Generations 1

"I enjoy going places with my husband, but I prefer sex with my boyfriend, or, sometimes, my husband's girlfriend."

The resulting sparkle in her eyes and her laugh - confirmed that my reaction was just what she had hoped it would be.

She was a model. No, not just a "You could be a MODEL, baby," but an honest-to-goodness professional model.

Currently cavorting on a small stage in a multi-room photo studio. Wearing white bra and panties. And a lot of messy paint. Posing for a small handful of amateur photographers. A free spirit of the "20-something" generation - posing for and being paid by a group of mid-life-crisis-affected men-with-cameras. And she was enjoying shocking and teasing us.

It was working - at least on me.

It is always amazing to me how my brain has 2 modes: rational and sexual.

They are seemingly exclusive: only one mode at a time - and randomly assigned: the mode of thought can snap from one to the other - and back - rapidly and without warning.

In one mode, I was rigorously focusing on creating photographic art. A gentleman with an artistic eye - appreciating nothing but the light bouncing off of and illuminating the lens and sensor of my camera - trying to make some magic appear on the memory card. I felt a spark of pride if I managed to get it right and get to glance at a "thing of beauty" on my screen - between shots. It's a noble pursuit.

In the other mode, like when the model said *that*, my caveman persona grabbed my face and, using both hands to twist my head around, pointed my attention to "AN ALMOST-NAKED, YOUNG, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!".

It isn't a problem. I'm used to it. Mid-life crisis means that this happens about every 20 seconds. But this time, it made me wonder if it might be more than just a fantasy.

So I tried a response. "I do think that people make too much of sex. I mean, it's just sex."

She pursed her lips - an excellent pose anyway. "Well, but then you find that people get confused about who they are in *love* with".

I thought for only a moment and decided to jump in with both feet.

"I've been married for a long time and I've never been confused about who I *love*, though I certainly imagine expanding my circle of sex partners - all the time".

The roomful of photographers laughed a bit - nobody even hesitating with the continuing shoot. She continued to strike great poses and the shutters continued to click.

I turned my psyche back to the artistic mode and began to focus - both literally and figuratively.

She decided to grab me back. She looked me straight in the eyes and smirked, "You know, I like you. What's your name?"

OK. Now she was making it personal and the music of her laugh perfectly complimented her smile and did serious damage to the artistic part of my brain. It's amazing how little is required to put a middle-aged man into a happy little "high". To remind me of how it felt - oh-so-many years ago when I was young and available. Sure, she was just playing her little game. Or was she? Whatever this was, it felt giddy and happy and - well - still innocent, so "Damn the torpedoes, we're going to enjoy this".

The shoot proceeded. I decided to move to a different room with different models.

And she followed me to the other room and continued the verbal sparring. Always staying "on this side of the line", but keeping me on her leash.

The shoot came to a lull and I sat in a chair - watching the models and photographers go by - models trying to find some way to clean off the paint which had been part of the shoot. Photographers trying to find "that last great shot".

She plopped down next to me, still wearing nothing but bra and panties - and a lot of paint, and we just sat and talked. About nothing. About doing a private shoot. Next time outdoors. In the snow.

"I'll do a naked snow angel for you".

That triggered both sides of my mind simultaneously: yes it would be a great, artistic shoot. And, yes, she just said - straight out - that she would take off the bra and panties. For me.

I think I did a pretty-good job of keeping the Neanderthal out of my response, but I'll never know.

We already had each others' contact information: legally required as part of a professional shoot.

So I promised that I would contact her to follow up.

We packed up our respective "stuff bags".

And we went our separate ways.

*******

It was busy when I got home: dinner, cat, wife, but I found a few moments to get online and drop her an email.

Just thanking her for her professionalism and for the good shoot.

I was fully aware that I was probably coming off as being too interested. That I should play it cooler,

but on the other hand, this really was an entirely-legitimate model / photographer interaction - just setting up a routine private shoot.

Wasn't it?

*******

She responded right away, confirming that she had a good time at the shoot and hoping that the photos would be good for her portfolio as well as for the photographers.

Then I heard... nothing... and the days ticked by.

I spent a lot of mental time thinking about just what a "snow shoot" could create: imagining shot compositions and potential props. Ideas flowed thick and fast and I got really excited about the photographic possibilities. Truly thinking and planning to create some real art - if anything ever came of it.

I also had time to muse about the huge differences in the ways that our different Generations perceive gender interactions. To the middle-aged, it used to "MEAN something" when someone was as "flirty" as she had been.

In contrast, to *her* generation, to whom it meant - what? Did it mean anything at all? Was she just protecting her professional opportunities? Did I want it to "mean" anything? Was I just a dog chasing a car - and, just like the dog - would have NO idea what to do with the car if I caught it? Maybe I'm more like a cat: when something runs across the carpet - teasing - I *have* to chase it. It isn't a matter of "wanting to have it" - it is just a primal requirement to CHASE!

So yes, both modes of my brain were involved in the contemplations.

******

But I'm not a stalker, so I didn't chase anymore. And the whole thing cooled and slowly disappeared from my mind as day after day passed without any further contact.

******

Until 2 months later, when I had filed the whole thing into the "pleasant memories" part of my brain.

Her email appeared.

"Hey. I liked your work at the photoshoot and we got snow last night. I live on a big, deserted property. Can you come down today and shoot?"

She included her address.

And a smiley face to sign the email.

Big breath and an internal "once over" - asking myself "OK... so just what are you hoping for - and what are you expecting?"

Both sides of my brain said: "Who cares? Just go. Don't set hopes or expectations. Just GO and DO and enjoy whatever happens."

So I answered the email. Confirmed the address. Packed my photo gear. Took a deep breath. And headed out.

******

I had a little trouble finding the place since my GPS didn't know where it was, but after a few wrong turns down some snowy paths, I managed to pull into a likely-looking place: deserted-feeling, large property, some wooded, some open meadow, big, old house far away from the road. And sparkling with fresh, virgin snow. Gingerly, I stepped out of the car - hoping that I was in the right place and that I would greet "her" rather than some angry dogs. Or an upset husband with a shotgun.

Nothing. Silence.

So I relished that delicious "crunch" sound of snow under my boots - and the religious silence in the air around a snowy meadow - as I walked up to the house - and knocked on the door.

A dog barked and scrabbling sounds lead to the door being unlocked and opened and - there "she" was. Smiling and flirting with her eyes. Wearing a furry all-white hooded winter coat - just looking *so* photogenic.

So without a word, I pulled out my camera and pointed - and began to shoot - as she launched herself out the door and into the snow.

*******

It.

Was.

Wonderful.

She frolic'ed and bounded, throwing snowballs at me. Blowing handfuls of snow up into the air. Rolling in the snow. Making snow angels. Giggling like a little girl. Teasing and puffing, her skin glowing more and more as the time in the cold air mounted.

I was fully in "art" mode - desperately trying to keep up and capture some small percentage of the beautiful, amazing images flying thru my viewfinder. Even an increasingly-naked woman - is a work of art and her joyous glee only multiplied that art. My nose dripped. My fingers were freezing - changing lenses and trying to run fast enough to keep up with her - snapping frame after frame of pure boundless "joy in the snow." Through meadow and wood. Light and shadow. Crisp, cold air nipping at our noses, fingers, and - other exposed body parts.

All-too-soon, I noticed that she had lead us back to the house. Neither of us had any idea where her white coat had landed. I was still fully outfitted in my snow gear. She unzipped my big parka, stepped into me, and threw my arms around her to give her some warmth. We stood at the door - the steam from our mixed breaths - curling and rising as we panted. And we looked at each other. And teased with our eyes.

Finally she cocked her head and asked, "Would you like to come in and look at the photos together?"

Exactly what I had hoped - while, all the time, telling myself NOT to hope for anything.

My rational brain grabbed me and dragged my focus back to reality and I stammered, "Uhhhh... no... I... ought to do that at home on a big monitor."

Her eyes drifted down my chest as she agreed. "Oh. OK. I understand."

...

"Would you like to come in and have sex?"