“All of it?” She said, and hesitated, frozen smile on her face. “Or just the – uh – top?”
I nodded, matter of fact, and tried to give her what I thought was a reassuring smile. “All of it.”
And then, before I had the chance to could doubt that she would, she stripped off her pants and underwear, half-turning away as if guarding her modesty. Stepping out of them, she turned to me with a shy question on her face, as if asking ‘Well?’
I swallowed, trying to stay professional. I liked it more than I could say, wanted to run my hands over her soft, porcelain-white skin, supple with the mark of still-vibrant youth. Delicate, too – her thighs still bore the tangible lines of her underwear, punctuating the smooth tan lines with a progression of quickly-disappearing dimples. I nodded appreciatively, dry-mouthed in fear I would say something stupid like ‘very nice’, and drive her away.
“Where do you want me?” She asked, and the camera suddenly felt heavy in my hand. Somehow, I hadn’t planned on this. The nudity, sure, but the pictures, I had assumed those would just come, and now that she was here, in front of me – I had no idea.
“There.” I said, at last. “In the light.” And she stepped back, let the warm sunlight flood over her, and unfolded her arms. It was like watching a flower unfold and unfurl. The quiet, uncompromising grace I had seen in her before, weeks before, when just the thought of seeing her naked had been enough to drive me over the edge, was suddenly overwhelming, as if the clothes had muted it, and now it was set free.
I moved in and started taking pictures, slowly at first, and shy. She turned to accommodate, pouting her hips and turning her back, and I nodded my replies, or pointed. This way and that, shutter clicking steadily, smile slowly rising to my cheeks.
She smiled too, the comfort building, the fun of the moment sweeping us both up in it, and soon the shadows were longer across her skin than before, the time gone quickly by.
And then it happened. Instinctively, searching for a look I couldn’t quite place, I reached out to take her hand, then her hip, and tried to lead her. Her skin felt electric under mine, charged and tense, and she moved slowly to welcome me, letting my fingers trace over her thighs softly.
Her eyes met mine, and in the sudden quiet of that moment, I knew that pictures alone would not be enough for either of us. And so I surrendered what remained of professional reserve, and rose instead to kiss her.
There would be no more pictures that day, but my clearest memories all begin from the moment after I put the camera down.
Night Worlds 