As a writer, house sitting is the perfect way to supplement my income. And, since I'm unattached with no kids, there is no one to miss me at home. Because I come very highly recommended, my new agency soon assigned me one of their best clients. It was an unbelievable opportunity to live in a sprawling beachfront villa for the next 20 days. All I knew of the owner, was that he was a successful fashion photographer and was on location in New York; leaving his home and his Labrador Retriever in my care.
The walls of the house were lined with gorgeous models, their long bodies fantastically arranged in artistic settings. Strung along the back, were countless windows stretching from floor to ceiling. And, the furniture was of minimalist design, modest and clean, against the wondrous backdrop of the open sea. After a week, I finally found the time to relax on the deck and noticed a brown envelope leaning against the sliding glass door. On the face, a note was scribbled in black marker that read "Thanks for watching my place, enjoy the sunsets."
I reached inside and pulled out a disposable camera. "What a sweet gesture," I thought, as I noticed the sky beginning to turn purplish pink. I grabbed a throw from the sofa and curled up on a lounge chair to take in the show. With his Lab nestled besides me, I snapped a few shots, and considered how refreshing it was that a man so entrenched in the world of manufactured beauty could find himself attracted to the simple splendor of nature. I decided to make an effort to put the camera to good use.
The next day, my curiosity about the photographer got the best of me, and I began to search through his things for a better understanding of who he was. Carefully, I sorted through his closet and found that he was a well dressed, yet seemingly unpretentious guy. He didn't seem to wear cologne, still his natural scent, which lingered among his clothing, was intoxicating to me.
Next, I checked out his studio. The drapes were drawn closed, blocking the bright noon day sun. I paged through the proofs of fashion editorials scattered on his light box and uncovered a collection of shots focused on one model. She was nude. And though the first few poses were artfully demure, others captured a more brazen and haughty stance. Her legs had fallen apart and her mouth was slightly ajar, as if inviting entry. She looked amazingly sexy in the smoldering light, which cast her body in dramatic curve loving shadows.
Inspired, I playfully began to pose in the full length mirror leaning against the wall; pretending that I was his model du jour. I slipped out of my sundress and stood topless in my thong turning this way and that, touching my body and trying out different expressions. It was silly fun, the kind of thing you do when nobody is looking. I giggled to myself and ran to retrieve the disposable camera. Once back in his studio, I stepped out of my last piece of clothing and slid onto his Eams chair. Cocking my leg up to one side and balancing it on the arm, I began to snap shots of my nude body from all different angles.
