Let Me Show You My Work

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His first photography showing had been open for a couple of days without a single patron coming to see it; despite all the generous advertising the gallery owner had given him and his work.

“Don’t be disappointed,” he said under his breath “We haven’t even had the grand opening.” Trying to take comfort in the Gallery manager’s words that he heard again and again in his head. ‘Few show up until the show’s opening, I think it’s the free food and booze that attract them.’

He wouldn’t have to wait long the opening was scheduled for the following evening. Until then he would satisfy himself by surveying his work, making sure each print was in the exact location to show to its best advantage. He really wanted to make an impression and a statement.

He had always loved this particular gallery and was thrilled when the owner approached him to show his work. He loved what he did, he was never sure if anyone else would. He loved the gallery not so much for the work it showed, although they were all good, but for the way it was laid out. All its little secluded ‘rooms’ made sectioning his photos into categories easier and more cohesive he thought. He particularly loved the nudes section he had tucked away near the back, hoping it would be private enough for the patrons to truly enjoy the prints without prying eyes.

That is what disappointed him the most so far – no one had ‘enjoyed’ that section as he thought they should. Standing in the nudes room remembering the days and models of the prints he had chosen to display, he heard the familiar tinkle of the bell from the front door.

Reluctantly leaving his favourite section he strolled out to the front to meet whoever had come through the door. To his surprise, he met an attractive woman he estimated to be around 25.

“Hello, I’m Van Armstrong, the artist of this showing,” He said stretching his hand to introduce himself. “How are you today?”

Her smile lit up the gallery with its radiance. “I’m fine thank you, and yourself?” she replied. Slowly she began to move through his work, stopping briefly at every frame to admire the print, bending forward slightly to read the gallery tag describing the photo.

“I’m great, you are the first person to come in and see my work.” He couldn’t help admire the way her floral sundress hugged her backside when she bent forward, or the glimpses of her long tanned legs as she moved. “If there is anything you are interested in or have questions about please feel free to ask.”

“Thank you, I will.” Again her smile dazzled him and her dancing green eyes captured his fantasies.

Watching her from a bench at the far end of the largest room, he wondered if she were a dancer the way she moved was grace in motion. The little dress she wore barely moved but hugged her slender Şanlıurfa Escort body like a lover in the throes of passion. He had to look away, each move sent a familiar tingle to his loins. His member stirred slightly between his thighs with every glance.

Definitely a drawback to the long hours he had been keeping trying to get this show ready. He had taken a lot of pictures and had some amazing shots, but his usually busy social life had suffered. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t see her approach, he didn’t see her until she had settled beside him on the bench.

“You do beautiful work,” she said absently fingering the hem of her dress. “I was wondering, have you always been a photographer and how did you get so good?”

Watching her hand in such an intimate location sent a rush of desire though him he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. This was his type of woman, the woman in all his fantasies. Golden hair and green eyes with a childlike beauty he could capture on film. “That smile could light a room from a picture,” he thought wistfully, trying to stay focused on the questions she’d asked.

“I’ve been taking pictures since I was in my teens; a friend talked me into taking pictures for the high school yearbook. I did it to be closer to her.” He chuckled at the memory of his high school sweetheart. “As for getting good at it, years of practice I guess. I never go anywhere without my camera. There are hundreds of rolls represented in these few on display.” It was hard for him to stop talking when someone got him started on his passions.

“I have tried to be a photographer myself, but don’t seem to have the eye. I thought maybe it was something you were born with.” Her shy sideways glance sent his heart skittering through his chest, setting his manhood on fire.

“There is more, would you like to see?” he knew he needed to stand, he hoped standing would camouflage the hard bulge in the front of his thin trousers.

“Yes, please,” the emphasis on the word ‘please’ was so inviting, he had a hard time staying focused on what he was supposed to be doing, showing an interested viewer his work. That was all.

“Why did this beautiful woman have such an effect on his privates?” He followed her into the secluded section of the gallery, watching the gentle sway of her hips. He could feel the saliva in his mouth building, he wanted to taste her, he wanted to touch her. He could feel the ever hardening erection in his pants beg for its release.

The ‘room’ with the nude selections was seductively lit, soft almost candlelight auras clung around each display. Again she slowly moved from selection to selection admiring the light and shadows. He followed a respectful distance behind her trying not to interfere with her thoughts. When her delicate Şanlıurfa Escort Bayan hand absently brushed across her breast and nipple, he knew she was as aroused as he was. The nipple of the teased breast pushed tautly against the thin fabric of her dress. It was then he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. The soft mounds standing perkily without any support.

When she stopped at the last picture on display in the room, the tiny gasp that escaped her lips was audible, she read aloud “self portrait”. Turning to him she asked “how do you do that?”

“What? Take a picture of myself, camera timer – the hardest part is getting the right angle.”

She turned back to the self portrait; it was a finely lit photograph of a man’s legs and torso sitting casually on the floor, like he were sitting talking amongst friends, except without covering. “This is wonderful.” She said again absently brushing her finger tips across her skin to her hard nipple.

“Can I take your picture?” He asked on a whim.

“Mine?” she sounded shocked that anyone would want her picture, but at the same time delighted that someone ‘wanted’ to take her picture.

“Yes, you are beautiful. Let me go get my camera.”

He heard a whispered ‘thank you’ as he rounded the corner and found her seated demurely on the bench in the center of the room when he returned.

“Perfect,” he said “don’t move.” the focus he put on his camera temporarily took his mind off the hardness between his thighs, its stiffness subsiding somewhat. He clicked off a couple of shots, and then sat down beside her.

“Can I position you?” he asked before he touched her.

“Anything you want?” she said quietly.

“Can you turn sideways and put one foot up here?” he said patting the bench where he’d been sitting. She did as he asked her thin dress riding high on her thigh and gracefully falling between her legs. “Now can you lean forward and rest your elbow on your knee?” Walking around to other side of the bench, he looked at his creation. “Yes,” his words almost seductive. “Lean a little closer, please.” She did everything he asked. “Wait,” he said stepping in and sitting next to her bent leg. “May I?” he asked before reaching out to push a strand of hair away from her lips.

The light touch sent sensation ricocheting though him with such intensity that his softening erection was back in full stance. It was like he had been struck by lightning. Looking at her to see if she felt the same jolt, he thought she must have, given the crimson that was rising in her cheeks. Without thinking he threaded his hand into her hair and pulled her too him, his lips seeking their target and landing on her open mouth. He kissed her with the intensity that left them both breathless. Breaking Escort Şanlıurfa the connection he moved away only to find her lips seeking his. Pulling her into his embrace, their lips met again. The kiss deepened their tongues danced in the embers of their passion licking and sucking hungrily at each other’s mouths.

Moving to straddle the bench, he pulled her into his lap. Her legs wrapping gracefully around his still slender hips, her damp pussy only inches from his hard throbbing member. Entwining her arms around his neck, he clutched her tiny tight ass and pulled her into contact with his cock, they could feel each other’s desire through the thin material of his pants and her thong.

Her moan told him she could feel his hardness pressing against her, her head dropped back as his lips travelled across her check stopping briefly at her ear, before returning to their voyage down her throat pressing light nibbles on her exposed collarbone.

Moving one hand up her back, while the other remained caressing the firm skin of her ass; he could feel her quiver with excitement. He could smell her juices seeping from her womanhood. He could feel the heat penetrating his clothes.

Slipping his fingers inside her dainty underwear, he pressed them against her delicate lips; he could feel her excitement building, his own beyond control. Unaware of her movement, he felt her unbutton his trousers and slowly lower the zipper. He knew that simple action would unleash his cock to the space between them. Feeling her hand wrap tightly around his hard shaft all he wanted was to thrust it within her.

Pushing her thong aside he insistently pressed a finger inside her, letting the juices run into the palm of his hand. Hoping to push her closer to the edge he pressed the heel of his hand against her erect clit. The touch sent her into moans of delight and desire. Climbing higher on his lap he felt her guide his cock into her, resting momentarily before impaling herself yet again on his thick hard shaft.

Moving together, each thrust adding heat to the battle between their bodies, they exploded together, leaving them breathless and weak, still holding on to each other for strength and support. Panting heavily from the exertion, they each tried to steady their breathing, he could feel her hot breath against his shirt where she had laid her head.

The front door bells tinkled sharply from the front of the gallery. Reluctantly releasing her, he stood to adjust himself and his clothing.

“I’ll be right with you,” he called out to the patron on the other side of the partition.

“No hurry,” replied a voice.

Returning to the beautiful woman sitting on the bench, he touched her face one more time before kissing her gently, then disappearing from the enclosure.

Minutes later, as he was talking with the new patron, she appeared at his side. “When you are ready to sell your work, I would like # 355.” Turning quickly she vanished out the door, setting the bells to tinkling in her wake.

He couldn’t help smiling to himself,
55 was his self portrait.

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