Pictures

"Like this?"

Her name was Lydia -- though at some points she'd called herself, and asked to be called, Lyd -- and she was beautiful. She was naked save for the thigh-high socks she'd worn to bed. Lydia's legs were lazily kicked out behind her, bringing the night-black fabric down to rest against skin like milk glass. She was on her stomach, turned just slightly enough to one side that her navel peeked -- just barely -- from behind a rumple in the bedsheet that Reese now wished they'd smoothed out. Reese, perfectionist that they were, still had a lingering brain-itch of consternation thanks to the rumple, but that had been nearly wholly overcome by Lydia's nonchalant -- yet unmistakably eager -- enthusiasm.

"Just like that," Reese said, smiling now, having overcome the brief pang of anxiety that inevitably came before and after The Question. Reese was on their knees, camera in hand, playing with the focus and zoom of the camera, wanting to capture just the right angle.

God, she really was beautiful.

---

They'd met at a party the night before. Reese had wanted to leave soon after showing up -- it was a hastily-organized get-together at a friend of a friend's house and aside from a few familiar faces Reese'd felt like a total stranger. Like an alien or something.

It didn't help that everyone at this party looked and acted cool, goths mingling with punks mingling with metalheads and weird "art people," and though Reese technically belonged to the latter they didn't really fit in.

Here they were, in glasses and flannel and a shirt with a William Burroughs reference on it ("SUCCESS WILL WRITE APOCALYPSE ACROSS THE SKY"), and in skinny jeans that were tearing at the knees and back pockets, and in green Doc Martens that were scuffed but not scuffed enough to make them look like someone who was struggling even mildly, in a haze of black leather and spiked hair, eyes compulsively darting toward the montage of Kubrick clips projected on the far wall of the living room, finding comfort in analyzing Kubrick's obsessive editing, noting things they'd noted again and again throughout the night. Reese, whose nose ring and pink hair made them an alien among squares, was a square among aliens.

And there she was, Lydia with her black sweater and her black skater skirt and those amazing black socks, sipping from a red Solo cup and making jokes about witchcraft and Satanism. She'd sidled up to them during a lull in the festivities and, somehow audible over the sounds of HEALTH and Crystal Castles, asked them what their "deal" was.

"I edit videos," Reese had said, quickly qualifying with, "Freelance."

"Oh, cool," Lydia replied at a near-shout. Her nails were painted black and she had a tattoo of a dagger on the inside of her wrist. The tip of the blade appeared to be dripping with poison. "What kind of videos do you edit?"

"Pretty much anything." It was at times like these that dysphoria came creeping, tapping Reese on the shoulder and shouting, "Boo!" and then running away, leaving them with the awful realization that sometimes their voice sounded deeper than it should've, sounded like... well, like a man's. "Commercials, music videos... even, like, vlogs and stuff sometimes. But I mostly do corporate stuff nowadays."

But Lydia only seemed to notice the content of what Reese was saying, not how they'd said it. "Cool," she said again, and for a moment Reese was pretty sure the conversation was nearly over. "So how do you know Grimm?" Grimm was the host, the friend of a friend who'd invited Reese over.

"Have you ever heard of the --" Reese took a sigh before saying it "-- Compulsive Masturbators?"

"The... punk band?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Why?"

"I'm friends with the drummer. I was taking promo pictures at one of their concerts and Grimm was backstage. I think he wanted them to perform at his store for Record Store Day." Grimm was one of the Last True Punks still keeping the scene alive in town, welcoming pilgrims at his record store in the basement of a vegan burrito restaurant. Reese still wasn't sure why they'd been invited; they'd maybe had five total conversations with the man, but he was convinced Reese was a true believer and not one of the corporate hacks excoriated in the lyrics of, say, the Compulsive Masturbators.

"Cool!" Lydia said for the third time, though now she actually seemed interested. "Wait, I thought you did videos."

"I do." And then -- "Oh, yeah. I take pictures sometimes."

"Nice."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Lydia's eyes were very dark brown, so dark they were nearly black in the dim light of the living room.

"What do you do?"

"Oh." She was wearing black lipstick. All black everything, from head to toe, even her hair was black, cut into a bob that perfectly framed her face. Her cheekbones were steep cliffs that Reese suddenly found themself eager to dive from. "I do album artwork."

"Oh, cool!" Now Reese was the one saying it. "Like, drawing, or...?"

"Yeah. Mostly for metal bands and stuff. But I've also sold some prints at Grimm's and that's how we know each other." She took a sip of whatever was in her cup.

The conversation started at art and worked its way, over the course of the evening, toward their respective plans for the remainder of the night, and when they arrived at the same answer ("nothing") Reese asked the question.

"Do you... wanna go back to my place...?" It was a question often asked, and yet Reese still always felt weirdly unsure of themself as it left their lips. It was punctuated with a gentle curl of the lips, a soft smile that betrayed just how goofy Reese felt every time they asked this question. Their chest was tight, their brow hot, but they tried -- and maybe mostly succeeded -- at looking only mostly neurotic.

Lydia smiled into her cup. Reese admired the way the hoop in the middle of her lower lip rested against the rim of the glass. "Yeah," she said, bringing the cup down over her chest. "Yeah, I do."

Reese found Grimm in the crowd, thanked him for the invitation, accepted the burly man's hug, and said farewell. The party was only just now starting to show signs of winding down, so nobody really noticed when Reese and Lydia exited together.

---

Lydia was laughing as she climbed into Reese's car. "Listen. I know you're going to say something like, 'If you change your mind, let me know.'" She pulled the seatbelt over her (generous, Reese suddenly noticed) chest. "No offense, but you just seem like the kind of... well, you're not a guy. The kind of person who says stuff like that." She blushed, and Reese was taken aback not only by how out-of-character it seemed for her, but that the crimson streak showed through her pale foundation. "Fuck me, I'm sorry. That came out shittier than I might."

Reese laughed. "It's okay. I get what you're saying." They chewed their lower lip as they pulled away from the curb. "And you're right: I am absolutely that kind of person."

"Okay." Lydia sucked air into her cheek and blew it out, head downcast slightly, looking up at Reese with her inkwell eyes. "I promise I'm a very nice person."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Lydia pulled down the sun visor and opened the mirror. She checked her makeup... Reese admired the jet blackness of her lips, the way they highlighted the whiteness of her teeth... "But, full disclosure... artist-to-artist: I've never fucked a nonbinary person, so if I say something fucked up, tell me. Or spank me, whatever." It was Reese's turn to blush as Lydia shot them a glance and winked.

They swallowed. "Noted."

Lydia closed the mirror, put the visor back up, and slid back into her seat. "We... are fucking, right?" Her phone was in her lap; she was tapping on the screen. "You're not gonna, like... like, this isn't the first five minutes of a horror movie, is it?"

Reese snorted. Their face had fully settled into a hazy shade of scarlet. "I hope not!" They were self-conscious of the way their voice unconsciously deepened in the middle of their exclamation. "I..." They snorted.

"What?"

"I was going to say, 'more like... the... first five minutes of burying my face in a goth girl's thighs.' But that would be very uncool, so..."

Lydia laughed into her fist. "Okay. Fuck. You've won me over."

"Wow, that was easy." They turned onto their street.

"Listen, dude, I had fun talking with you and you're cute. And... I could probably subdue you with my thighs, so..."

Reese laughed. "Okay. Just keep in mind that if you change your mind --" They caught themself and sighed. "Jesus Christ."

"Wait, was that on purpose?" Lydia was playing with her hair. "Please tell me that wasn't on purpose."

"It 100% wasn't. I am just... a fool." They shook their head with self-effacing rue. There were moment, fleeting, often imperceptible, where Reese didn't feel like there was a thin pane of glass between them and the rest of the world. It happened at the strangest times -- when they were exasperated with a difficult client; when they were having a good day and decided to treat themself to something nice; when they were face-first in a goth girl's thighs... and when that glass came down, when the world opened up to them, they felt the urge to look into the eyes of the human being who'd brought them to that point and smile. Which is what they did, glancing over to Lydia with that soft, sad smile, which broadened when they saw that she eagerly returned it.

Lydia didn't say anything. She didn't really need to. She just smiled and planted her hand on Reese's thigh. They felt the warmth spread from her hand to the back of their neck. Lydia spent the last few minutes of the car ride on her phone, saying nothing, smiling to herself, which was enough for Reese.

---

Reese's house wasn't very big. They didn't need it to be.

They turned off the car, hopped out, opened the door for Lydia ("Oh, a gentleperson," she said, taking their hand), and led her inside.

---

The moment Reese shut the door behind them Lydia swung around and pulled them in for a long, hard kiss. Reese was caught unawares, their knees nearly buckled, but they recovered and leaned into it, wrapped their arms around Lydia's hips and held her against them.

There was no talk of touring their home, of exchanging pleasantries. The pair made their way to the bedroom, and as they neared it Lydia took the lead, took Reese's hand in her own, and pulled them, smirking, over the threshold.

Lydia immediately doffed her sweater, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. The plain black tank top beneath soon followed.

Reese had gotten a good sense of Lydia's figure at the party, but the light had obscured some of her features, and now they were endlessly grateful for the night concluding the way it was: they knew she was gorgeous but now, seeing the snowfield of her back and the way her raven hair tossed to and fro above it as she tore herself from her shirt, was... well, perfect. And when she shimmied out of her skirt, revealing a black g-string that disappeared between her plump ass-cheeks, Reese couldn't help but grin.

Lydia caught that grin as she looked over her shoulder. She made a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a scoff. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Reese, feeling stupid, blushed a little.

Lydia turned on her heels, causing her breasts to jiggle slightly in her bra. She pinned Reese against the closed bedroom door and planted her lips against theirs.

Reese's hands found Lydia's waist, but they soon migrated to her voluminous rear. Their hands sank ever so slightly into the pliant, alabaster flesh. Lydia replied with a moan, and as her hot breath washed over Reese's tongue they felt their pants grow tight.

Lydia deftly unbuckled Reese's belt. In the blink of an eye she'd unzipped their fly and had snaked a hand into their boxers, and when her fingertips found the root of their cock they responded with a moan of their own. "Reese," she purred, letting the word hang, hot and hair-raising, against the flesh of their neck. With her free hand she gripped Reese's shirt and twisted, pulling it up; they obliged her by hurriedly removing their flannel, then pulling their shirt over their head and tossing it to the floor. They'd barely finished depositing the garment when Lydia brought her hands to their shoulders, pulled them in for another kiss, and guided them onto the edge of the bed.

The moment their back hit the bed Lydia tugged at the waistband of their jeans; they hiked their butt up just enough for her to pull them down until they could kick them off. Their boxers quickly followed, joining their jeans by their ankles; they kicked them across the room. Reese always blushed when they were exposed -- never for long, but it was habitual, this feeling of impending judgment, of unwelcome vulnerability. It wasn't that they were bad-looking. Reese actually thought they looked okay most of the time: clean-shaven (well, electrolyzed), with olive skin and dark brown eyes; naturally brown-black hair fashioned into an undercut, dyed pink at the top and left natural on the sides; not fat, not skinny, leaning slightly towards chubby but in a way that was more "character from a cartoon made in the 2010s" and less "looks like someone's been eating too much candy." On good days Reese was fully aware that they were, in their own way, pretty cute. It wasn't like they repulsed women, either. But it was hard to let people in. Vulnerability could be frightening.

Lydia climbed onto Reese's lap. When she'd settled into a comfortable position Reese kissed the tops of her breasts, making her coo. Their cock throbbed against the fabric of her panties.

"Your hair," she murmured, pressing her lips to Reese's scalp, "is so cute." Her voice was soft and airy and Reese loved the way it felt as it washed over their hair, like a summer breeze through tall grass, loved the way she complimented their recent dye job.

"Yeah?" Reese asked. Coy. Their lips found Lydia's throat, peppered it with kisses.

"Mmhmm." She moaned at Reese's kissing, cupped their face in their hands and turned it up to meet her own. Their lips met. Reese liked the way her lip ring brushed against their chin. "Reese," she said softly, pulling away, "I'm gonna suck your cock now, okay?"

Reese's heart was a trembling fist. They blushed. "Okay," they said softly, simply, stupidly.

Lydia sighed happily as she climbed off of Reese and lowered herself to the floor, gently scraping her nails along Reese's thighs, making them shudder. Once she was kneeling comfortably she took their cock in her hands and stroked it, watching their face. She grinned and lowered her mouth to their throbbing member.

"It's been a while," Lydia purred around Reese's cock. She dragged her tongue up and down, up and down their aching shaft, as if trying to figure out a way to lick to their very core, expose them entirely. And thought it was nearly and she knew it, judging by the look in her eyes when they meet Reese's, they were in total fucking bliss. The black lipstick smudges around the base of their shaft made Reese even harder, and by the time Lydia took as much of Reese's length as she could between her lips they were ready to spill their seed.

Reese cupped Lydia's cheek, gently encouraging her to continue bobbing her head up and down their turgid member, and when she came up for air they leaned down and pressed their lips, hard, to hers. She moaned into the kiss. So did Reese, when Lydia's hand wrapped firmly around their cock and stroked, aided by the lubrication of her saliva.

Reese guided her up to the bed.

Soon she was straddling them. Soon Reese's hands were at her back, unhooking her bra, watching awestruck as her perky breasts fell free. And then those small, beautiful, pink nipples came into view, already stiff, begging to be sucked...

...which is exactly what Reese did when Lydia brought them close enough to their mouth, and when their lips wrapped tightly around one of the hard nubs their lover let out a soft gasp which only encouraged them to suck and tease and draw out of every gasp and moan and giggle they could.

"Yeah," Lydia moaned, centering herself so Reese had prime access to her breasts. "Like that..."

Reese's teasing was enough to bring Lydia to the brink of orgasm, but neither of them were willing to concede just yet. After a few minutes of oral ministration Lydia rolled off of Reese and, with her back strategically turned, made a show of removing her thong. Now she was totally nude... except for those socks...

---

"More like... the... first minutes of burying my face in a goth girl's thighs..."

Reese had said it as a joke, but it had become their reality.

Lydia gripped the headboard with one hand and with the other held Reese in place as they went down on her. She moaned ecstatically with every lick, every suck, every tease, music to Reese's ears. Her legs were loosely crossed in a trembling "x" across their back, pinning them between her thighs, urging them to keep going.

---

"Lyd," Reese whispered, breath hot against the goth's neck, "what do you want me to do?"

Lydia leaned back against Reese's shoulder, giving them access to her soft white neck. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead with sweat. She looked beautiful. She cupped their face, then let their hand drop... it slipped behind her, found their cock, and jerked it. Lydia didn't answer, just took Reese's hand and moved it between her legs. She moaned into their mouth as they slipped two fingers inside of her, as they went to work teasing her clit. Their other hand cupped a breast and squeezed it.

It felt like things were coming rapidly to an end. Lydia pried herself away from Reese and collapsed face-first onto the bed. She immediately hiked her butt high in the air and wiggled it, causing her thick cheeks to jiggle and slap together. She looked up at Reese and grinned. "Fuck me," she moaned, "like this..."

She planted her hands on the edge of the bed, pushed herself up until her butt was level with Reese's crotch, and widened her stance as they entered her. Lover moaned in sync with lover as one explored the other's moist sex, hands gripping her hips to keep them both steady, moving in time with one another.

"Fuck!" she moaned, rolling her forehead against the mattress.

Reese moaned into Lydia's back, licked sweat from her shoulder blades. They thought of every horrible thing they could to keep from cumming, a task that bordered the herculean as they zeroes in on the sound of Lydia's ass cheeks slapping against their lower body, occasionally complemented by the alluring smack of breast against breast.

"Spank me," she gasped, wiggling her butt.

"Like this?" Reese purred, resting the flat of their hand against the generous curve of her cheek.

"Please..."

That was all Reese needed. They smiled lop-sidedly as they brought their hand back and then forward, striking Lydia's pillowy buttock with enough to fill the room with the sound of the slap. An ecstatic cry erupted from her throat, followed by "More!" followed by another sharp spank.

"Yes!" Lydia gasped, grinding herself against Reese to take in as much of them as she could. "Fuck... fuck, I'm gonna... cum..."

It didn't take long after that. Lydia came first, which was surprising -- Reese had been on the verge since they'd started. Reese helped prolong her orgasm by giving her a few more light spanks, though their hand sloppily met empty space a few times. It was so hard to concentrate, so hard to...

Whatever Reese was thinking vanished in a flash. They came, hard, across Lydia's back, spilling pearlescent seed on that snowy field. They were suddenly worried they'd gotten some in her hair -- it would show up, after all, since it was so dark -- and new anxieties started to form and whirl and roil about in that dumb brain of theirs, and suddenly they missed the reptilian nothingness of sex, the --

"Fuck," Lydia moaned as she collapsed onto the mattress. Sweat rolled off her back. "That was..." The remainder took the form of a wordless sigh, mostly obscured by a nearby pillow, but that was sufficient. Reese knew what she meant.

Lydia was wearing a lopsided smile, which Reese returned. It helped that some, but not all, of Lydia's lipstick had worn off, and suddenly Reese felt like they could go another round. They watched as a thin rivulet of semen dribbled its way down Lydia's side and onto the bed.

"Oh, shit," Lydia giggled, seemingly only just now aware of the jism pooling in the small of her back. "Could I get a --"

"Oh! Yeah. One sec." Reese hopped off the bed.

When they returned from the linen closet, fresh towel in hand, they stopped and, despite themself, stared. Lydia was turned, just a little, not enough to cause any more spillage. Her back was to Reese, showcasing her buttocks. They couldn't help it: they were hard once more, though only a little, not enough to jump back into things.

"Thanks," Lydia said as Reese handed her the towel. She wiped her brow first, then turned the towel over and wiped her back. When she was done she handed it to Reese, who gently dabbed at their crotch until they felt relatively clean. Then they lied down on their back beside her.

Lydia rolled over so that she was resting in Reese's arm, which they wrapped around her. She nuzzled their chin with the top of her head, curled up a little. She'd grabbed her phone while Reese was gone, and was now idly browsing the internet, not saying anything.

It was morning. Nothing really needed to be said, anyway.

---

She ended up staying the night. They hung out for a while. Lydia was interested in Reese's equipment, which they showed her.

Then she raided their fridge for a beer and drank it, mostly naked, sitting at the edge of the bed, Reese lying pressed against her, draping one arm across her lap.

They made out for a while, talked some more, fell asleep in each other's arms.

---

And then it was truly morning, and the birds were sounding the dawn chorus, and the sprinklers in the lawns were going off, and someone was mowing, and suddenly the world was real again.

They ate breakfast. Made out some more.

And then Reese asked The Question.

It wasn't one of the awkward questions from the night and early morning before; this was the most awkward question of all, the question that Reese almost dreaded asking every time. But the prospective answer was always too intoxicating to pass up the opportunity.

"Can I take your picture?"

It sort of... slipped out. Naturally. Smoothly.

"My picture?" Lydia was lying on her back, reading something on her phone.

"Yeah." Reese straightened their glasses. "Umm... it's okay if you don't want to."

"What kind of picture?" Lydia sounded more curious than offended.

"Just, like --"

"Like, a nude, or... what? A headshot? Wait, what's that thing -- oh! Boudoir."

Reese let out a small laugh. "Kinda."

Lydia's toes curled in her socks. "'Cause when you weren't looking I put my number in your phone, so..." She shrugged. She'd washed her face before falling asleep, so it was obvious she was blushing. "I can send you a nude if you want one."

Reese smiled at that. "Umm, it's more like..." They sighed. This was the part that still made them feel weird sometimes. Maybe slightly... creepy. "So, like, I like to, umm, take pictures of... of the women I --"

"Fuck?"

"Y-yeah. I dunno, it's just, it's like --"

"You're a voyeur."

Reese was actually pretty pleased by how direct Lydia was being. "Yeah, actually. I'm... pretty much exactly that."

Lydia giggled. "Cool." That familiar phrase. "You wouldn't... share this with anyone, would you?"

"Never." Naturally, almost forcefully. Reese meant it. "I would never do that."

Lydia was quiet for a second. "You've taken pictures of other women?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see them?"

It actually wasn't that common for Reese's partners to ask, but Reese always obliged them when they did. "Sure."

They hopped off the bed and helped Lydia up. Then they walked, hand-in-hand, to Reese's home office.

---

The photos were on the computer, Reese had explained, though they'd also started entering them into a book.

"Show me," Lydia said with an anticipatory grin.

Reese blushed as they opened their desk drawer and removed the photo book. They slid it across the desk; Lydia took it and started flipping through.

"Holy shit," she muttered, "this is... really fucking hot."

It really was: three-and-a-half dozen women were represented in the book, each captured in a single photo. Some were totally nude, some half-clad as if Reese had caught them as they disrobed, some wore lingerie, at least one wore a bikini... petite women, curvy women, women who defined "voluptuous;" blondes, brunettes, redheads, women with hair black as night, women with blue and pink and purple hair; women with piercings, tattoos, unadorned women...

Each was posed differently, even if only by degrees...

Each picture contrasted with the ones preceding and succeeding it: though all were definitively NSFW they varied in explicitness -- some were at most risqué others bordered on the pornographic, though Lydia soon discovered that among these photos not a single one displayed the genitalia of its subject, nor did any depict explicit sexual acts. The photographer did not just want spank bank material; these were, in a way, art, and the photographer absolutely saw them that way. And when Lydia looked up into the nervous eyes of her lover, she saw the photographer there, too, and she smiled.

"Let's do it."

---

So here she was, on her stomach, curling her stocking feet against her bare bum, turning just enough for Reese to catch her nipple. She was pleased that Reese didn't take forever to work out the perfect shot -- it was clear that they approached this with a curiously professional mindset, having worked out the best angle, the best way to represent the subject.

Lydia grinned when she saw the photo. "Nice." She looked up at Reese. "So, like... is this your favorite... position? For lack of a better word?" She giggled.

Reese blushed. "I guess so." They rubbed the back of their neck, then straightened their glasses. "Are you sure it's okay? I can delete it if you want."

"No, I want you to have it." She leaned up and kissed their neck. "Although I might want you to send me a copy."

Reese smiled. "Sure."

Then their lips met and they fell against one another.

---

Reese and Lydia held hands as they walked to the car.

"So, umm..." Lydia was looking out the window.

"What's up?" They were already pretty close to Lydia's place; she'd walked to the party from a neighborhood over.

Lydia bobbed her head from side to side, mulling something over. "You have my number, and... I dunno, I had fun. So if you want to, y'know... take another picture..." She finished the sentence by rolling her eyes, smiling, expecting Reese to suss out the rest.

Reese grinned. This was new. Nobody had ever asked...

---

They dropped Lydia off and drove into town. They had some things to do before they went back home -- mundane things that made the previous night into a sort of waking fantasy, a dream.

The day lurched slowly onward.