The raspy-voiced man led her into a
large but rather bare bedroom
where the distinctive smell of stale
sex hung in the air. I’m a photographer,” he hastily
clarified, seeing the alarm in her
eyes. xxx sex Mounted lights
illuminated the brilliant white
studio, like something out of a
movie, or a dream. Following a decidedly lengthy lull in
their interchange and a healthy gulp
of his coffee, Harold assumed
something of a serious tone as he
spoke. She liked the
fact that he treated her with the
polite respect one ought to treat a
practical stranger, rather than
behaving as though seeing her
diddle her goodies gave him
profound insight into the inner
workings of her mind. Her on-camera persona
fought her way to the surface, wholly
disguising the fearful bag of nerves
and angst that quivered beneath. What prompted her first step in the
direction of the address that
repeated on loop in her head was
the daunting realisation that her
purse contained scarcely enough to
cover her return journey, and her
bank account still just shy of her
overdue rent payment. She felt
acutely the mismatch of her
immaculately done up face and the
decidedly regular attire she sported. Of all the things Belle might have
expected to happen that day, she
could not possibly have conceived of
the entirely insane situation in
which she now found herself. The shield that deflected the
imagined stares from passers-by,
that protected her vulnerable self
from the shame and self-loathing
that more than a few times had
driven her to the edge of giving up,
rose invisibly about her as she
walked with increasing steadiness. “You recognise me,
