French Postcards

by Lilyjack

Stay tuned for a historical note at the end of this chapter. I hope you enjoy! ~lj

Chapter 2

"Laid Bare"

"Excellent my dear! Let's get started!" Gabriel Albright enthused. "Miss Russell, could you please lie back down? I use only natural light in my work, and the sun streaming through these windows is absolutely perfect right now. We shall have to work quickly so that we don't lose that light."

"Well…" Kitty said, looking uncertainly toward Matt. "…okay." Her previous bravado seemed to have evaporated into thin air.

Matt returned her gaze wordlessly, then turned to firmly lock the door that led to the front of the emporium. He wanted no one else barging in on Kitty.

She dutifully lay down on the chaise again, glancing over her shoulder to watch Matt lean against the wall, arms crossed tightly. Then she cast her gaze toward the opposite window as she'd been when Matt had first entered the room.

Albright ducked under the black cloth that curtained off his camera from the light to load the first photographic plate. He became motionless as he looked through the lens. "Lovely, my dear," the man said under his breath. "But…" Albright emerged again from beneath the black cloth and bustled purposefully toward Kitty. "Let me make a few adjustments…" He tugged the sheet down several inches below her shoulders and carefully draped the silk so that it spilled over the edge of the chaise. "May I?" he asked Kitty, motioning towards her hair.

"Yes," she acquiesced quietly, her eyes darting again to Matt who reticently stood, one broad shoulder braced against the wall, his expression stony.

Albright removed several pins and unwound her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. "A lady's hair is customarily worn up. Hair that flows loose speaks of intimacy, of the boudoir. There!" Albright gave a satisfied smile and then scurried back to his camera. "Mustn't lose this beautiful lighting. Let's take a look now…"

Matt heard the man impatiently sigh as an arm emerged from beneath the cloth, beckoning. "Marshal, please…"

The uncomfortable young marshal straightened. "Huh?"

"Would you mind?" The disembodied hand pointed toward Kitty. "Please, would you move her hair to the front of her shoulder?"

Matt cleared his throat self-consciously and loped toward Kitty, his feet suddenly leaden.

"My dear Miss Russell," Albright directed, "will you fold your arms in front of you?"

Her eyes tilted up at Matt nervously as she lifted her shoulders a few inches, folding her arms before her.

"That's it, my dear! Marshal, the hair please? Hold still, Miss Russell. Don't move an inch."

Matt reached clumsy fingers for her hair. It felt alive to the touch. The wavy tresses were heavy yet soft in his palm as he carefully placed it in front of her shoulder. He tried not to stare at the pillowy white bosom pressed against the crimson red couch, lifting with each breath she took. Kitty's gaze followed his every move.

Matt, his body taut and tingling, began to walk away, but Albright instructed, "One more thing, Marshal, if you please…"

Matt found himself unable to answer aloud. He simply looked up at the camera, at the hand with finger and thumb touching, gesturing as Albright said, "Sliiide the sheet for me if you will."

Matt swallowed hard. His voice rose a notch in spite of his best efforts. "Slide?"

The gesture came again from the camera. "Sliiiide it down her back, I think down to the waist. That should be perfect. And I will try not to bother you again."

Swallowing hard a second time, Matt trod toward the chaise and its reclining occupant. He noticed her breath came quickly now. "Kitty?"

Although she looked nervous, she whispered, "It's alright, Matt. Go ahead."

Matt reached trembling fingers to slowly, slowly slide the golden silk down her lithe, bare back, reveling in the sight, in the intimacy of the moment. He reluctantly pulled his hand away.

"A little further please!" Albright called out. "This will be a stunningly beautiful photo, you will see."

Matt released the breath he'd been holding and gingerly took up the silk again, sliding it down, down, just past the small of her back, its shadowed curve creamy and exotic and enticing.

He was startled from his reverie when Albright spoke up, "You may step back now. That is perfect. Hold absolutely still now, my dear…"

Matt sidled away, jamming his hands into his pockets. He stood there gazing unabashedly at the loveliest girl he'd ever seen in his life. Kitty truly did take his breath away.

Matt jumped a little when Albright broke the spell, "And we're finished!"

"Finished?" Matt couldn't keep the disappointment from his voice.

Kitty turned her head to look at him. She looked so sultry and innocent at the same time, naked to the waist, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her startlingly blue eyes big and wide.

Albright emerged from his draped camera with a metal plate. "We have finished this shot. I'll take this to my darkroom and prepare another plate. I'm afraid we are running short on time as it is getting late. The light is fading. But if Miss Russell is still willing, I've a young man waiting to join her in the next shot. He's just in the saloon next door."

Matt's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. He looked at Kitty while Albright hurried to his curtained off area in a corner of the storeroom.

"A young man? What the hell, Kitty?" Matt whispered urgently. "I thought he was just takin' photographs of you. What exactly does this Albright have in mind?"

"Oh, Matt," Kitty protested as she drew her silk sheet to cover herself and sat up, leaning on an arm. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Mr. Albright says often there are men in these kinds of photos."

"What?" Matt burst out.

"Just listen a minute," Kitty entreated. "He won't have to get undressed. Mr. Albright says it's mostly men who buy the photographs, so they only want to see "artistic" pictures with the girl, um…"

"Naked?" Matt grumbled.

"Well, yes."

"No, Kitty."

"Matt, he'll double what he pays me if I do this."

"You don't have to do this!"

"Matt, I hafta support myself. And I'd like to live a little better than I do now. Live a decent life. This money will help more than you know. You just don't understand. You're a man, and it's easier for men than…"

At that moment Albright emerged from his makeshift darkroom. "I'm ready!" he sang out. "Marshal, would you be so kind as to fetch our young subject waiting next door, one Mr. Cleavon Stokes …"

"Cleavon Stokes?" Matt sputtered. "He's the worst kinda trash!" His expression was incredulous. "Kitty?"

Kitty shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head toward Albright.

"Well, he seemed like a nice enough sort to me," Albright began. "At least he was quite willing to pose with…"

"Well, yeah. I imagine he was very willing. Cleavon Stokes…" Matt grumbled, removing his hat and soundly dusting it on his pant leg.

"Well, what would you have me do, Marshal? Must I get your approval before I…?"

"Wait justa minute," Matt interrupted, holding his hands aloft impatiently. "Does he hafta show his face in the picture?"

Albright stopped short. "Why no, only in profile, and it is very difficult to identify someone from a profile photograph. Why do you ask?"

Matt's tongue suddenly seemed thick in his mouth as he found himself muttering, "These photographs of yours will only be sold back East?"

"Yes, I assure you. My company distributes exclusively in the New England states. I explained this to Miss Russell when we made our initial agreement."

Thoughtfully narrowing her eyes, Kitty watched Matt closely as he questioned Albright. Her mouth dropped open when next he spoke.

"I'll do it," Matt offered quietly.

"Pardon?" Albright asked, but his eyes were beginning to twinkle knowingly as he watched the two young people glance surreptitiously at one another. "Are you quite sure? I mean, I will be more than happy to accommodate you. You are a very strapping man with fine features. I think you might make my lady patrons swoon were they to see you in a photograph."

Matt jammed his hat back onto his head, placed his hands stolidly on his hips, and declared, "I don't know about any swooning, but you figure out how to do this so people can't tell who I am, I'd be mighty appreciative. For me and for Kitty."

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He naturally towered over her. She grasped the silk fabric tightly around her body in one hand, the other hand holding fast to Matt's as she cautiously rose and stood on the end of the chaise facing him, now slightly taller.

"Both of you turn your sides to the camera," Albright encouraged quietly. He slid the tripod closer, closer to them.

Kitty took a deep breath, extending her arms toward Matt. He could smell her perfume, clean and floral and utterly feminine. He could smell her, and the scent was heady, bewitching.

She reached for his hat first, carelessly tossing it on the chaise behind her. Then she slipped her fingers beneath his vest, pushing it off his shoulders and down his arms. He numbly pitched it to the side. Matt felt her fingers fumbling at his chest. He peered down as she removed his silver star, slipping it warmly into his pants pocket. The touch of her hand on his thigh sent shock waves through his body. He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke.

"Thanks, Kitty," he mumbled, suddenly feeling as though his tongue no longer fit his mouth. He felt like an awkward schoolboy.

"You're welcome, Matt." Kitty shot him a wry half-smile, one delicate brow raised slightly. He knew she didn't realize the powerful effect she had on him.

"The light is fading, Miss Russell," Albright reminded her from beneath his black cloth at the camera. "We can't waste another moment."

"Yes, Mr. Albright," she replied with a sigh. She breathlessly looked into Matt's eyes one last time, grasping the golden fabric wound around her. "Here goes nothin'," she lightly quipped, but her voice quavered at the end.

Matt heard the swish of silk as it slid down her body and puddled at her feet. He felt light-headed seeing her there, inches away, completely naked before him. Her ripe, full breasts, dusky pink nipples hardening, standing erect at his gaze, her small waist blossoming into round hips and bottom, her legs long and lithe. Her bare skin was luminescent in the afternoon rays of the golden sun streaming through the window.

She stood there, biting her bottom lip pensively. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to kiss her soft mouth and trail his lips down her throat, then take her straining nipples into his warm mouth. He wanted to kiss her gently rounded belly, trailing lower until she cried out to him for more, at last slipping his tongue between the soft folds he could just glimpse beneath beautiful auburn curls at the juncture of her thighs.

He wanted to make her ache exquisitely, the way he ached right now just looking at her. He could feel his own body responding to her loveliness, her womanliness, and his face flushed with heat and desire. "Kitty," he murmured, and she reached for him, her blue eyes liquid and longing, locked with his.

She guided his hands to her waist, nestled his head in the fragrant, elegant curve of her neck, threading her fingers through his dark curls. He felt her lips touch his forehead, heard her sigh his name. His hands moved of their own accord, sliding around to the small of her back, pressing her against him as she whispered, "Oh, Matt…" They held each other close, so close, hearts thumping in their chests, blood rushing to their loins.

"We're finished!" a disembodied voice cheerfully called from across the room, from across the world it seemed. The sound startled Matt. He opened eyes he hadn't realized that he'd closed.

"Finished?" he murmured, his voice feeling hoarse and unused.

"Yes," Albright said in a hushed tone. "Exquisite. Simply exquisite."

Matt kept his arms around her. He couldn't let go just yet. He acutely felt her hips and breasts touching his body, pressing against him, her arms wound possessively around his neck.

Albright cleared his throat, said quietly, "Thank you both. I'll be developing the photographs in my darkroom, so I'll give you some privacy to dress, my dear. You truly are a breathtaking young woman."

Kitty absently murmured a thank you as Albright hustled toward his darkroom. "You may, ah…see yourselves out…" the retreating man threw over one shoulder.

Matt hardly registered Albright's words, his existence. The young marshal had eyes for one person in the room, and he couldn't believe she willingly remained in his arms, still pressing her softness against him. His eager palms slid up to caress Kitty's smooth back, his sensitized fingers brushing her loose curls. He felt her suddenly shiver.

"You cold?" he asked

"I don't feel remotely cold, Marshal," she breathed. Kitty's body stilled for a moment, and then she haltingly began, "Matt, how come…?" Her voice just as suddenly trailed off.

"How come what?" he encouraged, one hand settling again familiarly in the feminine curve low on her spine.

Resting her cheek against his temple, she finished hesitantly, almost shyly, "How come you never, how did Albright put it, 'patronize my favors' like all the other cowboys?"

Matt's eyes narrowed as he contemplated her question. He bit his lip as he figured how to explain his feelings adequately. This moment felt important to him, like the earth was suddenly shifting beneath their feet. "Maybe…" he began, and his voice still felt rusty. It was difficult to speak holding her warm body so close. "…maybe because I care about you too much, Kitty. I guess I…respect you too much. I mean, it's not like I didn't want to. You're the most beautiful girl I ever…" Matt stopped, fumbling for words for a moment. He reached up to sweep the hair from her face, traced his thumb over her bottom lip. "Maybe I'm a little old-fashioned. I dunno, honey."

She closed her eyes as she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Maybe that's what I like about you, Matt Dillon."

"You do?"

"Yep." She gave him a soft smile, and he felt her tremble again.

"Are you okay?" He reached down to retrieve the silk still puddled at her feet, spilling off the chaise onto the floor. His eyes lingered, burning a trail over her beautiful nakedness. Reluctantly, he draped the cloth around her shoulders, took her hand to help her step down from the chaise.

"I'm fine, Matt." She hugged the golden silk to her chest. "Thank you…for today."

"I just…I just wanted to keep you safe." He gifted her with a sheepish smile. "But I reckon sometimes I get a mite carried away."

Her eyes sparkled up at him. "No man could take any better care a' me than you, Matt Dillon." Her expression turned serious as she added, "No man ever has, Matt."

His chest ached at her words. "You can always count on me, Kitty."

She gazed at him mutely for several moments, seeming to take measure of what was in his head, and perhaps, in his heart. Finally, she spoke. "Matt?"

"Yes, Kitty?"

"I wanted you to, ya' know."

He looked at her hopefully, afraid he was mistaken at her meaning. "Wanted me to?"

Reaching up, she placed a hand on his cheek, now sand-papery with a day's growth of beard. "I really wanted you to come callin' on me."

Matt's steel blue eyes grew wide.

Kitty hurried to clarify, "But not like the other cowboys, Matt."

He swallowed hard. "I'd like to come callin', Kitty. And I guess I've been kinda hopin', someday soon, there wouldn't be any other cowboys but me."

"There's nothin' I'd like better in the whole world, Matt." She impulsively tiptoed and wound her arms around his neck, her breath brushing his ear as she whispered, "And I'll tell you a secret. The money I made today will help that dream come true a lot sooner than you think."

With Kitty so close, her lush body touching his, he couldn't resist sliding his big hands around her small waist again, the fine, golden silk warm and luxuriant beneath his palms. "A secret, huh?"

"You'll find out…" She tilted her blue eyes up at him coyly. "l should get dressed now." She sighed heavily. "I suppose you gotta go make sure the streets of Dodge are safe for helpless widows and orphans, huh?" She shot him a wry smile, slowly and reluctantly disentangling herself from his arms.

Matt's eyes twinkled at her, the corners crinkling handsomely. Looking down at Kitty, he thought how she'd never looked so lovely as now, with her long hair tumbling down her back, her voluptuous body loosely covered in a simple scrap of fabric.

His expression sobered. "Wait," he uttered, his tone quiet yet urgent. Heart pounding like a bass drum, he gazed at her wordlessly, watching her expression turn anxious, then longing. He took a fortifying breath, trembling hands reaching to gently place an index finger below her chin. He heard her quick, surprised intake of breath and watched as she closed her eyes, lashes dark against her flushed cheeks. For a fleeting moment, Matt touched his warm lips to hers so softly, so tenderly. They looked at one another, wide-eyed with wonder.

"Oh, Matt," Kitty murmured, placing her hands on his cheeks, taking his lips in a hungry kiss, threading her fingers through his thick, dark curls. He crushed her body against his, and she moaned as his hands caressed her. They broke apart, breath ragged, staring at one another in astonishment. She said, "I wish you didn't have to go, Cowboy," and tiptoed to wind her arms around his neck one last time.

He bent his head low and whispered in her ear, "I got a better idea, honey. How 'bout I come callin' right now instead?"

Kitty's expression shone happily. "I'd like that, Matt."

She let go of him, and he reached to grab a soft, white, frilly garment that lay on the top of her pile of abandoned clothing, gingerly holding the lacy straps with two fingers on each side. "Can I help you with this?" He looked hopeful.

"Sure, Cowboy," she smiled seductively and let the golden silk slide slowly to the floor once more.

Matt took a deep breath, his eyes taking in the sight. "I could get used to this," he murmured.

"So could I, Marshal." She arched a brow at him and held her arms gracefully aloft so that he could drop the filmy garment over her head. "So could I…"

end

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Author's historical note: Nude photography has been in existence practically since the medium was invented around 1840. The photographers' models were often prostitutes. The French were the first to market these photos for artists' use, but very quickly, they were in demand by the general public for obvious reasons. In America, they were sold illicitly behind the counter, small cardstock photos of mostly women in various stages of undress.

It wasn't until the turn of the century that "French Postcards," made their first appearance. These photos, rather tame in comparison to the previous century's offerings, were aimed at tourists and sold in actual postcard form, although it was illegal to mail them. Americans began generalizing and calling all such artistic/erotic/pornographic (depending upon your own personal point-of-view and the style of cards themselves) photocards of this sort "French Postcards," thus the title of this fic.

I first ran across this intriguing part of history years ago while researching prostitution for a story about Kitty and her day-to-day struggles as a "soiled dove." Ever since, the idea for this fic has been in the back of my mind. Search online for "erotic french postcards" to learn more. (These search terms will guide you to the more aesthetically pleasing, artistic works and help you to avoid the true vintage porn. Yikes.)