| Forbidden Photos, Part Two – Arina’s Story “Miss Arina?” “Yes Lena?” “Can you take a picture of my piska?” “What?” “My piska. You know, down here.” Lena pointed to her bare pussy. I was a bit shocked at her request, even though I was here to take nude photos of this girl. Lena knew that’s why she was here, it was partly her idea in the first place, but I didn’t know quite how far she was willing to go. I was thinking I’d get some simple nude portraits, done tastefully. Cunt close-ups were not what I had in mind. Or, more honestly, they were most definitely on my mind, but I didn’t imagine I could get away with that. Lena apparently had other ideas. “Why do you want a picture of your piska, Lena?” Lena rolled her eyes and smiled. “I want to give one to my girlfriend Katya.” “Would she like that?” “Oh yeah. She’s seen it plenty of times already, but she said she wanted a picture of it so she can look at it when I’m not around, so she can pretend to lick it.” I tried not to look too surprised at this answer. My mind raced to all sorts of places trying to piece together what Lena had just said. I was so distracted it didn’t occur to me at that moment to simply ask her. So, Lena has a friend named Katya who has seen her naked a lot – nothing too unusual there – but ‘so she can pretend to lick it’? What’s going on there? All I managed to say aloud was, “Well… I think that’s great that you want to give your friend such a nice picture.” “You can have one too if you want.” Without another word Lena sat down on the couch and spread her nimble legs as far apart as she could. “Is this okay?” she asked me, completely casually. I almost fainted. I got down on my knees in front of her and put the camera up to my eye and pointed it right at Lena’s little cunt, trying to be as casual as she was about what I was doing. Lena put both her hands down to her tiny slit and pulled apart her sweet folds. “Smile,” she said, and then laughed loudly, making the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. ***** Let me go back a little bit: Last week, when a woman rang me up and said she wanted to bring her eight-year-old daughter in for a photo shoot, I was ecstatic. She even warned me right away that her daughter would be posing nude and did I have a problem with that. No problem, I said, trying not to sound too eager or excited. A request from a parent to take nude photos of her little girl? How could I possibly refuse? By the way, that’s not such an unusual request in this town. There’s a large community of naturists here and parents often want nude family portraits; but this was a request to shoot one girl. My dream job. I’ve been a professional photographer for nearly ten years, doing all the usual commissions: family portraits, weddings, landscapes, news stories. I’ve made a comfortable enough living off of it to set up my own studio in a lovely old building in Serpukhov, my home town, about 90 kilometres south of Moscow. I’m next to a beautiful evergreen park, not too close to the centre of town, so it’s reasonably quiet. I can afford to take slightly fewer commissions, giving me more time to work on the photos I want to make. So far it’s been good. I’ve had a couple of exhibitions in local galleries and last year a big expensive hardback collection of my photos of prepubescent girls was published. I’ve taken a lot of photos of young girls, mostly quite serious works trying to capture something of the essence of a young girls’ inner life and emotions. Not the typical happy family snaps. I still produce that kind of thing for someone who wants it and pays for it, but my pictures are trying to reach deeper. I love pictures of children that show them being real and unselfconscious. I strive to make worthy, arty pictures that express Deep Truths about the Human Condition, as after all, I have a longstanding tradition of utter pretension in the artistic community to uphold. But the truth is, the kinds of pictures I really wish I could make wouldn’t be considered artistic. I would certainly see them as artistic, but a lot of people would disagree. There’s nothing that fills my heart with more rapture and delight than having a beautiful little girl posing nude for me, having me take her picture and to be able to preserve her perfect form and childhood innocence—and her eroticism—for all time. An important word there is ‘eroticism’. Young girls embody the most deeply pure, perfect, noble and wholly innocent aspects of human sexuality and beauty. That is a simple truism. The special beauty and sexuality of young girls is inviolable and eternal. I don’t care how sentimental that sounds, that’s just how I feel, but it saddens me that because I recognise this truth it makes me a pariah in many people’s eyes, or that people could be arrested and jailed for making or even possessing pictures like the ones I yearn to make. What is wrong with the world? I don’t know… Of course, along with my lofty philosophical justifications for the controversial art I’d like to make, I do achingly lust after the girls whose pictures I take as well. I fantasize constantly about being able to introduce them to the delights of what I imagine will be a playful, happy introduction to lesbian sex, but I have never done anything more than fantasize about that. Despite my confidence now, this blistering desire used to cause me many sleepless nights, until I eventually accepted the truth about who I was and soon came to be proud of it, even though there were very few people whom I could tell. There is only one person I know who truly understands, but she’s far away. I still write to her sometimes as we share secret stories about girls we’ve known. But anyone can see my desires plainly if they look at my pictures. That’s where I’m able to freely express to others my love for little girls. I sometimes masturbate while looking at my pictures, for which I still occasionally feel a bit guilty. I ask myself, How would I feel if someone did that over pictures of me as a girl? My current response to that is simply, it’s not really me. Nothing would actually be happening to me. That is important to remember. A photo is a representation, it is not the thing itself. I read an article on child pornography once and some ‘expert’ said that every time a paedophile wanks over a picture of a child (they didn’t use those words of course), then that child is still being abused. I don’t get that. If the child was being abused while the photo was taken, then that is wrong, no question, and I couldn’t bare to see images like that (There is no way I could ever take photos of a girl who was not completely comfortable and eager to participate). But the life of the image after it has been taken is separate from the subsequent life of whatever the image depicts. And, more importantly, it doesn’t matter what your intentions are when you create an image, you cannot prevent people from seeing what they want to see. See, I can’t not think about these things. Being savvy about these issues and questions is necessary, especially in my line of work, should I ever need to defend myself against unjust charges of ‘corrupting minors’. Luckily, as I said, most people here couldn’t understand why someone would find child nudity offensive. I have done adult female nudes, and loved every one of them. Being able to take pictures of many wonderful women has made me very happy, even though my real interest lies with their daughters. Sometimes my models have given me a little something extra. One time a woman wanted me to take pictures of her while she masturbated. She wanted to see herself in a photograph while she orgasmed. She tried making a video of herself, but it wasn’t quite what she was after. That was a wonderful session. She understood that only a still photo could capture what she wanted. People mustn’t underestimate the unique power of a photograph to convey feelings and emotions. I think it’s been devalued lately, especially as these ghastly digital things make taking a picture so easy for people. Maybe they do, but not everyone knows how to take a picture. Sorry if that sounds arrogant, but there’s a reason why some people and not others are lauded for their ability to take photographs. This particular commission, from one Masha Kropotska, could be the chance I’ve waited for. I fervently wished that this woman was open-minded enough to want to explore her prepubescent daughters’ burgeoning eroticism and that that’s why she mentioned the nudity straight away. Maybe she didn’t want to say anything more over the phone. Here’s hoping. ***** Sunday – the day of the shoot, just after midday. I was in the back of the studio clearing some things when I heard the front door open and then the voice I’d spoken to on the phone shouted out for me. I turned the corner into the small front room and was greeted by an unbelievably gorgeous little redheaded girl with long pigtails standing in front of her equally beautiful mother. They were both completely covered in layers of heavy clothing and both wore thick woollen hats, as it was minus 10 degrees outside. “Ms. Movosh? How are you? I’m Masha and this is my daughter Lena.” “Hi,” Lena said, as she looked up at me and smiled. I felt a light tingling inside me as I instinctively got down on my haunches to talk to her at her eye level. “Hello Lena. My name’s Arina. Do you know why you’re here?” Lena opened her mouth in mock disbelief and said in a squeaky sarcastic tone, “Well yeah, to take pictures.” “Right.” That was a very stupid question. I stood up to confirm with Ms. Kropotska the details of the shoot, but before I could speak she said, “How long will this take?” “Uh, two hours, two and a half maybe. It depends on what you want—” “Great. I’ll see you after three then.” “You’re not staying?” “No. Why? Do you need me for something?” “Er, well no, I guess, but—” “Then you can get on with it. Lena will tell you everything. See you soon, Sweetie.” Masha gave her daughter a hug and kiss and before I could ask any questions about money or prints she just walked out the door. I stood there for a second then turned to see Lena taking off her thick long coat and sitting down on the couch near the desk. She noticed my bemused expression. “What are you doing?” Lena said, with the somewhat amused tone of a child addressing an adult whom the child thinks is a bit of an idiot. I shook myself from my shock at her mother’s abrupt departure and focused on the child who I would be alone with for the next three hours. “Well Lena, your mother’s just left you here with a woman she doesn’t even know, without arranging payment for the session or telling me what she wants me to do—” “My mum knows who you are. We’ve been to your shows and she bought your book. That’s why she came to you.” Fair enough, I suppose, if she knows my work and is a fan. She didn’t mention that on the phone. Maybe she wanted to surprise me with this little gift. Yesss… Now I was having delusions of grandeur. “But she doesn’t really know me Lena. She’s never met me before.” Lena wasn’t listening anymore. She was looking at my sample pictures on the walls of the room. “I like that one. She’s cute. My sister looks a bit like her.” Lena was looking at a picture I’d taken a few years ago of a blonde four year old girl standing in front of her father (they were both nude) with her hands on her hips and with a strong forceful expression on her face, in a charming emulation of her father’s similar pose and expression behind her. “Do you have kids?” Lena asked. A painful subject, but no reason to avoid it. “No Lena, I can’t have children. I’m sterile. My eggs are no good. I’d love to adopt a baby girl but it’s not an easy thing to do.” Especially if you’re single, even if you’re a woman, as I’ve found out. Most adoption agencies won’t even consider single people. “Oh well. You’ll do it someday.” “Thank you Lena. That’s very nice of you to say that.” I felt a rush of warmth inside. What a sweet girl. “Can we start now? What kind of cameras do you have?” Lena sounded quite eager. “Uh, sure. Let’s go into the studio. I’ll show you.” Lena got up and walked through the door toward the studio. I followed, unsure of what was going to happen, but excited beyond belief. My studio was set up for many different kinds of shoots. There were different coloured backdrops and props for standard portraiture, luxurious baroque and rococo furniture, benches, dressers, couches, a large bed, which I often slept in, and many different lights for creating those wonderful lighting textures in black and white photos. I had several blank canvasses for painting custom backdrops. I also loved to paint. After all, you can depict anything you like in a painting. “Mum says you still use a single lens reflex with 35mm film. What ISO do you use?” Lena surprised me again. She sure knew a lot about cameras. “You sure know a lot about cameras,” I said, stating the obvious. Lena looked up at me and scrunched her face up in the kind of way that said, ‘Why are you so stupid?’, but she followed that with a big grin. “My mum takes pictures with an old camera. She’s taught me how to use it. I like taking pictures too.” An eight year old girl with a mechanical aptitude and an interest in photography? I loved her more and more. Although my usual casual easygoing manner that I have with children was deserting me. I think it might have had something to do with the fact that Lena’s visage was hypnotising me. Every time I looked at her face all my coherent and conscious thoughts vanished. Lena had such a striking countenance – her beauty was mixed with a deep intelligence and a subtle mischief of the sort one normally associates with clever prankish schoolboys. I loved seeing that kind of expression on a little girl. I wished more girls had that kind of anarchic glee. Maybe they do and they just aren’t allowed to express it so much. Knocking me out of my reverie again, Lena asked, “Are we starting yet?” “Well Lena. You have to tell me. What are we going to do?” “Okay. I’m getting undressed and you’re going to take some pictures of me.” It’s as straightforward as that then. Rather than dig any deeper into the hole I had started digging when Lena first walked in, I decided to forget every nit-picky concern about this unusual arrangement and to just shut up and follow her lead, as she clearly knew where she was going. “Have you ever posed before Lena?” “Yeah, all the time, for my mum. She loves taking photos of me. She said she really loved your pictures and wanted you to take some of me.” Maybe she wanted to see what kind of nuances I could capture in her daughter’s portrait that might be different to what she sees. “But I wanted to come here as well. You’re really good. I really, really love that picture of those two girls kissing.” Lena was referring to one of my all time favourite photos, of two five year old girls with their arms wrapped around each other and kissing each other full on the lips. That wasn’t planned. I was at a friends house and I was kind of there to take some pictures, but really just to catch up and chat, but her young daughter and another friend’s daughter were playing and rolling around outside and they stood up and hugged each other and kissed and I was luckily right there ready with the camera to take the photo. Those are always the best shots. My friend cried when she saw it. “That’s one of my favourite pictures too.” “I put it up on my wall. I always kiss it before I go to sleep,” Lena said, totally sincere. I’m in love. I can feel it. “Alright,” I said. “Let’s get on with it, Lena. I’ll just go and lock up so we won’t be disturbed.” I walked into the front office and locked the front door and took the phone off the hook. Thankfully no one was due to pick up their photos today. I picked up my trusty ancient Pentax and hung it around my neck. “You can put your clothes here Lena,” I gestured to the chair near the window. With the heating system it must have been up to around 15 degrees Celsius inside, so Lena could feel quite comfortable in here without her winter clothes. Lena nonchalantly started to remove her various layers. I stood and watched her, transfixed. She took off her shoes and socks, a woollen top, cotton vest and two undershirts, then her trousers and thermal underwear, until she was down to only her sensible white cotton underpants, which she just as quickly and casually removed until she was fully nude. She looked up at me and put her hands on her perfectly straight hips and grinned broadly. “Miss Arina?” “Yes Lena?” “Can you take a picture of my piska?” Now, this is where we came in…… ***** After I took several close-up photos of Lena’s cute cunt, and maintained an incredible level of self-control in the face of such awesome loveliness, she stood up and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on the four post bed adorned with thick velvet curtains and burgundy satin sheets. “I want a picture where I’m lying in bed like I’m asleep.” No response from me. “Miss Arina?” “—Oh. Yes. Of course Lena.” Must concentrate. And don’t stare at her like that, she might get scared. Or more likely, really annoyed. Either Lena had no idea how horny she was making me, or she was enjoying teasing me. I know the latter was only in my mind, she wasn’t doing that. She’s eight, for goodness sake. I allowed myself to enjoy the fantasy though. Despite being so easily distracted, I thought of one question I wanted to ask. “Lena, what do you want these pictures for?” “I told you. I’m going to give them to Katya as a present.” Lucky Katya, I thought. Then I remembered something I had meant to say earlier. “Lena? You don’t have to call me ‘Miss Arina’. You can call me Arina. Or just Ari. My friends call me Ari.” “Okay, Ari. That’s cute.” Lena walked over to the bed and lay down on her back, she tilted her head slightly to her right, put her left arm above her head, then folded her right leg under her left and closed her eyes. A classic pose, expertly enacted. I was still trying to concentrate only on the precise mechanical act of taking the photos. It was a staggering effort to overlook the astonishing sweet naked little girl lying so provocatively in front of me and how much I wanted her and instead concentrate on getting a good picture. I moved around the bed and looked for the right angle to take the shot, as if there could possibly be a wrong one. I clicked away a few times, trying it from different perspectives. “Have you taken it yet?” Lena asked, with her eyes still closed and holding the pose. “Yes Lena, I think I’ve got it.” She sat up. “Okay. Now I think…” She paused, thinking hard, looking around the room. Her eyes lit up. “Let’s do one where I’m standing by the window, looking out.” And so we did. For the next hour and a half I was led around my own studio like an obedient little dog as Lena came up with every idea for her photos and I nodded and agreed to whatever she wanted, rarely making any suggestions beyond changing the lighting. We made many pictures of her in simple and demure poses, sitting on her knees with arms crossed, snuggling up in bed in the foetal position, sitting on a chair reading a book, lying on the couch on her side, looking away wistfully. Then there were the pictures of her spreading her legs apart and sticking her tongue out, doing the splits, jumping up in the air spread-eagled, spreading apart her perfect little bottom and laughing, holding one of her pigtails in her mouth while she crawled on all fours. A most unusual mix of playful, funny, serious, contemplative and outrageously sexy poses, all summoned up from the mind of this child. This was totally unlike any other shoot I’d done before. Usually even if people have a good idea of what they want, I’m straightforward in offering suggestions and changes. With Lena I was little more than her lackey. Her total confidence is what drove this. If she had been unsure and shy, I would have stepped in and suggested ways she could pose and positions she could take, but I would never have suggested some of the poses that Lena so flippantly chose. I realised that this was precisely what I wanted: to take erotic photos of a young girl where she was dictating what elements of her sexuality she would reveal to the camera. Not something directed by me. I still chose the angles, the composition and the right moment to press the shutter, but this arrangement was all in Lena’s hands. I’d never met a girl so young who was so open and willing to show off every part of her body, a girl who was so confident and uninhibited and who really seemed to know how sexy she was, but who wasn’t hung up on ‘acting’ sexy. She didn’t seem like she was copying something she’d seen in a music video or something like that. Everything she did was real and spontaneous. There was no façade. And she really was incredibly sexy, more than other girls her age who I’d chastely lusted after in the past. During the shoot my panties were getting wetter and it took a lot of effort to restrain my ravenous cunt from it’s demands to be fed. I would have to wait until she went home to satisfy myself. She wasn’t going to suddenly look up at me with batting innocent eyes and say, ‘Miss Ari? Can you teach me how to have sex?’ That was a hopeless fantasy and there was no way I was going to try and persuade her to do anything more than what she had been doing. She clearly knew the tacit boundaries between us, with her as the subject being photographed and me, the photographer. We’d been shooting for at least 90 minutes, although time didn’t have much meaning at the moment, I was in such a state of bliss, when Lena said, “Right. Let’s do some pictures while I’m masturbating.” …………?! I suddenly let out a deep primal laugh, a huge cathartic release of all my subjugated lust that had been building up to that point. Lena looked at me with a strange grin. “You’re weird,” she said, not as a putdown, but as a compliment. “Yes Lena… Yes I am.” I was still giggling feverishly. I managed to calm down and explain. “Sorry Lena. I’m just so happy that you said that.” Now. Ask her. Come on. “…So you know how to masturbate?” “Yeah. Mum showed me when I was little. She said it’s something all girls can do to make themselves feel better and that I could do it anytime I want.” I nearly cried. I wasn’t surprised that Lena knew all about masturbation, having seen how uninhibited she was. I was just glad that she had mentioned it first. Mentioned it? God, she was going to do it! But first she had more to tell me. “Mum said that it’s a gift that all girls have. She used to tell me stories when I was little about a fairy, mum called her Miss Piska, The Little Cunt Fairy. She went around to every baby girl in the world and gave them all a little flower as a present and the fairy said to all the girls that anytime they felt sad they could rub their little flower and they would feel better. Then what mum did was she would put her finger down here and rub my little flower to make me feel better until I went to sleep.” What could I say to that? Be honest. “Lena, I think that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Lena laughed, a sweet giggle. Unfortunately for me my parents sent the ‘Thou-shalt-not-violate-thine-own-temple’ fairy to visit me when they caught me rubbing my little flower. Emboldened by all this, I took the initiative for the first time that day. “Is there anything you’d like me to do for you Lena?” “No, that’s okay. I can do it,” she said, missing the real meaning of my question. Or did she? I really couldn’t tell. Lena sprung up and jumped onto the bed. I followed her and crawled onto the bed as well so I could be next to her. “So, I’ll start and you can take whatever looks good.” She spoke as chirpily and casually as ever. “Uh, okay.” I managed to squeak out under my breath. Lena was lying on her back with her head and shoulders resting up on the big pillows and she already had her right hand on her ‘flower’ and was rubbing it. Her breathing was getting heavier, her nipples puffed out and her expression changed, becoming much more serious. Her juices were seeping into the sheets and her heavenly scent wafted up and filled the whole studio, mingling with my own potent aroma. I stooped directly over her and took some shots looking directly down at her whole body. “Can you get a picture of my face right when I…uh…when I do it?” “When you have your orgasm, sweetie?” “Yeah.” I think she knew what it was called. Maybe she wanted me to say it? “I’ll be ready.” I held the camera just away from my face. I wanted to watch her directly, not looking at her through the lens. Lena’s movements were speeding up. She brought her left hand up to play with her nipples. Her right was still very busy running little circles around her clit. I sat on my knees watching her for a few minutes, drinking in every little sound she made and every little movement she made as she worked harder and harder on her beautiful mound, rubbing it with fierce determination. Her breathing got quicker, her high-pitched breathy moans grew longer and thinned out to almost silence as her whole body shuddered and jerked up and down. She curled her toes and tightly crossed her legs together, enclosing her hand as she pushed her head back onto the pillow. She let out a crescendo of heartbreaking little squeals, so full with the sound of genuine release that I felt myself squirting at the sound of each one. I took one picture during this moment. Lena stopped squealing, her eyes were clenched shut, her mouth agape, and sweat dripped off her whole body. She grinded her legs together over her right hand and lifted her bottom into the air and thrust herself up and down a few times before staying rigid for a second with her back tightly arched. She let go of her flaring cunt and lowered herself back onto the bed. She jerked herself upright and suddenly screamed, a much lower, deeper guttural sound than her squeaky moans a moment ago, and she vigorously scissor-kicked her legs back and forth, rubbing them together, pulling and pushing on her swollen pussy lips. She flung herself back onto the bed and stretched her arms above her head and stretched her legs out wide. She held that position for a moment, then she just dropped. It looked like someone had cut her strings as she collapsed into the bed, a softly throbbing mass of lithe limbs and frizzled red tresses. Gradually her breathing softened and slowed. After a minute Lena opened her eyes and looked up at me. “Did you get it?” “Yes honey. I got the photo. I know it’ll be a good one.” Lena laid back, stretched again and yawned. “Can I get dressed?” she asked. “Do you want a bath?” “No. I want to smell nice.” Good answer Lena. I wish I could’ve said that when I was her age, when you couldn’t get me into the bath for anything. Lena got dressed and I persuaded her that we could take some pictures of her with her clothes on for a change. “Did you have a good time here today?” I asked her, a little unnecessarily, as I had just witnessed her having a wrenching orgasm. “Sure. Can I come back again?” “Of course you can. We might go somewhere else too, out to the woods maybe, and make some ‘Lena in Nature’ portraits.” Another thought came back to me, something Lena had said just as we started shooting. That’s right, her friend. What was that she said about her friend? Oh dear, what was wrong with my memory? “Lena, who did you say you wanted to give these pictures to?” “Katya. I told you twice.” She gave me that ‘what is wrong with you? Don’t you listen?’ look again. “And she’s a friend of yours?” “She’s my girlfriend. I love her and I’m going to marry her and we’re going to live together forever and we’re going to have a baby girl and her name’s going to be Daria.” Lena’s voice rose in pitch and pace as she spoke, getting more emotional with each declaration. My heart melted again. That is so impossibly gorgeous. I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh when she said that. “What’s funny?” Lena sounded slightly cross with me. “Oh nothing Lena,” I frantically reassured her. “I’m not laughing at you. I think that’s absolutely wonderful and I know you’ll be happy together.” Lena simply said, “I know.” She looked down, looking lost in a lovely daydream. Without looking up she softly said, “We’re going to live happily ever after.” I prayed harder than I ever had before for anything that that really would happen. For some reason at that moment the long-term future happiness of these two girls meant more to me than anything else in the world. “So how old is Katya?” Lena brightened up at my interest in her little lover. “Eight. Same as me. We’re going to be in the Moscow Circus. We’re jugglers. We can do five clubs,” Lena boasted. as she lifted her chin and smirked with swelling pride and held out her outstretched hand and counted aloud her five splayed digits. I even felt a small sense of national pride. At least we can still produce something decent in Russia. I mean, being able to juggle five things at age eight is pretty goddamn impressive. “Five clubs? That’s incredible. I don’t think I could even do one.” “Yeah, that’s what everyone says when they can’t do it,” she sighed. She’d obviously heard that line a lot. But she wasn’t finished boasting. “We can do ten clubs when we do it together.” “Really? I’d love to see you practice.” “I’ll come back with Katya next time and we can show you.” We still had a while before Lena’s mother said she’d be back, so I showed her some of my paintings and other pictures and we talked a little about more everyday little things. Before I could think to ask some more questions about her family it was three o’clock and Masha arrived to pick up her daughter. I had a few questions for her. “Hi sweetie”. Lena ran up to her mother and gave her big hug and a kiss. “How was it?” “Great. Can we come back soon, mum?” “Of course. If Ms. Movosh doesn’t mind?” “Not at all.” I looked directly at Masha. “Ms. Kropotska? Can I ask you something? Why did you—” She interrupted me again. “How about this Arina: You develop those photos you took today and bring them around to my house next week. We can talk then. But I can pay you for them now.” She was looking at me with a very peculiar expression, a sort of satisfied smirk. ...Well, how very intriguing. After what’s happened today with Lena I think I’d definitely like to know more about her home life and her family. Alright then. She handed over the money and said, “See you soon.” “Bye Ari,” Lena said, as she followed her mother out. “I’ll bring Katya over next time. You’ll like her. She’s prettier than me. We’ll have a party. OK?” “Okay Lena. I can’t wait.” I followed them outside into the cold snowy afternoon and waved goodbye. Then I went inside to develop those photos, and to have a little party of my own. ********** Hope you enjoy my story. Comments and constructive criticism welcome. |