Billboard

I licked my lips as I stood in front of the mirror. They were nicely shaped, I had to admit. Just like the rest of my face. Regular features. A shapely nose. Yes, I liked what I saw. No, I wasn't in love with myself. Just looking at myself soberly. Why look for flaws where there aren't any? I ran my hand through my hair. It was pleasant to the touch. So long and light. What color is it exactly? Blond? Brown? I've had it for so many years, and I still can't quite pinpoint it. The same goes for my eyes. Green? Gray? Or maybe blue? Anyway, it doesn't matter. I finished looking at myself in the mirror. Time for a shower. I carelessly tossed the loose T-shirt I'd slept in into the corner. A moment later, I felt the cool, yet pleasant, water trickle down my body. Thousands of droplets gently, each in their own way, trickled down. I smiled to myself. I turned off the water and dried myself with a towel. White and soft to the touch. Just like the ones in the makeup ads. I wrapped another one around my wet hair. I left the bathroom. I felt the bedroom carpet under my bare feet. It tickled slightly. I sat down on the bed. There was no need to rush; I still had plenty of time. I opened my underwear drawer. I studied its contents for a moment. I reached for a silky white thong and a matching bra. I returned to the bathroom mirror and began drying my hair. I brushed it. I tied it in a ponytail. I considered makeup. I wouldn't need it. Just mascara. Yes, perfect. I went to the closet and surveyed its contents. I reached for a white blouse with a delicate, light pink motif that was practically invisible. I also wore a flowing skirt. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Nice. I can skip the jewelry. Just a silver chain with a heart-shaped pendant. Old and already slightly rusty. A family heirloom, passed down from mother to daughter. Most families have something like this, and mine was no exception. I also put on light-colored sandals. With strings tied just above the knee. I grabbed my purse and mentally checked to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. Keys? There. Wallet? There. Phone? There. Everything, I guess. No point in staying home any longer. I called a taxi.

The sunlight magically lent color to the gray streets. I watched the cars. So many of them. And among them, me, in a yellow taxi. Everyone was rushing somewhere, in a hurry. Millions of people, millions of important things to do, millions of reasons to hurry. The taxi stopped in front of a building. When I got out, I felt a rather strong wind on my face. I closed my eyes. I stood there for a few seconds, then went inside. I skipped knocking; the door was already open. I found myself in a photography studio. A professional one. One of those where they take photos for the covers of glossy magazines. I looked around, but saw no one. Music played somewhere in the background. "Where does my heart beat now? Where is the sound?" Celine Dion sang through the speakers. I slowly approached the centerpieces. A low, square table covered with a white cloth so large it completely covered the table and even trailed across the floor. Beside it stood a basket of tea rose petals. I touched the fabric with my hand. Pleasantly cool. I noticed a silk robe hanging on a chair. I picked it up and examined it closely. It had some kind of flower embroidered on the chest. I don't know much about flowers. It looked a bit like a lily. I took off my clothes and put on the robe. The material felt pleasant and cool against my skin. I sat down on the chair where it was hanging. There was nothing left to do but wait. I didn't feel the need to check my watch. Why?

The darkroom door opened a crack. A boy emerged. No older than 25. I smiled to myself. He had funny hair. It reached about ear-length. Brown, with light streaks. It made him seem even more childish. Or maybe it was the earrings? He came over to me. A handshake. Nice to meet you. We can begin. No, don't take off your robe; the photos will be in it. Please, sit on the table. Look up. Yes, that's good now. A little more to the left. Wrap your arms around your legs and bow your head. Yes, perfect. He jumped around me with the camera, and I obediently followed his instructions. But nothing gives a person as much power as a lens. The people standing in front of him obey every command. Interesting.

After a while, he tossed rose petals into the air. They fell on me like snowflakes, and he continued taking photos, insensitive to their beauty. When they had all fallen, lingering in my hair and on my body, he handed me a single whole tea rose. "Please, hold it. Play with the petals. Smell it." I did as he said. I felt his hands around my neck as he arranged my hair. He ran his fingers through it. He gently pulled down the robe, gently exposing my shoulder. I didn't adjust it. After all, he had the camera. He was the one making the decisions. I thought he would go back to taking photos. But he still stood there, holding a scrap of fabric. I turned my head towards him. He looked into my eyes with a serious expression. He tried to smile for a moment, but instead, a funny grimace appeared on his lips. His pale cheeks were turning increasingly red. I examined his lips. A terribly delicate, pale pink. His upper lip had a distinct indentation. My lower lip quivered like a child about to cry. He brought his face closer to mine, as if to kiss me. But he stopped two inches from me. I felt my breath slowly grow warmer. I raised my hand and touched my fingers to his lips. I began to play with his hair. Finally, I closed the few centimeters that separated us. I gently touched his lips with mine. For a split second. Then I looked back into his eyes. I realized I'd never seen eyes like those before. A beautiful, azure blue. They peered deep into me. His gaze didn't stop at my pupils. It traveled deeper, deeper into my skull, diverging to every other corner of my body along the way. But he didn't let me savor the feeling for long. I felt his tongue on mine. Even though the kiss was passionate, there was something incredibly tender about it. I wanted it to last forever, to last as long as possible. With trembling hands, he removed my robe. He kissed every exposed inch of my body. He did it so gently, as if I were a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. He slowly moved lower and lower. He caressed my breasts with his mouth. When I felt his tongue on my nipple, I felt dizzy. I held on to the table where I was sitting. He kissed my lower abdomen. He moved his tongue around my navel. Lower and lower. I thought I couldn't stand how gently he did it. I wanted him inside me. Now. But he avoided my crotch. Now he caressed my thighs. From my knees up, along the inside. Was he playing with me? Was he afraid? Was he ashamed? Finally, he cupped my buttocks and touched his tongue to my clit. I moaned softly. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he didn't stop. I pulled him up and sank into his mouth. I could smell the salty taste of vagina. He began to undress. As he pulled off his shirt, I unzipped his jeans. I slid them, along with his boxers, down his hips. His cock was already hard. Despite this, I took it into my mouth. He gripped my shoulders tightly. It felt good.I couldn't help but smile. He placed his hand on my cheek and lifted my head. He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the four-poster bed beside me. Part of the decorations from the previous shoot. With another model. I wonder if he put her on it too? I wondered. He lay down next to me. His tongue tickled my ear. Then he searched along my face for his mouth. His hand found the entrance to my vagina. His fingers found the entrance to my vagina. His penis followed close behind. I felt him enter me, still carefully. We made love on the bed like something out of a fairytale. I still had rose petals in my hair. Everything around me seemed magical. Old, long-unused decorations. I felt good. Finally, I felt a wave of heat and shivers run through my body. I moaned. So did he. He snuggled closer to me. We lay there for a moment, motionless. I kissed his hair. He looked up. And those eyes again. So beautiful, it hurt to look at them. He nestled his head in my chest and fell asleep.

While he was still asleep, I quietly got up and got dressed. I left the studio, closing the door behind me.

A month later, as I was walking to the store, I saw a billboard on the way. The picture showed a woman in a silk robe with rose petals in her hair and on her shoulders, encouraging people to buy a new perfume. I smiled to myself, and a single tear rolled down my cheek, smearing my carefully applied makeup.