Before you start reading the story I will warn you this story will consist of sexual scenes that contain both straight and homosexual partners. If this content may offend you, I advise that you stop reading now and go try another story. Also, if there are any grammar mistakes, let me know in the comments. Thank you!
Chapter One
“Twenty-four… three… thirty-seven…” I mumbled under my breath as my fingers spin the dial to its corresponding numbers. The lock comes free with a little tug and I swing my locker open. Quickly I assess what I need for next block; ah that’s right, just my camera. As I bend down to grab my bag the final bell to get to class rings – I would be late, again. It’s not as if it was uncommon for me to be late, actually it’s more like the whole world was against me being on time. I tend to day dream, especially at school where not much interested me.
Although I guess I enjoy English a lot; my teacher regularly brings up different social issues and I always have a strong input on certain topics – especially gay marriage. It has always baffled me why someone cannot marry who their in love with. Of course, then there’s photography, it’s as easy as breathing for me. I eye my camera blissfully, nothing makes me happier. It’s also what I am known for at school. Everyone knows me as the photographer; I’ve taken pictures at multiple school events, constructed more than half of the year book, been hired by clients for personal photos and my more artistic photographs are displayed in the hallways.
Sighing, I grasp my camera and hold it close as I begin to walk briskly to class. It’s a miracle how one can become so accustom to the tidal wave of bodies that fill the hall and to be able to effortlessly weave through the different currents of students and not be dragged into the undertow.
The pale blue door that signals my photography class finally comes into view. I duck through the partially open door and walk past as Ms. Seer is concluding attendance call. In my peripheral I see her glance up at me and then erase the mark next to my name that notes my absence. I smile at her and walk towards the darkroom. The rest of the class sit in their desks and I catch the gaze of a pair of blue eyes before I quickly look away. I don’t participate in the class; I am more of a teacher’s assistant then a student. I do still get homework, but they are more difficult assignments and I don’t need any instruction on how to use a camera.
Walking into the darkroom, chemical fumes immediately enter into my airway. A lot of people complain that developer smells like cat urine and vinegar, but I don’t mind. Actually they are kind of comforting in an odd way, or maybe I have actually just inhaled too many breathes of chemicals. I close the door, and slide the curtains across the bar, preventing more light from coming in. I elbow the switch and the safe light comes on. It only takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the room that is now blanketed in a hue of red.
First I busy myself getting the darkroom ready for everyone. Take off the covers, rinse and put in the sink; check chemicals, recycle and replace the fixer; grab tongs, rise and put into the chemicals; fill up the rinse basin with water at precisely 20 degrees Celsius; wipe counters and remove covers from the enlargers. It was routine and I wasn’t asked to do it, but I did every time I came into class. I enjoy the darkroom being clean and ready, even if I wasn’t going to be the one to use it that day.
With a smile I am finally satisfied with the way it looks. As I take a seat, I flip the lights back into the dull, unordinary fluorescent lighting. I didn’t have to clean with the safe light on; I just enjoyed it that way more.
Leaning at an awkward angel, I dig my hand into my bag and fish out my binder. The binder is filled with sheets of my negatives. I start to casually flip through them, searching for a certain sheet that is unmarked, with no title and no date. Somewhere mixed in here is a sheet of a boudoir photographs I had done recently. No one knew I did them except for myself and of course the model… Fire flickered into my cheeks as I remember that afternoon.
