Turns out she'd drunk half a bottle of wine as some dutch courage for being in her underwear in front of me! She was always shy as I said and apparently only ever went topless on holiday on VERY quiet beaches. Thing is she had a SUPERB body. So off we went for the first few shots. She started in different underwear and my God was she sexy. Her curves were even better with very few clothes on than I ever could have imagined. and the underwear she wore was the sexiest I'd seen. We started with a few tame shots and between each change of clothes she drank more wine. Eventually I thought we'd finished. She'd dome more than enough outfit changes to cover what was needed but she hadn't got everything she wanted. Eventually she owned up to wanting something REALLY risque.I wasn't sure what to say to this. Obviously I would have been happy doing it but it didn't seem right somehow. But ultimately it was her decision. We came up with the idea that she would remover her bra and keep her. But the maroon is the unknown, it’s danger, it’s v******e. The yellow is home. It’s the lights left on on a dark night. It’s a lighthouse. It’s safety, the familiar.”I hoped that if I blathered on enough she’d not look at the card underneath the painting that said the exact same thing a thousand times more eloquently.“I’m not sure that’s true,” she countered. “To me the maroon is lust, it’s like a mist that descends, clouding everything out, and the yellow is the light, it’s the only way out.”She bit her lip, smiled naughtily and looked about to see that the security guard was out of earshot.“It’s an orgasm.”I almost found my way through my own maroon mist and to the yellow light at that moment.We continued on, me bullshitting my way, she interpreting every painting as being about sex. Was she a cruel mirage? A ghost that haunted the gallery, coaxing erections from patrons? Or just some cray little nymph who got her kicks this way?We sat on some leather seats. I saw the security.
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