eyelids half shut she dreamily moved her body into new poses that seemed just right, perfectly natural, presenting her body for worship. The shutter click was a very satisfying sound, a pleasing reminder that she was the centre of the universe right now, that she held the power over the eye of the world. Each click represented a new China recorded forever. This sensation of power, combined with an almost childlike sensation of vulnerability and fear of the unknown, was a potent mixture, a narcotic that she could easily become addicted to.
She became aware that the clicking had stopped. Opening her eyes she saw that Mark was standing there, just staring at her, camera held low, half forgotten, at his side. He looked serious. He looked hungry.
“Are you ok?” she asked. “Is this ok?” She made a slight gesture at herself, suddenly worried that she was no longer providing the images he wanted. Her only part repressed ache of self-doubt flooded to the surface, replacing her earlier confidence, the stark contrast and sudden feeling of loss making her want to weep.
“You’re magical,” he sighed. “I wanted to stop for a moment. Just take in the beauty.” The way he said it didn’t sound corny or tacky. His sincerity was captivating.
She turned her back to him, unable to stand the primal heat of his glare any longer. Her own breathing was out of control and she hugged herself. The whirlwind of contradictory emotions spun in her head. Her inner pleasure subsided further, and a feedback loop of guilt and doubt cast her even further away from the miasma of pleasure that had threatened to engulf her just moments before.
“I think that’s it. That’s all I have to give.” She choked the words out, on the edge of tears. “Please, don’t touch me,” she added as she heard light steps indicating Mark was moving towards her. “Please.”
He stopped. The only sound that broke the silence was their breathing, in perfect synchronization, heavy, aligned, a panting salsa of breath. Bending her knees, China reached down and retrieved her robe, quickly shrugging it back around her, her protective shroud of silk. When she turned back to Mark he was no longer looking at her, so she couldn’t read his expression. She studied his back for the first time properly since that day she had followed him back to the pub, when he had been totally unaware of her. His tight white t-shirt stretched over a perfect ‘V’, and complicated contours of heavy muscles which, even as he stood still, flexed and flowed in barely discernable ripples. His dark hair curled down to half cover his neck. His toned arms were flexing sub-consciously.
“I’m sorry,” he said. She instantly felt sorry for him, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Why? What are you sorry for?”
“That you feel you have nothing more to give.” He sounded broken.
“I only meant today,” she said, reaching out a hand and resting her fingers on his forearm.
He turned back to her and there were tears in his eyes, making them seem even more alive. A relieved smile emerged from the sadness bringing light into the dark. “I thought you meant…” but he left the words hanging.
“No. I meant that I couldn’t take any more right now. Today. It’s my first time posing like this. I’ve not done this for anyone else before. You’re lucky I went through with it at all.”
“I know I’m lucky,” he said with clear sincerity. He went to take her in his arms and a sudden emotional turmoil threw a panicked fear into the mix. She quickly moved over to her clothes and turned her back on him as she got dressed. It felt silly, as he had just seen her almost completely naked, but somehow the act of getting dressed again seemed more personal, a private ending, an after-the-credits moment that no one needed or was supposed to see.
When she turned back to him he was starting to pack his camera equipment away. She went over to him and said, “That was weird. I don’t know
She became aware that the clicking had stopped. Opening her eyes she saw that Mark was standing there, just staring at her, camera held low, half forgotten, at his side. He looked serious. He looked hungry.
“Are you ok?” she asked. “Is this ok?” She made a slight gesture at herself, suddenly worried that she was no longer providing the images he wanted. Her only part repressed ache of self-doubt flooded to the surface, replacing her earlier confidence, the stark contrast and sudden feeling of loss making her want to weep.
“You’re magical,” he sighed. “I wanted to stop for a moment. Just take in the beauty.” The way he said it didn’t sound corny or tacky. His sincerity was captivating.
She turned her back to him, unable to stand the primal heat of his glare any longer. Her own breathing was out of control and she hugged herself. The whirlwind of contradictory emotions spun in her head. Her inner pleasure subsided further, and a feedback loop of guilt and doubt cast her even further away from the miasma of pleasure that had threatened to engulf her just moments before.
“I think that’s it. That’s all I have to give.” She choked the words out, on the edge of tears. “Please, don’t touch me,” she added as she heard light steps indicating Mark was moving towards her. “Please.”
He stopped. The only sound that broke the silence was their breathing, in perfect synchronization, heavy, aligned, a panting salsa of breath. Bending her knees, China reached down and retrieved her robe, quickly shrugging it back around her, her protective shroud of silk. When she turned back to Mark he was no longer looking at her, so she couldn’t read his expression. She studied his back for the first time properly since that day she had followed him back to the pub, when he had been totally unaware of her. His tight white t-shirt stretched over a perfect ‘V’, and complicated contours of heavy muscles which, even as he stood still, flexed and flowed in barely discernable ripples. His dark hair curled down to half cover his neck. His toned arms were flexing sub-consciously.
“I’m sorry,” he said. She instantly felt sorry for him, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Why? What are you sorry for?”
“That you feel you have nothing more to give.” He sounded broken.
“I only meant today,” she said, reaching out a hand and resting her fingers on his forearm.
He turned back to her and there were tears in his eyes, making them seem even more alive. A relieved smile emerged from the sadness bringing light into the dark. “I thought you meant…” but he left the words hanging.
“No. I meant that I couldn’t take any more right now. Today. It’s my first time posing like this. I’ve not done this for anyone else before. You’re lucky I went through with it at all.”
“I know I’m lucky,” he said with clear sincerity. He went to take her in his arms and a sudden emotional turmoil threw a panicked fear into the mix. She quickly moved over to her clothes and turned her back on him as she got dressed. It felt silly, as he had just seen her almost completely naked, but somehow the act of getting dressed again seemed more personal, a private ending, an after-the-credits moment that no one needed or was supposed to see.
When she turned back to him he was starting to pack his camera equipment away. She went over to him and said, “That was weird. I don’t know
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