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Finding view




Winter came early, appearing unannounced,  leaving locals swearing at it's bad timing.

Susan sat in silence listening to the South-Easter howling and giant raindrops pinging on patio doors rattling in winter's wake. Her apartment on the top floor caught the brunt of the storm; the winds in Bloubergstrand were particularly strong; the sea her always beautiful, always feisty neighbour from across the road.
Susan loved her little nest, all 68 square metres of it. She paid a fortune for her views of Table Mountain and Robben Island. She imagined herself  to be a neighbour of the great man; since passed. She was sure his spirit lingered on, in oceans and valleys, on mountains and streets, casting a watchful eye over his beloved country.
"27 years is a long time," she thought, as she bent down to pick crumbs off the carpet.
She smiled a secret smile, pleased with herself for pulling off the homemade meal ; for wowing Paul with her culinary skills: Lasagne and Olive Ciabatta, an all Italian affair.
She peeked out through the misty glass of the patio doors squinting her eyes to make out the table-shaped wonder; the twilight casting her in the softest shades of beautiful.
She sighed with contentment, loving her life, loving this place.

The soft light of sunset coated the lounge in a warm golden glow, it took edges off and smoothed out the dimples and wobbly bits.
Naked came easy in the presence of the majestic mountain that made everything look small in comparison.
She stepped out of her clothes, dropping them on the floor leaving a trail of lust as she headed down the corridor. She ran her fingers over the frames featuring her favourite landscape in the Mother City (Table Mountain, Cape Point, Lion's Head) as she made her way slowly to the bedroom to find him. Paul was sitting on the bed, his eyes downcast, the corner of his mouth turned up, a lecherous look in his eyes.
She got so easily lost in his eyes, dark brown speckled with green, it  glinted wickedly as soon as she came into view. His warm hands glided up caramel legs bringing with it ripples that hit the core of her. She leaned in, his lips brushing against her tummy.
He tilted his head and looked up at her, "Say my name," he implored.
"Paul..." she said like a whisper.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"You," she said, "...you."
She melded with him, wore him like a jacket.
He stepped back, his face finding shadows, severing the connection, leaving her wanting. She flailed about hitting air, finding nothing, and she veered forward.
"Hard to get?" she asked,  a note of pleading coating a hungry tongue.
"Nuh, just hard," he quipped, "and hungry...but I want it to last..."

The light found his eyes again and she melted in a sea of honey. She licked her lips, latching onto his,  nibbling his bottom lip, her bite becoming more insistent.
"Ouch," he hiss as she drew blood, tasting the saltiness of him.
He drew back, lifting a hand to his mouth, and the light of the moon found him.
"Lines & shapes!" she said out loud pointing at him from where she stood shivering, the carpet  rough against my feet.
She ran her toes over wool ridges.
"What's that?" he asked raising his right brow.
"Can I?" I hesitated..."can I capture you?"
Doubt flickered across his face.
"For me and you?" he asked.
"No, I want everyone to see what I see when I look at you," Susan said swept up, "the curve of the small of your back."
"The arc of your ass."
"Your legs long and lean..."
"Silly," he laughed, yanking her curls. "Come here, you!"
But she evaded his arms, grabbing her camera off the cupboard shelf where she kept it handy.
With the long black lens cupped in her hand, she turned to him.
Her passion doubled.
She pushed him back on the bed, flipped him round:  the curve of his back, the rise of his buttocks caressed by the light of the moon.
She flicked the switch and the camera came to life in her hand, exhilaration coursed through her veins and she planted her feet firmly on the ground, bending her knees slightly, the lens extending as her hand swiveled almost involuntarily.
"You're so pushy," he laughed shifting on the white linen made cold by winter & wanting.
"Shhhh," she silenced him, "do you take instructions well."
"Only if you say please..."
"Please," she said, " raised your ass ever so slightly..."
He listened.
And he did.

She looked through the viewfinder finding the view she liked, focused her shot and fired, the click stirring her passion as she pushed the button down.
She sighed with contentment, loving her life, loving this place.

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