Boobday: mile high 14

I kind of struggled this week. My period hit me hard, and between the resultant fatigue, brain fog, and complete absence of motivation, it was a slog.

But my cold is over, and I declare myself well! On top of that, it’s now the weekend and I there’s nothing I have to do.

Returning from the business trip.

As Hy says, “Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.”

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the shoot begins

Part 4: setting up the shoot

Before we met up, Nicolas had said he was looking forward to seeing me, and I’d teased that he had already seen rather a lot of me. This — sharing this space together ­— was different, he’d said. He was right, of course.

I was standing by the foot of the bed while he reclined at the other end, waiting expectantly. Of course he’d be expectant.

I felt a bit awkward, but probably less so than I would have predicted, truth be told. I was about to take my clothes off in front of someone who I’d first clapped eyes on only the night before. But it was also a project months in the works, unilateral, and not romantic.

My problem was an unusual issue of etiquette: what is the most appropriate way to take off one’s clothes for a nude shoot in a small room containing the photographer and with virtually no privacy? For in this elegant shoebox of a hotel room, there was nowhere to retreat.

Stepping into the bathroom seemed pointless: distance had suddenly taken on symbolic relevance, but escaping to the bathroom would necessarily start with an advance towards Nicolas — a zero-sum game. And anyway, I’d roll the door closed and face the mirror while… what? While he watched me through the smoked glass. Of course he’d watch.

No, I’d stay put. This was not romance, and still less a seduction. There would be no eye contact, no slow, tantalizing reveal. Facing straight on felt too bold, but turning my back seemed silly: I was here to do a nude shoot — shall I now spend 60 seconds being modest? For what purpose?

I split the difference and turned to my right, then removed my clothes as if I were alone, and tidied items away on a shelf under the TV as I went: necklace, sweater, T-shirt, leggings, bra… When only the panties remained, I hesitated, then looked to Nicolas for guidance: OK, we’ll just go with this much for now.

Then we added clothing again, starting with a little black net bodysuit that he had brought. The fabric ran from under-bust to hips or thereabouts, with shoulder straps split above the bust to frame each breast, and garters (suspenders) hung from the bottom edge. He snapped some shots and then showed me one that he thought was particularly hot: my breasts framed by the black lace and straps. But ultimately that photo was deemed insufficiently striking to make the final cut.

Being nude when the other person is clothed is an odd dynamic. There is difference and thus power is invoked, but which way does the power flow? “Naked” is a synonym for “vulnerable”, and yet nudity compels the eye and thus has its own strength. This creates an interesting tension but there’s no paradox — vulnerability and strength aren’t mutually exclusive. Anyway, I felt satisfied with my appearance (perhaps even confident) and wasn’t worried that Nicolas would be critical. He had seen lots of photos of me, had approached me, and had only ever been complimentary. That provided me with a kind of emotional safety that I appreciated.

My usual photography process involves a lot of distance: I set up the camera, choose some promising poses, and take photos more or less blind with a remote shutter release; I look at the resulting raw material; I edit; I post; I promote. I see my blog stats change. Occasionally someone will comment. It’s all very removed and any feedback that I get is from a very safe distance in both space and time. I’m not used to being seen directly.

So now, instead of being a passive consumer of the curated images that I chose to share, Nicolas was a co-creator and director. Instead of communicating by means of text on a screen, he was close enough that I could just about feel his breath on my skin.

Part 6: heating up, cooling off, getting wet 1

Boobday: mile high 13

I’m finally feeling pretty much well again, though I still have a couple of mild lingering symptoms. It’s been about eight weeks now! I’ve never had such a persistent cold before. But I’m continuing to get lots of rest and take care of myself, and that’s about all I can do.

My mood seems a bit improved lately. Maybe it’s because the worst of the cold is well behind me, or that life feels calm, or that I seem to have a little more energy and motivation to work on some personal projects.

Or maybe it’s just spring.

This photo is from my last outbound flight on the business trip that followed the Europe trip.

As Hy says, “Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.”

badge Boobday

setting up the shoot

Part 3: last-minute logistics

Room 325 was an elegant shoebox.

I opened the door to see a flat screen TV flanked by two smallish, highish windows that revealed just how thick the outside wall was. The bed was tucked into the corner to the left of the door, and a wee built-in desk nestled at the foot of the bed, in the far left corner. To the right of the door was the bathroom, with smoked-glass walls and a weighty sliding glass door. The far right corner of the room (beyond the shower end of the bathroom) was a narrow space, with three pegs (each bearing one wooden coat-hanger) under the window.

The sheets, space-saving sink, and toilet were crisply white, while the tall padded headboard, bed, desk, shelving and floor were deep walnut. The one free-standing corner of the bed had a fairly spacious void under it to house the garbage can. The whole room was roughly 10’ by 15’.

I dumped my (unstylish) backpack on the bed and hung my navy trench coat neatly on one of the hangers. Other than the bed there was only one place to sit, so I sat there, at the little desk, and ate half of my sandwich while killing time catching up on social media. Whatever I was wearing would have been an iteration of my standard uniform: leggings and a long-sleeve T under a clingy cashmere sweater, plus a bold necklace.

After a few minutes, a knock on the door. I opened it.

“Hi! Come in!”

Nicolas was wearing his black wool coat, and wheeling what looked like an ordinary black carry-on style suitcase, which contained his camera equipment. The room’s dimensions suddenly went from modest to crowded.

We hugged. He edged past me, hung up his coat beside mine, and then turned his attention to setting up his gear.

Earlier that morning when we were making plans, he had suggested prosecco and although I’m not much of a drinker I’d agreed: it sounded like fun and, yes, this photo shoot was worth celebrating. But when he arrived he apologized for having forgotten to bring some after all. I wasn’t fussed. He had thought it might help me with nerves and perhaps it would have, but I feel a bit uncomfortable with the idea of using alcohol to modify my mood so deliberately. Besides, I need to listen to my gut and alcohol scrambles the signal.

Wearing a black sweater and black jeans, he bustled about the small space and found a spot to put his light — there was pretty much just the one option, right in front of the TV. He brought the space heater out of its corner and set it on high, and then we tried to figure out the high-tech thermostat so the air conditioner wouldn’t suddenly kick in to keep the room stable at 21°. We chatted as he worked. At this point there wasn’t much for me to do except keep out of the way.

He asked which parts of my body I disliked. I had heard that this was a question he asked so it didn’t come as a complete surprise, and I knew my response might inform how he approached me. Months earlier I’d even given some thought to how I’d answer, but when it came to spitting out the words I rambled and qualified my statements.

“I’m going to ask again and I want a word not a sentence.”

Briefly then. Height, stomach a bit, and face a bit. I gathered that my answer surprised him, but if he had different expectations, he didn’t share them. He wondered aloud about the stomach being an issue because there was nothing wrong with it.

In retrospect, I think I understood his question differently than he had meant it. If the question was, “What parts of your body do you actively dislike, to the point that you avoid photographing them and perhaps even looking at them?” my reply would have been, “None — I’m OK with all of it.”

So what did my answer mean? I’ve always wanted to be taller than my 5’2”, but more importantly my horizontal measurements (bust, waist, hips) tend to go with a taller frame; it’s not so much my height as my proportions. As a child I learned from my parents’ example to be self-conscious about my stomach even though I now know rationally that there’s nothing to be self-conscious about. My face doesn’t look in photos the way it does in the mirror. Sometimes I feel pretty but never completely confident, but then I wonder — does anyone? Maybe I expect too much. Anyway, it comes down to this: do I hate any part of my body? No. Do I love it? Some parts but not all, and if anyone had bothered to ask my opinion, I would have tweaked the design a bit.

Eventually Nicolas had done all the setup he could. We had discussed how to approach the shoot. The preparations were complete.

He was now reclining casually at the head of the bed, propped up on his left elbow, looking utterly relaxed with a slight air of expectation. He was ready to start.

The next move was clearly mine: it was time to strip.

I chirped, too brightly, “OK, I guess this is it then!”

Part 5: the shoot begins

Boobday: white and beige

I’m sitting here in the middle of the day and I can’t stop yawning. Part of that is because I was socializing a little while ago and that takes it out of me, but it’s mostly because I’m still not feeling 100% yet.

I’m approaching week 7 of this cold, and while I’d love to say it’s essentially over and I’m just getting back to normal, that feels like tempting fate: I’ve thought it was “almost over” for a few weeks already. But I’m down to the occasional cough and blowing my nose from time to time. Overall, I’m feeling pretty good but still fatigued and sleeping a lot.

This has been and continues to be a busy week for me, with something with the potential to be extra tiring happening every day, most of it fun. It all involves socializing or otherwise being “on”: it’s kind of an introvert’s marathon.

I could use a nap.

This photo was taken in a hotel during my last business trip.

As Hy says, “Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.”

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e[lust] #93

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Photo courtesy of Aurora Glory

Welcome to Elust 93

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #94? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dress to die for

Pushing Past

Necessary.

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Kink lite, Kink life
Disturbance

 

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

The Contract

 

Erotic Fiction

The Contract
Speaking Truth to a Submissive Heart
Thunder
Subjugate U

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Jerking off to be banned under Texas bill
That Time Steve Bannon Destroyed Me
How to program a sex robot

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Effortless Connections & Harmonious Energy
Cialis
Playlist…

Poetry

A Love Affair, From A to Z: “A” – Always
-07.04.17_02:43-
Scouting: A Lusty Limericks

Erotic Non-Fiction

Conflict(ed) part 2
It’s All About The Feet
TEASE
Oral Birthday Fun ~ The Glorious Sixty-Ninth!
I Will Do…
The subtle threesome

Events

Eroticon 2017 – I Herd U Lieks It

Body Talk and Sexual Health

photo shoots past and future

 

Elust 88

Boobday: mile high 12

Just when I thought I was almost better, my cold renewed its assault. It moved into my nose the other day and I’ve been sniffling and sneezing and generally congested, and needing pharmaceutical help to sleep. But sleep I did: other than the hour I spent trying and failing to be unconscious early this morning, I got 11 hours last night. Then got up, had breakfast, and settled down again for a two-hour nap.

I tend not to get sick, and when I do, I tend not to remain sick for very long. But this has lasted over a month and I’m so done with it. I’m sure all the travel didn’t help.

Speaking of which, this photo is from my first outbound flight on the business trip that followed the Europe trip.

As Hy says, “Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.”

badge Boobday