I was sure I hadn't made any more noise than usual as I prepared for the three-quarter hour trip to work, but there was Jessica in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Sorry Jess, did I wake you?"

"Not in the way you think. I always wake up not long after you get up for work, but I usually wait until you've gone before I get up."

"Why the change then?"

"I just felt a bit odd, that's all."

"Anything I can do?"

"I don't think so, but thanks for asking. You don't need to get there this early do you?"

"Not exactly, but since we moved out here I like to allow an extra half an hour." Jessie came into the kitchen and sat down while I finished my early morning coffee. She looked wistful and began to play with the sugar bowl.

"Remember the first meal we had here? It was so romantic."

"That's not what you said at the time! I was threatened with the knee, if I recall."

"Well, fancy forgetting to get the gas and electric turned on, you silly sod. Anyway, bacon sandwiches cooked on a camping stove and eaten by candlelight never tasted so good."

"So, you'll forgive me for that then?"

"I might eventually."

"Eventually huh?" I pulled on my body warmer and picked up my keys. "I better get going." I looked at her. "If you don't feel well perhaps you'd better stay home today."

"I'll be fine. Besides I've a couple of things I want to do. I'll call you later."

"All right darling. Talk to you later."

-----

It was lunchtime and I was still a little worried about Jessie, so I called her at her studio. The receptionist answered.

"Tracey, is Jessie there?"

"Sorry Dave. She and Alan went to the solicitors a couple of hours ago."

"That's odd. Any idea why?"

"No, sorry." She paused and I heard someone else in the background. "Oh, Alan's just come in. Want to speak to him?"

"Okay, put him on." Jessica's assistant came on the line. "Hello Alan, what have you and Jessica been up to?"

"Sorry, I can't tell you. Jess said she'd tell you later on."

"She's being mysterious again is she? Okay, it'll wait. Where is she?"

"I dropped her off at the doctors. She said she'd walk back."

"More mystery." I sighed. "Is she all right? She said she felt a bit odd this morning."




The Photograph



"All I know is when she came in she went upstairs with a paper bag, and she was positively beaming when she came back down." 

I furrowed my brow.

"I wish she'd confide in me a bit more at times. All right Alan thanks. I'll just have to wait until she calls me I suppose."

-----

I'd almost finished for the day when I got Jessica's call. "Dave?"

"Hello Jess. I've been waiting for you to ring."

"Have you finished yet?"

"Just doing the vehicle checks, then I'll be on my way home. Are you going to let me in on the mysteries?"

"Mysteries?"

"Alan said he couldn't tell me why you'd taken him to the solicitors."

"Oh that. Well, I decided to make him a partner. It'll help keep the business going."

"Why would it need help?"

"Well, in the not too distant future, I'm not going to be able to be there."

"Why's that?" 

She seemed to delight in talking in riddles at times.

"It's why I went to the doctor, I needed to confirm something."

"Jess, stop dragging it out. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, there's nothing wrong. I'm going to be a mom." 

I was almost struck dumb.

"How did that happen?"

"Don't be silly. I know you're not that naïve from all that porn I found on your computer."

"Sorry, stupid statement. And how long are you going to keep dragging that up?"

"Depends how long you keep making stupid remarks I suppose. Is there someone with you? I can hear them in the background."

"Yeah, Steve is." 

"What's he saying?"

"Wants to know what's going on."

"Well tell him then." 

I turned and called out to my workmate.

"Steve, I'm going to be a dad."

"Does Jessica know?"

"Very funny." I walked away a little. "Jess, I'll be on my way home in an hour. I'll wait for you to tell me everything when you get in." 

-----

It was after six when Jessica came in.

"You madam! Why didn't you say something? Here, sit down, put your feet up. I'll make some coffee." I was fussing and I knew it, but it was something I couldn't help.

"Well I wasn't sure." She replied as she sat down. "And you don't have to treat me like an invalid." A short pause. "Well, not yet anyway."

"Just getting some practice in. What are we going to name him?"

"Dave, you're getting ahead of yourself a bit. And it may be a girl just as easily." 

I grinned.

"Sorry, and I honestly don't care if it's a boy or a girl as long as you're both fine. Will it be all right? You're a bit older than most first time mothers." I suddenly realised that hadn't sounded quite right.

"I don't know whether to be insulted or touched by that remark." She smiled. 

"Sorry. Again."

"Good, now come and kiss me."

"Is it safe?"

"Don't be silly. Now come here."

"Just keep that knee uncocked."

"Fool!"

-----

It was a little bit tense in the delivery room. I was stood next to Jessica as she strained, breathing hard.

"Grip my hand Jess. You're nearly there."

"You swine! This is all your fault. Aaahh!" She was sweating quite a bit. I was too. Childbirth was obviously as difficult as I had been led to believe.

"Keep going Jessie." I said soothingly.

"If I could get my knee at you, you'd be feeling this pain too!" She clenched my hand harder. 

I winced a little.

"You're nearly breaking my hand as it is Jessica."

"Good! Aaaaaagghh!!" 

The doctor and the midwife looked up. The midwife nodded at me.

"Jess, Jessie! It's coming! I can see its head. One more push."

"Aarrrggh!" With a sudden rush, the baby was born.

"Congratulations! It's a girl." The doctor said.

"Jess, Jess! She's beautiful. She looks like you." I kissed her sweating brow. "You've made me happier than ever." 

The midwife handed the bawling child to Jess, resting her next to her head.

"Here you are Jessica; she's going to be a strong one." 

Jessie looked at the tiny baby.

"Thank you nurse. She is all right isn't she? We were worried that I might be a bit old."

"You are both fine." The nurse said, patting Jess's hand. 

I had been staring at the little girl in wonderment.

"She has your eyes Jessie. To a tee." It was true; looking at the two of them I could see so much of my beloved wife in the tiny mite. "Can... can I hold her please?" I asked tentatively. The baby was handed to me. I cradled her like she was the most precious thing in the world, which she was; scared that she'd break if I held her too tightly, worried that she'd slip if I didn't hold her close. I looked down into that sweet little face, totally unaware of any troubles, and fell in love. Gingerly I touched her nose with my finger, then her mouth. Her eyes looked straight at me and her hands converged on my finger, attempting to catch it. "She's so beautiful. I can't get over how small she is. She's holding my finger look!" I was totally enamoured at once. A daughter, a beautiful daughter.

"Don't get so excited Dave. Anyway, she needs a name remember? All you came up with was boys' names."

"I did? Sorry. How about Charlotte? She looks like a Charlotte."

"Charlotte? That's a nice name, okay." Jessica lay back, taking the newly-named Charlotte from me.

"Doctor? Jess? Can I take a few pictures? Will it be all right?" The doctor nodded. Jessie sighed.

"If you must Dave." She smiled, a thought coming to her. "The amount of pictures you're likely to take, I suspect her first words will be 'cheese'." Charlotte's arms and legs were waving as if to some unheard tune, gurgling and chuckling to herself. That was the first of many photographs of Charlotte.

-----

I was taking another picture of my darling Charlotte sitting out in the garden while Jessica prepared her afternoon drink, talking to her as I always did, when I heard her say 'Dada'. I stopped.

"What was that Lottie? Say it again for daddy." She did. "Jess! Jessie!! Come quick! She said 'Dada' twice!" 

Jess ambled out, the bottle in her hand.

"Again?" She said wearily. "That's the third time this weekend you've claimed she's been talking. She is barely ten months old you know." 

I ignored the friendly jibe. It was true I kept thinking I heard little Charlotte say a word, but this time I was sure.

"Say it again Lottie, say it for mommy too." Nothing. I knelt next to the toddler. "Please Charlotte; your mother thinks I'm going potty. Say it for daddy." 

She reached out her little hand and tried to grab me.

"Dada." 

Jessica's amused smile froze. She knelt down as well.

"Dada."

"See! I told you Jess." I was grinning massively. I felt so proud.

"Well, I have to admit that did sound like 'Dada'. Pity, I was hoping her first words would be 'Mama'."

"I'm sorry Jess. Perhaps it's because I've been coaching her. Well, nagging her really."

"You don't think I haven't?"

"Of course not, I didn't mean it like that." 

She kissed me.

"I know." She grinned at me. "And I did say her first word would be 'cheese' anyway." Charlotte seemed oblivious to our pride, she just sat and grinned.

-----

I was a little concerned. I felt Charlotte should be trying to walk by now, but she seemed content to crawl or shuffle on her bottom. Jessica said it was my fault; I kept picking her up, so I'd decided to try and encourage her. I stood her on my feet, holding her hands to balance her, and shuffled forward. The problem was, she enjoyed that so much she wouldn't try herself. All I'd done was invent a new game for her. Jess had just sighed and told me to let her be; she'd walk when she wanted to, when she wanted something. I'd nodded, but knew that I wouldn't be the first one to see this happen. Jess had been taking Lottie to the studio with her for seven or eight months, where her receptionist Tracey or Alan the other photographer could keep an eye on her if Jessie herself was busy. With Lottie getting so adventurous now, I knew that exploring the studio would be the inspiration she needed to take her first steps. She'd explored our house already with me helping her, so I knew it was my own fault.

-----

My phone rang while I was at work driving so I was forced to ignore it for a moment. As soon as I pulled up I pulled out the mobile and checked the missed call. I groaned when I saw it was from Jessica, suddenly sure that Lottie had been spotted walking. I called back.

"Jess? Sorry I couldn't answer. What's up?"

"Charlotte!"

"What?"

"Charlotte's been standing up!"

"And?" 

"And nothing. She's never stood up on her own before has she?" 

"No." I conceded. "Except in her play pen, holding the bars." I had a thought. "Did you get a picture?" 

"Of course." Jessie sighed. "Another one for the ever-growing file on your computer." 

"Of course." I was pleased; there was still a chance I could be there when she first walked.

-----

I walked into the studio through the front door. Tracey, the receptionist, looked up. 

"Hello Dave, come to collect Charlotte?"

"Hello Trace. Yeah, I've come for the princess. Is the boss in?"

"She's out back; printing off someone's wedding pictures. The princess is with her."

"She's been standing up on her own?"

"Oh yes." She smiled. "She looked so proud of herself."

"But no steps?"

"Not while anyone was looking." 

I grinned.

"That's my girl, waiting for her dad." 

Jess appeared in the doorway, Charlotte held in the crook of her arm.

"And why would she be doing that?" She asked, a wry smile at my enthusiasm. "She loves her mommy too."

"Because she's a little girl who knows that the rewards will be greater from her daddy. And of course she loves her mummy, and she's not the only one." I kissed them both. "Ready to come home Lottie?" The little girl held out her arms as I took her from Jessie.

"You spoil her you know?"

"And the three of you don't?" Tracey looked away guiltily and Jess went red. I smirked. "What time will you be home tonight love?" I asked as Lottie settled on my hip, trying to pull on my ear.

"I might be a bit late; I've got to get the Johnson's wedding album ready for tomorrow." She sighed.

"Well don't be too late; Charlotte and I might have a surprise for you."

"Exactly what are you planning?"

"Just a little bribery and encouragement. See you later. Wave to mommy Lottie."

-----

I set Charlotte down in the middle of the front room.

"Does daddy's girl want a biscuit?"

"Dada. Bikkit."

"All right then. Come and get it." I produced a digestive and held it up for her to see. She crawled over, but found she couldn't reach where I was holding it. She pulled herself up me and stood on her feet, wavering slightly. Carefully, so as not to disturb her balance, I backed away a pace or so, still offering her the biscuit. Then, tentatively, what I'd been hoping for happened. She took a few steps and grasped hold of the digestive! "Good girl!" I scooped her up and hugged her. She gurgled happily and began to suck on the crumbly biscuit. "Can you do it again for Mommy when she gets home?"

"Mama." She said, waving her hands, throwing crumbs everywhere.

-----

I was beginning to think I might have to put Charlotte to bed when Jessica came in. 

"Okay Jess. Sit down and I'll get you a coffee." 

"All right, I'm not one to turn down a drink, but why is Charlotte not in bed."

"Because we have something to show you." I called out from the kitchen.

"If she's cranky tomorrow, you'll be in trouble." Jess warned.

"Believe me Jessie, this is worth it." I said, bringing her coffee in on a tray with a couple of digestives.

"What's this?"

"It's a biscuit Jess."

"I know that, but I don't have biscuits with my coffee this late."

"I never said it was for you. Offer it to Lottie." 

A light dawned in my wife's eye.

"That sort of bribery eh?"

"Just do it Jess." 

She sighed and held out the biscuit towards Lottie.

"Charlotte, want a biscuit?" This time I had got my camera out and was snapping the toddler in action for the collection.

"Bikkit!" Lottie pulled herself up onto her feet and teetered over to her mother, grasping the digestive before plonking herself down on her bottom and sucking on the biscuit. 

"Oh you beautiful girl!" Jess exclaimed, picking up the surprised Charlotte and kissing her. "And you, you sneaky Daddy you." She kissed me too.

"Your idea Jessie. You said all she needed was to want something badly enough and she'd do it." Lottie was waving her hand again, showering her mom with crumbs from the biscuit. Jessica gave me a look that said 'Couldn't you have found a more solid bribe?' I scurried off to find the vacuum cleaner.

-----

"Daddy, I don't want to go." Charlotte wailed.

"Why not? You enjoyed Nursery School didn't you? This will be like that."

"But it's EVERY day daddy. I'll hardly ever see you or mommy."

"Good job too!" Jessie said. Charlotte and I both looked at her in surprise. "She needs to learn to be herself, not just our child Dave." I nodded slowly. I understood the theory, but it was still difficult. "Just go and check with the Head that our arrangements to pick Lottie up are fine, while I have a word with Miss Clever here." Sighing, I walked over to the Head Teacher who nodded at me benevolently.

"Problems?" She asked.

"Nothing that her mom won't sort out. Jess is so much better with the serious talking; I tend to give in to Lottie too easily." 

She smiled and patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry; you're not the only one. Lots of dads are the same, especially with daughters. Moms are much more practical." 

I brightened up.

"And I thought it was just me." We grinned at each other. "Anyway, the reason I came over was to check it was all right to keep Charlotte back until one of us turns up to fetch her. It'll usually be me, but occasionally I get delayed. If it looks like I'll be late, I'll call. If I think I won't make it by quarter past, Jess will come and fetch her. Is that all right?"

"Don't worry, there are several after school clubs she can get involved in until half past three."

"Thank you. It'll never be later than that, I assure you, even if I have to bring the Dustcart over!" We grinned at each other again.

"It looks like your other half has worked her magic." The Head said, nodding in the direction of my two lovelies. I nodded and walked back.

"Sorted?" I asked them. Jess nodded and Charlotte looked at me shamefaced.

"I'm sorry Daddy; I didn't mean to make you worry."

"I'll always worry about you princess." I kissed her head. "Now go on in and I'll pick you up at three." She trotted off, waving. 

Jessica looked at me and sighed.

"What are you like? You know she'll enjoy it, but you just have to worry don't you?" 

"Of course I worry." I smiled and kissed her. "I worry about you too."

"You'll never change will you?"

"I hope not."

"Me too."

-----

I was a bit nervous waiting outside the school. I felt so out of place amongst all the young mothers. I was old enough to be the father of most of them. They were curious about me, but started to talk to me when they realised I was collecting my child the same as they were. The children came pouring out of the doors at three. Charlotte came bouncing up to me pulling another little girl with her.

"Daddy, this is Maria. She's my new bestest friend!" 

I smiled at her zeal.

"Pleased to meet you Maria."

"Hello sir." She said shyly.

"We played football and beat the boys." Lottie spoke excitedly. "Maria was brill. She scored our goal!"

"I learnt how to play with my brothers." The little girl said, blushing at Lottie's enthusiasm. "I must go, my mommy is waiting. See you tomorrow Lottie." She left with a wave.

"Oh, you want to come back tomorrow now?" I teased.

"I was being silly this morning daddy. I was worried that I wouldn't fit in." Charlotte looked up with her eyes shining with enjoyment. 

I leant down and kissed her. 

"That's my fault princess. You get that from me. You should be more like your mother is now."

"She doesn't worry?"

"She worries, especially about us, but she doesn't let it get in the way like we do." I took her hand and we walked towards the car. "Now then, tell me about what you've been doing apart from playing football."

-----

I was checking my camera equipment before the airshow the next day when Charlotte came up behind me. She spoke in her special 'pleading' voice.

"Daddy, can I come with you tomorrow?" 

I stopped what I was doing, turned around and looked at her. She meant it; there was a serious look on her face.

"Of course you can sweetie. I never asked because I didn't think you were interested."

"Well, if I don't go I won't find out, will I?" 

"That's a good point sweetheart."

"And I am seven now you know." 

"I remember how old you are."

"And what about mommy? We can't leave her on her own."

"She might actually enjoy that." I grinned. "But let's go and ask her shall we?" She took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen where Jessica was ironing. I had offered to do it, but she'd laughed and said that Charlotte's school clothes needed to be done properly. "Jess?" She looked up. "Lottie has something to ask you."

"Yes love? What is it?"

"Well mommy, we were wondering if you wanted to come to the airshow with us."

"Oh, you finally asked daddy did you? And he said yes?"

"I did, but I don't want to leave you here alone. So, will you come with us mommy?"

"Actually, yes. It would make a nice change. It's been a while since I photographed some aeroplanes."

"I didn't know you liked to take pictures of planes Jess." I said.

"Well I am a professional photographer who used to be in the RAF."

"I keep forgetting that bit. All right then, we'll start out early tomorrow morning then."

"Good idea. I'll need to pop into the shop on the way and pick up a few things." As I nodded I caught a glimpse of Charlotte's face. She was looking thoughtful. Jess saw the look too and imperceptibly shook her head. Leave it for now, I thought. Jessie knows something I don't.

-----

As I pulled up outside Jessie's studio and she opened the car door Charlotte spoke from the back seat.

"I wish I had a camera too." 

I turned around and looked into her serious face.

"Why's that princess?"

"Well, you and mommy will be taking pictures and I'd like to as well. I know what to do; I've watched mommy and Alan."

"You've left it a bit late to mention this darling; I might have been able to find my little camera."

"Oh." The crestfallen look on her face nearly broke my heart.

"I'll let you borrow mine while we're there. With your own memory card, so you'll know which pictures are yours, how's that?" 

She perked up a bit.

"Thank you daddy, that will be nice."

Jessica had returned with her camera bag and put it in the back with the picnic gear. She slipped back into the car and smiled.

"Okay, I've got everything I think." She turned around and spoke to Lottie. "You all right sweetie?"

"Daddy says I can take some pictures with his camera!"

"He did? Well, that'll be nice." She looked at me and gave me a grin that I recognised. She was up to something! I gave her a questioning look but she ignored me. "Let's go then, off to the airshow."

-----

The car park was almost half full even though the gates had only just opened. I turned off the engine and looked at the two glowing faces in the car with me.

"Before we have a look around I suggest we get the chairs and go and stake out a spot. I know a good place."

"I should hope so; you've been coming here for years." Jess said, getting out. "Come on then poppet. Grab your seat and we'll follow daddy."

"What about the cameras?" The little girl asked.

"We'll pick them up after we've got our spot." I smiled at her earnest look; she so wanted to take some pictures. "Don't worry; you'll get your chance."

It didn't take long to put up the chairs and peg the windbreak around them so we were soon back at the car. Charlotte waited impatiently as Jess and I fiddled with our cameras and lenses. Jessie smiled at me and pulled a second camera from her bag.