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Latent Images By A. R. Popovic

"So, are you going to do it?" Kate glanced up at Jane, watching her
friend squirt a small mound of suntan lotion into the palm of her hand.
She tugged at the front clasp of her electric blue bikini top, growling as
the plastic hook snagged itself on a lose thread and refused to give way.
Her beach chair squeaked as she jostled it, the legs digging into the

"Yeah," said Kate. "I'll give him a call tomorrow and set it up." A
lock of crimson-blonde hair blinded her, falling over her eyes as she
finally tugged the top free. Jane nodded, smearing the cocoa colored
lotion onto her breasts, rubbing in circles, bringing out the texture of
her skin and darkening her nipples.

Kate just watched her. The sun, now well over the tall fence
surrounding her back yard, glimmered against Jane's heavy breasts. Her
friend's fingers kneaded the soft flesh, pressing and massaging the lotion
over her curves. She knew that, when people looked at Jane, they imagined
her namesake, Ms. Mansfield, or the long lost bomber art of the 40's.
Voluptuous without being excessive, full without overflowing, curves all
sliding down to the dark gold treasure nestled between her legs.

When people looked at her, she suspected they went back to looking at

"Yo? Still there?" said Jane, waving her gleaming hand in front of
Kate's eyes, the lotion smelling of peeled oranges. Her reverie broke like
crystal dropped against cement "You ok?"

"I guess," she said, pulling down her swimsuit panties and letting them
hang around an ankle. Jane handed her the suntan lotion and she dabbed
some around her own breasts, dark cream against pale skin, before
decorating the rest of her body with tiny splotches. Goosebumps followed
dots, the cream cool even after it's time in the sun. "I'm just nervous
about the shoot."

"Is it the nudity?" asked Jane. Kate paused, her legs spread wide open
as she rubbed lotion onto her neitherlips, and glared at Jane. "Ok, maybe
not. What then?"

Kate shrugged. "I just don't think I'm pretty enough for this kind of
work. I mean...well, look at my breasts."

"I have. For a while now. What's wrong with--?"

"They're too small," she said, cupping them, rubbing lotion over her
eraser pink nipples. "I'm barely a 34C."

"That doesn't mean a thing, Kath," said Jane. She scooted her chair
closer and leaned forward. "Not everyone wants a chubby, sagging 35DD."

"You are not chubby--"

"I am too!" Jane grabbed her breasts and squeezed them, fingers sliding
over the lotion-slick skin. Kate inhaled, her heart pounding against her
ribcage as Jane's wide, dark nipples slid through her fingers. "I'm very
chubby for this market."

"Well, I like your breasts the way they are, thank you," she said. "And
so do your employers. You get a steady wage. I mean, how many people can
say that these days?" Kate leaned forward, arching her back towards Jane.
"Can you...?"

"Sure." Jane abandoned her chair, sitting behind Kate and rubbing lotion
onto her back. "And wages are not the issue. It's about..." Kate felt her
sigh, warm breath hitting her back. "It's about me wishing you could
finally see yourself the way everyone else does."

"Sorry," said Kate, leaning back into Jane's slippery hands. "But I've
only got one set of eyes." A tiny shock of pleasure danced down her spine
as Jane's hands clasped her breasts, palms wet with lotion writhing against
her nipples. The sun's warmth crawled down her belly, rubbing against her
lips and dipping into her sex as Jane tongued her ear.

"So do I," said Jane. "And I like what I see..." Kate opened her mouth,
but found it filled with Jane's kisses instead of her own protests. She
turned and faced her, eyes closed as she tasted Jane's tongue against her
lips. The deck chair's thin plastic covering squeaked against her backside
as she spun around, lifting her leg over both Jane's crossed legs and the
width of the chair itself.

"If you're doing this to make me feel better..." Kate said as Jane's
tongue flickered against the sensitive pulse in the hollow of her throat.
She reached out and massaged Jane's warm, heavy breasts, feeling her
nipples grow erect under her slippery thumbs.

"...then it better be working," whispered Jane. Cupping Kate's breasts,
she squeezed and let them slide through her fingers, riding on the thin
film of suntan lotion, raking across her tight, pink peaks. A wet shiver
traveled down Kate's body, spilling in a wave of warmth against her pussy.
She moaned, then tried lowering her lips to Jane's nipples.

But Jane blocked the way, holding her head up as she closed her mouth
around Kate's erect tits. Jane trilled her tongue along her areole, the
tip darting back and forth across the skin like a hummingbird. As she came
up for air, Kate asked, "Are you sure you don't just want to cuddle?"

Jane shook her head and said, "I'm very sure," before diving down onto
her other exposed nipple. Between tiny shocks of pleasure traveling across
her chest, she wondered how Jane could stand the taste of the suntan lotion
on her breasts and, in curiosity, licked a shiny portion of her arm.
Spread across the skin, the lotion didn't taste like anything, though the
scent of oranges tickled her nose once more.

"I don't mind the taste," said Jane, bringing her in for another long
kiss. One of Jane's hands fumbled for something nearby and she attempted
to cover her efforts by suckling her damp nipples once more. The
distraction worked, and she sucked a breath through her teeth, ignoring the
'pop' of her thumbing off the lotion cap.

When several spurts of lotion tangled themselves in her pubic hair,
followed by a big glop on her inner thigh, she pulled herself away from

"What..?" Before Kate could finish, Jane's fingers had plowed into the
gleaming black lotion and smeared it across her neitherlips. She sucked on
her lower lip as Jane brushed against the hood of her clitoris, rubbing the
cool, viscous fluid onto the raised edges of her labia.

"Sokay," said Jane, voice low and warm. She licked a few drops of sweat
from her clavicle while massaging the thinning lotion deeper and deeper
inside her. The nectar of arousal dripped from inside Kate's sex, mingling
with the lotion, adding to it's slickness. "It's safe. You've used it
here before..."

"For sunblock," said Kate, leaning back and spreading her legs further
apart. Jane's index and forefingers described the lines of her pussy, tips
caressing the puckered labia. "Not for..ahhh, gods..." Kate's fingers dug
into the chair's plastic covering as Jane entered her with a soft squelch,
massaging the roof of her pussy.

Clenching Jane's invading digits, she abandoned any thoughts of moaning
'harder!' or 'fuck me, please!' in favor of drinking in the warmth crawling
over her belly. She wriggled her toes, catching blades of grass and
uprooting them as a pre orgasmic shockwave traveled through her legs.

Kate clenched down on Jane's fingers, now covered in flecks of foam, as
they brushed against her clitoris. Nearly flat on her back, with Jane's
lips and tongue and teeth sending blue arcs of pleasure from one tit to the
next, she pressed herself against her lover's fingers.

One by one, timed to the tiny, high-pitched gasps she pulled from
between her teeth, the sensations flowing from her aching sex and throbbing
nipples like a river of fire, coalescing in her heart and blinding her with

When she opened her eyes, she saw Jane holding her, chin resting atop
her shoulder. Shaking, she put her arm around her lover and hugged her
close, the beach chair squeaking in protest.

"Now, do you have any doubt I find you beautiful, love?" said Jane, a
quiver in her voice.

"No," said Kate. I only wish I found myself as beautiful as you do.


"Ok, great, now before we get into the costumes and props, could you
take of your clothes and give me a quick turn under the lights? Thanks."

Driving to the shoot, Kate's mind rattled off every erotic story she had
ever read involving photo shoots. The pattern remained the same:

Subject arrives at photo shoot, either nervous or distanced and
professional, but soon turns into a raging torrent of passion as the act of
being photographed pushes all the right buttons leading to wet, nasty sex
with the photographer and/or any other models

Jane and Mark, her usual photographer, assured her the whole way that
the stories were laughably inaccurate. "Trust me, watching a guy fiddle
with a light meter and how your hair is falling for a half an hour will
take the steam out of anyone's engine," said Mark, laughing, bringing out
the ruddy highlights in his pale skin. His dark, curly Afro shook with his
laughs, reminding her of a painter on PBS that went on and on about 'happy

Kate held Jane close, but kept her eyes on the outside, watching the
fields of summer wildflowers overtake the concrete buildings as they passed
in and out of Fredericksburg. Andy, the photographer, lived out in the
wilds of Stafford, which assured privacy and a long drive from her house.

Andy was there to meet them as Mark drove up to a house Kate swore she'd
seen on This old House or some other home improvement show. Everything
looked like a photograph, or was destined to become part of a photograph.
Even Andy himself, in his tattered blue jeans, flannel shirt, scuffed
work-boots and ruffled black hair seemed right out of a PBS show.

"I thought we'd start with a few clothed bikini poses, just for painting
references, then move to the nudes," he said, as if talking about a
construction project. "First some cheesecake. Very soft. Then, if you're
up to it, some more explicit images." Somewhere in there he dropped in the
'inspection' request.

While Mark and Jane stood in the background, arms crossed, Kate walked
through the array of lights Andy set up inside. He watched her through the
lens of his Halsbard 75 millimeter portrait camera, peering down into the
boxlike device like someone looking at an oracle, murmuring words of
encouragement, until he stopped dead.

"Ok, Kate, your pubic hair's curled into a cowlick in a few places.
Doesn't look nice and it casts some bad shadows, so we'll need to trim it,"
he said, casual and businesslike. "Let me grab some scissors..."

With a muttered, "Um, ok" Kate found herself seated on a sheet-covered
chair, legs spread, while Andy trimmed her pubic hair. He snipped a
little, combed it out, then snipped some more, all the while tilting his
head like a barber inspecting his work. After a few moments, he declared
the work "Finished!" and asked her to get ready for the bikini photos.

Kate dragged Jane and Mark with her to the dressing area. "Did he have
to linger like that?"

"He's a bit of a perfectionist," said Mark.

"More like he wanted to spend a lot of time peering at her," said Jane.
Mark blinked with surprise, then laugh.

"Who, Andy? Nah, he's as queer as a three dollar bill. I know, I dated
him for a while. Trust me, he wasn't getting his rocks off by trimming
you," said Mark, sorting through bikinis. "Oooh, this blue one looks

In the end, Andy chose a deep orange bikini so it would contrast against
her skin in the black and white photos, but still allow the details of her
body to show through. Kate flowed into the motions of the photo shoot as
if it was a familiar waltz and Andy made an excellent dance partner. Every
photograph existed in his mind before he took it and his coaxing was
assured without being bossy.

When the bikini finally came off, she and Andy were already in sync. So
much so that when they had to stop to reload, or change the props, a wash
of boredom hit her. While keeping focused with the camera snapping away
like a metronome was easy, remaining focused during the tedious parts
escaped her. When everything was re-set, it took her a few moments to jump
back into the rhythm.

The final shots had her slicked up with baby oil, with a two 'pepper'
lights picking out the gleams on her skin. She tapped out the poses like
beats in the song. Tick, she arched her back for him. Tock, she threw the
camera a sultry look. Tick, she pressed her breasts together. Tock, she
brushed hair across her cheek.

When Andy finally called it a night, after having cranked through twelve
rolls of film, there was no wild orgy of pent up passion. Just a lot of
equipment being moved as she scrubbed most of the oil from her skin.

More tired than aroused, that was how she felt. When Jane asked her,
"How do you think it went?" on the ride home, Kate yawned and fell asleep
on her girlfriend's shoulder.


"Well, well," said Kate. "Looks like Andy was good to his word." She
hadn't expected the promised photos to ever show up but, two weeks later,
they arrived. Sealed in a white, blue and red box from the post office
stamped Priority Mail, the package felt like lead in her hands.

A drop of water from her still soaked hair plunked onto the cardboard,
darkening it. After her morning jog she headed straight for the shower and
scrubbed off several miles of road grime. Of course, as soon as she got
shampoo in her hair, the doorbell buzzed and someone yelled "Package!" One
quick rinse, a leap into her old, blue bathrobe, and the box was in her
hand, getting soaked.

She left it on the couch while she dried off. Still in her robe, she
padded towards the package and sat down beside it, couch squeaking in
protest. Ripping away the sealing tab, she pulled the box apart and let
it's contents spill out onto her lap. Two portfolios, faux leather covers
shining under the den's track lights.

Kate opened the first. Tacked to the inside cover with some scotch tape
was a handwritten note. "Dear Kate," it read. "Here are the photos I
promised. Hope I did you justice. At Jane's request, I put together
another portfolio for you Best regards--Andy." Leaning into the silky
embrace of her favorite pillows, she put the second portfolio on the floor
and flipped through the first.

Tucking her knees in so her feet rested on the couch cushions, turning
her lap into a reading stand, the hem of her robe fell back. A cool rush
of air tickled her legs and thighs. She wondered if she should put
something on under the robe, but brushed the idea off. The house was
empty, the windows closed, and no one was interested in what her vulva
looked like straight out of the shower anyway.

"Hello, beautiful. Who might you be?" she asked the photos. The woman
inside, alternately painted in bright colors or stark black and white,
didn't feel like her. Somehow she could never imagine herself with the
sultry gaze this woman possessed. Until she reached the fifth picture in
the portfolio.

One photo in particular sent a flutter down her spine. A black and
white photo of all things. She lay on her back, atop a rug, the remnants
of a scant bit of lingerie crumpled beneath her. Back arched, breasts stretching for the sky, she tilted her head and gazed at someone off
camera. Her hair spilled onto the floor like ribbons of black volcanic
rock, brushed with golden highlights.

Kate shifted atop the couch, searching for a more comfortable position.
The soft, satiny fabric of her robe brushed against her skin, caressing the
lines of her buttocks and pulling her nipples into erection. She lifted
the portfolio, squirming under her own searing gaze.

The portfolio's edges caught her robe and pulled it open. As she rested
the folio on her lap once more, the weight pressing on her belly, she found
she didn't mind the cool air against her naked breasts. Her eyes trailed
down the line of her body in the photo. One hand rested on her clavicle,
delicate fingers caressing it and drawing the eye to her soft, white
mounds. Until now, she'd never noticed how wide her own nipples were
compared to the size of her bosom. Her other hand rested atop a flat
stomach, fingers splayed like cardinal compass points directing her to the
soft curls of her mons.

Swallowing, she realized more than anything else she wanted to see her
own had dip down between her legs and caress the hungry lips hiding beneath
the dark curls. Hear thumping, she laid her palm against her left breast,
feeling the soft curve quiver under her touch. Kate's nipple ached,
sensitive from the heat of the shower and begging for attention. Her thumb
and forefinger strayed across the surface of the areole. With her free
hand, she tore through the portfolio, wanting more.

All the other photos, the color photos, didn't feel like this woman.
The sensuality depended too much on the lighting and composition, not the
model. She didn't want this created woman. She wanted the model in that
singular, stark, black and white photo.

She wanted herself.

Closing the folio, she put it on the floor and turned onto her side, one
leg up on the couch's back, splaying her legs wide open. She reached down
and opened the second portfolio. Another black and white photo of herself
stared back. The edge of the picture seemed frayed, as if someone had torn
a section away. An end photo. Andy burned off the first and last two
photos on the roll, saying they were always rough and badly framed.

This time, he captured something. Her. Unrehearsed, raw, Kate painted
in grainy monochrome pixels. One candid photo after another stared at her
with the sultry gaze of the fifth picture in the other book. Inhaling, the
aroma of her body wash mingling with drops of salty nectar from her naked
labia filled her senses. She cupped her breast and kneaded the soft flesh,
thumb and forefinger pinching one nipple, then the next as she paged
through the photos.

She stopped on one picture in particular. A moment caught at random,
just before the series of photos he took with her oiled and shiny. She sat
atop a barstool, the vinyl curving beneath her backside. Her right foot
rested atop the lowest rung on the stool already glistening with baby oil.
She'd hiked the other up onto the stool's highest rung, splaying it out to
bare her glimmering vulva as her fingers worked the oil against her inner

Kate's remembered the movements of that moment and her fingers played
the memory against the moisture of her vulva. She dipped her fingers along
the inner lips, collecting moisture on the tips. A low moan curled in her
throat and without hesitation she plunged two fingers into herself,
clenching her vaginal muscles tight against the invading digits as she
worked them in and out, soaking them until each grasp let out a soft, damp

Grasping a pillow to her breasts, letting the fabric and lace
decorations rasp across her aching nipples, she circled her clit with her
wet fingers, rubbing the outer edges of the hot pearl. Kate's caresses
became more and more frantic. Both hands slid against her sex, one set of
fingers plunging deep into her dripping vagina as the other teased her
clitoris until it became a burning jewel set between her legs.

Then the jewel exploded into a thousand searing points of light. Kate
arched her back and howled, squeezing her eyes and throbbing walls of her
sex closed. Even as the orgasm reached it's peak, her hips bucking against
her fingers while the waves of pleasure became a hot white storm of sensory
overload, she refused to stop pleasuring herself.

Only when her muscles finally collapsed in exhaustion did she realize
how hungry she'd been. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the photo of
herself and a realization creeped over her like a post-orgasmic flush of
heat. She'd wanted the woman in the photo for a long time, but never
realized she was always within reach, looking back at her from the other
side of a mirror.

Something buzzed in the distance. After a moment, she realized it was
the phone. Leaning back, she knocked it off it's hook and dragged it to
her ear. The sharp tang of her own juices tickled her nose as she said,

"Hi," said Jane. "You sound a bit out of breath..."

"I kinda am," she said, stretching. "I go the pictures..."


"And I think I finally see what you see in me," said Kate, leaning down
and closing the portfolio.

"Mind if I drop by and look at them?" asked Jane.

"No," she said. "I don't mind at all. They're really quite beautiful."
"Of course they're beautiful," said Jane. "The woman in them is

Kate found she could not disagree. "Do you love that woman?"

"Very much," said Jane.

"Good," she said. "Because I think I'm finally starting to love her,



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