Preamble:
This story may be read on its own, or as continuation to Chapter 1 and 2. It is written to be complete in itself. Or, you may read this, and then read Chapter 1 and 2 as prequels if this story so titillates you.
In Chapter 1, the mature husband Julian, and wife Julia, reviewed the wife's young days racy lingerie photos. Probing, the husband discovered that the photographer was his wife's brother Jude, who is now an accomplished professional photographer.
As the husband desired a photo record of his well-preserved wife at her current 60 year old milestone, after overcoming initial apprehension, the couple agreed to have the brother do the shoot. They had dinner with the brother, and after a preliminary check out assessment, the shoot session was arranged.
In Chapter 2, the wife teased her husband on her preparations for the photo shoot.
As with Chapter 1 and 2, this is a banter-style teasing, titillating story. It is rendered in ornate prose, with philosophical musings in parts.
The action is light, the culminating lovemaking savage, but poetic. If you are aching for bruising, howling, torrenting action by rippling triathletes, this is not for you.
***
Her cell phone chimes. A message. The brotherly tone she had set for her only sibling, Jude. An urgent, yet velvety shrill.
"Coffee? Café round the corner before shoot. Tenish?"
"OK"
"Commando"
"Huh?"
"Dress commando."
"But why?"
"Prime your mood for the shoot."
"Oh?"
"See you."
"Hmm..."
***
Julia steps into the café. She orders a coffee from the counter. She finds a 2-seater table at a bay window corner at the back of the shop. She crosses her legs coquettishly. She expects to be edgy about her particular state of dress, or more aptly, undress. But so far, she is not, which pleasantly surprises her. Jude enters the café. He scans. Julia looks away, lowers her head and recrosses her legs slowly, being careful not to bump the leg of the small table.
When she looks up, her brother is gazing straight at her with a slightly questioning, fascinated look. He strides to her table. They hold each other's eyes. A smile creeps across his face as he sees one appears on hers. They exchange sibling pleasantries.
"You are, aren't you?"
She says nothing.
He scans around to see whether anyone is close. Softly, but assertively, "Show me."
A command. He is her younger brother. But, she cannot remember a time when she did not think of him as her big brother.
She blushes. And then, a deeper flare of rouge. Almost ruddy now.
He observes her. Her bare arms. Her straight back. The sweet tilt of her elfin chin as if she is tucking a violin under it. The curve of her bosom silhouetted against the bay window.
Jude orders his coffee. He likes his strong. They talk a little.
***
They leave the café. They walk down the block, round the corner.
He observes her. The hem of her cotton skirt swinging against her tanned calves. The small muscles of her calves rippling as she shifts and sways.
***
His studio is on the top floor of an 80-storey building, the tallest in the vicinity. The architectural style is a curious cross between classical Art Deco, and the kind of building structures that loom in noir sci-fi movies. Post-industrial glass and steel. But, it has a kind of stark soul in its austerity. Julia gazes up the shard of building, a massive erection, and then at Jude.
Jude stares down the biometric scanner with an intensity that raises the lift to the eightieth floor. They are duly delivered to a small private lift lobby.
Pointing to the illuminated keypad on the door, Jude turns to his sis, "Your birthday."
She remembers from her last visit here that Jude has set the access password to her birth date. She is the key to her brother's entry.
***
Like her last visit, she notes that the studio is sparsely furnished. Large umbrella lights. An opulent rug. A modern design sofa and armchair set. A black backdrop. The office, kitchenette, dressing room and washroom are across the small passageway.
The studio space opens up to a small private rooftop garden, with a swirl of 360 degree privacy. There is no parapet wall at the edge. A dizzy precipitous drop. The rooftop garden allows him the option of outdoor shoots.
Imagine a small quintessential verdant English garden, in glorious bloom, transplanted and airdropped onto a rooftop. Three sides of vivid green. One side nudging the clouds.
A green oasis in the city, where one can leave it all behind. A radical re-imagination of Frances Hodgson Burnett's classic "The Secret Garden". Julia's favourite novel growing up. She had copied her favourite paragraphs from the book to a pretty notebook, in girlish purple ink. It gave her a feeling that all was good in the world.
Julia feels like she has been transported to a secret garden perched on one side of the mountain top. The sunny side by day. The starry side by night. She imagines what it might be like to loll and luxuriate here all day everyday in this unlikely reality. Maybe a handsome prince may step off the clouds and commune with her?
***
Julia is awakened from her pleasant stupor by a pop. Jude has uncorked a Krug from his stash of poisons. Julia watches his hand glides the taper of the bottle to its opening, once, then again, to hand wipe the trail of foam. He serves the bubbly.
Julia contemplates the flute of bubbly in her hands. She observes the furious flurry of bubbles from her brother's Krug. So much of it. Streaming. Persistent. Never ending. Just where do they all come from?
Finally, she pouts lips to bubbles. She imbibes. Her brother's Krug is now in her. She imagines, and then feels, the bubbles streaming, racing to her extremities.
***
Jude studies his sister's feet.
"We've to prep your toenails."
Julia sits on the sofa. He retrieves his pedicure kit.
She has to remove her pantyhose. She stands up, reaches up under her skirt, and pulls her pantyhose down as far as she can, right in front of her brother. She removes them while Jude holds her arm to balance her. She cannot remove them all the way, while he holds her arm without falling over.
Jude perfunctorily reaches under her skirt. He grasps the sides of her pantyhose to help her. It is as if it is the most natural thing in the world for a brother to help his sis slip off her pantyhose.
