A Gift in Disguise Ch. 11

And boy oh boy, when they learn that I'm a newhalf, a lot of them get really panicky. I guess they think that I'm going to make a pass at them or something."

I didn't quite know what to say, so I just said, "Well, I hope I don't disappoint you."

"You won't," Mikki said emphatically.

"How do you know?"

"Corinne and her brother Teddy told me a lot about you. They told me how you treated them respectfully when you were in high school together. Even stuck up for them sometimes. Sharon told me the same thing.

And, too, you swam competitively in high school and college. You're used to swimming and being watched and photographed, so you don't try to behave like you think some professional model would behave. You'll be natural, not a poseur."

"Thanks, Mikki. But what I meant was, how do you know that your photos of me will have some sexual effect on people who might see them? I guess what I'm asking is, when you look at someone, what do you see that makes you want to photograph them?"

She paused and just looked at me.

"I wish I knew the answer to that, Tom. I've lost track of the number of something-ologists who have interviewed me to try and come up with that answer.

It's not something obvious about the person. It's not sexual at all. Generally, friends or business associates tell me about someone who interests them. Again, if it's a sexual attraction, I'm not feeling it. It's actually more the intensity of the feeling the person telling me has toward the person they're telling me about.

When Corinne and Teddy told me about you, there was little sexual in their admiration for you. They described an interesting person — you. The way they said it clicked with me. That persuaded me to try to learn more about you. They arranged for me to see the videos of some of your swim meets from college. When I saw the videos, whatever my mystery criteria are for a prospective model, I knew you met them.

The psychologists all explain to me that my subject selection method, or lack of it, is typical of almost all artists. We don't know why a painting or a sculpture or, in my case, a set of photos will appeal to people, but our creative drive pushes us to complete the work according to some undefined plan in our mind."

"Do the doctors tell you why they think your photos arouse some people sexually?"

Mikki laughed. "No, on that they're in complete agreement. None of them can look at my photos and see anything even remotely suggestively sexual. Some of them, the shrinks, even admit to being aroused when they look at some of my shots, but they can't begin to explain why. I'm a conundrum."

"And when you're taking the photos, what about you? What do you see that tells you a particular shot will probably arouse someone?"

"That's an even bigger mystery, Tom. It's logical that most people would think I would consciously see the potential sexuality in my shots, but I don't. In fact, neither I nor the shrinks who've studied me can tell me how I can possibly react to some brief action event that registers as sexy in my mind and then capture it in photos. Too much reaction time would be required for that to happen as consistently as it does.

If you look at typical still photos of action events such as basketball or football, the photojournalists who capture that perfect action shot have usually got their cameras set to take several frames in rapid sequence when they push the shutter release once. It's kind of a shotgun photography effect. They push the shutter release and hope there turns out to be something good among each sequence of images.

That's not how I photograph things. When we're done today, I won't have hundreds of digital images to cull from. I'll probably have fewer than forty. I take one photo at a time, not a series of rapid-fire shots.

The shrinks tell me that's what really puzzles them. They've speculated that something in my brain collates the information my eye is seeing and then speeds up my brain's analysis of that scene to let me predict what's coming next. Then my brain causes me to push the shutter release at just the right time. I'm never conscious of any sexual content, at least not until I've compiled the photos into the book and am looking at the finished product as a viewer rather than the photographer.

And even then, Tom, I may not see or become aroused by the sexual content. Sometimes any sexual content eludes me completely. Yet others who view the same book or display may be driven wild."

Mikki's explanation fascinated me.

"Do you think that being a newhalf has any relation to your artistic mystery?" I asked.

"That's a very perceptive question," she responded. "Frankly, I think it's a strong possibility, but the shrinks reject it.

Even before I hit puberty I knew deep inside me that I was a girl, not a boy. But even acknowledging that, none of the people who have studied me can find any provable correlation between my gender identity and my photographic talent."

We were both quiet for a time, then Mikki spoke up again.

"You're different most men, Tom. You don't seem to be nervous about my gender identity. Just like you weren't with Teddy's being bi and Corinne's being a trans woman, too. I'm glad, because that will make you much more at ease being photographed. But I'm also curious why not? It's almost as if you've been closely associated with a trans woman before and found out she was as normal as anyone else."

I realized that Mikki was right. Even in the brief time since we met, I had become very comfortable with her, comfortable enough to let me tell her about Stephanie. Just like with Lorraine, I held nothing back from Mikki. When I finished, she said nothing while she pondered all I had said.

When she finally spoke again, she said, "Well, Teddy and Corinne and Sharon were right about you. You're honest and you're decent. Nice, even. Maybe those qualities are what I saw in the videos of your swim meets that convinced me to try and get you to let me photograph you. I hadn't really considered it until now. But still I don't see why those qualities of yours would translate into photos of you that other people might see as arousing."

"Oh, thanks a lot for the compliment," I said with exaggerated sarcasm followed by a laugh.

Instantly Mikki realized the dual meanings of what she had said.

"No, Tom, I just meant your photos don't arouse people sexually."

Again I laughed. "You might want to quit while you're behind," I suggested. Finally she realized that nothing she had said had offended me and that I was just trying to put her at ease. Her laughter told me I had been successful.

"Well, if you ever decide you want to spend more time with a newhalf, I hope you'll give me a call," she replied. I looked at her. She was looking at me with sensuously soft eyes and no longer smiling.

Still, the quiet between us was comfortable and lasted another five minutes until we stopped behind Sharon at a massive iron gate. Sharon entered some figures on a post-mounted keypad and the gate opened. She pulled her car in, and I followed with mine.

We drove up a tree-lined road for maybe a half mile toward a large but not massive house. From the outside, the house looked very nice, but disproportionately small when compared to the size of the estate on which it sat. The house was nice, a two-story home that looked like it would have fit nicely on a single suburban lot in any community. Still, it almost looked too small for the land on which it sat.

Instead of pulling up in front, though, Sharon continued to drive on the road around one end of the house. Behind the main house was a single-story structure that looked to have a footprint larger than the main house.

Sharon parked her car on the drive in front, got out, and motioned for me to park directly in front of what appeared to be the front door.

Mikki and I joined her. She unlocked the front door, and instructed us to follow her. She went immediately to a nearby coat closet, opened the door, and said, "This is the alarm panel. You've got the alarm code on the paper I gave you, Tom. Enter it into the panel."

I did as she instructed, and a red LED turned green.

"When you and Mikki leave today, just before you open the front door to leave, enter the same code. If the light turns red, you've got thirty seconds to exit and close the door behind you. If for some reason the alarm goes off while you're here, call this number. It's the alarm company monitoring station." She pointed to a telephone number on the paper. "Tell them you're at this address and you've set off the alarm accidentally." Again, she pointed to the address on the paper. "And tell them immediately this is the authentication code. Don't wait for the alarm company to ask for it, because they won't ask. If you don't give it without prompting or if you give it incorrectly, the cops will show up." She pointed to the authentication code. "Don't worry. You won't have any problem.

Now, follow me. I'll take you out to the pool. When the owners had this place built, they wanted an indoor swimming pool attached to the guest house. We're in the guest house if you haven't already figured that out. They wanted to give guests free private access to the pool. There are exterior doors to the pool house that can be used by the pool maintenance people without going through the house."

We walked through the ground floor of the guest house. It was not elaborate or unusually large. We entered a modest kitchen and approached another door. Sharon opened it, and we walked into an enclosed walkway.

"Wisely, the owners figured guests staying in the guest house wouldn't want to smell the pool chemicals, so they connected the guest house to the enclosed pool with a short ventilated enclosed walkway," she explained.

The walkway was maybe eight feet long. At the other end was another door. Sharon opened it, and we all walked into the enclosed pool house. It was a half-Olympic sized pool for length and width. It was full Olympic depth in one half but only four feet deep in the other half. It had depth markers painted on the edges.

Sharon pointed out three separate dressing and shower rooms inside the pool house. She also pointed out the light switches and the telephone.

After determining neither Mikki nor I had any further questions, Sharon said she needed to head back to town for her meeting. She handed me the house keys and repeated the earlier instructions she had given for returning them to her office.

Mikki and I walked back through the guest house with her as she went to her car. While we walked, she told us not to worry about cleaning up, that the cleaning company would be coming in on Sunday to clean the entire house and pool house. Just before she got in her car, Sharon handed me the keys.

"Have fun!" she said.

Mikki and I removed her equipment and gym bag and my gym bag from my car and walked back through the house to the pool.

Once we were back at the pool, Mikki said, "Tom, why don't we get into our swimsuits and meet back over here at the table. You've probably got a few more questions. Then whenever you're ready, I'll start taking pictures."

Mikki retrieved her gym bag and walked into one of the dressing rooms. I went into another dressing room. I expected to be suited up before her, but to my surprise, she was already sitting at the table when I came out.

Whereas her slacks and blouse had not emphasized her figure, the black and turquoise Nike Fastback tank one-piece swimsuit had just the opposite effect. She did not seem the least bit concerned that I stared for an extra second or two.

I walked to the table and sat down across from her, hoping that my competition-cut swimsuit would not reveal the effect Mikki's suit was having on me.

"Are you going to be in the water with me?" I asked, assuming she would not have put on a swimsuit if she was not.

"Maybe," she responded. "Generally I get my shots from the pool edge without getting in, but something told me I should be prepared to take some shots from below today. I'll play it by ear, though. In either case, because of the splash and the high humidity, I've got my cameras in watertight cases.

I won't get in your swim lane, though. I'll stay out of your way."

"Do you want me to swim slower than usual?" I asked.

"Nope. I'm actually a pretty good swimmer myself. I've learned to take photos while I'm doing a modified side stroke," she answered. "What I really want you to do is just what you'd do if you were doing one of your twice-weekly workouts at the pool. The best thing you can do — and I know it's not as easy as it sounds, believe me — is to ignore me as much as possible.

Whatever you do, don't pose for any shots. Just swim the way you normally would. Get in and out of the pool the way you normally would. Like I said, I'll stay out of your way. You don't have to worry about where I am.

If I do decide to take some photos from inside the pool with you, I'll yell at you to either stop or take a break or something. I'll have to put on my snorkel mask and fins enter the pool with my camera. I'll signal you when I'm ready for you to resume swimming."

When I didn't have any more questions, Mikki picked up one of her cameras, gave it another quick check, stood up and said, "Let's do it!"

I tried my best to follow her simple instructions. I got up from the table and walked around the entire perimeter of the pool to inspect it. Once I got back to the pool edge closest to the table, I turned and made a competitive swim dive into the water.

An hour later which included three or four brief breaks out of the pool, I got out and dried off.

Mikki walked over toward me, her camera still around her neck.

"That was possibly the best photoshoot I've ever done, Tom," she said with a beaming smile. "It made all the difference in the world that you ignored me completely. I wish professional models would follow instructions as well as you did."

"Thanks for the compliment," I said. Her skin, swimsuit, and hair gave no indication she had been in the water, so I asked.

"Nope, didn't need to. Actually, Tom, now I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't. I rarely need to be in the water when I'm photographing, so I can get a little rusty."

"Well, if you want," I offered, "I'll do a few more laps at slower than my normal pace to let you get in and take some practice shots ..."

"If you really don't mind too much ... That's really nice of you, Tom. But don't slow down just for me. Go at your regular pace, please."

"Got it. Go ahead and gear up and get in the water," I suggested. "Tell me when you're ready and I'll jump in."

"Would you mind too much if I did a full lap alone first with my gear? Just to loosen up and get used to the pool and everything?" she asked.

"No, not at all. That's a good idea, in fact. Just let me know when you're ready for me."

Watching Mikki handle the camera, her fins and mask, it was easy to see that she was not only physically fit but also skilled at handling the camera in the water.

At poolside she put on the fins, then the mask snorkel, and took the camera in her right hand. In one fluid motion she positioned herself at the edge with her left hand on her mask and the right hand and camera in front of her body, no easy task wearing fins. In the same motion she executed a confident rear roll entry into the pool. Almost instantly she began a sidestroke on her left side toward the other end of the pool, all the while using her right hand to control and operate the camera. At the deep end of the pool she completed a very graceful flip turn. However instead of surfacing immediately, she swam on her back underwater to about the midpoint of the pool. Then she surfaced and returned to me.

Once she was standing with her head out of water and she had cleared the water out of her ears, I said, "First time in the water?"

She laughed, recognizing my absurd question was a sincere compliment.

"No. I've been a PADI master diver for about five years now. Usually I do my underwater photography wearing SCUBA gear, but snorkel works better in shallower water like a pool. So, are you ready?"

"Don't you want to catch your breath first?" I asked her.

"Nope. I'm fine. Whenever you're ready, let's do it!"

She placed her mask again and adjusted it, then inserted the snorkel and smoothly reentered the pool just as before.

I walked a few feet away from her and dove in headfirst. I swam at a leisurely pace. With my eyes open and with time to look around, I saw Mikki swimming easily parallel and below me taking photos. Since she was wearing fins, she was able to propel herself with less exertion than I. Still, I was immensely surprised and impressed that she only had to surface once to blow and to take in air before we reached the deeper end of the pool.

She stayed submerged as I approached the wall and completed a flip turn to start back.

Once I had started my return, she surfaced for more air, then submerged again. I saw her start picking up her speed to get to the end. As I approached the end, she was still underwater photographing me.

I crawled out of the pool first. She sat her camera and fins on the pool's edge and climbed out before taking off her snorkel mask.

"Thanks, Tom. That was fun. Actually, I'm very anxious to see the underwater photos of you."

"You're welcome, Mikki. I'd like to see them myself."

She looked at her watch, then said, "Look, it's getting on toward late afternoon. Why don't we head back to town. We can swing by Sharon's office and drop off the house keys. Since you've been nice enough to haul me and my gear out here, the least I can do is buy you a burger or a salad or something. Then, if you wouldn't mind, you can drop me at my motel.

I'm afraid it has to be an early night for me tonight. I've got to be at the airport tomorrow at 5 a.m. for my flight back to San Francisco. Sharon asked me to do everything I could to get your photo book to her by Thursday, Friday at the latest. I've given the bookbinder I use a heads-up that I'll be waiting at his front door tomorrow morning early, so ..."

"I understand. It's no trouble getting you to your motel. There's a Salad Delight on the way. We can stop there, grab a buffet-style salad, and you can be back in your room by seven."

"Perfect, Tom. Thank you."

We loaded up her gear and my gym bag in the trunk of my car and headed out.

While we drove and then had a quick dinner, we talked and got to know each other better.

She talked excitedly about the prospects of marketing her photosets to Michael, Paul, and Bethany. When I asked if she would be coming back to our fair city, she said that would depend on whether they wanted her to look at their clubs to help them design effective and stimulating displays using her photosets. I was not surprised when she said Bethany had been the most receptive to her photo content and effects.

When we pulled into the parking space in front of Mikki's motel room, I opened the trunk and offered to help her carry her gear in.

"Thank you, Tom. I'd appreciate it."

Once inside, we placed her gear on the floor.

"Mikki, will you please call me and let me know what they decide about using your photos in their clubs?"

She looked a bit surprised that I was genuinely interested, but she said, "Yes, of course. Will you write out your phone number for me?" She handed me the motel's notepad from beside the phone.

I scribbled my name and cell phone number on it and handed it back to her.

"And if you're going to be coming back this way, I'd really like to see you again if you'll let me," I said slightly tentatively.

This time she looked stunned. "You mean like a date?"

"Sure. I'd like to get to know you even better. I've really enjoyed this afternoon with you. And even if you don't come back, I'd like to stay in touch with you."