I long had a deep fascination with classic photography of the female nude. This was an interest beyond the prurient; of course I adored women, and I loved making love to them. I simply believed that the female nude was a miracle of nature-- and that the ability to capture that miracle through photography was an almost mystical act.
I had one of the largest, personal collections of books on the classic female nude: a photographer friend once offered me a sizable sum for it. It was clearly another miracle that I met my future wife-- second so far-- at her book signing for "The Art of the Nude Model."
Her groundbreaking work delved into the personal lives of the models who posed for some of the world's most famous paintings. When I told her about my own collection, she thought (as she told me later), that I was "some kind of charming nutball"-- until I offered to open up my antiquarian bookshop for her at 11 pm.
My first photograph of her has that raven-haired beauty nude, in low light, seated on the floor of my shop, surrounded by piles of books on art history. She had confided in me that that was her fantasy: to be nude and lost in books on art and I said "why not?"
I took a chance and left her with her clothes on. I went upstairs to my small apartment and grabbed a camera. When I came downstairs, she told me she was ready before I saw her. The only lights were from the street. I only got a few shots in that light when she stood up stark naked and came to me and said something like "oh fuck" and that was that. We both can still, to this day, pick out the very spot on that worn old rug where we first made love.
She had a house out in the country, at the edge of what she called her enchanted wood. Once I moved my precious items (and only some of my books) out of my cramped city apartment into her space-- now our space-- she led me to her "faerie circle."
One had to carefully climb over a boulder, then there was a surprisingly short trail into a tranquil wooded area. The trail ended and emerged into a grassy spot surrounded by tall trees... I saw the faerie circle resemblance immediately.
We waited there on Midsummer's Eve for the faeries to appear. When they didn't, we at least did our best to sanctify the place with some warm lovemaking. We soon discovered it was best to-- in certain months-- prepare one's naked body with a coating of anti-bug lotion before venturing out without any clothes on.
I soon turned her walkout basement into my own amateur photography studio. After a few exotic and explicit nudes of her, that I swore to never share, I brought up my dream: I as an amateur would take the very first nude photos of amateur models of all ages. As a book dealer, I had contacts in the publishing world as well as my accomplished photographer friend to assist.
She was silent for so long that I was concerned that she disapproved. Then she told me of her own, latest dream project. As a professor of art history at a small private college, she was gathering stories from her female students about their own experiences posing nude-- possibly for a new book or at the very least for a magazine article. Many of them were taking her course because of their own fascination with the subject. Some of the braver young ladies were already posing nude for the college's art classes, in which they were actually paid a small stipend for their modeling time. Others had even more titillating nude tales to tell.
We looked at each other and we said "Kismet!" at about the same time. We would combine our two projects: Ashley would cautiously sound out her students and bring up the possibility of one or more of them posing nude for the first time for me.
To maintain some sense of propriety, the prospective models would only pose after the semester was safely over and their papers were all graded.
I hate to give the impression that we constantly celebrated important moments in our life by making love, but that's exactly what we did-- then and there, on the rug in my photography studio. I know it was the thought of me coaxing some shy young ladies out of their clothes and photographing them nude that got me started, but things ended well. Although we did our best to clean things up, I at least can still see a tiny and apparently permanent stain left behind from our very wet spot.
The months went by; we got married; we went through our first winter together; and I shoveled snow for the first time in fifteen years. Then one day she came home looking all breathless and flushed. It was mid-May, near the end of the semester.
"I got one!" she blurted out as she sat down in her kitchen chair.
I stopped stirring whatever it was that I was attempting to cook. I had a much-splattered copy of 'Cooking for the Clueless Male' on the countertop. "You what?" I asked.
"That didn't sound right," she admitted. She got up and found an open bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.
"Red?" I questioned: she was usually a white wine drinker.
"Oh yes," she replied. "It's definitely a red wine evening."
Finally fortified, she explained that she had found a female student who never posed nude before-- or for that matter, had never posed for anybody before. Ashley wanted to talk to me first before making the arrangements... which still didn't explain why she was so flustered.
"Talking to her about it, her posing in the nude, imagining her blushing even hotter as she shyly exposes her body for the first time, for you, for us..." she took more than a sip of wine. "I was probably as aroused then-- as aroused as you are now. And I don't remember ever feeling that way before."
I put the pot on simmer and sat down next to her, trying to think of what to say. "Do you 'like her like her'," I asked.
"What-- are we in high school now?" But then I could see her actually thinking about it. "Yeah," she sighed. "That blushing little brunette really turned me on!"
There wasn't much more to say after that. We finished dinner mostly in silence. Then she took my hand:
"I know we usually... respond to things like this by making love... but I think... maybe I need some... special alone time."
I sighed dramatically. "I understand. It's unfortunate at a time like this that I have been such a great and passionate lover that you threw out all of your sex toys."
"Not all of them," she said quite seriously, and then we laughed and kissed.
The next few weeks until Chloe-- yes, of course her name was cute too-- until Chloe showed up for her unveiling passed quickly or slowly: depending on your point of view. I was getting all the equipment I needed which was really only silky little robes I had to buy, and then scrounging together items around the house that could double as 'almost naked' costumes.
Ashley was in near continuous contact with Chloe. I would hear a text coming in, she would glance at it, and then get up and leave the room. If I didn't already know she had a girl crush, I would have been worried.
About four days before Chloe-day Ashley made an announcement: "I'm not just watching her: I'm posing naked with her."
I thought about that and it quickly came to me that the theme would be a mature woman teaching a younger acolyte the ways of love. I came up a title for the book: "A Woman Teaches." When one's mind is fixated on the female nude, that mind works fast within that narrow narrative.
At last it was the day. I had my studio prepared. My wife had painted a backdrop that was splashes of green and brown towards the bottom; white and blue towards the top-- an out of focus landscape. She had also perfectly matched the plush green and brown rug that stretched out below. The same rug with that persistent wet spot.
I had been digging out some old books on how to prepare for a nude model. Foremost was that, if you wanted to keep things professional, the girl should basically only see the inside of your studio. She should NOT feel comfortable wandering around your house, and under no circumstances is she staying over.
I waited in the studio as Ashley brought Chloe around back. Ashley had 'warned' me to mentally prepare for the image of a cute brunette hazel-eyed coed... and then multiply the cuteness factor by about 150%. She wasn't wrong.
Chloe was about 5' 4" or 5' 5" at most. She had a very slim figure but she had just the right amount of curves not to be called 'boyish.' She had long, dark brown hair that framed the sweetest, shyly smiling face. She blushed as she was introduced to me, then she paused to get control, then she was suddenly hugging me and thanking me for "this opportunity." And sweetly blushing again.
She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. We were going to try to get some outdoor shots after lunch and she had been informed that there was a bit of climbing; not something to attempt in the nude or in a silky robe.