You look good in shorts.
I fire off a message telling you so.
You reply almost immediately.
I ignore you.
It’s a real struggle today to keep my wandering mind focused and my restless butt clamped onto my writing chair.
On the screen a story is taking shape. It’s about a photographer in Las Vegas who takes portraits with a HasselbladX1D.
I know nothing about cameras. I just like the name.
“No nudes, no dudes, just glamour for portfolios.”
That’s what he tells people.
In around five hundred words he will discover a body in an hotel room. Though I don’t know the how or the why just yet.
My husband stands behind me. He rubs my shoulders. I know he is looking down my blouse.
“I have to leave for work now baby.” He kisses the top of my head.
As the car moves off down the drive I reply to your message:
Two o’clock @ The Cavendish is fine. Bring your long lens.
I search for the hotel on the internet. The rooms look bland and corporate but it’s only a three minute walk from the tube station.
I decide to call my Vegas guy, Ryan. He is in a sports bar on North Main Street talking to a stranger:
“Sure sir, I’d be pleased to take some pictures of your wife for a little birthday portfolio. Which hotel are you staying at?”
I don’t know what the weather is doing in Vegas but west London is cold with a light drizzle.
The hotel has a bar like at an airport. Our waiter looks cute in his white shirt and red waistcoat. We touch glasses and taste the tang of gin.
“It’s good to meet you at last, Candy.”
It’s as good a name as any. I always did have a sweet tooth.
Your hand on my knee is large with tufts of black hair on the knuckles. I recognise the expensive watch round your equally hirsuite wrist. It’s in all the pictures.
“I’m so glad.” Then a pause. “So long as you remember that what happens in Hounslow, stays in Hounslow.”
You lean in close to my ear. “I’m rock hard already.”
I indicate the camera bag next to your chair. “Is that a Hasselblad?”
You look surprised.
“Shall we get clicking?” I say.
I leave the bathroom in my black lace cat suit and twirl around to give you the full effect.
“Wow Candy! It’s just like in the pictures.”
You are down to your shorts.
“Yeah, isn’t it just, dear.” My hand rests briefly on your huge bulge.
Then I arrange myself on all fours for a cleavage shot.
Then bend over a chair to display my ass.
Then spread my legs wide on the bed.
“Can you get the puppies out?”
Your voice interrupts my thoughts. In Vegas, Ryan is trying to explain to the cops how he came to be in an hotel room with a dead woman.
“Of course,baby.”
You get on the bed next to me for a close up. I gather my size J breasts up to reach my face. The bulbous head of your cock pokes out from the top of your shorts.
“Are we done now?”
I reach out and pull them down.
*
It’s nearly dark when we leave the hotel but the rain has stopped. You walk me to the tube station.
“Oh, by the way, it’s a CanonM50.”
“What is?” I pull out my Oyster Card.
“My camera. It’s the best budget buy on the market for portraits.”
You walk away to find your car.
I wish you a safe journey back to reality.
