What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice, and everything nice. The photograph whispers dream of femininity, a tantalizing fantasy, while a mischievous tomboy plays an erotic peek-a-boo. Is that you, Lolita? Are you smiling with your fingers? The photo paints a picture of innocence, yet teases the eye with a sensual promise one irresistible tug away. The button is undone, the zipper is down. In this boudoir dream, we savor the transition from girlhood to womanhood, a rite of passage symbolized by virginal white lace. Sheer and suggestive, it hugs her body like loving hands, caressing each curve and valley, yet it reveals as much as it conceals. Our hunger is stoked, our passion triggered. What mysteries await us? An invitation beckons. Bold blue denim speaks of adventures to come… the roughness of the fabric hints at the roughness of maturity. There is no shyness here in this ripening fruit. This is no sunflower closing her petals to the night. Her posture is bold, assured, decisive. It fires the imagination of pleasures to come, a proud proclamation that she is in control. Her body is her domain. I will lead. I will decide. My sexuality is mine and mine alone.
Location: Denver, Colorado.