This Is Some Of My Old Amateur Nude Photography
This story takes place several years ago.
Staring up at the dark ceiling and wearing only boxer shorts the young man thought, the woman I love is abandoning me. The young woman this man loved slept next to him, her breathing deep and rhythmic in the bedroom of the off-campus apartment in Pittsburgh the two had shared together more than three years now. The man had always known this day might come.
All through their undergraduate days he had worried about the possibility and now that day was here and she was leaving in a few hours to catch a plane and there was nothing he could do about it. How could he blame her when he had accepted a fellowship and committed to staying and teaching while she had been offered a free ride for three years on the west coast? It was a sweet deal for her and you didn’t turn down a free education with stipend from one of the best graduate programs in the nation. But a three year separation could be fatal to even the strongest relationship and he and she had had their ups and downs like any other young couple. He just didn’t want to chance losing her. He didn’t want her to go.
After living together nearly two years, he had asked her to pose nude for him and was surprised when she said yes. He thought it would be fun to take photos of his girlfriend nude. He bought four reflectors, four stands, several 250 watt bulbs and six disposable cameras with 24 shots each of black and white film. He wanted the shots to look artsy. He used only a couple of props and the backdrop of each shot was all white.
When the 8 x 12 prints came back he first mounted the 40 best ones in an expensive, black leather covered photo album with pearl-white pages and then later that day the two of them sat down together side by side at the kitchen table, sipping chilled wine with the local classical music station on the radio, and they went through the album, slowly. The photos had a glossy finish and looked like pin-ups from the 1950s. Several were very good. He asked her why she had gone through with it and she told him she had wanted to do it for some time but had to find someone she trusted.
He felt her start in her sleep, and then she caught her breath.
“No, don’t,” she called out. “Please don’t.”
“Lisa?”
“Oh,” she said. “What a lousy dream,” she said. “What a lousy, lousy dream.”
He reached up and snapped on his reading lamp.
She said, “I dreamt the fucking plane crashed.” She was on her back and her eyes were shut and the palm of her right hand was on her forehead.
He didn’t say anything.
“I mean you and I were walking on this beach, this beautiful white-sandy beach holding hands. Just the two of us.” Her hand left her forehead and rested on her waist. She wore an under shirt and panties. The summer night was pleasant enough so there was no need for covers. Now she stared at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Then this old couple came walking toward us. At first I thought I knew them, but I didn’t. Then all these people on this plane, strangers, men, women and children all screaming and crying because the plane was going to crash. I could feel the plane falling. I could feel it dropping out of the sky.” She looked at him. She turned to him and he held her. He felt the warmth of her breath on his chest. “It was so real,” she said. “It was awful. I don’t like flying anyway.”
He held her close. He knew he had to say something. He had to say something and he knew how important the words would be. She trusted him.
“Well,” he said, “there’s always Amtrak.”
“The west coast by train?”
“Very scenic.”
“No,” she said. “That’d take forever and it’s just a silly dream, anyway.”
He kissed her hair and then reached up and snapped off the light.
The End
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Behind the scenes: Most of my stories are pretty well grounded in reality. Years ago I was a student and then a member of the Pittsburgh Filmmakers where I studied and made several short Super 8 films. I had access to equipment and the facilities. It was during this period that I asked several young women to pose nude for me so I could take their pictures and start building a portfolio. In the back of my mind I was thinking maybe I’d be able to make a living at it. It turned out to be a fantasy; but I did get a short story out of it.
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Here’s A Site That Pays You Money To Write
The Topless Dancer (A Short Story)
Girls Gone Wild (A Short Story)
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Guy Hogan
Editor/Publisher
Tainted Love (A Short Story) www.authspot.com/Short-Stories/Tainted-Love.683751
Sex, Booze and a Short Memory (A Short Story) www.authspot.com/Short-Stories/Sex-Booze-and-a-Short-Memory.646921
