Paula

byjacinta©

The blank door swung open and her lover gestured her into his apartment.

"Come in, Paula."

Always taller than she remembered, from even the week before, giving her a feeling of being diminutive and overborne, and with it a strange aura of awe and mystery. She wondered if perhaps that was why she was attracted to him, the males in her family, when growing up, were all well over six feet.

She knew she was inexperienced in some areas and capable in others. Just fifteen minutes ago she had hefted her camera bag onto her shoulder, stepped out of her own apartment and closed the door, turning her back on her husband and two young sons for the day. To her family she was the cornerstone and it suited her, fed a need, especially as she lacked ambition for anything but home life with the boys. Fortunately she also lacked an education that, holding a degree, she might have been fired up for the business world or academia, losing the leisure to read that she treasured.

Swinging the heavy bag to the floor, she removed a fruit cake she had baked the day before. For him because he asked it, although she wasn't sure if it was an example of control or her cakes really were better than that available at the store. She turned to look questioning at her lover, wondering what he had in store for the day.

The scent of his body filled her nostrils, just as stepping into the room reminded her of him, with the added sharpness of photographic chemicals. The scents of all the bodies in her life were familiar to her, she could have identified each by leaning into their temples and inhaling, blindfolded. Even her sons' best friend scent she knew, catching it as different from her family's as the four of them played card games as they often did, while their father was at work.

Regarding her tenderly, as mentor to a pupil, he said,

"Today you're going to learn a fundamental lesson in darkroom work."

Turning to the second bedroom, he gently opened the door, the attached pads insulating the room from drafts and dust. Handing her a damp pad he said,

"Dust removal is crucial, one speck on a film, when enlarged becomes an ugly white flaw on the final print. You're clever at retouching but if care is taken beforehand then rescuing the print isn't necessary afterwards".

At 25, even though a mother and a wife, she accepted his authority over her, for she knew his knowledge far exceeded hers. His 40 years covered a college degree in graphic arts as well as a deep involvement in psychiatry and human emotions.

Taking the cloth, she diligently wiped every surface of the tables, stands and equipment in the room while he did the same with the floor. The work took several hours, at the end, they prepared the darkroom for a printing session next time she came.

When they had finished, he took her hand, leading her to the bedroom where he handed her a soft package. Wondering, she opened it up to reveal folds upon folds of strangely pliable, creamy fabric.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Latex fabric, high quality, fine gauge." he answered, a half smile on his face. Stroking, caressing, she was amazed at the tactile responses through her fingers.

"It's like skin!" she exclaimed.

"Take off your clothes," he prompted, while reaching for a roll of duct tape beside the package.

Once undressed she stood still, watching his hands, as he applied the soft material to her waist, smoothing it around and taping it into place. Then carrying it down her thighs and between her legs, completed the enclosing of her lower torso in a form fitting sheath, the drawn together edges running down her outer thighs.

Stroking her body over the top of the fabric held a strange sensation of her skin yet not her skin, feeling being transferred directly to her own nerves.

Watching her touch herself, he stirred into an erection, dropping his clothes, and moving towards her. Taking her hand, he led her to the bed, caressing her body over her breasts, belly and across the latex. His mouth found her nipples, sucking as they hardened, as his fingers rubbed the latex covered lips of her labia.

The strange sensations increased her excitement and her legs parted instinctively. He guided his erection to her open thighs, pressing, probing, at the taut membrane, while she panted with the pressure on her clitoris.

Harder he pressed, forcing the fabric , until... it broke and he surged within with a cry, thrusting deep and hard into her depths, his victory bringing him quickly to orgasm, collapsing on her, exulting on the success of the experiment.

Tracing her way home, she mused on the event, realising he must have bough samples of all the gauges to test for the one most suited for breaking with the right pressure. Typical of this strange man, an abounding curiosity, living alone all his adult life, and now with a willing female to experiment on for the first time - to try out ideas that had been in his head, ideas others might not even have thought of...

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