Most men have a woman they fantasize about from time to time. Tag Wilson kept his fantasy girl for twenty years until she showed up in person.
This yarn is loaded with some real peculiar characters. Lily, her former husband, her best friend Darla, and a host of other people. A few from other e-books.
Fantasy Girl is the story of a happy reunion. It’s also loaded with sex, sex, and more sex. Interracial sex, of course. Anal, oral, girl on girl, and other hot sexual encounters including open swinging.
EXTRACT
I have no idea why she popped into my mind again, but she did and
it wasn’t the first time. The first time I saw Lily was nearly twenty
years ago. I remember it as if it were only yesterday. She was only
eighteen at the time and married. It was at a Halloween party at a
friend’s house. She was with some guy, her husband I assumed, and she
was dressed like a fairy princess.
Lily was one of those young women you don’t forget…you don’t
want to forget. Tall, maybe five feet eight or nine inches tall, lean
and built for speed. Nice rack, too. But it was her face that arrested
my attention. Angelic is an overused description, but in her case it
fit perfectly. A beautiful face framed by short blonde hair with
startling deep blue eyes and beautiful soft lips that smiled a lot.
Lily became my dream girl. My fantasy girl.
My name is Taggart Wilson, and back in elementary school my name
was shortened to Tag and it stayed with me through the years.
I had just opened my photography studio on Gillis Street at the
time. I got out of the Navy and was full of piss and vinegar, ready to
set the world on fire with my talent as a world class photographer.
Okay, that world-class thing was mostly in my mind, but I was good. I
was also lucky.
The luck part came when I entered a photo contest and while I
didn’t win top prize, I placed in the top five. That got my name out
there and I landed some nice assignments. I was lucky to shoot some
top models over the years and I made a lot of money.
I stayed a bachelor by some artful dodging and more good luck.
It wasn’t that I wanted to be single. I was just too picky. Of course
I realize that now, but at the time I was being selective. I was
looking for the perfect woman and of course there is no such thing…or
so I thought.
My town is small, but it’s a suburb of a larger city. I chose
to live in Greenville, but spent a lot of time in the city. I like the
idea of living in a small town. Since the interstate highway opened
it’s only half an hour’s drive to the attractions of a big city. Not
that there was all that much to attract me. The theater, some nice
restaurants, and a wider selection of commercial female company.
Hookers, in case I was too subtle. I am not now nor have I ever been
a fan of the club scene. Much too loud and too crowded for me.
I had just finished a layout for a major men’s magazine. It had
been an exhausting location shoot in Mexico. Exhausting because I had
to work with three beautiful professional models. Beautiful, but
dumber than a bag of rocks. All three tried to outdo the others in
silly demands. What should have taken three days, took six days. What
should have been a pleasant trip to a tropical paradise was a journey
to hell.
It was on the flight home that I decided to retire and just get
out of the rat race. I fondly recalled the days before I had to work
with prima donnas and models that thought their shit didn’t stink.
Back when I worked with mostly amateur models who were excited just to
have a professional take their pictures. Ladies who did whatever I
asked without complaining.
Over the years I made a lot of money and I was able to save a
good portion of it. Some good investment advice helped a lot. If
necessary I could live nicely from the interest I had coming in. I
lived a simple life for the most part. I drive a five year old
domestic SUV and I don’t chase after fashion. I lived in a large two
story house that I bought with the proceeds from my first big
assignments. Over the years I refurbished the house from roof to
basement. Several years ago I moved my studio from Gillis Street to
the house.
By remodeling what had been, in earlier times a dining room and
a living room, I made myself a nice studio. Since a lot of my work was
location shooting, I didn’t need a huge studio so it was perfect for
me. My living space was upstairs. I had a nice place to watch TV and
sleep and that was all I needed.
Having made the decision to scale back my work I felt a sense of
relief. I wanted to get back to the basics of photographic. I sat down
and revised my fees by slashing them. I had charged as much as five
thousand dollars for a studio session and as much as fifty thousand
dollars for a location shoot. When I say slashed, I really mean I
mutilated my fees.
The first thing I did was get rid of all my film equipment. All
the large format, medium format, and most of the 35mm cameras. I
purchased another top of the line digital camera to go with the one I
had and upgraded my computer and software. That meant I could sell
all the darkroom equipment also.
The darkroom was in what had been the original kitchen. I
removed all the blackout curtains and replaced the glass I had painted
black with clear glass. I hired a professional company to come and
replace the floor covering and get rid of the chemical stench.
When I was all ready to go, I placed ads in the local paper and
listed my new fees. My rates were very much in line with the local
studios and chain stores. The fact I had a recognizable name helped
bring in the customers. In fact I had to hire a young woman to take
care of scheduling and act as a receptionist.
My former patrons, editors, publishers and agents, were highly
pissed-off that I was no longer doing location shoots or high dollar
studio work.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Emmitt Rawlings bellowed at
me over the phone. Emmitt was the editor of a very large fashion
magazine. “You are at the top of your game, Tag! Why would you even
consider going back to shooting bucktooth, pimple faced kids? Get
real!”
I didn’t try to explain my reasons to Emmitt or any of the
others who fussed at me. For the first time in a long time I enjoyed
what I was doing. I leaped out of bed every morning ready to make some
magic with my camera. I felt so good I even joined a gym and was
working hard to get my soft body back into shape. I jogged almost
every day and it was working. I lost fifteen pounds of fat and I felt
good about it. I still had a way to go, but I was getting there.
The girl I used as a receptionist had gone for the day and I
went to investigate the bell that tinkled when the door was opened.
There she was, standing in my reception room. My fantasy girl. The
girl I had seen all those years ago at a Halloween party dressed as a
fairy princess. I had completely lost contact with her. Someone told
me she and her husband moved to the city. But there she was standing
in my reception room. Twenty years rolled away like a mist.
Twenty years that had not changed her one tiny bit. She was
still the most beautiful woman I ever saw. Twenty years in which she
had not aged a minute. She still looked like that eighteen year old
girl I saw at a party. I closed my mouth with an effort. I wondered if
it was possible that this lovely creature could be the daughter of my
fantasy.
“Hi, I’m Tag Wilson,” I managed to say without sounding like a
complete moron. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry I don’t have an appointment,” she said. “I took a
chance you might be opened. Do you take walk-ins?” I didn’t, but I’m
adaptable. A closer examination proved that this was the original
fantasy girl and not her daughter after all. The years had been
exceedingly kind to her.
“No, but I can always make exceptions,” I said.
“I’m Lily Irwin,” she said holding out her hand which I made an
effort not to snatch. It dawned on me I had never known her last name.
“Frankly, I’m here on an impulse. I just moved back to Greenville a
few months ago and I have no current pictures of me. My best friend,
Darla, said you were the best photographer in…” she laughed. Her laugh
was like the tinkling bell over my door. “She said you were the best
photographer in the world.”
“I’d be a fool to argue with that,” I said.
“I’ll admit I’ve seen some of your work, Mister Wilson,” she
said smiling at me prettily. “I’m not interested in doing nudes and
that seems to be what you are famous for. Isn’t that right?”
“I have done some nudes from time to time,” I said and informed
her I answered to Tag. “What exactly are you interested in?”
“I really don’t know,” she said with her tinkling laugh. “Darla
insisted I come and get some professional pictures. She bet me a
hundred dollars I wouldn’t and I really wanted to take her money. What
do you charge?”
“A hundred dollars,” I said with a smile. “That way it won’t
cost you a dime.”
“Well, maybe it will,” she said, her smile fading. “The bet is
that I pose wearing lingerie and swimwear. I’m not sure I want to do
that.” I took another closer look at her figure. My initial appraisal
was correct. She still had the body of a teenager.
“Why don’t you ease into that style of modeling,” I suggested.
“We can do some shots of you wearing a parka and mukluks to start off
with.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said, her smile
back again. “When would you have time to do me?”
“It’s best done quickly,” I said, Ignoring the impulse to blurt
I’d do her anytime or any place. “Did you bring some changes?”
“No…ah, yes, some,” she said looking flustered. “No lingerie or
swimwear. Some shorts and a halter top and a couple of dresses.”
“Good. Go get them and let us proceed with the proceedings,” I
said.
Fifteen minutes later she was back in the studio. I was
surprised that my hands were actually shaking. I was surprised,
because I have taken photos of thousands of women. Maybe even ten
thousand. The beautiful Lily, my fantasy girl, was sitting on the
modeling stool in my studio.
