“Taking home a souvenir. I’m going to send these pics to myself. Come on, give me something I can work with.” The whir of the camera sounds three more times as she takes shots of my face, chest and abs.
“Mmmm, very nice. This’ll do nicely in my spank bank.” I snatch the phone away before she can get another candid shot of me, causing her to protest. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”
“My turn for a souvenir,” I reply, turning the camera on her. She instantly covers her face with her hands.
“Are you crazy? That’s exactly what I don’t need. Half-nakey pics of the sullied socialite while she vacations alone with an unknown man. The tabloids will spin it to make it look like I was spread eagle on the couch, sucking a cherry red lollipop while making a sex tape.”
“Now that’s an idea,” I smirk, the visual in my head making my mouth water.
“I am not pulling a Kim Kardashian, Drake. So hand it over.”
I snap a pic of her lips pressed in a hard line and her hand extended. “Ally, these are only for me. For my pleasure. I’d kill someone before I share these photos. I just want to be able to look at you…always. If I can’t keep you, at least let me have this.”
Her gaze falls to her knotted fingers resting against my stomach, and she sucks in her bottom lip. “Ok.” Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a solemn smile. “Ok, you can have this.”
I capture images of her looking at me through those sad, peculiar eyes. A wisp of red unravels from her bun, and I take the opportunity to snap a photo of her tucking it behind her ear, her gaze far away and thoughtful.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, studying her through the lens.
“How I can’t remember ever having this much fun. And being this happy. And how I’m terrified of what the future holds.”
Tears collect along the rims of her eyes, and I stroke her cheek, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t think about that right now. Let’s just keep having fun and being free. Let’s be happy together for now and not think about tomorrow.”
I kiss her hungrily, snapping an erotic selfie of the moment. In another place, at another time, it’d be my Homescreen. And Ally…Ally would be the first number on my Favorites contact list. And when she would call me to tell me about her day, or relay a funny story, or just to say that she’ll be coming home to me soon, her infectious, smiling face would light up the screen, those cyan eyes sparkling like the brightest, boldest stars in the sky.
She pulls away just enough to bring her body into the frame, a mischievous smile on her lips. The naughty little minx is back, and I have every intention of capturing her and never letting her go.
“Take your shirt off,” I command, my eyes fixed on the screen displaying her blush.
“What?”
“Your shirt. Lose it. I need a little something for my spank bank too.”
She tugs at the hem of the sweatshirt, revealing just a peek of skin. “I swear to God, Justice, if you show anybody-”
“Trust me, Ally. You trust me. Remember?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “I do.” And with that, the sweatshirt slides over her torso and is on the floor, her beautiful breasts just inches from my hungry mouth.
Ally covers her chest with her hands and looks away. “I look ridiculous, don’t I? You’re used to Big Boobs McGee shaking her Double Ds in your face. And here I am…the rack of a twelve year old. I’m practically a husky boy with moobs.”
The camera whirs again, before I lower it, so Ally can see the seriousness etched on my face. “Please don’t ruin this for me by comparing yourself to a boy. Or any adolescent for that matter. What did I teach you, Ally? Sex appeal isn’t about having big tits or a round ass. It’s not about your dress size or even how skimpy your clothing is. It starts inside here.” I graze her temple gently, and Ally shivers under my touch. Then I trail my fingers to her chest, prying her fingers from her breasts. “And here,” I say, splaying my hand over her heart. “Here, Ally. If you feel sexy, you’ll be sexy. If you believe it, so will I.”
When her hands are balled at her sides, I resume my intensive study of her body. I zoom in on the cluster of freckles on her nose, and the tiny mole on her left breast. The heart shape of her lips, the bottom one just a fraction bigger than the top, giving her a permanent pout. The way her waist appears so small and narrow, yet solid enough that I’m not afraid of breaking her when I’m inside of her to the root.
Ally is art. She may appear simple and understated to the untrained eye, but to me, she’s a rare, exotic piece that should be cherished and appreciated.
“Lift your chin,” I instruct, recording the image of her slender neck.
“I better not see Mary Kate and Ashley on the internet, buddy.”
“Mary Kate and Ashley?”
“Yeah. My girls,” she says gesturing between her breasts. “Small, maybe a little sad, but cute.”
I lean over and cover her left one with my mouth. “Who is this?”
“Ooooh. That’s Mary Kate. She’s the smaller, perky one.”