The Fantasy Maker
Music played softly in the background, some country tune she couldn't recall having heard before. He continuously surprised her with his taste in music, movies, and literature. He was complex, this god of a man.
She had her camera again. He was stretched out against the headboard of his bed, pillows bunched up behind his back. He was laughing at her, holding his hands up to block the lens of the camera.
"This isn't a Playgirl photo shoot," he said.
"No, but it would be a disservice to all of humanity not to capture this sight on film."