A Story: Lenses & Lust

[abcwater]

It was an early Saturday morning, the kind where the city is still rubbing sleep from its eyes. The air had a crispness to it, carrying the promise of new beginnings. I met up with my manager, who also served as my assistant, at a coffeeshop near our destination. Over coffee that was too hot to sip, our conversation was light, filled with nervous anticipation for the day's photo shoot.

 

We walked together to the apartment where Darius, a self-taught photographer with quite an impressive portfolio, lived. The building was nondescript from the outside, its facade blending into the urban landscape, but the thought of what awaited inside sent a thrill of excitement through me, making my pulse quicken.

 

As we approached the void deck of the building, my assistant, ever efficient, checked his phone. "All clear," he confirmed with a nod after a moment, his voice barely concealing his own excitement. We made our way to the elevator, the quiet hum of its operation doing little to calm the nervous energy buzzing between us.

 

The photographer, Darius, did not live alone, so timing was crucial for our session. Fortunately, his housemate had already left for the day, leaving the space entirely to us. As we stood before Darius's apartment door, we could hear the soft murmur of conversation from inside — most likely Darius preparing for the day or perhaps talking to himself, as artists often do when in the throes of creative setup.

 

With a deep breath, my assistant knocked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Darius, his presence immediately filling the space with an aura of creative energy. "Welcome," he greeted us with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with the excitement of the day's work ahead.

 

The conversation that had been behind the door was revealed to be Darius setting up the final touches with Blaze, the other model for the shoot, who was already there, his presence adding another layer of anticipation to the morning's already charged atmosphere.

[abcwater]

Blaze, the other model, greeted us with a warmth that was both inviting and enigmatic. His presence was undeniably commanding; tall, muscular, his physique filling the room with a palpable presence, and his smile held a hint of secrets, like he was privy to some untold story just by being there. It was clear he was no stranger to Darius's artistic ventures, his familiarity with the space evident in how he moved with ease.

 

Introductions were brief, the air crackling with an electric energy as we shook hands. His grip was firm, his touch sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "I'm Blaze," he said, his voice deep and smooth, his eyes scanning over me with an appraising gaze that made my heart skip a beat.

 

That evening at my place was meant to be a simple meet-up, a casual prelude to our upcoming shoot. But with Blaze, nothing ever felt quite so straightforward. The air between us was electric, charged with a playful tension that seemed to grow the more we talked.

 

As the night wore on, conversation naturally drifted towards the shoot. "Let's make it unforgettable," Blaze suggested, his eyes gleaming with an idea. It was then I invited him to see the rest of the place, a move that felt natural yet loaded with potential.

 

We ended up in my bedroom, a space that felt more intimate than the rest of the apartment. The lights were low, casting soft shadows across the room, turning it into a stage of its own. Blaze, ever the performer, took in the setting with a knowing smile.

 

"Let's see how these sheets feel," he quipped, running a hand over the bedspread. What started as playful quickly evolved into something more profound. The bed became our playground, a place where boundaries blurred in the name of what could be described as artistic exploration.

 

Blaze sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing the fabric as if it were a canvas. "Imagine this in the shoot," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate with the quiet of the room. I joined him, the bed dipping slightly under my weight, our proximity sparking an unspoken agreement to step beyond mere rehearsal.