Chapter 5

Zoe

I liked Dee from the first minute. We chatted and looked at pics, I almost peed my pants when I saw the slogan on the mug of fresh coffee she handed me and she was obviously both a talented artist and a funny and intelligent woman. But as soon as Ann bent over to kiss me Dee was forgotten, at least until she made us giggle with "You two know each other then... ??"

A few minutes later we were out and on our way. The sun was shining, the trees colorful and the air unusually warm for the time of year, yet I wouldn't have noticed any of this if Ann hadn't remarked about it. That was probably why she was a photographer and I wasn't.

At least I wasn't professionally deformed enough to only see fractals but still could admire its beauty when Ann pointed out a particularly flamboyant maple. In my opinion, if you want to see beauty, you have to look at nature, not digital renderings of mathematical principles or enhanced photographs of anything. I just forgot too often to look at nature, usually didn't pay enough attention if I didn't remind myself to do it.

For a moment I thought of the Calanda in autumn, the mountain I saw nineteen years each time I looked out of the window back home. That was pure beauty: The orange-red deciduous forest and the deep green of the firs on the lower slopes, then the bright yellow of the larches, above them the brown meadows, sometimes a blinding white band of fresh snow beneath the clear azure sky.

"What's beauty for you?" I finally asked Ann as we reached the Cam. She was a photographer, she must have an idea about beauty.

Ann didn't hesitate for a second. "You."

It was probably a good thing that we had stopped so I could put my arm around her to steady myself while kissing her. I've heard the expression 'to swoon' before, now I knew what it meant. A wonderful but much too short eternity later we broke our kiss and went to the cafe.

"When in doubt, eat," had always been my grandmother's motto and I could relate to that. Apparently the opposite was also true. I wasn't in doubt and I didn't feel as if I needed to eat, proving that German proverb that says that people who are madly in love can live on "Luft und Liebe allein".

It seemed like a complete waste of time to pick at the salad, nibble on a slice of bread and sip a coke instead of kiss and kiss and kiss some more. I knew there was no need to hurry, we had much more than just the weekend that lay before us, yet I was in that state of someone freshly and madly in love and I wanted everything to happen now, with no time to waste and in a breathless hurry. Yes, it had taken me just one day to completely and utterly fall in love with Ann.

Then, finally, we were out again, strolling along the river, holding hands, every once in a while stopping to kiss and look into each other's eyes, the direction we took never talked about because there wasn't any doubt where we wanted to go, or rather, where we already wanted to be and what we wanted to do.

Later, after an hour of frantic lovemaking, the scent of our arousal, lust and passion heavy in her bedroom, limbs still intertwined but our most desperate need filled, at least for the moment, her fingers playing with my hair, I finally remembered to ask Ann what I had wanted to ask her all day long. I had thought about googling her name in the morning, while I had been on the comp, but somehow that had felt wrong and I had decided I'd wanted to know from herself, not from Google.

"What kind of photographer are you, Ann?"

Ann

A long time ago I was lied to. Not the 'little white lies' that society accepts, big important lies that hurt, the ones that leave you doubting yourself. I don't lie. In every friendship, every relationship since then I tell the truth or say nothing. More than that, I expect it from those close to me, something that has proved to much, to often, it does not making living with someone easier, but I can live with myself.

"What kind of photographer are you, Ann?" Such a simple question. Expected. One I hoped to answer later. Few people starting out in a relationship easily accept their new partner having regular sexual contact with others. It takes a special person to see beyond the social mores and accept such a revelation.

Our bodies were still entwined, skin sleek and glossy with perspiration, Zoe lay in my arms, her injured arm resting upon us both, her head upon my shoulder, damp auburn hair spread out across the pillow, a few wild strands sticking to her neck and shoulders, and to mine. Reaching up with my free hand I gently cupped her cheek, my thumb extended to brush her lips. Looking into those emerald eyes at such close range I had to consciously fight the almost primal urge to unleash every drop of passion I possessed upon her body.

"I specialise in fetish photography, mostly BDSM themes, I only use models who are into what is often referred to as 'the lifestyle'. I'm successful because nothing in my shoots is faked, nothing." As I spoke I could see something moving deep within her eyes, for once I had no idea of just what thoughts and emotions my words had triggered. I had no choice, I had to continue.

Perhaps Zoe saw something in my eyes, maybe in my voice, either way she lay still, her body not reacting, but far from unresponsive, slowly, her eyes bright, her lips closed around my thumb, a slow tender kiss. "I hope that when you are ready you'll let me show you exactly what I do in my studio, my dungeon..."

For a long time we just lay there, lost in each others eyes, Zoe's thoughts moving in emerald depths, my own thoughts drowned in her gaze. I could feel her heart beating, feel her warmth, feel my own heart beating harder, faster. Our bodies took over, our embrace tightening, lips moulding together, no more words, no more thoughts, just heat and passion, lust and desire, deeper, more intense, pulses racing, simmering touches boiling over until we writhed and moaned and melted into one.

Much later as we lay spend in each others arms, eyes still locked on one another. There would be time to talk, questions to ask, answers to give, but not now, now we were lost in each other.

Zoe

"I specialise in fetish photography, mostly BDSM themes, I only use models who are into what is often referred to as 'the lifestyle'. I'm successful because nothing in my shoots is faked, nothing."

Never ask a question if you don't want to hear the answer, or if you're not yet ready to hear it. Of course I knew that rule and usually I stick to it. Not that there were or had been lots of moments I should have stuck to it. But it seemed that on the very few occasions I really should have remembered it, I didn't.

Just like now. But to be honest, when I had asked I had thought of marriage photographers, or the one who took my portrait for the passport, or a photographer I had met once while hiking and camping out in the Alps who specialized in pictures for postcards. The last thing I had expected when I had asked what I took to be a completely innocent question was an answer I couldn't cope with. At least I couldn't cope with it right now.

I wasn't shocked, that wasn't my problem. Although I wouldn't consider myself very open minded when it comes to sex I'm still not completely yesterday or inexperienced. I've seen a few pics on the web. I have read about and heard stuff. But apart from that one time with Karin and the ropes I had never tried out anything. And that had been entirely fooling around. Well, OK, almost entirely.

Otherwise it had never interested me very much. I hadn't even yielded to Eric's pleas and requests to shave my pubes. Although I had to admit that now since I wasn't the only one anymore who got to see me naked it would probably be a good time to get the weed whacker out and at least trim the bush back to decent proportions.

No, I wasn't shocked. I'm pretty liberal and as long as all the involved parties and persons are OK with what they're doing I couldn't care less what people do. I wasn't shocked about Ann being with other people in more or less sexual situations either. Well, actually I was a bit bothered by that thought.

What bothered me the most was that maybe I wouldn't like her pics. Like the ones I had seen online. They hadn't appealed at all to me. They didn't show what in my opinion they should have been showing: Joy. Fun. And, especially, love. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I had the wrong idea about bondage and all that and it wasn't about joy and fun and love. I didn't know. All I knew was that for me those things would have to be done out of love for each other and nothing else. And that should be visible in the pics. I couldn't remember noticing that in the ones I had seen.