I live on the other side of your boudoir mirror. My hands press the cool glass, my panted breath creates misty patches. Embracing your reflection, worshiping your image, I long to feel your sculpted flesh brush against mine. Step closer. Much closer. Let me hear the click of your heels. Press your body against me so I can embrace you with my cool surface. Let me gaze at you so I can create a mental picture…and replay it endlessly in my mind. You stand so proudly, a bold siren, tormenting me with your sensuality. A stocking top gripping a creamy thigh…a garter belt exploring secret curves…do you hear my heartbeat? Can you feel my eyes? Turn around. Please…turn around. Even for a moment. But you don’t see me. Don’t hear me. I cry for you. I long for you. For more than your phantom reflection in my embrace. What intrigues you so from your window? What keeps you back toward me, oblivious to my hunger? Why am I not worthy of your lovely face, and eyes that could melt me like the summer sun on ice? Just turn, even for a moment, and look at me.
Creative photo musings on a wife's boudoir shoot by Diana Kemp (dianakemp.com)
Location: Denver, Colorado.Keywords: bachelorette boudoir party (14), black and white boudoir (51), rise studio (33).
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