Eight days have gone by and I have eagerly been awaiting your visit since the moment you left. Losing faith, and thinking that you had lost the nerve to come back in, I close and lock the door and begin my busy-work I hear a tapping at the front window. I spring from my seat, hoping it's you, hoping for another glimpse of you, another feel, maybe a taste....
I am quite disappointed when I see that the person at my door is not you. She looks nothing like you.
She's tall, with black hair, a dark complexion, and a large athletic frame. 'Probably another pampered stay at home soccer Mom wanting family portraits' I think to myself as I slide the door open.
"Is Marie here?" She asks.
"Who?" I respond.
"Marie, she told me to meet her here."
"You must be mistak..." I'm interrupted as the exotic raven-haired Latina pushes her way by.
"You don't understand, I'm closed" I implore, wanting to get back to work. "Come see me tomorrow and I'll give you a discount on whatever it is you want, for your inconvenience."
"No, you don't understand," she retorts, eyes looking wild. "You took some photos last week of my, um, friend Marie. She wanted me to meet her here so we could look at them together and choose the ones she wants."
My heart skips a beat, as I try to recall who she may be referring to, was it you? Was your name Marie? I tried to remember if you had mentioned it. I was awoken from my focus by the front door bell clanging and look up to see you awkwardly crashing through it.
"Where have you been?" the Latina almost shouts, seeming to be suddenly angry.
"Nowhere," your words come out slurred as you try to hide your unhide-able buzz.
"Are you drunk?" the prissy seeming woman asks.
"Relax Fi, I just had a couple to calm my nerves," you respond.
"Calm your nerves? What the hell do you mean calm your nerves?" your impatient friend asks. Suddenly her eyes open wide "What kind of pictures did you take?"
"I took pictures I thought you'd like," you say, looking at the floor.
She turns her head to me and glares, "I want to see these pictures, now!" She demands.
I motion to the back, closely monitoring your interaction. You slowly walk in front of us, head down like a naughty teen caught in the backseat. She follows, and I trail behind.
I motion for the two of you to sit at a table and grab a 12"x12" leather bound album. I drop it on the table in front of your friend and she slides the cover open, revealing the first shots of your glorious naked body. Her eyes fire from one image to the next, quickly shooting across the page, taking them in. Quietly she looks at each page in turn. You aren't looking; you sit straight up in your chair, eyes on the floor. As if you are waiting for something.
She gets to the pics of you sitting, spread wide and she begins to flush. She turns the page; you have the dildo at your wet opening, eyes afire with passion. Next page, you are fucking your cunt, the motion of the dildo clearly blurred, showing the fury at which you were tending to your needs.
She turns to the last page, and I hear her gasp. I look at the image, and it's of your shaven cunt shooting clear fluid over my hand as my fingers are buried in your asshole. She shuts the book.
"Did you fuck him?" she asks quietly.
"What?" you respond.
She reaches over and grabs a handful of your hair at the back of your neck and stands up. "Did, you, fuck, him?" She asks again.
No." You scoff.
