Okay, so it was Sunday afternoon before I surfaced with enough energy to make any contribution to the world around me but, I was getting that feeling. As I sat at my computer, flicking through the photo’s I shot the previous night, I could almost feel that ache, that buzz, that feeling like electricity crawling across my skin and my heart pounding. That unexplainable sensation I used to get when I knew I had an amazing shot. It was there, somewhere, among all the candid snaps I took at the Wrecker’s Ball.
In truth, that was why I went. I hadn’t produced anything I could call ‘art’ in years. I knew it, the critics knew it and, if we’d stayed in New York, living off my reputation, there was no doubt it was only a matter of time before the term ‘washed up’ started being thrown around. I needed something to stimulate my creative juices. I needed a muse.
It was good to find my old acquaintance Patrick taking the pictures at the party. I figured he’d be there, it was always his scene. Talking him into loaning me a camera and taking some forbidden pictures may, I thought, lead me to something interesting and unusual. When that didn’t work, it was amazing how easy it was to convince that red-head, Sonya, that fucking me while I took photographs would give them the edge they needed to make them special. I wasn’t lying to her, I meant it. I wanted to see if the sexual energy would translate into the pictures and she was only too happy to help.
I clicked through all the uneventful images, until I saw it. The girl in the nurse’s outfit. She was beautiful, yes, with a hot body crammed into that sexy costume, but that wasn’t what was drawing me to her. There must have been another hundred girls in the building that could fit that description.
No, it was the look on her face. The world going on behind her eyes. She looked lost, like she didn’t belong. Like she was seeing another, alien world for the first time and questioning it with the same adorable naivety that I like to think the human race would use if we ever met beings from another world, trying to get them to explain their own existence in terms we could understand. That innocence, that uncorrupted purity, it lit her with analmost angelic glow and it may have been the most enchanting sight I’d ever seen in my life.
Juxtaposed with the slutty clothes and the base decadence surrounding her, it made for an amazing photograph. The wild setting didn’t even show in the picture, it was just reflected in her. I wanted her. I wanted her incredibly. I wanted to take more pictures of her, to magnify that charming innocence so the world could appreciate how unbearably attractive it was. I wanted to make love to her. Not to corrupt her, but because I felt that the incomparable pleasure we could bring each other could only make that pure light shine even brighter. I could feel my cock growing as I looked at the picture.
“And who’s that?” came Helena’s voice from behind me. She gave me a start, so lost in the face of the blonde nurse was I. “She’s pretty. I see you went to the party, after all.”
I turned in my office chair to face her. She was dressed in her chic pantsuit with minimal jewelry, what she always liked to wear when she flew, just as she’d been when she left. “I didn’t expect you back until tonight,” I told her. “Loverboy didn’t measure up, after all?”
“It didn’t work out as I planned, no,” she offered me a reticent smile. “The snow was amazing, though.”
“Well, I’m glad about that.”
“And I finally got the confirmation from the college. They want me to present my series of lectures on fashion history, after all.”
“Cool,” I remarked, “so we’ll members of the same faculty?”
“Indeed. But don’t think,” Helena continued, walking over to my chair with her eyes on the screen, “that I don’t notice you trying to change the subject. Who is she?”
I swiveled back to the monitor. Helena perched on the arm of my swivel chair and slid decorously into my lap. “In truth,” I said, “I’ve no idea. It was just a random snapshot. It is a beautiful picture, though, isn’t it?”
“I think all your pictures are beautiful,” she quipped, planting a little kiss on the side of my forehead. “She’s clearly a tourist. Do you want to sleep with her?”
I swear, she could always tell when I was thinking something like that. “I guess, but it’s not just that. This is possibly the most moving photograph I’ve taken in nearly ten years, and it was by accident. Imagine what I could take if I found her and shot her properly.”
“If you say so, darling,” she said, sliding off my lap and standing back up. “She does have great tits though.” She turned and headed out of my office. “Remember; no falling in love with her. Shoot her, shoot all over her if you like, but you belong to me.”
“How could I forget,” I responded without turning around. “I love you, too.”
“I’m going to shower the aircraft off me,” she announced. “I’ll tell you now that this weekend has left me more than a little frustrated. It would be great if you had any idea what might help me out?”
I chuckled as she stalked off down the corridor, and went back to trying to calculate exactly what made the picture of this girl so special, so I could replicate it later. I heard the shower running and, even though I’d had a very tiring and entirely satisfying night previously, I felt it was the least I could do to go and perform my husband’s duties.