Shutter 67

Strutting along the sparsely populated streets of a strange metropolis, I was minding my own business as I listened to a remix of "Toxicity" by System of a Down. The song was fused with a style of dubstep, and I tried to match my step with the beat.

The metropolis was a moody machine, the foggy atmosphere lit up with neon lights and signs, the colorful luminosity corroded by rusty mechanical piping lines and network cables. Much of the architecture was a fusion of futuristic design, combined with the engineering of an endless oil refinery.

It was evening, and it was raining steadily. Wearing a thick poncho, I did the best I could to remain dry, as the rain was toxic, polluted with harmful chemicals and bacteria.

The streets were mostly empty, as few rarely ventured out in the toxic weather. As I made my way through the labyrinthine streets, I maintained my focus on the task of going my own way. I could feel eyes watching me from the dark alleys and shady nooks, but I kept to myself.

The metropolis had multiple levels of streets, pathways, and tracks. I came to a flight of stairs, and went down to the lowest level. The rain dripped down to this level, but it was less exposed to the elements.

At the base of a metallic circular tower was an arched entryway with an orange neon sign that read "Shutter 67," flickering slightly. I had made it home.

Huddled in the arched threshold was a young, blonde-haired woman with blue eyes. She had a light blue poncho on, and I could see she had a black latex bag concealed under it.

"Are you still doing boudoir photoshoots?" she asked in a sensuous tone.

"Who are you?" I asked, although she looked familiar to me.

"I'm Emilia, and your ex told me you're a real pro," she said with a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes.

I hesitated. I hadn't been in any romantic relationship of any kind in twenty years. Who was this "ex" she was referring to? Who had actually referred her to me? A red flag went up in my mind, but I was lonely and was choosing to ignore it like a dumbass.

"I'm not doing photoshoots with models anymore. I just do commercial contract photography now. Also, I've never done a boudoir shoot before, so I don't think I could help you, anyway."

"That's too bad," she winked at me. "I'm just looking for something simple to start building my portfolio."

Part of me wanted to help, but the other part didn't trust her. What did she want?

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

I unlocked and opened my door and invited her inside. It was at least the polite thing to do.

The door opened into a vast circular room that was mostly empty, aside from some cameras and studio equipment. The walls were minimalist and mostly bare, and the room was dimly lit with neon lights.

"Welcome to Shutter 67, my studio. The bathroom is on the right," I pointed to a hallway.

Emilia rushed down the hall, and I removed my poncho. I had just come from buying a new lens that I wanted to experiment with, so I unboxed it as I waited for Emilia.

After a few moments, Emilia reappeared, her poncho wadded up in her arm. In the lighting, I could see her more clearly. She was beautiful and young, likely in her late teens or early twenties, and she had the looks of a Swedish super model.

We stared at each other for a moment, with a peculiar feeling of comfortable familiarity between us, and she smiled at me.

Emilia glanced around the room, and seemed to notice a stack of boxes that were collecting dust at the back of the room. "What's in those?"

"Those are booklet magazine things that I made some years ago."

"Can I see?" Emilia seemed genuinely curious.

I opened one of the dusty boxes and pulled out a booklet and handed it to Emilia.

As she flipped through the pages, I could see her face light up. "These are really good. They look like the had a good time."

The compliment was unexpected and I didn't know if she genuinely meant it, or if she was testing me in some way. I remained silent as she kept looking through the booklet.

"Why aren't you working with models any more?" she asked, looking into my eyes with softness.

"I don't trust them anymore. Let's just leave it at that," I said coldly. "You can keep that booklet if you want."

"Are you sure? It looks like you have a limited number of them," she said looking at the stack of boxes of booklets I had piled up next to the recycling bin.

"Yes. I had made those as a gift for the models, but I never got the chance to get any of these to them."

"Why?"

I wasn't about to open up and explain myself. "Can you please leave?" I firmly asked.

She looked at me with concern and curiosity in her eyes. "I'd really like to do a boudoir shoot with you. I have a few outfits with me, and I promise I'll make it worth your while," she calmly said as she touched my arm.

Her sudden touch was another unexpected move. The contact eased the pain that was entering my mind. With extreme reluctance, I began to feel comfortable with the thought of working with a model again after so many years of existing in my own isolated world. I felt safe down here in my own private fortified world, away from the toxicity - both literally and figuratively. Letting someone in that I had only just met would be a violation of my own boundaries, and I would put myself at risk of losing my peace.

"I cannot.." I mumbled.

"It's okay. You can trust me."

After a moment of studying her, trying to assess if she was a threat, I decided to open up just enough to test if there could potentially be a connection between us.

"Go get ready," I reluctantly agreed.

Emilia grinned and returned to the bathroom to change. While she did so, I went into my prop storage area and pulled out a vintage bed, red and blue velvet sheets, plush pillows, and a vanity set, and arranged everything into a romantic scene.

As I was setting up my camera, Emilia returned barefoot and dressed in a semi-transparent white silk gown that covered her black lacy lingerie. She had combed her hair, which made her look like an adorable floofy poof and I wanted to pet her.

We stared at each other for a moment, and I couldn't help but notice her busty, juicy jugs as they jiggled as she strode over to me. Dear god did those jugs of hers jiggle all over like they had a mind of their own.

"Where would you like me?" she asked in a sultry tone.

I gestured for her to lean up against a creamy curtain shroud next to a back-lit faux window, and I snapped a few portrait shots as practice.

She was a natural at posing, and I didn't need to direct her much. In fact, it felt like she was reading my mind as to what pose I wanted her to do next. Was she psychic, or what?

We moved to the bed, and with a sensual gaze, she asked me to "pose" her. With a gentle touch, I guided her legs into a position that would flatter her voluptuous curves. As I gently guided her arms and turned her head, the sensuous touch felt like foreplay, and she seemed to enjoy it.

The shoot went more smoothly than I had anticipated, and we agreed on this. "I think we got some good shots," I said with a genuine confidence.

"You really are a pro," Emilia said with an obvious flirty tone.

"I really just do this as a hobby, though. I'll get these photos sent to you as soon as I process them."

Emilia, sitting on the edge of the bed, seductively and slowly removed the white gown, and sat back down on the bed. "I don't need to be anywhere right now. I was thinking... I'd love to do some nudes. I enjoy being naked. Can we get some naked pictures?"

Just then, my stomach growled. I had neglected to eat lunch earlier, and I was feeling famished and fatigued, and I was partly spaced out. My idiot brain only heard and registered "nudes," so my mind immediately thought of noodles. There was a take-out noodle place a few doors down from me called "Naked Noods," so I thought this was what she was referring to. I got on my phone and placed an order.

~~~~~~~~

In comfortable silence, Emilia and I were seated at a small table slurping on our bowls of Naked Noods noodles. She had chicken and rice, while I had beef with extra mushroom. As we ate, she seemed to notice my pile of Lincoln Logs and LEGOs on the other side of the studio.

"Are you checking out my Lincoln Logs?" I quipped.

"What are they for?" Emilia seemed playfully curios.

"I use them to make scale models and photograph them for magazines." I felt almost embarrassed that I, a forty-something grown ass adult, played with Lincoln Logs and LEGOs for a living.

"Oh, I see." She kept looking at the pile, as if she was getting a brilliant idea.

"Quit looking at my Lincoln Logs," I said as I tried to keep a straight face.

"I like your Lincoln Logs. Can I touch them?"

"You can touch my wooden logs all you want."

With a grin, Emilia set her bowl down and grabbed a few wooden Lincoln Logs and ran into the bathroom. I heard a few "plop" sounds.

"Come get a shot of this!" I heard her exclaim from the bathroom.

I went in and found three Lincoln Logs floating in the toilet bowl.

"Real mature," I said, trying to be serious.

"I have an idea. Let's do noodles in the nude shoot," Emilia said in sultry tone. As she brushed past me, she began to remove her black lacy brassiere.

Like a puppy, I followed her back into the studio, where she slowly pulled off her panties. Now fully nude, she grabbed her bowl of noodles and carefully sat on the bed.

My heart racing and feeling aroused, I grabbed my camera and took some shots. She cupped the bowl in her hands, and I shot from angles where her nude body was merely implied but still flattering her features.

There was a clear chemistry brewing between us, and I was as sensual as possible as I wrapped her naked body in velvet linens. We locked eyes, and it was clear we desired each other. Somewhere in the background, a dubstep remix of Shocking Blue's "Venus" song played.

I wanted to get naked with her right then and there, but I restrained myself. It was evident we both desired intimacy, but I didn't fully trust her. Why was she here? Who had sent her? What did she really want?

"I think we have plenty to work with," I said, putting my camera away.

Emilia looked like she was very comfortable, and didn't appear to want to leave. Cocooned in velvet linens, she looked like a pure white caterpillar about to morph into a butterfly. She slowly and sensually writhed around in the bed, remaining silent, looking at me with seductive glances, inviting me to enter her Venus vortex of pleasure.

~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, there I was minding my own business, taking photos of a Lincoln Log model cabin. Emilia had left after we agreed to do another shoot "sometime" and that I would send her the photos I had taken of her within a few days.

While I was taking photos of my Lincoln Logs, I heard "Shutter 67" mentioned on the news channel that my wall-sized TV was tuned in to. At first, I thought I had hallucinated it, but then I heard it mentioned again. What the hell?

I went to my TV and watched the news more closely. To my horror, there was a news story about my studio that was saying that a young woman had been coerced into having sex during a photoshoot, and that the photographer was a predator.

Although initially shocked at the news, the surprise didn't last long. I had expected this, and my intuition had been right about Emilia. This was exactly why I didn't trust anyone anymore. All I had really wanted in life was genuine connection, but I had already learned that NO ONE could be trusted. Period.

My doorbell buzzed, and the police showed up to arrest me. Apparently, I was guilty before being proven innocent.

The reason Emilia had come to Shutter 67 completely out of the blue didn't make sense to me, and it all seemed pointless. Betrayal was expected, and I wasn't letting anyone in again.

I showed the police my security footage, which clearly proved there had never been any sort of sexual contact between us. The police left with the evidence, and I went to bed with peace of mind.

I knew the truth, and I was perfectly content to remain a shut-in at Shutter 67.