Yeah, Megan had a real camera. Not some cybereye enhancement that anyone could have implanted for like a couple thousand nuyen: this was a real camera, one that had to have film inserted in it. She only had 32 shots per roll, and each one had to be developed by hand by her, so each one had to count. She had to frame the subject, position them in the lens to get just the right composition; she had to set the exposure to make sure the subject would develop in the frame; she had to focus on the subject and their objective. In short she had to tell a story. Anyone could flap an eyelid and snap a photo, few could really tell a story with exposure and composition and focus.Her Read Hair draped over her neck, the same porcelain neck that was bundled up in a grey scraf and a deep red leather jacket. She had no makeup on; it would only be ugly icing on her skin and would offer no protection to the Emerald City’s perpetual winter. There was little need for it though: her freckles speckled her. Then came an absent careless thought. She broke out in goose bumps and her fingers paused in their ministrations. What if it’s him? Controlling my mind? What if it’s true? ‘No, surely not-‘ She began. But he looked so confident didn’t he? ‘Yes but-‘ And here you are masturbating like a teenager. ‘It’s not possible.’ She stated. ‘It’s just not possible.’ She chewed her bottom lip nervously. But he did look confident didn’t he? Sat there on the sofa. With his juicy cock. ‘Oh god!’ She clapped her hands over her face. Fuck I’m going crazy! She rolled onto her side and pushed her head into the pillow. When she removed her hands again she looked a little calmer. She took a few slow deep breaths and tried to manage her thoughts. I’m just horny that’s all. I’m doing all this to myself. My son is not controlling my mind. My son is NOT controlling my mind. She twirled a lock of hair around her fingertip and stared at the ceiling uncertainly. ‘Fuck I’ve got to get that letter!’ Things didn’t.
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