The Space Between - I - Intersecting - Sex Stories

The Space Between - I - Intersecting

The Space Between – I The studio was a loft on the fifth floor of a converted century old brick warehouse in an older section of the city. Sometime in the 1960s the warehouse had been renovated to contain two suites on each floor, except the first floor, which was a coffee shop. The old big commercial elevator with the gated front had been refurbished. A large wooden staircase circled the elevator to each floor. The bannisters had big acorn knobs on each landing. Everything about the building was textured, aged and had character. Inside the studio were exposed brick walls and large pine ceiling beams. Across each end were a bank of floor to ceiling windows that opened to let in the sounds of street and the smells of the bakery next door. On one side, the western evening sun kissed the old wide-planked pine flooring when he would wind down for the day with a drink in the semi-lounge area he had created by the front door. On the opposite side, the morning light from the east was beautiful. This side was perfect for his work, whether the subject was someone or something. John’s studio space was his precious sanctuary from an otherwise routine world. A few years ago, instead of having a mid-life crisis that would have cost him half of everything he had worked for and visitation rights with his children every other weekend, he took up with a beautiful Nikon F2. He found the “Beauty” in a second-hand store on Main Street one rainy Saturday. She sat there on the wooden bookshelf, ...

... waiting for his touch. The Beauty reminded him of the camera his aunt had owned. Aunt Shirley’s photographs of the family were legendary; always warm and real. He wondered whatever became of that camera, since she had died a few years ago. He bought a load of black and white and colour rolls of film from a near-by store. After a few rolls of film were used and he had had them developed, he quickly realized that this would become a very expensive hobby. He took a few evening classes at the local high school to learn how to develop his own film. Almost everyone in the class was in his own age group; over 40 years old. Digital cameras were the way of the world now, but a few still wanted to use their old cameras. There was something amazing and wonderful in the texture of the photos taken this way. He had tried to set up a space and dark room in the house to develop his photos, but it just never worked out as family-time always pulled him away from his camera-time. That’s when he started thinking about having his own studio. He mentioned at work in the coffee room, about wanting to find a studio, and one of the associates knew of a number of studios in the city that could be suitable. He wandered about the city for a number of days, watching how the light fell in a few of the studios until he found the perfect one for him. He took his time revamping the studio. He knocked out almost all of the interior walls, except the main one which housed on one side an open concept small ...