Jon Fore - Black Water

“No, there is plenty in there. It’s old, but dry wood burns well. It will warm the house a bit, too. It’s getting cold in here.”

“Like a witch’s tit,” Chris said as he groped one of Madison’s ample breasts.

“Bite me,” Madison said as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, but let’s eat first,” Chris retorted.

Ethan shut the laptop down as Chris carried the cooler into the kitchen, trailed by the others. He decided to leave the computer where it was and went with them into the kitchen.

“After dinner, can we take some pictures in that big room by the front door?” Madison asked Abby as she was cutting open pouches of used-to-be-frozen pasta.

“Yeah, I guess, if you want,” Abby replied trying not to sound too uncomfortable.

“Can I watch?” Chris asked, leaning closely toward Madison.

“Actually, I would like certain parts of your body in them, if you don’t mind.”

“That depends on what parts…” Chris trailed off slyly.

“Well, your arm or a leg, maybe a hand or two. Implied pornography.”

“If it’s got to do with porn, then I am there.”

“I sort of thought so,” Madison said while rolling her eyes again.

Abby leaned closely to Ethan who was monitoring a pot on one of the wood-burning stoves. “You will be there as well, my good man. I am not shooting this shit alone, got me?” she whispered to him.

Ethan turned and smiled into the red spreading across Abby’s face. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“What was that?” Chris asked.

“I said, ‘I am sure he won’t make you pay,’” Ethan replied loudly.

“Who won’t make you pay?”

“Brighton,” Abby answered.

“Listen, if he wants that damn wall fixed, I’ll pay for it, alright?” Chris sounded as though he was becoming angry again.

“Okay,” she replied quickly, clearly not believing he would.

“Tomorrow, can we do some artistic photos outside on the dry dirt out there? I think there would be a nice contrast with my skin,” Madison asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, okay, if you want—but it will have to be right before we leave when the sun is on the other side of the house,” Abby said uncomfortably.

“That sounds great. Thanks for doing this for me.”

“Can I have a copy of the pictures?” Chris asked hopefully.

“Well, if you pay for them, yes.” Madison smiled at him.

“Maybe I can take my own pictures…” Chris offered.

Ethan came and sat at the small table carrying a couple of tinfoil trays of food. Abby followed shortly behind him with a couple more.

“Did you get enough photos of the place, Abby?” Ethan asked.

“Not quite yet. There is still a garden somewhere around here with an attached greenhouse, and I would like to shoot the rooms the escaping slaves stayed in when they were here.”

“Do you know where those are?” Chris asked, trying to work his way into the conversation. He never did like not being the center of attention.

Abby hoped silently that by the time they returned to the university, Madison would have grown tired of him and sent him on his way. She could just find another to share her bed with while failing out of college. Out loud, she said, “No, actually I don’t. I was hoping it would be obvious when we walked around the house. I had forgotten that other people had lived here. I am sure they have been done over—could have been one of the bedrooms upstairs.”

“Maybe they stayed down in that room behind the wall,” Ethan said.

“Could be; I hope not. I am not going to knock that wall down for pictures,” Abby stated firmly as she eyed Chris. He just raised his hands up defensively.

They finished eating but stayed to finish a couple of warm beers and pass another of Madison’s special Jamaican cigarettes around. This time, they all shared, even Ethan, certain he would need something to get through the photo shoot and the social discomfort that was to be a part of everyone’s evening.

By the end of the hour, the group made their way back to the entry where Madison made a decision about which room to shoot in. To Abby’s chagrin, she chose both the library and the greeting room. She attached the flash to the top of her camera and set the white balance while Madison did her makeup. Chris sat and chatted with her, completely comfortable with what was about to happen. Ethan attempted to make himself a small piece of unobtrusive furniture in the corner, trying desperately to not draw attention. Abby was fine with this as long as he was close by.

The love seat, sitting off to one side, proved to be a fine pallet for Madison’s skin, and some of the sheers gently removed from the windows added mystery to the scene. Chris made a quick round with the lighter, sparking the candles that remained to life, giving the entire scene an ethereal sexy feel while still being warm and eclectic. Abby began to feel as though she might have a knack for this sort of thing, this type of photography—well, at least at setting the scene.

She had never done any form of model photography, had never directed a model, positioned her, or oversaw the application of makeup. She was trying to be a photojournalist not a fashion photographer. This would be a new experience, and since Abby did enjoy studying women, even in the nude, she thought this might not be too uncomfortable after all. She had never been attracted to another woman sexually, but found great beauty in the female form with just a small helping of lustfulness.

The sky had long since lost its grip on the sun and had grown dark and overcast. Not even the glare of the moon invaded the now bare windows. Beyond was a perfect blackness, broken only by the reflection of candlelight on the glass.

“I am going to have to use a slow shutter speed here, so when we frame up, you’ll have to hold real still. I don’t want to let this warm lighting go,” Abby instructed.

“That’s fine,” Madison said as she approached the couch. She suddenly pulled her shirt off, being careful not to smear her makeup, and dropped it to the floor. “Can we get this same light you think in the other room and maybe on the stairs?” she asked as she removed her bra and dropped it on top of the sweatshirt.

“Cold in here, toots?” Chris asked jokingly.

“It’s freezing in here,” she replied as she rolled her tight jeans to the floor.

Ethan’s breath stopped short, taken with the purity of her skin, untouched by freckle, scar, or even a simple birthmark. She was slender across her midriff and taunt muscles played just beneath her ripened, full breasts. She was a magnificent example of a woman: young, fresh, and almost overly-developed.

When she stood, Ethan was surprised to see she had not worn underwear. Her hips rounded perfectly along the sides and dissolved into legs, long and slender, even for her diminished height. He was also shocked to see she had trimmed her pubic hair into the shape of a heart, neatly, as if she had been to see a barber. Even the mound of her womanhood was smooth and developed without a blemish of any kind. Ethan was unsure he was going to be able to watch this play out as aroused as he was at that moment.

“Where do you want me, or how do you want me?” Madison asked as she shook her hair into a more passionate and wild cascade.

Abby found herself swallowing hard; her throat had become dry. Suddenly she felt both completely plain and unattractive as well as strongly aroused. She had never been this turned on by the sight of a woman before, and found it oddly curious, even considering the female perfection before her. Perhaps because it was real and not some movie one of her girl friends liked to share. “On the couch…however you’re comfortable, I guess. I have never done this, remember?”