They are in the Caribbean on a long-anticipated vacation. They came from the north where it is now dark and cold and where they are generally happy, having lived there much of their life together. But in late January they feel the need to get to the sun and the heat. They are sensualists, they love the sun and often lie naked on the beach when they finally reach it after hours of plane travel. They find a spot where such is possible, and it is remote and the sand is white and the water is aquamarine and the palm trees over them create a bit of dabbled shade as the day progresses.
They enjoy the food and the wine here – it is French – and while they don't always communicate very well (they speak high school French) they are comfortable with the European surroundings and the relaxed and sexy attitudes of the people they see around them.
They are runners and they run when they travel, especially on these island trips. The joy of running with fewer clothes in the winter, on dry surfaces and in the sun, is a big part of this experience. On this day, another runner (not all that common here) catches them from behind and greets them. He's an American, in good shape. He does not pass them – he stays with them as they chat and learn something about each other. He is a photographer, on assignment at their resort. He is working on new photos for the resort's website. They tell him that they are here to relax and escape – they've had some difficult experiences recently and need some time to refill. "Refill?" he asks and the wife simply answers "yes"...
They complete the run together and agree to meet for a drink later. Before dinner, they see him with his camera, shooting the sunset and guests, drinking a club soda and lime, smiling and laughing, and getting those around him to laugh and relax. The husband and wife are having cocktails and are feeling relaxed and they watch the photographer work. He is lean and tan, with longish hair. He looks intelligent and artistic.
At dinner, the wife says "I've decided we should have him photograph us. He is the right one to document this moment in our life – this moment when we are healthy and unencumbered by worry, at least temporarily. This moment..." and she hesitates. Her husband looks into her eyes, this woman he loves, the woman who had introduced him to a life he'd always dreamed of, a life of art, nature, sex, love and adventure. Their relationship was intimate and he was daily grateful for the blessing she'd been to him.
Her husband says "OK - do you have anything specific in mind? By the beach at sunset...?" and she replies "Just us in our vacation state of mind, in escape, in a dream, but real, as the photos will prove." The husband agrees – their relationship has always been one in which they could ask for something and they would each respect the other's thoughts. They learned from each other. "OK," he says, "that sounds good...let's see if he has any ideas."
She goes to the photographer, who is finishing up his afternoon photo shoot, and gives him their room number and tells him they want him to photograph them and could they talk about it...perhaps over a drink later? He packs up his equipment and tells her he needs to get something to eat.
After dinner, the couple strolls on the beach, the sky above them an azure blue, rich with stars. Some of their appetite has been satisfied by the good French food – salad and cheeses, a variety of meats, greens and sweets to top it off. They have learned not to eat too much – perhaps they are becoming more French. The red wine at dinner had made everything they ate taste even better. Now they walk on the sand and the husband asks "what kind of photos are you really thinking of?" She says "Images which capture what we are feeling – this mature place in our relationship, secure, deeply in love, still growing and with an openness, a love for the air and for the sea, images which represent us as we are today, here, at this moment." He can tell she probably has more specific ideas, but he doesn't ask for details – he trusts her.
When they return to their room, the red light on their phone is flashing. He picks up the message – it is the photographer who says that it would be his pleasure to make photos of the couple - "just tell me when and where."
They are feeling rested and comfortable, completely in their vacation state of mind – it is still early in the evening, and warm ocean air refreshes them. A bottle of champagne is chilled in their room, which is furnished in a European modern style, minimal, tasteful, a large mirror on the wall, the windows open and letting in fragrances they've never experienced in their day to day life up north, making them feel as though they are in a different world, with different expectations, or no expectations.
The husband picks up the phone and dials the photographer. A few minutes later, he arrives at their door with a small bag of equipment. He is dressed in linen pants and a light blue shirt, huaraches on his tanned feet. The couple offers him a glass of champagne, but he prefers sparkling water. They sip their drinks as he asks them a few questions. He is setting up a light and putting together his camera. "What else do you enjoy, besides running?" "How long have you lived in Wisconsin?" "What do you like to read?" "What kind of music do you like?" (They were listening to their favorites at the moment, and the three of them talked about current indie music and musicians and the joys of live music.) He was learning more about them, as a good photographer should – getting to know the person he was about to try to capture.
They chat as his light makes the room seem even more clean – it makes the shadows go away without making the space feel bright – the room is warm and glowing with a comfortable natural light. It is a clean well-lighted place, the husband thinks, as he watches the process. The couple is open with the photographer, they are very comfortable with him. They tell him some of their story and in doing so, they communicate something of their values to him – their love of travel and adventure, the sun and the mountains and the ocean, art, their willingness to take some risks, their desire to learn and to live life fully and without fear, to seek new experiences, to deepen their connection to each other.
The wife is tan from her days in the sun, lean from exercise, with a smile that is her most attractive feature – eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. She wears a long summer dress and sandals and relaxes in a rattan chair. Her husband wears light silk trousers, trim on his body, a colorful shirt hanging on the outside. On his wrist, a leather bracelet with a little silver trim – a gift from her as they began this trip.
The photographer starts with a few photos of them just as they are, relaxing beside each other, holding hands – he continues to talk to them – telling stories of other shoots. He compliments them as he moves near and around them, and he begins to give them some suggestions – not orders, just ideas - "move your hand to his chest" ..." maybe you should touch her thigh"..."can you look at each other?"
Without a suggestion, the wife begins to unbutton her husband's shirt – and if the photographer was surprised, he didn't show it. In fact, he hummed a little, and the camera moved closer. The shutter clicked.
Her hand went insider her husband's shirt, touching his chest and though the photographer could neither see it nor capture it, her fingers played with his nipple. The husband's thoughts became even more charged – he'd wondered where this might be going and the direction did not completely surprise him.
The photographer dimmed the lights a little and asked if she would pull the hem of her dress up a little higher and she did, the persimmon colored cloth beautiful against the tan of her skin.
The husband's hand stroked his wife's thigh, smooth and strong, warm as if she'd just come in from the sun. They began to lose their awareness of the photographer – where he was and where the camera was pointed. (Click.)
She'd unbuttoned her husband's shirt and he shrugged it off, his chest almost fee of hair – he had a Scandinavian look – and his belly flat. Her dress moved farther up, helped by his hand, exploring the upper reaches of her beautiful legs.
The husband's pants revealed his growing cock and he had a brief moment of embarrassment when he became aware again that the photographer was there and not just watching, but studying and recording what he was seeing. His wife giggled a little, reached for her glass of champagne, took a sip then stood and pulled her husband to his feet. (Click.) Her hand went to below his belt and she felt his hardening cock, and knew that a drop of precum would already be there. She knew he wore light, almost feminine, briefs which did not contain him completely.
