Copyright 2013 Theo Fenraven
This contains material meant only for adults.
After we’d dried off, drank water, and eaten power bars, we gathered up my stuff and I led him off into the woods, following a trail I knew well. It wound around the far edge of the lake, across the pasture where the horses were kept—they raced to the other side, away from us, when we appeared—and through the trees until we came to a meadow. The grass was high and dotted with wildflowers.
He stopped at the edge and looked at the sweep of color. “Wow. Beautiful place.” Kaz raced out from behind us and plunged into the long grass, bouncing above it in huge leaps as he ran around. We laughed.
I set up the tripod, got the music going, and asked Will to walk around. “Go out there, explore, just move.”
He walked away from me, and my heart tightened at the sight. Great ass, and above that, a smooth, wonderful line from shoulder to hip. He was at the peak of his physical beauty, and I was glad he’d decided to have these photos done, because it never lasted. Body perfection was temporary and ephemeral, no matter how hard you worked out or how much plastic surgery you had. Gravity got us all in the end, and that attractive youthful glow of vitality and optimum health vanished the minute your back was turned. I was hanging on to the last of mine by my fingernails.
I focused the camera and took pictures as he walked to the center of the meadow. The grass was very high there, coming up to his thighs, and as he stopped, turned sideways to me, and bowed his head to look at the phlox around him, clouds scudded over the sun to create a shifting pattern of light and shadow on his tall figure. I snapped away like mad, capturing every moment of it.
I felt regret that no one would see these pictures. He was gorgeous, and for a moment, I wanted everyone to be able to see that. With a sigh, I put the idea out of my head.
He turned to look at me, and I zoomed in on his face, taking several pictures as the sun lit up the brown and gold in his eyes. He knew how to pose, that was for sure—knew how to hold his body, where to place his arms, how to bend his legs, how to turn his head to reveal the best angles. Someone had taught him well.
After half an hour at that location, I took him somewhere else. Hidden deep in the woods, almost in the middle of the property, was a small pool of water, at one end of which was a twenty-foot high waterfall. It stemmed from a small river that ran through most of the property, and here, it ran over a rocky bluff to the pond below. This was the lowest point on the property, and as we descended along the trail, the temperature dropped noticeably, making us shiver. It wasn’t until we broke into the open, into the sun, that we warmed up again.
“You’ve got your own little eco-system going here,” he commented, jumping to the flat top of a large rock at the edge of the water.
“Don’t dive,” I warned. “It’s very shallow at this spot. In bad years, this pond almost dries up completely.” He sat down and swung his legs in the water.
“Stay there! Let me get the camera set up.”
He looked at me and laughed, white teeth flashing in the light. Kaz walked around, sniffing, his tail pluming.
I got ready in a hurry, about six feet from him, at an angle that let me capture his profile. I wanted to get the waterfall behind him. Even at rest, he was posing, and I tried to figure out a way to get him in a totally relaxed state. An idea came to me. I walked to the tree line, picked up a suitable branch, and handed it to him. “Throw this for Kaz.”
That did it. Playing catch with his dog, he seemed to forget I was there behind a camera. He laughed and moved and at one point, fell into the water on top of Kaz. When I captured singular moments digitally, I felt it in my gut. I was feeling it like crazy. These shots were going to be fantastic.
After a while, he climbed out of the pool and sat on the flat rock, patting a space beside him. “Join me.”
I turned off the camera and sat, dangling my feet over the edge, moving them languidly back and forth in the water as I leaned against him. A dragonfly swooped past, and I watched it dart around.
“Have you done this with other clients?” he asked, his voice serious.
“Never,” I answered immediately. “It’s always been a rule I don’t get involved with anyone I photograph.” I looked at him. “When you started touching yourself in the barn… gawd, I couldn’t resist you. Why did you do that, anyway?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really know. The sun felt good on my skin, you were naked and taking pictures, watching me through the camera, the hay smelled great… I don’t know. I felt like doing it, and somehow, I didn’t think you’d mind.”
I snorted. “I didn’t. You were extremely hot, and I was very aroused.” His foot brushed mine in the water. “Ever see Brigadoon?”
“The Gene Kelly movie?” he asked, amused by the unexpected change of subject. “Yeah, a long time ago.”
“A village in the Scottish highlands sleeps in the mist, only reappearing in our world once every hundred years. Gene and a buddy are stumbling around and discover it during that one day. He meets Cyd Charisse and falls in love, they dance and sing, and it’s all really weird, but the thing is, if anyone from the village leaves, the enchantment is broken and Brigadoon vanishes forever.”
He thought about that for a while, and then his hand found mine, holding it loosely. “So I’m Brigadoon, and you’re Gene Kelly?”
I nodded. “Time to return to the mist.”
He gave me a look. “There was a happy ending, as I recall. Gene and Cyd got together because of the miracle of love.”
I splashed the water with my foot. “I don’t believe in miracles.”