This is a flash fiction story about photos, nudity and love.
“Are you sure?” the man said.
“After today I’m officially retired,” the woman said. “You can always get another nude model, another younger model.”
“Another model,” he said. “I’m in love with you. You’re not just another naked woman. That’s why the better mags want the photos. It’s never been just about sex. It’s never been just about the extra money.”
“You’re such a romantic.”
“Okay, stand over here. Now drop the robe and let’s check the specs. Strike a pose.”
“A little more towards me.”
“My tummy,” she said.
“After all these years you still don’t trust me. I know what I’m doing. Have I ever taken a bad photo of you?”
“Not so far.”
“Okay, I just need to move the lights in a little closer and we can start shooting.”
Two hours later he took the last shots and then he shut down the lights. She got up from the bed where she was posing nude and slipped on her bathrobe which was draped across the bed. From outside came the sound of a vehicle stopping in the street beyond the well-kept front lawn of the house. The house was in a suburb of Pittsburgh. The man parted the drawn curtains and peeked down at the yellow school bus stopped in the street beyond the lawn.
The man said, “The kids are home. What’s for supper?”
My blog is the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette
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