”“What you need is someone who will see to it that you eat properly, and will keep your clothes up to scratch, and will amuse you,” she said, “Perhaps a widowed lady who understands your grief,” Like me?David took his chance, “Speaking of eating properly, I must be off. I have a table booked for lunch at the Lisboa,” I’m willing to try.“With anyone interesting?” she asked artlessly, Can I come?“No, I’m eating alone,” he relied, thinking, I wonder if... and added, “Unless you would consider sharing my table?” And my bed?“Well, if you are offering, I must admit I liked the Lisboa when my husband was alive. It would be fun to go there again.” Yes please.“In that case I insist,” he said, and we shall see what transpires. “Shall we take my car?”“Yes, please,” she said, explaining, “I walked here this morning.”Lunch was every bit as pleasant, gastronomically, as they had expected. The conversation was curious as every time David risked even a mild double entendre it was understood, and. For the first time I noticed she had breasts under the white blouse, rather large ones. The collar gaped a little and the tan ran all the way down.“I would like to photograph you sometime.”“That would be OK with me. When?” She smiled up at me.“Tomorrow?” I smiled, I handed her my card.“I’ll be there at 9, that’s when I should be in school.” She laughed a little.I smiled back with a big grin.Next day, I got up early, started setting up for the shoot. Other pictures I had done were always rather spontaneous but this photograph will be created in an almost insane fashion. I worked franticly to have it all ready when she got here.As I stood there looking at the flowers and the flicker of the candles on the white satin canopy above, I wondered if it wouldn’t frighten her. I wasn’t wrong about that. It was sick, wasn’t it? It had to be. And those wreaths of flowers on their spidery wire stands, they were funeral wreaths. No one else ever used such flowers, did they? Imagine her telling me.
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