My young lover and I immortalise our affair being photographed.
*
"I am so sorry Cat," he said unnecessarily and rather annoyingly.
"There's no need to be, it had to happen, we both knew that."
Julian had just told me that he was getting married. I had known, of course, ever since we had started our crazy affair that it was on the cards. After all, that is what twenty-four year olds do, they get married. But not to forty-four year old, married women with two children like me. No, they marry nineteen or twenty year old, stick insect thin young women. After all, that is the way of the world isn't it? That is the way things are, the status quo and what society expects.
We had been having an affair for almost six months. Well affair is rather overstating it. To be blunt, we had been fucking each other for that time. That's all. It was not really an affair. We did not go out, have dates or see each other in restaurants or anywhere. No, Julian came to my house when my husband was away, which is an awful lot, and we fucked. It was as straightforward as that, well we also fucked in other places, but that's another story. It was what I needed and what he wanted. An older woman needing to experience the vigour of youth before it was too late and a young man wanting to enjoy the experience of an older woman before marriage. A perfect situation. And for the past few months, that is exactly what we had shared and enjoyed.
We had met at the children's hospice where I do voluntary work and where Julian was doing a year of his internship as part of his final studies to be a doctor. He came from Gloucestershire and knew few people in Hertfordshire where I lived and where the hospice was located. We got on very well, too well I suppose for soon after meeting we were having coffees together, then lunch and then drinks after work and then dinner.
I had the time and the opportunity to do this as my husband, Richard was nearly always working or away and both children were at university. Although Julian was engaged to be married, he also had the time and opportunity as his fiancée still lived in Gloucestershire and worked for British Air as cabin crew on long haul.
Coffees in the canteen, lunch in a nearby restaurant or at the gym we both visited and even drinks after work in the pub next door to the hospice were all, sort of ok. True, we were sailing a little close to the wind and were probably causing a few rumours, but it was totally defensible, it was all part of, or associated with, work. Dinner was different, that was not part of work and was not really defensible. It was outside work and was not something I could tell anyone about without them raising their eyebrows. Deep down I knew I should not have accepted his invitation and that I did, I put down to loneliness. I knew, though that was really an excuse and that there were other reasons. One I was pissed off at Richard for travelling so much, two I suspected he might be having an affair, three I was continually sexually frustrated and four I simply enjoyed Julian's company. At the time we had our first dinner, I had no thoughts of us having an affair.
When I try justifying those crazy, yet wonderful few months, I blame Richard. Well that is the easy option. In this case, it is almost true. Really, though, I have no one to blame other than myself, Julian and the circumstances.
Julian and Richard had met at a couple of fund raising functions at the hospice. I spoke of him quite a lot to Richard and he agreed that I could invite Julian to our house for dinner. I was excited preparing dinner and getting ready and even more so when Julian arrived looking very nice in a crisp, long sleeved white shirt and beige, linen trousers. We were having a drink in the little secluded courtyard at the back of my house when Richard rang and said that he would be late, but would ring again with progress.
I held up the dinner and Julian and I finished the bottle of wine. Richard rang again and said that he would not be home as they were in negotiations that would run late and start early the next day.
"I'll stay at the flat," he told me, obviously completely forgetting about our guest.
I was almost in tears when I explained that to Julian who replied.
"Ah well, never mind I have you all to myself then."
How it all happened I am not sure, but seeing that I was near to tears he held me. Looking back, it seemed to be such an easy transition from being held and consoled about my uncaring husband to being kissed and caressed by an eager suitor; from having no thoughts of doing anything sexual to being undressed by him and from not for one moment considering committing adultery to being fucked three times that evening by my young buck
*
"I've got an idea," he said, as we lay side by side naked on the bed in my main guest room just after he had told me he was getting married. Although I had become attuned to committing adultery with him and had accepted that we had to do that most of the time at my house, I still was not comfortable having sex with him in my marital bed, well most of the time that is!
"What's that?" I asked with little real interest as he slid his hand over my shoulder and down my chest so that his fingers stroked across the swell of my full boob.
"Let's do some boudoir photography as a memento."
Again that did not interest me that much for I assumed he meant him taking photos of me as I had shown him Richard did of me.
"You've got loads of me," I told him.
"No I mean both of us together, in a studio."
"What you and me?"
"Yes and a photographer."
I got what he meant. "How far would you envisage us going?"
"How far would you go Cat?" He said putting it neatly back into my court.
Richard and I had been using photography for some time as a boost to our waning sex life. It worked well, temporarily that is for we rarely ended a session without having great sex, often on the floor of our lounge or bedroom. It did not last though, for once we were back to normal after the session and he was working his murderous hours as a corporate lawyer in London or travelling, to and from America, sex fell off his radar, well at least with me it did!
I had taken some time to agree to Richard's persuasive arguments to 'get my kit off' for the camera. It just did not seem right. Flaunting myself to him and his intrusive camera seemed very over the top; respectable, middle class, lawyers wives just did not do such things. Well so, I thought until I did it. After a while, I found I loved it. It uncovered something in me, an exhibitionist streak that made me want to make love to the camera and in my mind be fucked by the lens.
Julian's idea interested me. I now enjoyed being photographed and had even posed for a few for him that he took with his Samsung phone. I had overcome both my embarrassment at undressing in front of the camera and worrying that they might get into the wrong hands. I had even sent some out to guys I had met when I had been a bit of a chat room junky a couple of years ago. I saw no risk with Julian. I trusted him and nearly loved him, feelings that I felt were mutual; if only I was twenty years younger, I often thought! He came from a very rich, near aristocratic family and was about to marry a childhood sweetheart who came from a similar background. So not to put too fine a point on it, he had as much, if not more to lose than I did if any photos of us together went astray.
"You sure you would like that?" I asked turning and kissing him as I ran my fingertips down his flat six-pack.
"Absolutely. You know what a buzz I get stripping for you and doing it in the car or where we might be seen."
"True" I smiled thinking of the times we had sex in the open air, in a shop doorway, against a tree and in his or my car.
"We are both exhibitionists aren't we?" He smiled taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking it.
"Do you know someone?" I asked.
"What as a boudoir photographer?"
"Yes."
"No of course not."
"Oh I just wondered whether you and Penny had used one."
"I wish."
"Well maybe another time."
"It will be easy to find one, get your iPad."
We had a fun twenty minutes or so looking them up and found several in north London that were convenient to St. Albans where I lived, but not too close for there to be a chance of seeing anyone we knew.
"Leave it to me, I'll find one and let you know."
"I have got a short list of three," Julian told me a few days later as we lay in the back of my Rangerover one afternoon after having sex in a field just a few miles outside St Albans.
"Three what?" I asked struggling to put my knickers back on in the confined space.
"Boudoir photographers," he replied.
