LitSnip – Photo Gallery

His apartment was an art gallery of sorts, the collection crowding every plausible space. Maria zoomed in on an image, unable to make it out at first. Her eyes widened as the black and white photo resolved into a composition of skin and hair… the base of a penis standing erect in the wrinkled landscape of its scrotum.

“I warned you,” he called from the kitchen, his voice accompanied by the tinkle of ice cubes in a glass. “I don’t usually invite clients to view my collection.”

“You took these?”

“Guilty,” he confessed. “That’s Richard, you’re looking at. Self-styled Richard the Great. Intelligence is not his most prominent feature, but he compensates with his Grecian physique. I’ll introduce you to him someday and become instantly jealous.”

A breast cupped in a caressing hand; a face contorted in orgasm; tongues touching. Maria moved from portrait to portrait, fascinated, shocked just enough to make her tingle. The images merged into a sensual collage as she moved down the hall.

“They’re exquisite! Disturbingly so.”

“Not everyone would agree with that review,” he said, handing off her tonic water on his way down the hall. “A lot of people think they’re porn.”

“And what to you say to that?”

“They need to adjust their definition of sin so it doesn’t exclude the human body as an art form… every part of the human body, and every act we mortals engage in that quickens true ecstasy in the neural network.”

“Wow!” Maria teased. “I haven’t even got past Art Appreciation 101, but I think I get it.”

The images didn’t strike her as obscene. They were… what would an art critic say… powerful… powerful statements of sexual freedom? She frowned. Gorgeous! seemed a more apt description, even though they were unsettling. They elicited? Envy! She was startled by her reaction. Could love actually be like that? Fluid, fearless, utterly sensuous, the distilled energy of spirit dancing. None of the exhibits at any of the pretentious galas Laurence had dragged her to came close to making her feel this way. It’s how we’re meant to be portrayed, she thought. As minor gods.