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From: cmndr@nym.alias.net (Commander Jameson)
Subject: {ASS} RP from Piper's Top 12: "The Photograph" by JYM (no sex, sad)
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Subject: The Photograph - F/F
From: ABC@XYZ.COM (JYM)
Date: 1996/09/06
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
--------
Comments to <GJ@SPRYNET.COM>
The Photograph
She was about seven months pregnant when we met in the rose garden
at the public park near my studio. I was shooting pictures of some of
the prize roses when I noticed her watching me. I nodded and smiled
and that encouraged her to come over. She introduced herself, said
her name was Susan. My surprise must have shown because she paused
and said, "What? Is something wrong?"
I shook my head and grinned. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just
surprised because my name is Susan too."
She cocked her head to one side, a mannerism that had often
irritated me in the past but one that I found strangely erotic when
she did it. Maybe it was her long, graceful neck. Or just the fact
that she was so young, so pretty, and so radiant. I was only 29 at
the time, but she made me feel old.
I glanced at her ring finger. No ring. "How old are you?"
She smiled shyly. "Seventeen..... next month."
I smiled and tried not to show my dismay. Only 16 and almost a
mother. With no husband. On impulse I snapped a picture of her. I
wanted to remember her.
"Could I ask you a favor?" She smiled that slow, sweet smile.
I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."
"I'd like to have a picture of me as I look now."
"I'll send you a copy of the shot I just took if you give me your
address."
She shook her head and blushed. "No, please, you don't understand.
I want a nude shot. I want to remember how I look now. And show my
baby someday."
I grinned. "Sure, I can shoot one now if you want to walk over to
my place. It's just a couple of blocks."
She agreed and we walked to my house, chatting companionably. I
learned that she was a high school junior, enrolled in a special
program for pregnant teens, and planned to go on to college to study
medicine.
"What about the baby? Who will take care of the baby while you're
in school?"
Her smile disappeared for a moment. "I'm not sure, I'm hoping my
mom will help."
When we arrived at my house I offered her a glass of water or juice
and poured her a glass of Apple Juice which she sipped while I moved
some lights around in the room I use as a studio. When I was ready, I
took a shot with a Polaroid back on my Nikon, just to test the
lighting setup. It was okay, so I set up a folding screen around a
comfortable chair and left her to slip her clothes off.
When she came out, smiling shyly, I stared at her, stunned by the
sheer physical beauty of her body. Of course her belly was out to
here, but her body was still stunning and her face was absolutely
radiant. I shot a roll of pictures as she assumed a variety of simple
poses. Then she got dressed and left. She said she'd come back the
following day to look at the results. She didn't want to give me her
name or address and I didn't push.
After she was gone I developed the film and printed a contact
sheet. Later, when it had dried, I went over it with a magnifier and
picked out three of the best shots for enlargement. Then I went back
into the darkroom and printed them. One, a 3/4 profile, was
absolutely wonderful. One of my all-time best and I was eager to show
it to her when she returned.
She didn't show up the next day and I wondered but I wasn't
surprised. Something might have come up or she might have had second
thoughts. That night, while having supper, I turned the TV on to
listen to the weather report. A news report about a suicide caught my
attention. The reporter was talking about a body the police had found
in the park. A young woman, identity withheld, had been found in the
park. Apparently she'd hanged herself. Police were investigating. A
short description of the dead woman followed. A note had been found.
It was brief: 'Mom won't help me....' The police were discribed as
being puzzled by the note.
I glanced over at the counter where I'd propped up the best of the
shots I'd taken. I knew that Susan would never see it. I sat there
and cried for a long time. Then I took the picture out and had it
framed at one of those instant framing shops. It hangs on the wall of
my studio and is much admired by everyone who sees it. When they ask
about the model I just shrug and say, "Oh, she was a friend." And
then, later, I sit and cry for her. I'll always cry for her. I fell
in love with another Susan, but it was too late to save her.
THE END.
-- CJ
I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter.
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