Cleanthe's Glamor Shoot
By Cate Murray
The year they married, it amused Cleanthe that her husband
had been turned on by some of her pictures in the family
photograph album - her soft country girl looks, a faint,
corrected cast in one eye, a golden grain in it, that
later only became noticeable after orgasm, then faded
altogether. Cleanthe, now angular and elegant in her
forties, was submissive but not passionate. She knew he
sometimes used her older photos to help turn himself on.
Months ago, when her friend Joan showed her proofs of the
glamor pictures she'd had taken, Cleanthe was merely bored.
Two bitter divorces showed in her friend's face. Yet there
was glowing charm in the cunning soft-focus of Joan's face,
the idealisation of her figure in delicious new lingerie -
in one photograph she reclined bare-breasted, wearing an
icy white thong, softly, innocently sexy. Joan said she'd
get a good discount on her own album if she introduced a
friend and, because Joan was always hard up, Cleanthe said
she'd look at the brochure. Her husband, anyway, encouraged
her - he loved her in new underwear.
The photographer's wife did all the darkroom work and also
took photos of kids and their pets in an adjoining studio.
She helped Cleanthe with her face and advised on which
lingerie was most suitable. There would be negligee shots,
showing Cleanthe's still pretty legs, some in white or
powder blue bra and brief sets, then, perhaps, bare-breasted
in a thong?. Popular with husbands, apparently.
"I'm glad you're a little older," the woman confided, "This
can be a risky business."
Cleanthe, naked, felt intimate, trusting, with her.
"I've a camera-shy tortoise waiting" the woman said, smiling.
The complex equipment and hot lights were intimidating.
Somehow, she allowed the photographer dominate, use a
hand to guide her in a posepose her, touch almost intimately..
Cleanthe sensed he adored women. Later, when he bent over
her, showing some of the shots on the monitor she acted as
if so carried away by her new soft youth, that she kissed him,
not innocently. She had no doubt why they ended up on the
couch and had been fully aware of his arousal.. His balls
felt like shapely plums. They coupled fiercely. As he
emptied in her, the doorbell jangled.
"My four o'clock appointment," he said, pulling out hurriedly,
upsetting one of the screens against the camera. Its eye
glinted as Cleanthe inelegantly adjusted her thong.
When the proofs came, the extra photograph was in a sealed
envelope, without comment. She knew it was his wife, saying,
"I know." In the photo Cleanthe's hair was a mess, her
lipstick mussed up, an almost black wet stain in the crotch
of her cream silk thong, a bloated expression on her face.
Her left eye was crazily skewed. She destroyed the photo
immediately.
Her glamor album is kept now at the bedside.. If it's been
moved, she knows her husband wants sex with her. He starts
kissing her breasts, his arousal presses against her belly. and then
begins the slow luxurious intercourse with her younger, more
innocent self.
The End.