Second Сhance

Second Сhance

            I never believed in second chances. Missed opportunities are therefore called missed opportunities because they fade into the past, never to happen again. It’s the same with people. They were, and they are gone if you don’t keep them in your life. Friends and enemies, loved ones and mere acquaintances. The important ones and strangers—all of them. Gone—and with them go some ties with the past, which is also gone.

            I didn’t long for the past. I learned to let it go. It was easier to move forward towards my goal. But every so often I remembered what had been. And those who were there for me in times long gone. Not pining for them, no. Just… remembering. That’s all.

            And when I met these people by chance, I never felt sad. Or joyous. It’s in the past, it’s unchangeable, and these people are gone from my life.

            But when she crossed the threshold of my studio, I almost dropped the camera on the floor. Because my heart skipped a beat and then beat twice as fast as before, and my hands were suddenly weak and shaky.

            On the doorstep of the studio stood the girl to whom my heart had belonged long, long ago, back when I was in college. And she… She didn’t realize it, surrounded by admirers and friends. Sabrina. We called her ‘the little witch,’ even though she looked nothing like the TV show heroine of our childhood—tall and black-haired, with deep-set Bambi eyes and a supple body, long cheerleader legs and an easy, swift gait that drove me crazy. How many nights I spent dreaming about her, dreaming about how I would get up the courage to ask her to pose for me, and she would finally see me in the crowd of her fans. See me and reciprocate my feelings. Those feelings that I now considered immature, stupid, and long buried in the past.

            But here she was on the threshold, just as thin and tall, just as beautiful. Only with a more mature, confident and fully formed beauty that radiated self-assurance and calm feminine pride. Her eyes, as fathomless as in my memory, looked around the small studio foyer with a detached gaze, stopping on me… For a second, I was afraid her gaze would continue its search without seeing me, but Sabrina… She gave me a welcoming smile, stepped toward me with determination that made her thighs, covered in tight jeans, sway invitingly from side to side, throwing my heart beat off.

            “Good morning,” her voice was a little lower and deeper than I remembered. “I signed up for a photo shoot today. My name is Sabrina…”

            “Y-yes… Good morning, I remember,” I had absolutely no recollection of anyone named Sabrina signing up for today, although my assistant had said something about a girl with an unusual name.

            “And here I am,” her eyebrow arched questioningly, and I pulled myself together by sheer force of will.

            “It’s so good to see you, Sabrina. I’m Alex,” I shifted the camera in my left hand and held out my right hand to greet.

            This was my thing for my female clients, a way of showing them from the start that I don’t see them as a woman, but a work of art that I have to capture in a photo. For a photographer who shoots nude genre photos and who is concerned about the comfort of his female clients, trust is an important component. I realized this almost immediately and came up with the handshake trick. It has always worked. Today, though, with my hand shaking with excitement, it was a blow to me. Her palm in my hand… I could only hope that my stamina hadn’t failed me, and it was imperceptible on my face how much I was shaken by our meeting.

            Sabrina didn’t recognize me. But how could she? It had been almost ten years, I had changed a lot, and she hadn’t noticed me in college. I was the one who caught her eye every time she just walked by. To her, I was just one of the unsmiling, perpetually bullied weird losers. The masses. Even if she did notice me, she couldn’t see my face behind the camera, long bangs and baggy clothes. Over the years, I’ve gotten taller, stronger, changed my style and hairstyle. Photography became my profession.

            How I dreamed of filming her in those years! Dreamed without a chance, I realized it, but I couldn’t help it. Let that dream go, let it go after college graduation, never looked for it on social media. Went to another city. Opened my own studio. Lived my life without looking back. And then the dream came true. She came to the photo shoot. To me. To a man who didn’t believe in the very possibility of such a development.

            It sounds like the plot of some silly melodrama! But here she is, sitting in a cozy cherry chair, and we are discussing what result she wants to see in the photo, how excited she is. And here I am calming her down, discussing all the nuances of the upcoming photo shoot. I give her iced tea with mint. And every second I remind myself that I am a professional! And the fact that my heart was jumping out of my chest… Well, as long as she doesn’t see it, everything is great.

            Sabrina, as it turned out, had recently broken up with her boyfriend and wanted to cheer herself up with an erotic photo shoot. When she answered my question, “What made her decide to do this?” her face was a little sad, as if she was struggling with her feelings. I thought the breakup was painful, and I was right.

            “He was always jealous of me, and I never once gave him reason to question my fidelity. He said I was ugly, that I looked like a mop, things like that.”

            “What a jerk!” I burst out. “Forgive my reaction, but I can’t think of another word for it. How could he, you’re such a spectacular woman!”

            “Well, we trust the people closest to us,” Sabrina smiled helplessly. “I thought he was someone close to me, and I believed him… I believed him so much that I began to see myself through his eyes…”

            “Sabrina, let me show you yourself as I see you,” against my will, my voice trembled. “Trust an experienced photographer who has seen thousands of incredibly beautiful women. You’re remarkable!”

            I almost gave myself away. So I quickly turned the conversation to another topic.

            “So, if you’re ready, we’ll begin our photo shoot. I’m sure we’re going to do it in the best way possible. We’ll start with portrait shots, dressed to make you feel comfortable. If suddenly you feel awkward, at any moment of shooting, do not hesitate to tell me. The main priority is your comfort.”

            I wasn’t lying, her comfort was more important to me than anything else. Especially her comfort. I was terribly angry at this unknown boyfriend of hers who’d dared to make Sabrina think she was ugly, who’d dared to humiliate her, to break her self-esteem so that she had to seek validation of her attractiveness from a photographer she didn’t know. On some inner impulse, I smiled and whispered to her in a conspiratorial tone.

            “Just imagine the face of this idiot when he sees these photos, hears compliments about you, and realizes who he has lost. But it will be too late—hundreds of men will be ready, as in the old days, to shoot for you in a duel.”

            “Oh, no duels!” Sabrina laughed. “Okay, I’m ready. I trust you.”

            When she walked into the studio and I recognized her, I thought the photo shoot was going to be challenging. As we made our way into my domain, I caught myself thinking that this was going to be much harder than anything I had done before, even harder than my aunt’s négligée photo shoot for her new husband. But as I picked up the camera, the realization hit me: this photo shoot was going to be torture for me.

            It was as if I’d gone back a good decade and was once again an awkward teenager in love with the school’s first belle. It was as if my dreams of those times, where Sabrina and I were alone together in a secluded place with no witnesses, had come true. What had only come to me in my dreams during those years suddenly came true.

            Sabrina sat in the chair I’d set up as a prop for the shoot. Her coal-black hair flowed down her shoulders, over her firm, high breasts, still covered by the fabric of her white T-shirt. Still covered, but I knew it wouldn’t be an hour before I’d see all of her… It made my head spin and my heart sink…

            She looked at me with the same Bambi look that had won my heart back in college. The depths of her eyes seemed like they could hold the whole world… I was drowning in them, not even trying to swim out. There was a promise that made me dizzy.

            Sabrina seemed to see my reaction to her. She probably took it as admiration for her looks and charisma, without realizing the real reason for my excitement. However, it was even better: she felt much more confident sitting in the chair. And when I asked her if she was ready to take off her shirt, instead of answering, she simply pulled it off, carelessly tossing it aside, away out of the frame.

            She was wearing a simple beige bra, no push-ups or even a centimeter of foam. The translucent fabric barely covered her skin, exposing Sabrina’s breasts to my attention rather than hiding them. I caught myself thinking that those breasts would fit perfectly in the palm of my hand… If only…

            “Okay, stop!” I mentally ordered myself. “Alex, you’re a professional! Get a hold of yourself!”

            Alas, it was impossible. Sabrina, so alluring and desirable to me, even ten years after I’d fallen in love with her, was so close. If only she knew what I was thinking… Although, judging by her interested look, she suspected something. Women, they always know how we feel before we know how we feel… This woman knew something. She suddenly smiled, slightly covered her eyes, and leaned back in her chair, smoothly arching her back like a cat playing with a mouse. I didn’t mind that she was playing with me…

            “Great shot!” I said in a low voice as I moved closer to show Sabrina the photo I’d taken.

            “What if I take off my jeans, too, and leave my sandals on?” Sabrina suggested, smiling slyly at me, looking up at me with her huge dark eyes.

            All the decent thoughts that were still in my head were gone, blown away by the hot desert wind. I nodded silently, stepping back, admiring the way she slid smoothly out of her jeans, then slowly, as if mocking me, buckled the straps of her sandals around her slim, slender ankles. Her long hair was a little tangled, and I didn’t hesitate to fix it in the frame, enjoying the way the silky strands slid between my fingers. The look Sabrina gave me left no doubt that she was pleased with my attention, and the slight tantalizing half-smile hinted at the possibility of something more. Sighing heavily, I continued shooting, mentally summoning all the restraint I was capable of. My intuition told me this was just the beginning of the game.

            I wasn’t wrong. The next twenty minutes were the most agonizing and longest of my life. Sabrina’s alluring gaze, her sly smile, the sense of feminine superiority she didn’t even hide as she posed seductively for me, tested my stamina mercilessly. Dreams that came true made my head spin like the strongest alcohol. The air conditioning couldn’t cool the flames that were devouring me. I needed an ice-cold shower. Though it wasn’t likely to help me either.

            When Sabrina removed her bra, covering her breasts with her palms, I momentarily forgot how to breathe. When her panties hit the floor, one could do an Irish dance to the beat of my throbbing pulse. After taking the last picture, I hurried out into the foyer, so Sabrina could dress in peace. More likely, though, it was me who needed the pause. As I gulped down two glasses of ice water, I was mentally searching for words to apologize for my involuntary reaction to the photo shoot, but no words were needed.

            “You know, Alex, I can see why your models adore you so much,” Sabrina said, coming out to me fully dressed. “It’s impossible to doubt your attractiveness when the photographer reacts to your every gesture.”

            “It’s the first time that’s ever happened to me,” I didn’t lie when I said those words. “Usually, I’m able to detach… I mean, disengage from what’s going on, but with you, Sabrina…”

            “It was quite… intriguing,” she smiled the same sly smile she’d used to watch me try to control myself. “My self-esteem was as high as after a dozen sessions with a therapist. Maybe… let’s do it again sometime?”

            “I have a better idea,” I said decisively, suddenly realizing that a second chance I’d never believed in had suddenly fallen into my lap. “We can discuss it over dinner at the restaurant…”

            “Today, at seven,” Sabrina picked up a sheet from the front desk and quickly wrote down the address. “You know, you remind me of someone…”

            “You too, I’m sure I’ve seen you before,” I realized I had an opportunity to avoid further playing the game of not knowing you. “I just can’t remember where it was.”

            “We have a chance to find out,” she closed her eyes enigmatically, and I lost my head.

            “Seven, tonight?” I asked, not hiding my admiration for her, reading the address written in her hand.

            “I’ll be waiting for you, Alex.”

            If she knew how much I’ve been looking forward to this meeting. And for how long…