This is where we seemed to begin. It was the first photograph of Renny I took, that I felt was worth keeping. And I remember, so clearly...the sensation of looking through the lens, sensing the absolute joy with which Renny moved, as I pressed the shutter re- lease. How we reached that point -- at which she seemed to be ignoring me (though I knew she was not), and how I sensed the manner in which I moved, how it affected her...was its own event...its own particular memory -- texture and taste, vision and touch, aroma and arousal. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ being photographed ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` David moved about the room, his long, lean body setting the lights, getting them ready to recognize who I was within his photographs -- perhaps I would find something new, myself. He moved silently, adjusting, focusing, caressing my body with his eyes with intent to capture. I looked directly into the lens at first, because I knew his mind...his...sensuality was focused there. I could feel him planning what he wanted from my hair, my mouth, my breasts, my thighs. He would move to a light, come and touch me ever so lightly, warm fingers on my face, my shoulder, between my legs, moving them farther apart that he might better see the dark delta. This was foreplay. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the photographer's eyes ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was clear from the moment I began to set lights what I wanted from Renny. But...what was most important was, and as a good nude photographer, I understood this...the model must want the same. It was foreplay. I had my own desires...what I wanted visually from the session, but I could not force the concept on her. That was rape. That was pornography. I knew the difference. I kept eye contact with her, and not just because I had disover- ered that was an essential part of working with nudes, but because I simply couldn't keep my eyes away from her. She sensed this, immeditely, I could tell. She was, most certainly...a "camera virgin." She didn't want to be, any longer. "Renny...I have told you what beautiful breasts you have?" I smiled. She was a beautiful woman. And I could sense from her a desire to share with me. She looked down, only for a second. I realized it was not because she was avoiding my eyes. It was because she'd clearly heard what I'd said. She was anticipating unbuttoning... I was, at that point, while lights were still unfocused, and I was simply enjoying the thrill of her presence, carrying a virtually antique Canon SLR -- it had the advantage of taking very good photos at hight speed, in color. I was not playing with her, or manipulating...she knew, and I knew she knew that. I was stating a simple truth. She had beautiful breasts. And, I also knew, at that moment, she would enjoy undressing, and showing them to me. As I anticipated, a first natural reaction was a short laugh. It would have seemed embarassed to anyone but me, I believe. She was still dressed, at that point. I took a shot of her smile. And it was not falsely shy -- although, perhaps I need to clarify that. In a sense...she was engaging in foreplay with me. She was wearing a pair of cut-off jeans, and a sleeveless...what I thought of as "cowgirl" shirt, and nothing else, visually. I was fairly certain that she wasn't wearing anything beneath those. She never seemed comfortable in underclothes, and either wore none, or the very minimum beneath. And that thought led him to another train of images. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ to be continued ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a slow seduction, each pose unraveling another piece of clothing. I have had such attention before from David, when his hands, after he had moistened his fingertips with his tongue) would explore the contours of different parts of my body. He would unbutton, unsnap, unzip or slip off whatever material barrier kept him from contact with my flesh. A trail of clothes easily led from livingroom to bedroom. But even he, had not done this before.....stood back and saw what he had often buried his head within. "Renny...I have told you what beautiful breasts you have?" he had said to me. And for just a moment, I saw his hands upon them, placing the rosebud tips into his mouth, as he ran his tongue around them...feeling the sensations of his touch shudder through my body. Thats when I knew, I wanted anyone who looked at my photographs to see, to know by my face, by the way I stretched my arms, moved my legs, my head, and arched my back, that he was my lover. I wanted them to know that when I posed, I was posing not for him, but for me...the me that was immersed in the sensation of my lover's body. The "me" that moved to an internal awarness of his breath on my neck, his hands between my thighs...the abandoned "me" that reveled in the spasmodic trembles his tongue wrought from tasting what he called my "sweet nectar." I wanted my trembling captured. My celeration! Nude finally, sitting on a stool in front of a black backdrop, warmed by the disrobbing foreplay of earlier photo takes, I was ready. And I knew, David as a gifted photographer would understand...I was with him and I was not with him as he clicked the shutter. I had found myself and transcended the small photo studio to settle with great joy into my lover's arms. And I knew that as David began to understand where I was...that it would take all his professionalism to keep his hands on the camera...wanting to take me, but reserving the flood of passion I knew we could produce.