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The photographers phone call...
My name is Christina Macabee. But most call me Christi. I'm a college graduate with a degree in nothing that has ever gotten me higher than commercial dishwasher. However, my current career is in direct proportion with my love for the camera. I work as a freelance photographer. Now freelancing is not a big moneymaker, but I get to go to a lot of different places. I love taking pictures. All kinds of pictures, from the most brilliant picturesque scenes to subjects that only artists could love. I see many, many interesting things and meet some great people. Some of these people are very intriguing, some of which you will get to meet. And all will leave an impression on my soul forever.
I'm 24 and married, but my husband, who is 10 years older, has his career and I have mine. We don't see much of each other and all the traveling weakens our marriage. He works for a company that keeps him out on the road a lot. He makes good money, but he spends a lot of money too. He likes his boy toys...the big kind. Six months ago he bought a new BMW.
Kids never seemed to work out for either of us. I travel most of the time and get a lot of good pictures. My pay is okay. I make enough. I love the thrill of new places and the ability to film everything at company's expense. Lodging is free...along with meals. I basically don't have to pay for anything. They fly me all around. Just lately I had an assignment to Hawaii. Got some great pictures. Mostly of the ocean. Hired by a local travel agency, they were printing a new traveling flyer and needed a lot of new pictures to boost tourism. Paid $5000 for about 2 weeks worth of work. I take the pictures and then go to a 1-hour photo place. Hand in the finished work for exchange for cash. Nice and easy.
I travel a lot so I don't have many friends. It keeps me busy, so the friends I do have are very close. My last 3 assignments had me running from one plane terminal to another. My last assignment took me to Greece where I photographed ancient ruins. I lived in a small village known for its artwork and cooking. The cooking was wonderful. The best food I had eaten in months. The artwork was also great. But I have to say that I'm not much of a critic of art. My craft has to do with more of nature's art. Taking pictures of various places and doing interviews was very exhilarating. The magazine I write for is stationed in a small town in the Midwest. It contracts with other newspapers and magazines and hires me out for photo shoots. I can choose whether or not I want the job. The company I work for has several different jobs. It's more like a printing company that has several divisions. A newspaper division, book printing and a magazine department. I sometimes write short stories or articles for the newspaper. But my main job is in the magazine division. My office consists of a small desk that sits in the middle of the room, yet pushed slightly to the back of the room. Equipped with a phone, a laptop computer and a group picture of some college friends cover my desk. I took some photography while in college and several of my classmates still stay in touch, even after all these years. Sometimes we run into each other at different events. One of the good things about photography is that I don't have to write that much. The pictures do all the talking. The more I travel the more I want to not be tied down to any one particular employment opportunity. My days aren't the regular 9 to 5 like most. But that's okay. However, I do most of my work outside, the lighting has to be just right. Of course there is artificial lighting, but it's not the same as natural sunlight. So I try to do most of my work under those conditions. With my last assignment to Greece done and in the mail, I was ready for a few days off the rest and recuperate from the long flight.
I was awakened by the phone ringing. It rang again. I fondled the table trying to reach the ringing.
"Hello? Who? Lenny? It's been a long time." A short time later, the phone was dead but my emotions were alive and well.
Leonard George was an old friend. From way back in my college days. Before we were friends, I couldn't stand him. He was self centered and arrogant. But time and experience will change a point of view. The weekend he spent at my house was the start of it all. I lived in an apartment with 3 other people. We were all poor college students all trying to make ends meet and still make our classes. I didn't know it then but I was interested in Lenny. He didn't know it either, but he was also interested in me. But our friendship blossomed once he had gone overseas to do some work for the government. More of a friend, than a lover. But as people do, we went our separate ways. He traveled some and eventually settled in a little German town in the old country. Just like you see in the movies. But his stay there was shorten by a job offer he couldn't refuse. Now living and working in Southern California, he is the CEO of a small, but very profitable computer software company. I still don't really know what it all entails. I did know that it came with the 2-car garage and a pool.
Ahh!...Remembering back...the walks in the park, you and I, but just as friends. Those were the days. When we had no concerns except what our grade was on the final exam. You and I again. What a thought. Southern California. Oh, how I would like to walk hand-in-hand with you again. This time on the beach. Watching across the waves as the sun sinks into the ocean water. Watch the water. The waves. The sunlight glistened on the blue surface. We would turn and look at one another. Then we walk some more. As the night progresses we would find a bench. We sit, but we wouldn't talk much. You touch my face. You lean towards me, but I do not resist. You kiss me full on the mouth. Again, I don't resist. Your hand moves slowly, slowly, down my arm, to my breast. You tease me.
You look into my eyes. I know what you are thinking. And you know that I know what you are thinking.
Your body signals to me what you need and want. You pull me to my feet.
We begin walking down the sidewalk. You see a favorite restaurant and suggest that we eat. I say, well, I'm really not hungry for what they serve. Only for what you can do to me. We walk some more. Near the beach, there is a little quaint hotel. Clean, affordable, and cozy.
You rent a room. Holding hands, I follow in unison. You find the correct number on the door. Turning the key, the door swings open. You enter the room pulling me inside, shutting the door behind me. You hold me close, eye to eye, our lips touch. And the fire begins to build, first in my feet, moving quickly up my legs. I become weak under your spell. Leading me to the bed you lay me down; you remove my shoes and caress the bottoms of my feet, moving upwards. The heat builds. My chest rising and falling with every touch.
"A shower, that's what I need! ....Would you like to join me?"
Do you resist? No. We undress, looking only into each other?s eyes. We touch.
As the water pours from the sprayer it wets our bodies. We soap each other's body. Feeling every part. Finding out what we like. You find my spot.
You kiss me. You rub that place that makes me go crazy. The hot water feels good. And then, I find you. You moan. I touch you like no one has. You can not resist. From behind you whisper in my ear, telling me all that you want to do. I begin to melt in your arms. You enter my body. As we move in rhythm, your hands find me. Your fingers search me.
I moan, I increase the movement. You follow. And then, oh yes, you, you, oh yes, I can no longer hold the excitement! I quiver in your embrace.
We finish the shower, dry off, and continued where we left off. Guiding me to the bed, you pull back the golden spread. The clean sheets feel good. You lay back and watch as I slide my hand down your body, starting at your chest. My kisses bring chills to your arms. Your muscles reacting to each touch. I move downward. Inch by inch, I continue to explore your tanned skin. The fire builds within us both. You wait patiently, hoping, yearning, that the kissing will not stop. I continue, now unable to resist, I take hold of your love muscle and begin to kiss you ever so gently. I no longer resist and slide my mouth over your manhood. It's smooth and tastes good. Over and over again. It grows in my mouth. And then...You stop me.
Resisting no more you lay me back taking the sweetness in. You find me with your mouth, every inch of me. Your tongue finding that spot that puts me under your spell. Restraining no more you spread me open and take what you need. You hover over me, kissing me, fondling me, sucking on my body with eagerness. In rhythm, our bodies slap together. Our bodies rise and fall, the aroma in the room begins to thicken with the smell of musk. I grasp around and feel your backside and pull you closer, deeper, and faster. We continue with passion. And then...Groaning...the pleasure paralizes me. I no longer can continue. I collapse, spreading wide for the taking. You stop ONLY when the love making is done.
When YOU are satisfied!
We rest and the then the story goes on...
I must go for now...:)