Intimate Exposure by Portia Da Costa

e-reader on the floor was a bona fide accident,” she said mutinously.
    Red cocked his head. Again, she got that impression of some great bird of prey sizing her up, assessing her reactions, gauging her response time. Instinctively calculating.
    When he placed his large hand on her arm, she jumped a mile.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was soft, but his hand stayed where it was, his touch light yet powerful. “And I don’t mean to upset you or offend you or do anything you don’t want—don’t really want…”
    His unusual eyes gleamed behind his spectacle lenses, but there was no threat or challenge in them now. Not for the first time, they were gentle and empathic, hinting at a man who was strong and potent in so many ways, but at heart also kind and humane.
    “But we have a chance here, Vicki. A chance to enjoy ourselves for a couple of days. To experiment…” He shrugged. “No strings. No comeback. Just an adventure. How about it? We don’t have to see each other ever again, and afterwards you could tell yourself it was all just a fantasy.”
    In spite of everything, Vicki found herself smiling.
    Oh, you devil. You’re so seductive.
    Yet still she hesitated, despite the sweet lure of him. “I don’t know anything about you. Why should I trust you?”
    “What do you want to know? What could I tell you that would persuade you?”
    The kind man was still there, but the playful demon had merged with him now. Even if she grilled Red for hours, she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a single straight answer out of him. Not that she could even think of the first question. Befuddled, she stared into the footwell, where his ever-present camera bag was stowed.
    “So, Red, how did you first get into photography?” he asked in a singsong, mocking voice, and she glared at him. He grinned back teasingly, and her ire softened in an instant.
    “Okay, then…how did you first start taking photographs?” she countered, humoring him.
    The question, genuine now, seemed to trigger a transformation. A wistful expression passed across Red’s face, and she acknowledged the return of that gentler, more thoughtful man. But it was more than that. There was nostalgia in him, a faint sadness, something like love.
    “When I was a little boy, my grandfather showed me a great treasure. He was a keen photographer himself and he had album after album of photos he’d taken over the years. Personal snaps…family groups…” Red was gazing out of the window now, but Vicki sensed he wasn’tseeing anything except memories, fading yet precious. Like old snapshots that were beginning to lose their context. “He was very protective of them. He hadn’t shown them to anyone in years.” He paused, and his hand tightened against the leather of the seat, knuckles whitening. “But he was dying, and I think he suddenly realized that he didn’t want his photos—or his memories—to be forgotten. He explained to me who everyone was, and he told me about how he’d composed the shots too. He seemed so alive and happy as he spoke, and those people, so long dead, seemed to come alive too.”
    “Do you miss him?” The question was redundant. It was obvious he did.
    “Yes, I suppose I do. But it was many years ago now. We only had a few weeks, but he showed me all his cameras and explained how they worked, and taught me everything he could, while he still had the strength.”
    Red was still a world and a lifetime away, staring at the passing buildings but not seeing them. On impulse, Vicki touched his hand, and he turned to her. His eyes were gleaming again, but in a way she hadn’t seen before. The sheen of tears?
    “He sounds like a wonderful man. A kind man.”
    “He was,” Red said with wry smile that twisted the corners of his mouth. “He was a tough old bastard, though, and legendary as a ruthless businessman.”
    Suddenly he stopped short, and his face hardened and grew wily again. The gentle boy who’d