Chapter One

 

At First Glance

 

I saw Celeste for the first time as she stood before the bank of windows in the living room. Light, filtering through the trees into the afternoon dimness of the room, cast shadows that played across her form.

She embodied erotic.

The sun caught the bottled red highlights in her hair, it wasn't a brassy shine but a soft one that settled in her face. She wore a turquoise shirt tucked into her jeans, cowboy boots, a drifting smile, and eyes that caressed the room.

"You can take her picture," Edward told me.

My camera was always ready just in case, though I fumbled nervously through my bag at his comment. The room was quiet, even though there were the strains of Yanni playing faintly in the background, and the buzz of a fly. It was October, and the orange outside the window still shimmered in the fading afternoon. It would be a subtle picture of her, capturing the ethereal and the earthy at the same time. She was both.

With camera ready, I rose from my chair and began a series of pictures as she swayed ever so slightly as she stood in front of the window. The half profile of her face was her best angle, and with that small half smile, her face was sensual and at peace.

"Unbutton your blouse," Edward told her.

The buttons undone, the draping fabric fell against her breasts so the soft hills of those shapely mounds could be captured on film. Subtle movements revealed even more skin, translucent pale white skin, and a neckline with delicate bones.

As if he'd ordered her further, as my camera kept snapping pictures, she tossed her shoulder and the blouse fell away. As she pulled it from the waist of her jeans it dropped to the floor with no sound.

Her breasts were perfectly formed, round, more than a handful, but not cumbersome. And the nipples, stimulated by the sudden cool across her flesh, wrinkled into tight knots, purple against her pale white skin. Did the camera make them hard? Did she feel a sudden surging rush of pleasure as I clicked off a half dozen varied shots? Her hands came up to caress them, her fingers to pinch the knots. She squeezed them hard as if that turned on some fiery juice that raised her erotic peak still higher.

My mouth watered, thinking how delicious it would be to place my mouth over one and suck.

"Remove your jeans," Edward said. He was as mesmerized as I was. As was the other woman, Laura, who sat quietly on the couch opposite from where I'd sat. She was admiring Celeste with her eyes, but motionless, giving no feelings away.

There was hardly a movement in the room, save the action of my camera capturing Celeste at every angle, with all her measured rhythms. It was a graceful harmony, as if she was at one with the silence of the room and the gently moving trees outside and the relentless clicking of the Hasselblad.

I paused while she pulled the boots off her feet and then unzipped her jeans for me. She was naked underneath. She tugged at the bottoms of the denim, her hips and legs soon free of the constricting garment. She returned the boots to her feet.

I felt as if she was drawing me to her as much as I was drawn to the unassuming artful Celeste. I stared without my camera snapping, appreciating her, honoring the lines of her body from her waist, to the soft billowing curves of her hips, to the tight well formed curve of her thighs and the calves that disappeared into the boots. Her quarter turn toward the windows was the perfect angle, as if she knew how her body photographed. She wasn't posing, though she understood instinctively how the camera would capture her at her best advantage.

"Part your legs," Edward said, as I began to take pictures again.

Her cunt stood out boldly for me, pushed out just slightly from her hips as she reclined back against the window frame. I could see beyond the few wisps of hair not shaved away, that there were long lovely labia dropping below her outer lips, beckoning. She beckoned to be screwed with something lewdly reckless in her manner, a "come-on", a proposition, as if she was a whore plying her trade, waiting for a trick on a common street corner. I blushed to myself thinking Celeste that much a slut. Though I didn't imagine she'd be offended by the thought. She must have come to terms with slut, the word and the inner beingness that made her one.

"Turn around so he can see all of you," Edward ordered again. His voice was resonant and resolute, going straight to her loins, to her inner consciousness. It was as if she wasn't thinking for herself, and Edward was her thoughts; she was too preoccupied inside her body feeling, to bother thinking.

She turned around slowly, glancing over her shoulder with a soft smirk. I smiled back self consciously, caught off guard by the unpretentious play. I could imagine her prompting me with a finger, as she mouthed "come take me". I was not there to screw her, though I would have liked to have taken that ripe bottom in my hands and planted my erection between those cheeks.

She placed one boot clad foot up on the window sill in the most flagrantly whorish pose yet, and my camera captured the picture a dozen times on film, snapping her from all perspectives. I especially loved the line of her legs, how they curved to the generous swell of flesh that was her white ass cheeks. They shivered. Goose bumps flashed and faded on the surface of her skin. She wanted to churn for me, wiggle her ass seductively at my camera. I could see why, the shine of glistening sex juice was clinging to the inside of her thighs. She was aroused and ready to be penetrated. (I would soon find out that it was a perpetual state of being in this house.)

"Stand still Celeste," Edward snapped, as if he was displeased. "Let the camera screw you."

She ceased the rowdy movement of her hips, though there was no less carnal purpose in her mind as she blushingly turned back around and leaned against the window sill again.

"Laura, bring her off," Edward directed the silent sober other woman.

Laura rose from the couch and approached the redhead. She placed a hand at Celeste's crotch and prodded her gently. Neither I nor the camera could see her manipulations, they were hidden by Laura's rump. Swift and firm, the red head tart was quickly off, groaning, leaning back with Laura's arm about her waist holding her. The sun and her own heat had created beads of sweat on her vibrating skin. Several quick pulses and it was over.

I couldn't shoot the moment for the odd angles and my near embarrassed presence in their intimacy. It was a difficulty I'd soon get over, though this time it froze me in my tracks. Astonished, I felt like an interloper, an alien stumbling on a sacred place where I did not belong.

"You'll be here until the book is complete?" Edward suggested, knocking me from my fervent gaze, as the two women appeared to faint against each other in recovery, and once entangled, remained. I acknowledged Edward's comment, looking toward him as he was standing across the room from me.

"I can," I nodded, though in my mind I remembered I intended to shoot several models for the book. Now, I was reconsidering.

"There's a darkroom in the basement, it's quite pleasant down there, a bedroom and bath, it walks out to the woods."

"Sounds pleasant," I remarked. I didn't have to add that the work would be the real pleasure.

Edward was walking me into the other room, and so fascinated by his compelling bearing, I didn't look back to the women. Though I regretted not taking one last glance at their quiet interlude.

"Your work intrigues us," Edward said. "An exposé of intimacy. I would think it would work best with people who are already intimate with each other," he surmised.

"I can see the advantage," I agreed. Not used to having my conceptions changed in mid stream, this one was, without my knowing exactly how it happened.

"You are, in this expose, the vigilant passive observer, the witness storyteller," Edward theorized. "Participating with your subjects could cloud your objectivity."

"Of course," I agreed, "as delightful a prospect as that might be." I must confess to the tiniest disappointment at our agreement on my celibacy during this project. I could in no way pleasure in these two scrumptious females, though I could not squelch the desires that were gnawing in my crotch.

"So are we set, or will you need more time to consider this?" Edward asked.

"I don't think I need to look for other subjects," I answered. It was all clear to me now. "After what you've shared with me about your varied lifestyle and sexual tastes, your menage a trois is indeed all I need. It is fascinating that I can find everything I require for this book right under your roof."

He smiled.

He was tender and warm, a nurturer, though he was also proving to be a vibrant manipulating master as well. That would flavor the book and indeed my life for these next weeks, as I prepared to practice voyeurism as a celibate, in a house ruled by passionate libidos.