1. In The House of Forgotten Cameras


    Date: 9/16/2015, Categories: MILF, Author: Jason_NYC, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    this lens,” I told her. “Frame your photos by looking through this little thing on top,” I said, pointing to the bulbous parallax adapter. Jillian thanked me, asked my name, and wanted to know about my life in San Francisco. Most of all, she was fascinated by the old wooden view-camera with its red-leather bellows, polished brass lens and panoply of shinny metal fittings. It was a family heirloom that to me at the ripe old age of 17 seemed older than time itself. It wasn't until after I had my driver's license about six months, that I was allowed to take the camera out of the house. Even then, my Dad warned, "Don't let it out of your sight. Don't even think about lending it. " "Not to anyone, " he added ominously. Jillian asked where it came from, and I told her the family legend. Before the Great Earthquake, my great-grandfather had brought the camera from Philadelphia, and opened a portrait studio in the Tenderloin. He fancied himself a ladies’ man and his studio catered to women–society matrons, teachers, maids, saloon dancers, stage actresses, even bordello girls. Of his surviving glass-plate negatives, some were formal portraits, but there were also many informal nudes and boudoir scenes. My Dad would sometimes wink and say that, "One day you'll wish that you've seen half the things that this old camera has." I always dismissed that as one of his corny jokes. But watching Jillian's reverence for the camera made me wonder. When she caressed its wooden frame with an ...
    almost erotic intensity, I felt an irrational pang jealousy. "There's magic in an old camera like this, don't you think, Davey?" she asked, lightly touching my arm, as if she sensed my envy. "Think of those girls. Gone now, but so vibrant and beautiful in their day. “How wonderful it must have been to capture the fleeting essence of their youth," she said wistfully. "It's almost a kind of immortality, isn't it? Like holding back the hands of time forever." "I guess," I said, not following her at all. I was merely grateful that this beautiful woman had noticed me. More than that, she accepted me in a way no adult ever had before. Jillian offered no advice or life lessons. Just sincere questions that probed my thoughts, feelings and beliefs. "Davey?" she asked. "Can you show me how this old thing works?" I did, explaining all the dials and knobs. I was showing her how to use the bellows rails to focus an image on the ground-glass screen, when an idea dawned on me. "I could take your portrait with it," I suggested. "Oh, Davey!" she exclaimed. "I would love that!" "If we moved down the beach, we can get the Bridge in the background." "I have a better idea," she said with a look in her eye that I hadn't seen before. "Let's go to my place." While I packed up, Jillian took a few photos of the bridge with her Leica, then turned the lens on me. Photographers seldom make good subjects. Stiff and self-conscious, I was no exception. But Jillian had a way of putting me at ease. She praised the ...
«1234...910»