"Do you own a Polaroid camera?"
"No," Laura said.
"You can borrow mine," Miranda said, handing them the oversized machine.
"We have a digital camera," Laura said, trying to hand it back to her.
"Believe me. Knowing you two, you won't want tonight's assignment to be backed up anywhere. Take that and bring it back tomorrow. Keep the pictures in a very safe place."
"What pictures?" Steve asked nervously.
Miranda smiled knowingly. "Tonight, you are each going to go into your bedroom separately. Get completely naked, and take one flattering photo of yourself. Then get dressed and go about your evening. In bed tonight, exchange photos."
"We're not gonna do that!" Steve shouted.
"Steve," Laura began.
"Don't tell me you're ok with that!" he said to her. "What if somebody finds it?"
"We won't let that happen, Steve!" she assured him, grabbing his hand. "And yes, I'm ok with it. I miss seeing you naked."
"Laura," he whined.
"Steve, it'll be good for us," she insisted. "Plus, when we're sexually active again, you can hang onto it for anytime we're in a big fight." She winked at him and kissed his cheek. "Please, Baby…" she purred.
"Ok…," he agreed eventually.
———————————————————————
Night Nineteen:
That night in bed, with Laura wearing only a nightie and Steve in boxer shorts, they exchanged photos. "On the count of three," Laura instructed. "One, two, three." They both took the photo from their partner. Laura looked down at it and smiled. She had missed the sight of his member, though she was disappointed it wasn't hard. "You look wonderful, baby," she purred. "I am going to keep this forever." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. She looked down at her photo in his hands. She had to admit, hers was much better than his. Not because she looked that much better naked, because she knew they both looked incredible naked, but she had taken the time to find just the right pose in just the right location with the perfect amount of lighting. She looked like a Playboy model. He looked like a goofy teenager sending an unsolicited picture to his girlfriend. "Well," she whispered in his ear, "what do you think?"
"Nobody else can ever see this," he said firmly.
"They won't," she promised.
"We should burn it," he announced.
She reared her head back. "What? That's really not the reaction I was going for."
He looked back at her. "No, my sweet, you look spectacular. I just don't wanna share."
"Well, don't worry about sharing me right now. Just enjoy what I gave you. Look at me, Steve. This is the first time, in your memory, that you've seen me. What do you think?"
He looked at the picture again and tried to put the existence of other men out of his mind. He focused on her face. He was struck by the look in her eye. It was simultaneously lustful and desperate. Her lips were parted invitingly. He licked his lips as he stared at hers. He then allowed his eyes to trail down to her graceful neck. He hesitated on the upper part of her chest, too nervous to stare directly at her breasts. In his peripheral vision, he began to allow himself to notice details about them. They were full, but he could already tell that. Even bare, without the support of a bra, they were perky. Mostly, he found himself captivated by her nipples. They had previously been a mystery to him, their size, their color. Now, however, he knew that they were neither too big, nor too small. They were a dark brown color. Suddenly, he realized he was staring at them directly. Growing embarrassed by his lustful gaze, he forced himself to look lower, trailing his eyes down her lean, flat stomach, appreciating her hourglass figure. He paused again at her hip bones, not wanting to be the kind of guy who saw his wife for only what was below them. Eventually, he took a deep breath and looked at it dead on. He gasped slightly as he took in the obstructed view of both her womanhood and her booty. She had turned her bottom half slightly to the side to frame both, but in doing so, he didn't get a full view of either. One testosterone-fueled part of him wished she had just lay back on the bed and spread her legs wide for him, but another part of him appreciated the artistry of her pose. "This could be in a museum," he whispered eventually.
Laura laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop."
"I'm serious, my sweet. You are so beautiful and real. That's where this belongs."
"I was thinking more like Playboy," she purred, leaning against him.
"No, definitely not. This is way too classy for a dirty magazine, and you are far too beautiful. This photo belongs at the MET or in the Louvre," Steve explained.
"Do you wanna see it in real life?" she whispered urgently, turned on by his compliments.
Steve looked away from the photo and back at her. "Very, very much, but I'm still not ready.
Laura nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry for offering. I'll be ready soon, Laura. This picture is… I'll be ready soon."
"I love you," she whispered as she lay back in bed.
"I love you, too," he whispered as he turned off the light, leaned down to kiss her goodnight, and turned away from her to hide his shame.