The Photo Op - Day Two

Note to reader:

As the title implies, this is the second half of a story I submitted for the Valentine's Day 2025 contest. That story did very well (although it didn't place) and I received several requests for the rest of the story. Since I already had a good idea how the weekend went with Roy and Trudy it was a joy to write.

If you haven't read "The Photo Op" please slide over and check that out first.

If, for some odd reason, you don't like that one you should ignore Day 2. But I have a feeling you'll be back....

Thanks for reading!

The Photo Op - Day Two

It takes forever but I'm finally able to get the battery and memory card changed in the camera and get last night's files started dumping to my notebook computer. I took about a million photos yesterday so the hard drive will be full after this transfer. I also put the spent battery on the charger. I have no idea what will happen today, but if it's anything like yesterday, the best Valentine's Day ever, there's no way I'm going to miss a thing.

I step back into the bathroom and just enjoy the view. The lovely Trudy is lounging in the massive tub, which is almost overflowing with thick suds and bubbles. Only her beautiful face is visible above the surface. Her eyes are closed and there is a sweet, contented smile on her sexy, red lips.

I snap a couple of shots and she opens her eyes slowly, without moving. Her deep, emerald eyes sparkle in the bright lighting and her smile widens.

"Is this working for you, love?" she asks playfully, glancing down at the obvious swelling in my underpants.

"Oh, yeah," I answer. "But the lighting in here is too bright. Do you mind if I make some adjustments?"

She closes her eyes slowly and sinks further into the hot water. "You do you..."

I almost tell her that I'd rather do her, but instead I say, "I'll be right back."

I head out to the living room and collect the wireless lights and reflectors. There are a few candles in glass jars on the kitchen counter so I light them and bring everything to the bathroom. I put the candles on the edge of the tub and set the lights to a warm, amber color. I bounce the light off the reflectors to fill the room with a soft, diffuse glow and turn off the bathroom lights.

The room is instantly transformed from a luxury hotel bathroom to an exotic, enchanting, romantic bathhouse, complete with an astonishingly alluring bathing beauty.

I snap dozens of shots of Trudy in a myriad of poses in the tub. With her face resting on her hands peering at me over the edge. Sitting up on her knees, from the front and from behind, with suds slowly sliding down her smooth, white skin, revealing her perky breasts to the hungry camera lens. I get some great shots of her cute, soapy feet, her red toenails sparkling.

The best pose, though, has Trudy on her hands and knees with her luscious, heart-shaped ass partially covered in bubbles as she looks at me, wantonly, over her shoulder. She has completely mastered the art of seductive modeling and makes love to the camera with every glance.

"You know, Roy," she says in the low voice of a temptress. "There's room for two in here."

I'm not passing up this chance. I put the camera down on the counter, drop my skivvies and slide into the hot, soapy water. I don't remember the last time I was in a bathtub, but I've got to tell you: it feels good. With all of the physical activity yesterday and last night my body is ready to relax.

Trudy presses a button and the jets start pumping more hot water into the tub, churning the suds to new, bubbly heights. I am facing Trudy, my right leg pressed against hers as we both enjoy the pleasant sensations.

After a few minutes, I feel her right foot rubbing my thigh. I reach down and pull it up onto my leg and begin to softly massage her instep. Trudy leans her head back and enjoys my hands kneading her soapy skin. When I finish with her right foot I give the same treatment to her left, softly pulling her cute, little toes and running my slippery hands up her calf. When I finish with her foot I notice that we now have our legs between each other's. Trudy scoots up a bit in the tub and begins to softly slide the toes of her right foot up my rigid cock. The combination of the hot water, the slick soap and her sexy foot feel so good. She parts her toes a bit and my shaft slides between them as she slowly moves up and down.

At the same time, I gently place the ball of my right foot against her soft pussy lips and delicately rub back and forth. I can feel her pussy open to me and she holds my foot with both hands, guiding me as I pleasure her.

We make love to each other with our feet for long, luxurious minutes, languid and slow, without a word, staring deeply into each other's eyes. This might very well be the most sensuous activity I have ever experienced.

Without breaking eye contact, Trudy turns off the jets, gets on her hands and knees and crawls to me. She straddles me on her knees, pulls my mouth to hers and impales my face on her hot, slick tongue. At the same time, she captures my steel-hard cock and pushes it deep into her clutching, velvet pussy. Her hips begin to rock and sway as my hands find her smooth ass and her slippery nipples slide up my chest. I can feel the muscles of her talented pussy compress and massage my throbbing cock as she rides me tenderly and lovingly, slowly bringing me to an unbelievable level of ecstasy. Suddenly, my entire body locks with my back arched, my eyes roll back in my head and my hyperexcited cock shoots stream after stream of heat deep into this incredibly sensual creature. She continues to writhe, kiss and love me all the way through the massive, rolling spasms. It's a good thing she is holding me up when I finally relax or I might slip under the water and drown, dying happy.

We lay still for several minutes, just holding each other and breathing, her head resting on my shoulder.

After a time she slides herself off me and retreats to the other side of the tub.

"I need a little, uh, personal time," she says, with a cute little smirk. "Maybe you can get us some breakfast?"

I take that as an obvious cue to beat feet and climb out of the tub. My body feels like a wet noodle as I dry myself and pull my underwear on. I gather the lighting equipment and my camera, turn the bathroom lights back on (so bright!) and step out into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.

My clothes are still in a pile on the living room floor where I left them last night. I pull them on and try to smooth them out but I am a rumpled, wrinkled mess. Bringing a change of clothes would have been a good idea, but who knew this would happen?

I head downstairs and run into my old buddy Lawrence. Does the guy ever go home? He is kind enough to inform me that I look like I've been hit by a bus. I purchase a comb, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste and some deodorant from the overpriced convenience store. I also grab a few muffins, some fruit and two cups of juice from the breakfast buffet and take it all upstairs.

I'm sitting at the kitchen bar, sipping orange juice and browsing through yesterday's photos when Trudy comes in from the bedroom. She is wearing one of the white, fluffy robes provided by the hotel and her hair is held back in a tight ponytail. Her beautiful face is scrubbed clean, natural and beaming. Even though she is breathtakingly beautiful when made up, she also looks fantastic in her natural state. I can't believe I hadn't noticed the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her cute little nose until now.

She hops up on a stool, pulls her robe tight around her body and starts working on a blueberry muffin.

"What's on the schedule for today, Mr. Director?" She takes a small bite and smiles at me.

I sit back and cross my arms, trying to look thoughtful.

"I guess that's up to you, Trudy. I have thousands of pictures of you from yesterday, last night and this morning. But if you want me to take some more I will stay as long as you like."

She puts the muffin down on a napkin and gazes at me hard.

"Yes, I want more," she says, soft and low. "I'm having the time of my life. I will never stop wanting more."

I lean up and softly graze her warm cheek with the back of my fingers.

"You are a precious jewel that deserves to be immortalized and adored." I kiss her gently on the cheek.

I sit back and take a long drink of juice. "So, what do you normally do on a beautiful Saturday morning?"

Now it's her turn to look thoughtful. "I don't know. Curl up with a good book?"

"Hmmmm...". I remember something I noticed when I was nosing around yesterday. I get up and open the credenza revealing a few tattered paperbacks. I pull out a thick one. JAWS by Peter Benchley. "You ever read this?"

Trudy smiles wide. "Nope. Loved the movie, though."

"The book is even better. Do you have a cozy sweater?"

"I have just the thing!" She jumps up and disappears into the bedroom. I tidy up the kitchen and set up the soft-box lighting to get some portraits of her on the couch and chairs. I open the window blinds to allow some of the ambient morning light to fill the room. After about a half hour she steps back in.

Her hair is still in a ponytail but she has made up her face in subtle shades. Her lips are pink and perfect. Her eyes are bright and playful. She's wearing an oversized, tan sweater with a wide neck. It is long and covers her private areas, but her legs and feet are bare.

"How's this?" she asks, doing a little twirl.

"You are just the cutest thing."

She flashes a devastating smile and puts her hands on her hips. "Oh, you're only saying that because it's true," she says, laughing.

I have her sit on one of the armchairs and pull her legs up under her. I hand her the book and she looks at it and frowns. She glances up at me and suddenly jumps from the chair.

"I forgot something!" she calls as she hurries to the bedroom, returning after just a few seconds. "I can't read without my glasses."

I'm not happy about this. It's not easy to photograph people wearing glasses. The glare of the lights. The reflections. The distortion of the eyes. The shadows on the face. Not good.

I smile at her, kindly. "You don't have to actually read for the pictures, you know."

She sits down and pulls her legs up, returning to her previous pose. "Listen," she says, her voice gently scolding. "If you want pictures of me reading a book you get the glasses, too." She puts them on her face, opens the book and starts reading.

I'm smart enough to refrain from arguing with a woman once she's made up her mind but I'm not smart enough to start snapping photos. After a few seconds, she looks at me over the top of her glasses and my heart skips a beat. Her "cuteness factor" has instantly doubled and I am transfixed.

She uses a delicate finger to slide her glasses down to the end of her tiny nose and says, "Well?" Her wet tongue finds the corner of her pink lips and my cock turns to granite.

My camera finally gets into the act and I start snapping pictures of the stunning Trudy, reading a faded paperback book and looking like a million bucks. The neck of her sweater slides down, baring a milky shoulder. She shifts her position slightly and reveals a tiny flash of white, lace panties. She pulls the glasses off her face and puts the earpiece between her luscious lips, biting gently. She draws the ribbon from her curly, black hair and tosses the beautiful mess to one side. I get some great close-up shots of her dark, green eyes peering over the top of the tattered book. I use the stepladder to get some beautiful shots from above.

I have her move over to the couch and sit on the edge, facing the camera. With her toes on the floor, her heels raised and her knees apart she stretches the sweater down between her thighs with both hands, pulling it off her shoulder and revealing just a hint of breast. We get that one with and without glasses. She looks incredible both ways.

She lays down on her belly and pages through the book innocently, seemingly unaware that her sweater has ridden up and her sexy little panties are getting a lot of exposure.

After exhausting the reading poses, I ask, "What else do you like to do on a lazy Saturday?"

"Hmmmm...." she purrs, holding a slim finger to her lips. Suddenly her eyes grow wide and to my absolute horror she squeals, "Shopping!"

Being a red-blooded American male, my heart sinks. Shopping? That's the LAST thing I want to do. But I quickly swallow my disappointment and realize that Trudy has given so much of herself to me over the last twenty hours or so, and deserves to do whatever makes her happy. I'm just there to document it.

"Well, then," I suggest, with trumped-up excitement. "Let's go shopping!"

She gets up from the couch, holds my arms with her hands, rises on her toes and kisses me softly on the cheek before disappearing into the bedroom. If that kiss is all the pleasure I get from the shopping excursion, it will be enough.

While Trudy is preparing herself I gather my equipment. I fill my camera bag with batteries and memory cards and pack a telephoto lens. Since we'll be outside in the sunlight I pack a couple of filters as well. I have time to kill so I browse through more pictures, looking forward to when Trudy opens the bedroom door to reveal herself in another delightful outfit.

She doesn't disappoint.

Her shopping look features a cropped, dark brown leather jacket over a loose, white, button-up blouse. The blouse is tucked into a very tight pair of tan pants, which are in turn tucked into calf-high, brown, medium-heeled boots. She has added a little more make-up; her eyes are dramatically lined in silky black with lids of gold and soft browns. Her very kissable lips are glossy red. Stunning to the last.

"Are you ready to go shopping with me?" she asks, with an impish grin.

"I am ready to go anywhere with you, Trudy."

As we are riding down in the elevator we share a moment when I catch her looking at my pants. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, licking her lips. I shake my head and give her a pleading look as if to say 'Not now'. She laughs sweetly and hugs my arm.

When we step out of the elevator, Lawrence is nearby and he turns and walks towards us. He takes her hand gently and says, "Beautiful as always, Miss Trudy."

'Well, thank you, Lawrence," she returns, with a sweet smile. "Roy is taking me shopping. Where should we go?"

"The Galleria is only two blocks away. Just make a left out the doors. You can't miss it."

"Thank you, Lawrence. You're the best." She gets up on her toes and gives him one of her priceless cheek kisses. If Lawrence's red face is any indication, he will cherish it forever.

We step out the lobby doors and head towards the shopping mall. The sunlight is bright but shade from the high-rise buildings covers the street and sidewalks. I get some terrific shots of her walking down the avenue and peering into shop windows. Her fabulous ass looks so good in those tight pants that it hurts.

Leaning against a lamppost. Sitting on a bus stop bench surrounded by everyday people. The camera lens drinks her in like wine.

We walk into the shopping mall, hand in hand, like a couple of kids. The first store we come to is a men's clothing store. She pulls up short and says, "Let's take care of you first." I look down at my clothes and realize, again, how rumpled and worn I must look next to this vision of loveliness. I let her drag me into the store.

Trudy corrals a clerk and the two of them proceed to outfit me in a new pair of pants and shirt. I give no opinions and none is expected of me. It's not exactly what I would have chosen for myself; I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. Pleated dress pants and brightly colored shirts are not normal for me but I go with the flow.

After I try on a few combinations they settle on one. She tells the clerk that I will be wearing these out and he packs my wrinkled duds in a slick shopping bag. She pays with her gold card and we're on our way.

The rest of the day is spent on her, which is as it should be.

We bounce from store to store. She tries on dresses, shirts, pants, skirts, shoes, boots, hats. It's a dizzying array of fashion. I take as many pictures of her as I can. She's so cute when she steps out of a dressing room in a new outfit and stands before the mirror, looking at herself from every possible angle. She finally stops asking my opinion when she figures out that I think she looks great in everything.

We spend a long time in one boutique dress shop. It is a very upscale, classy place with expensive clothes and accessories. The older lady who assists her is very helpful and attentive, fetching different sizes, different colors and different styles as needed.

She tries on a pretty, knee-length, white dress with large, black polka dots. It features a wide, shiny red belt, which cinches tight around her waist. She looks marvelous in it. The clerk also adds a wide-brimmed, white hat with a red ribbon and a pair of red high heels that bring the whole outfit together. She looks like a movie star from the '50s. I snap pictures like mad as Trudy twirls before the tri-fold mirrors.

I pull the clerk aside and ask, "Would it be OK if she wears that out in the mall so I can get some pictures?"

"Of course, sir," the kind lady answers. "She's a very pretty girl. Just be sure to tell everyone where she got the outfit."

"Absolutely!" Trudy and I step out into the mall and start shooting. The architecture is perfect. The roof is a giant skylight, flooding the place with soft, ambient light. The floors are smooth and reflective. The signs, lights and people add a lot of color and motion to the scene.

We ride the escalator to the second floor and I get some shots of her against the chrome and glass railing with my telephoto lens. People stop and watch, thinking she must be a professional model, and I guess they are right. After about an hour we make it back to the dress shop and Trudy puts her clothes back on. She buys the dress and hat, but not the shoes. She already has some red shoes that will work great.

I get some more shots of her carrying her shopping bags through the mall until we come to another clothing shop that features evening wear. Cocktail dresses, party dresses, formals, that kind of thing. She tries on a couple of slinky dresses that I really like. Plunging necklines. Bare backs. Hip-high slits. Very sexy stuff. But one outfit in particular really catches my eye.

She steps out in an incredibly tight, incredibly shiny, incredibly black, incredibly short dress. At least I think it's a dress. It's so short that if she bent over just a little bit she'd be sharing her secrets with the rest of the world.

She looks fantastic.

I snap dozens of pictures of her as she's turning and checking her lines in the mirrors. I'm sure she catches me drooling.

"I don't know...," she says to herself.

'I do,' I say to myself, silently.

Trudy catches my eye in the mirror. "Roy, I'm getting a little thirsty. Could you get me lemonade? I'm about finished here."

"Absolutely! I'll be right back."

I step out into the mall and spy a pretzel shop advertising fresh-squeezed lemonade. I purchase two large cups and come back to the dress shop just as Trudy is stepping out, with a third bag added to her collection. I don't know what she bought but I really hope it was that little black number. Woof!

We grab a quick lunch in the food court and spend the rest of the afternoon shopping, talking, laughing and walking hand-in-hand. I never thought spending the day at the mall could be so much fun, but with Trudy, the endlessly delightful hours fly by.

As we are making our way back to the Crescent I snap more street shots of her in the warm, "golden hour" light. There's something about her that glows beautifully in the setting sun.

It's a little early for dinner but we're both hungry after our long afternoon so we get a table in the hotel restaurant. I offer to take the shopping bags up to her room and leave the camera there as well. I don't want to pester her anymore with photos as we enjoy a leisurely meal.

As I'm leaving her room I pass the stairwell and get an idea. Once in the lobby, I hunt down Lawrence.

"Hey, bud! Is it possible to go on the roof?" I ask, hopefully.

His mouth tightens and he answers, "I'm sorry, Roy. Roof access is restricted."

I slip a fifty-dollar bill out of my pocket and into his. "I'm betting that I guy like you can make it unrestricted," I return, with a sly look.

Lawrence fishes out the fifty, wraps it around a business card and hands them both to me. "I'll do it for pictures of Trudy. Your choice." His mouth widens into a grin.

"I'll have to clear it with her, but I'll bet we can work something out."

Lawrence looks around to make sure no one is listening and says, "The roof access door will be unlocked from 9 to 11. Don't stay too late or you'll get locked out."

We shake hands and I return to Trudy in the restaurant. She is, of course, being entertained by a handsome, young waiter who is all too willing to spend time chatting her up.

She smiles as I slide into the booth. "Roy, this is Ramon. He's been going over the menu with me and giving his recommendations."

"I'll bet he has," I say, giving Ramon a bit of side-eye. "What did you kids decide?"

The young man pipes up. "I recommend the roast beef, sir. It's been slow cooking all day in a wine-based brown gravy. It is so tender it will melt in your mouth."

"Doesn't that sound delightful?" Trudy says, joyfully.

"Indeed, it does. Two of those, please, Ramon. And some iced tea."

"Excellent, sir." Ramon returns a few minutes later with tea and warm bread. Then a cool spinach salad. Then the main course of beef, potatoes and steamed broccoli. Capped off with a slice of chocolate cheesecake.

The meal is delightful. And Ramon is an incredibly attentive and efficient waiter. I think we all know why.

After dinner, in the elevator, I tell Trudy about the arrangement I made with Lawrence for roof access.

"That sounds like fun!" she says, clapping her hands. "And I trust you not to send him anything X-Rated. Those are just between you and me, love."

"Of course," I assure her. "I wouldn't think of it."

When we reach her room, Trudy unlocks the door and pulls me in by my belt. She pushes me against the wall and presses her body hard against mine. She grabs the back of my head and pulls my face down to hers, latching onto my mouth with a knee-buckling, soaking-wet, tonsil-tickling kiss.

We share our breath, moisture and tongues for at least two full minutes before she breaks contact with a slurpy suck and holds her face a fraction from mine.

With a somewhat devilish look in her eyes she says, "I'm going to take a shower. Wanna watch?"

"Absolutely," I answer, breathlessly, my cock throbbing against her lower belly. "Pictures?"

"Of course, silly," she giggles, reaching down and giving my aching member a soft squeeze. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Can I ask a favor?" I hope I'm not pushing too far. "Can you leave your shirt on?"

She laughs softly. "In the shower? You are incorrigible, Roy." She grabs me roughly by the belt and drags me to the bathroom, barely giving me a chance to pick up my camera.

Once there she treats me to a slow, erotic strip tease. She pulls off the leather jacket slowly, revealing her erect nipples through the thin, white fabric of her blouse. She lifts each boot, in turn, to the counter and slowly draws the zipper down, tossing them, and the silky socks beneath, into the corner. While I'm snapping away she shimmies out her tight pants, rocking her hips side to side as only a woman can. After her breathtaking show, she pulls the ribbon from her hair and stands before me in just her loose, white blouse and a very tiny, red thong.

All I need is a countdown to shoot off like a rocket.

She steps into the large, stone shower and starts the hot water flowing. In just a few moments the air is full of roiling steam and she gently steps into the flow.

When the water hits her, the effect is mesmerizing. The thin material of her blouse clings to her smooth body like a new layer of skin and her pert, little nipples poke out, brown and delicious. Her movements synchronize with the camera shutter as she turns and bends, stretches and lifts, struts and preens. She tilts her face back and lets the water run over her long, silky hair cascading down her arched back.

She turns to face me and cocks her drenched hips. She lifts one hand and gives me a "come here" finger bend. I continue taking shot after shot, hypnotized by this erotic, soaking-wet, vision.

She drops her hands to her hips and says, "That was for you. Not the camera."

It takes a moment but I finally get it. I put the camera down on the counter and strip as quickly as possible. In a heartbeat, I am holding Trudy's lovely, wet body. Kissing her deeply while the hot water rushes over both of us.

She lifts her foot to the stone bench and I pull her underwear aside. In one, swift movement I sink my pulsating post deep into her warm, fleshy folds. An inescapable feeling of exhilaration and completeness washes over me as our bodies and souls connect, melding together. Our hips undulate and sway like erotic dancers on the stage, hammering into each other, driven by a violent, animalistic lust.

I weave my fingers around the small of her back and she holds my biceps in her wet hands. Our eyes lock as exertion and passions rise, both of us panting deeply, mouths agape, eyes wide, existing only for the intense pleasures we each give and receive. There is a hint of fear on her exquisite face, but the fear is softened by yielding acceptance and, dare I say it, deeply passionate love. As I watch, love overcomes all other emotions and her astonishing pussy grips my pounding cock tightly, her lips forming a wet, crimson smile, equal parts sweet and savage.

The blessed physical relief I seek with every ounce of my being crawls up my legs like flowing lava, gathers in my abdomen and bursts from my slamming cock with the force of a tropical volcano. My knees weaken and wobble and my head swims as stream after stream of white heat pumps from my loins into the warm, welcoming womb of my marvelous lover. I hear her cry out, as if in a dream, as orgasmic euphoria grips her shuddering body, but her wild thrusting continues, sucking every last drop of sexual energy from me.

When the rapturous moment is over I collapse onto the bench, completely spent. I have a vision of my limp body following the vortex path of hot water as it slips down the shower drain.

After taking a few moments to recover we lather and bathe each other's trembling bodies. Soft, smooth caresses. Long, lingering kisses. Luxurious, soapy massages. Ending with warm, fluffy towels. We both tumble onto the bed and fall asleep in each other's arms.

I feel her body stir on my shoulder and awaken, not knowing if I've been asleep for minutes or days. I have no idea what time it is but I can see that it is dark outside the window. It suddenly occurs to me that we may have missed our rooftop access window. I hope not.

I lightly brush her cheek with the back of my hand and her thick lashes flutter open, revealing those beautiful, emerald eyes.

"Hello, love," she whispers. "What time is it?"

"I don't even know what day it is," I answer, leaning down and kissing the bridge of her nose.

I carefully slip from underneath her and retrieve my phone.

"It's eight. Lawrence said he'd open the roof access at nine. Does that give you enough time?"

"More than enough, love," she says, rising up on her elbow. The fluffy towel that was wrapped around her falls away, revealing her creamy, pert breast. I step towards her, eager to devour her once again but she holds up a hand.

"Easy there, Big Boy," she says, her voice playful and teasing. "We've got plans for this evening. You can have more of this later."

I will definitely make sure she keeps that promise but for now, I gather my camera and clothes from the bathroom and leave her alone. I get dressed in the living room and use my new comb, toothbrush and deodorant in the guest bath. I gather what I need for the night shots on the roof including the portable lights and reflector panels. I check battery levels in all devices and pack up my camera bag. I still have time to kill so I browse through the photos we took today including the bathtub scene, reading, shopping and steamy shower.

I recognize that I have limited skills as a photographer but many of these photos are quite impressive. Trudy's personality, beauty and sensuality ooze from many of the shots and I develop quite the chubby just thumbing through them. I can't wait to start editing these.

At precisely nine she steps into the room and my chubby transforms into a full-on throbber. Her hair is brushed out, smooth and silky, parted on one side and flipped around to the other. Her make-up is dramatic and striking; dark, smoky eyes and luscious red lips with a gloss so deep you could dive in and drown. She's wearing a knee-length, black leather coat with a wide collar and two rows of bright, silver buttons running down. It is cinched tight around her narrow waist by a black belt. Her shapely legs are in shimmering, black hose and her sexy feet are in her dangerously tall black pumps.

All I can do is stare. Like a tourist at Niagara, my brain is having a hard time comprehending the sublime loveliness before me so it just shuts down. My heart, however, breaks into double time.

"Wow..." is all I can manage.

"Are you ready?" she asks, stepping towards me like a prowling jungle cat.

I take a deep breath and gulp. "I thought I was ready, but I wasn't ready for this. You are exquisite."

"Oh, thank you, Roy!" she says, happily. "I thought you might like this coat."

"It's perfect. Just like you. And I can't wait to see what's under it." I am hoping it's that little black number she tried on in the fancy dress shop. If it is, I will swan dive from the rooftop and die, blissfully happy.

"Sorry, but you're going to have to," she says, playfully. "Let's go!"

We make our way to the stairs and I get a bunch of great shots of her in the stairwell. She looks unbelievably sexy from below and above as her smooth legs carry her up and down the steps. When she glances over her shoulder at me, with the look of a bewitching temptress on her face, I am powerless in her spell.

The roof access door is indeed unlocked (Thank you, Lawrence!) and we step out onto the roof, engulfed by the amazing view. The roof is populated with large AC units and other unknown equipment but we can see the amazing city skyline in all directions.

"It's so beautiful," Trudy says, breathless, looking out over the city.

"Yes, it is," I agree, looking at her.

We approach the edge of the roof and look down. The street below is alive with glittering lights and passing cars. The sounds of the city waft over us and the breeze blows up the side of the building, tossing her silky hair wildly. The building has a low parapet, two feet tall but it is about three feet thick so we have to get on our knees to look over the edge. The view is dizzying.

I look over at Trudy. "You OK with this?" The last thing I want is for her to be uncomfortable.

"Oh, yeah," she says, with a dazzling smile. "Let's do it."

I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it. "Great! Stand here and let me get some lights set up."

I adjust my portable lights to a cool blue and position them to light her from either side and below. I use the diffusing reflector on one so that most of the shadows are in one direction.

"OK. Put your right foot on the parapet." She raises her lovely leg, places her slim heel on the small wall and fixes me with a smoldering look. The black coat opens enough to show some of her alluring thigh. Whatever is under there must be short. Snap snap snap.

Please be that black dress. Snap snap snap.

"Put your hands in your pockets. Nice. Turn your body away but keep your face towards me. Awesome. Let's get some profiles. Very nice. You are stunning. So sexy. Bring your leg back down and face me square with your legs apart. So good. Legs back together, right over left. Cock your hip. Great. Put your hands up to your collar. Good. Touch your lips. Run your hands through your hair. Perfect." Snap snap snap.

She looks so good. Like a femme fatale from a Frank Miller graphic novel. Very noir. Very sexy.

I sit on the parapet and get some low shots of her, lit by the city below and the building across the street, her hair blowing wildly in the cool breeze. I try not to think about the deadly drop behind me.

We move the setup over to the corner of the building where there is a tall, stone pedestal, lit from below. I get some great shots of Trudy in silhouette, leaning against the pedestal and some close-ups of her ravishing face with the city lights beyond.

While leaning her backside against the pedestal, she puts her foot up on the parapet. She slowly runs her hands up her smooth leg; her blood-red nails flashing in the sparkling light. She pulls open the bottom of her black coat, revealing a flash of milky white thigh above her black stockings. Thin black ribbons are snaking up her leg, leading to the delights still hidden above.

It's definitely that black dress under there. Anything else would have been visible by now. I am sweating with anticipation but try to focus on the task at hand. I take dozens of shots from every possible angle.

She raises one hand to the lapel of her coat and slips it inside, pulling her coat slightly from the cinched belt. Locking her sensuous, green eyes to the camera and licking her luscious lips, she slowly pulls her coat open, revealing a smooth, creamy shoulder. Her hand slides down and cups her breast as her head tilts back, relishing the feel of her warm, soft skin.

I am mesmerized. Hypnotized. But I don't stop shooting.

With her other hand, she slowly releases the belt of her coat and it falls open, just a few inches, showing a radiant strip of white skin from her neck to her lower belly.

She's not wearing that black dress after all. But I am hardly disappointed. This is even better.

She is almost completely naked under her black coat. Other than a garter belt, stockings and a pair of sexy pumps she is bare-ass naked. I am overwhelmed with desire. My heart pounds, my head swims and my cock beats out a rhythm in my soggy pants.

"Oh, my," is all I can say, under my breath.

Trudy smiles wide; pleased that she could surprise and excite me even after all the time we've spent together.

She puts her hands on her waist, inside the coat, spreading it a little wider open to reveal the inside curve of each breast and the breathtakingly beautiful flower of her pussy.

"How do you like me now?" she asks, lasciviously.

"'Like' is not the right word," I answer, after finally catching my breath. "But a lot. A hell of a lot." She looks like every wet dream I've ever had.

"Well, then. Take some more pictures!"

The next ten minutes are filled with incredibly titillating poses on the rooftop. She turns and pulls the coat aside, flashing her smooth, firm ass. She opens one side, revealing a sweet, creamy breast and raised nipple. She opens the coat completely, exposing herself to the camera with her fists on her hips and her legs spread in a powerful, confident, super-hero stance.

She backs up to the corner pillar, spreads her arms and legs wide and turns her head dramatically to one side, looking like a steamy siren caught in a dazzling searchlight. She looks through me with a suggestive, wanton stare and raises both arms above her head, holding her wrists as if pinned to the pedestal. A sexual sacrifice offering her corporal self to the rutting god of lustful desire.

I have been sexually aroused by this astonishing woman all weekend, but she is pushing me over the edge of physical passion to a deep, almost prehistoric level of carnal lust that I can no longer control. I set the camera gently on the roof and approach her slowly, humbly, like a pilgrim reaching the end of his quest. I try not to break the spell, but I am powerless to resist the gravitational pull compelling my body to hers. When I reach her I drop to my knees in worship, my head down before her. I am but a slave, wholly owned by the goddess of sex and love who has enchanted me.

Her cool fingers gently cradle my head, drawing my face up to gaze into her eternally mesmerizing eyes. The smile she so graciously shares makes my heart soar. Even though unworthy, I have somehow achieved favor with an angel from the heavens.

The angel's smile slowly morphs into the grin of a devil as she pulls my face to her warm delta and places my thirsting mouth at her chasm. I drink from her fountain, lapping up the flowing waters of life, a grateful acolyte drawing life and sustenance from the sweet nectar therein. The moans and groans of pleasure emanating from her lips make my soul sing and my spirit fly.

After a moment or an eternity - it matters not - of giving my enchantress an offering of rapturous delights, she deems me worthy to stand. Once face to face, her emerald eyes lock to my blue and I am elevated to her level. My sense of self is no longer defined by the worthlessness of the past, but by the acceptance and confirmation of the present. A goddess and her consort, adjoined by the power of attraction, both corporal and ethereal. If the universe were to split in two, we could not be separated.

I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her open mouth to mine and my tongue invades her, deep and wet. I suck her tongue into my mouth and grind my raging cock hard against her pubic bone. My other hand finds her warm breast and I kneed and caress her soft, smooth flesh, pinching her stiff nipple between my fingers.

I feel more than hear, her moan with pleasure and desire as I devour her beautiful face and slide my mouth to her long, smooth neck, which she submits to me as an eager offering.

I bring my shaking hands to my belt and mindlessly drop my pants. When I sink my rapacious cock into her searing, saturated slot the earth stops revolving, the wind stops blowing, the traffic stops humming and my lungs stop expanding. I am blanketed by an overwhelming feeling of completeness and purpose. I, in fact, we live only for the linkage of our beings; mind, body and spirit. We are no longer two people in a world of billions. We are one of one. All-encompassing. The center of the universe.

We share ourselves, our total selves, like a river shares with the sea. Like the sky shares with the stars. We come together like two sources of warm light, filling a dark room. Inseparable. Intertwined. Forever connected.

We make love against the stone pedestal, long, deep and slow. She wraps me in the cocoon of her long coat and the heat between us gathers and grows. Moisture and love runs down our legs and our chins. I lay her gently on the wide parapet; one leg stretched out on the low wall, one heeled foot on the rooftop. I persist in pumping her immaculate body with long, slow strokes. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes deeply and she closes her velvet eyelids, crying out silently in sweet anticipation for the blessed relief that must soon come. Her long fingernails rake and claw at my back and her breathing becomes more urgent. Her hips lift from the parapet and she matches my hard thrusts with her own driving force, pressing my pounding stanchion deeper and deeper into her darkest places.

Her bright, emerald eyes flash open when the orgasm hits and she cries out; a wordless, guttural groan leaving her undulating body like an ethereal spirit ascending to the heavens. The muscles of her miraculous pussy clamp down on my fleshy hammer and I turn up the tempo. For long, glorious moments she writhes beneath me in exquisite agony as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her, a sensual tsunami of euphoric exhilaration.

I can contain myself no longer. Her violently ecstatic release draws out my own and my cock suddenly bursts like a fire hose, filling her with scalding, frothy cream. I continue my mindless thrusting until my weak and spent body fails me, and I drop on top of her.

I cease to be.

"..."

".... roy....."

Like an echo from the past. "... roy..."

Don't bother me. I no longer exist. "Roy. Please."

Who would dare to pull me out of this dream?

"Roy. Get off. This wall is killing me!"

My consciousness crawls back to me through a deep, dark well and I begrudgingly open my eyes.

"I'm so sorry!", I exclaim as I lift my limp body from hers.

"Where did you go?" she asks as I help her sit up.

I reflect for a moment. "I don't know," I admit. "But you were there with me."

"I really was."

I give her a hand and she stands to her feet. She still looks incredible in her long coat, silk stockings and tall pumps.

She hugs me softly, kisses me gently, gazes into my eyes and says, "Why don't you come to my room and we can go there again?"

We make love all night long. No lights. No cameras. Nothing but our bodies and souls to share as we explore, pleasure and fulfill each other again and again.

I awaken with a start. I can tell it is morning from the bright sunlight behind the blinds. I am alone, in a silent room.

No water running. No light under the bathroom door.

No Trudy.

I get up, naked, and step into the empty bathroom to use the toilet. I pee like a racehorse. After running some cool water over my face I go into the living room of the suite.

It's like a ghost town. A sleek, modern, well-appointed ghost town, but a ghost town nonetheless. I have never been in a room that felt so empty.

The long-stemmed rose I gave to Trudy a lifetime ago is lying on the bar counter. There is a handwritten note under it on hotel stationery.

This is what it says:

Roy -

Thank you for the wonderful weekend. I loved every moment with you.

When I invited you to come photograph me I knew that we would enjoy our time together but I had no idea how the experience would affect me. It has had a profound impact.

I have never in my life felt so alive, so sexy, so beautiful, so desired and so treasured as when you were photographing me. You made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

I will remember this weekend with great affection for the rest of my life. I hope you will, too.

Love,

Trudy

P. S. I'll contact you when I'm back in town. I can't wait to see the pictures!

There's a perfect lipstick "kiss" on the paper next to her signature.

I've never been the kind of person who hangs on to sentimental mementos but I can tell you; I will be keeping this note until I die.

I find my new clothes in a crumpled heap and get dressed. I now have two sets of wrinkled clothes. I step out into the hallway, intending to retrieve a trolley from downstairs but there is one parked right next to the door. Trudy being thoughtful, as always.

I load up and truck everything downstairs. While traversing the lobby I look for Lawrence, but he is not here, adding another trickle to the ocean of loneliness I'm feeling.

The drive home is long and dreary.

I've been home for several hours and am in a much better mood. That is because, of course, I have had time to transfer thousands of pictures to my desktop computer and started the arduous (and very exciting) task of culling them, marking every shot "yes", "no" or "maybe". There are several that I flag with a star - indicating very promising shots that I will process first. Did I say "several"? I meant "several hundred".

I particularly enjoy reviewing the shower shots. I'm looking forward to doing some background replacement so Trudy will be taking a sultry shower in a rainforest or under a tropical waterfall. Parts of me are getting excited just thinking about it.

I'm snapped out of my fantasies when I hear the garage door open. I make my way through the kitchen to the garage where my lovely wife has just returned from her weekend excursion. The trunk is popped open and she is retrieving several shopping bags from the back seat.

"How was your weekend?" I ask.

"Best Valentine's Day ever!" she answers, with a dazzling smile.

I start to unload three large suitcases from the trunk. "That's a lot of luggage for one weekend, isn't it?"

"You know me," she says with a wink. "I hate to need something and not have it."

As I stand holding a heavy suitcase in each hand she walks by me and rakes her long fingernails across my chest. I love when she does that.

I follow her into the house and close the door.

-fin-