His first photography showing had been open for a couple of days without a single patron coming to see it; despite all the generous advertising the gallery owner had given him and his work.
"Don't be disappointed," he said under his breath "We haven't even had the grand opening." Trying to take comfort in the Gallery manager's words that he heard again and again in his head. 'Few show up until the show's opening, I think it's the free food and booze that attract them.'
He wouldn't have to wait long the opening was scheduled for the following evening. Until then he would satisfy himself by surveying his work, making sure each print was in the exact location to show to its best advantage. He really wanted to make an impression and a statement.
He had always loved this particular gallery and was thrilled when the owner approached him to show his work. He loved what he did, he was never sure if anyone else would. He loved the gallery not so much for the work it showed, although they were all good, but for the way it was laid out. All its little secluded 'rooms' made sectioning his photos into categories easier and more cohesive he thought. He particularly loved the nudes section he had tucked away near the back, hoping it would be private enough for the patrons to truly enjoy the prints without prying eyes.
That is what disappointed him the most so far – no one had 'enjoyed' that section as he thought they should. Standing in the nudes room remembering the days and models of the prints he had chosen to display, he heard the familiar tinkle of the bell from the front door.
Reluctantly leaving his favourite section he strolled out to the front to meet whoever had come through the door. To his surprise, he met an attractive woman he estimated to be around 25.
"Hello, I'm Van Armstrong, the artist of this showing," He said stretching his hand to introduce himself. "How are you today?"
Her smile lit up the gallery with its radiance. "I'm fine thank you, and yourself?" she replied. Slowly she began to move through his work, stopping briefly at every frame to admire the print, bending forward slightly to read the gallery tag describing the photo.
"I'm great, you are the first person to come in and see my work." He couldn't help admire the way her floral sundress hugged her backside when she bent forward, or the glimpses of her long tanned legs as she moved. "If there is anything you are interested in or have questions about please feel free to ask."
"Thank you, I will." Again her smile dazzled him and her dancing green eyes captured his fantasies.
Watching her from a bench at the far end of the largest room, he wondered if she were a dancer the way she moved was grace in motion. The little dress she wore barely moved but hugged her slender body like a lover in the throes of passion. He had to look away, each move sent a familiar tingle to his loins. His member stirred slightly between his thighs with every glance.
Definitely a drawback to the long hours he had been keeping trying to get this show ready. He had taken a lot of pictures and had some amazing shots, but his usually busy social life had suffered. Lost in his thoughts he didn't see her approach, he didn't see her until she had settled beside him on the bench.
"You do beautiful work," she said absently fingering the hem of her dress. "I was wondering, have you always been a photographer and how did you get so good?"
Watching her hand in such an intimate location sent a rush of desire though him he knew he shouldn't be feeling. This was his type of woman, the woman in all his fantasies. Golden hair and green eyes with a childlike beauty he could capture on film. "That smile could light a room from a picture," he thought wistfully, trying to stay focused on the questions she'd asked.
"I've been taking pictures since I was in my teens; a friend talked me into taking pictures for the high school yearbook. I did it to be closer to her." He chuckled at the memory of his high school sweetheart. "As for getting good at it, years of practice I guess. I never go anywhere without my camera. There are hundreds of rolls represented in these few on display." It was hard for him to stop talking when someone got him started on his passions.
"I have tried to be a photographer myself, but don't seem to have the eye. I thought maybe it was something you were born with." Her shy sideways glance sent his heart skittering through his chest, setting his manhood on fire.
"There is more, would you like to see?" he knew he needed to stand, he hoped standing would camouflage the hard bulge in the front of his thin trousers.
"Yes, please," the emphasis on the word 'please' was so inviting, he had a hard time staying focused on what he was supposed to be doing, showing an interested viewer his work. That was all.
"Why did this beautiful woman have such an effect on his privates?" He followed her into the secluded section of the gallery, watching the gentle sway of her hips. He could feel the saliva in his mouth building, he wanted to taste her, he wanted to touch her. He could feel the ever hardening erection in his pants beg for its release.
The 'room' with the nude selections was seductively lit, soft almost candlelight auras clung around each display. Again she slowly moved from selection to selection admiring the light and shadows. He followed a respectful distance behind her trying not to interfere with her thoughts. When her delicate hand absently brushed across her breast and nipple, he knew she was as aroused as he was. The nipple of the teased breast pushed tautly against the thin fabric of her dress. It was then he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra. The soft mounds standing perkily without any support.
When she stopped at the last picture on display in the room, the tiny gasp that escaped her lips was audible, she read aloud "self portrait". Turning to him she asked "how do you do that?"
"What? Take a picture of myself, camera timer – the hardest part is getting the right angle."
