It
felt effortless to her, something she
was born to do, and it thrilled her
more than he knew to hear his
encouraging words of praise as she
moved for him, eager to appease
him. Her naked body curled against his,
and she let out a long, contended
sigh, not a solitary worry rattling
around her head, threatening to
ruin this perfect moment. XXX I’m a photographer,” he hastily
clarified, seeing the alarm in her
eyes. She listened
closely for the customary click of the
door, but it seemed not to be
forthcoming and she stood in silence
for what felt like an eternity. The feeling of simply being—
raw, vulnerable, unadorned—
unnerved her, but had given her
some sense of self-worth, especially
when she thought of Harold. She did not think, or
even feel, as she bent further
forward and gave her right cheek a
playful swat. Mounted lights
illuminated the brilliant white
studio, like something out of a
movie, or a dream. The
memory of his voice soothed her;
she felt the warmth he exuded when
she pictured his blue eyes.
