Under the Lights
“I love to watch you dance under the lights,” he said to me, right before he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I wanted more than anything for his lips to make contact with mine. I almost puckered mine together in hopeful expectancy, but I knew he wouldn’t kiss me the way I really wanted him to.
“Dance under the lights for me a little more. I’d like to take a photo of you here,” he said to me, as he fumbled with the camera in his hand before holding it out in front of him and patiently waiting for me to do as he directed. I did it too; I danced. How could I not? With the sun going down and the lights coming up and the sultry beat of the music coming from a pub just across the road from us, it was impossible not to get sucked in and carried away by it all.
“Arms up in the air. Pretend I’m the only one here,” he said to me, dropping down on one knee to get the blazing glory of the sunset in the shot behind me. I closed my eyes and raised my arms, swaying my hips from side to side and pretending that the people on the other side of the road couldn’t see me. In my mind, with my closed eyes facing towards the sea and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore joining the music in my ears, he was the only one there.
“It’s time to go down the other side of the sea wall,” he said to me, raising one arm towards the direction of the part-sand, part-pebble beach. And we wandered to where he’d pointed together, not quite close enough to hold hands, but just close enough to feel the mounting tension between us. I wanted him and he knew it, but he couldn’t have me. Then again, he wasn’t there to have me.
“There’s a boat next to the wall there, no one will see you,” he said to me, striding towards the blue and white vessel sitting awkwardly high up on the beach. I wondered if he felt as confident as he came across as I clumsily followed after him. Without a single word more he directed me to exactly the position he needed me, taking a few steps back every now and then to look through the camera before coming back to lower me a little, move me to the left, make sure my head was below the sea wall that acted as our privacy barrier.
“That’s perfect like that, there’s no one close to us now, go whenever you’re ready,” he said to me, grasping his camera as though he really meant business, his index finger hovering over the shutter button, ready to snap the crucial shot. I was determined not to let him down, so without a second thought for all the nervous butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, and with shaking hands, I popped open the four buttons of my jeans, lowered the waistband just as much as I needed to, and slid my hand down to my cunt.
“You’re beautiful, so beautiful,” he said to me, snap-snapping away as I let the fingers on one hand fumble around the folds between my thighs, dipping into the wetness and smearing it around. The fingers on my other hand crawled their way up from the bottom of my t-shirt, looking for my nipples so that they could tug and tweak and twist. I’d have given anything for him to have put the camera down and take over, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. Instead, I let myself seek out the first flourishes of an orgasm with nervous excitement driving my hands, letting the sound of the splashing, rippling water guide me to a steady pace.
“I need to know when you’re close. Tell me when you’re close,” he said to me, concentrating so hard on the viewfinder of the camera that his furrowed brows practically masked his eyes. The interruption set me back a little, a vocal reminder that I wasn’t alone or somewhere private; I was probing and prodding at my cunt in public, in front of him, only thirty or so feet from where other people were walking and talking and doing regular things. But I carried on, once again focusing on the sound of the water, imagining how I’d feel if he actually did kiss me in that way I wanted.
“I’m close. Close …” I said to him. I barely muttered the words, really. They were just loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to draw attention from passersby that were, by now, getting uncomfortably close. They wouldn’t have seen what I was doing from their spot on the other side of the flood barrier, but the thought of them being within earshot seemed to pull my climax out of me with such power and force that I just wasn’t ready for how fast and hard it hit. Each click of his camera’s shutter echoed in my ears as I bit my lip hard to stop from shouting out, and as I rode the wave that violently exploded from deep between my legs, it barely even registered that he was still stood taking photos in front of me, that there was a man behind the camera at all.
“These are amazing. Don’t worry, there are no body shots, only your face. I can’t wait to edit them and see which ones you’ll give the go-ahead,” he said to me once I’d finished rearranging my clothes, bending in towards me to kiss me on the cheek. And as I walked away along the beach, leaving him to stroll back to his car, I kicked myself for not trying to kiss him in that way I really wanted to.
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