One Night Of Pure Desire

"Huh! 

My mother can't see this, and that's a really good thing", I inwardly talked to myself as i stood, staring at one of the pictures on the wall. My mother would freak out when she sees it.

 This photograph was shot by my best friend Benny and tonight it is going to be sold in his show. I told him I'd be here and I know how important it is for him. It's important for me too. I only want the best for my friend, just like he does for me. In the past three years Benny has been right there to console me, drink with me, commiserate with me, and even to help me pay my rent upon occasion by giving me work. Well, that is all fine but the main problem is the picture I'm staring at right now. And it's a picture of my nude body.

Posing as a nude model isn't something I dreamed of doing for my life's work or anything, but it is a way to make some extra money in between student loans. And lately I'd been getting offers from other photographers. Benny said to be prepared for more interest too, because of this show tonight. People will inquire about the model. It's a given, Brynne. That's my Benny, always the optimist.

I sipped my champagne and continued to study the really huge image hanging on the gallery wall. My portrait had been enlarged and printed on canvas for this show. The effect was a bit startling but even so, it was apparent that Benny had talent. For a child of Somali refugees who started with less than nothing in the UK, he knew how to configure a picture. He'd posed me on my back with my head turned to the side, my arm over my breasts and my fingers flared between my legs. He'd wanted my hair splayed out, my legs straight up, and my pussy covered. I'd worn a string thong for the shot, but you couldn't see it. Nothing showed that would classify my image as porn. The proper term is artistic nude photography, anyway. My stuff was shot tastefully or I didn't do it. Well, I certainly hoped my pictures didn't get onto any porn sites, but who could know for sure these days. I didn't do porn. I hardly did sex.

"There's my girl!" Benny's big arms wrapped around my shoulders and he rested his chin on top of my head. "It's smashing isn't it? And you have the most beautiful feet of any woman on the planet." He said staring at my portrait. 

"Everything you do looks good. Ben, even my feet" I turned around and faced him. "So, you sell anything yet? Let me rephrase. How many have you sold?"

"Three so far, and I think this one's going very soon." Ben winked. "Don't be obvious, but see the tall bloke in the gray suit, black hair, speaking with Carole Andersen? He's inquired. Seems he's quite taken by your gorgeous naked self. Probably going to go for a good palm session soon as he can get the canvas all to himself. How does that make you feel, Brynne luv? Some rich toff pulling his pud to the sight of your unearthly beauty."

"Shut up." I rolled my eyes at him. "That's just nasty. Don't tell me things like that or I'll have to stop taking jobs." I tilted my head and shook it. "It's a damn good thing I love you, Benny Clarkson." Ben could say the crassest thing and manage to make it come out proper and refined. Must be his British accent. Hell, even Ozzy Osbourne sounded proper at times thanks to that accent.

"It's true, though," Ben said, placing a kiss on my cheek, "and you know it. That chap hasn't stopped eyeballing you since you glided in here. And he's not gay." I gaped at Benny when he said that.

 "Good to know, thank you, Ben, for the update. And I don't glide!" He grinned at me in that wicked, boyish way of his. "Believe me, if he was I would've offered to blow him in the back room by now. He's off the charts hot." "You're going to hell, you know that, don't you?" I snapped at my friend but as I looked over casually and checked out the buyer. Benny was right about him; the guy oozed hotness from the leather soles of his Ferragamos to the tips of his wavy dark hair. About six foot three, muscular, confident, rich. I couldn't tell about his eyes because he was talking to the owner of the gallery. About my picture maybe? Hard to say, but didn't matter anyway. Even if he did buy it, I'd never see him again.