Free Lose Yourself (The Desires Unlocked Trilogy Part Two) by Evie Blake Page B

Two spotlights are angled to pick up the images. She walks across the space, surveying the other work. There seem to be about ten artists in the show, each of them having a total of six pieces. She can see her photographs in a stack by the far wall. There is also a long table the other side of the room, covered in pictures. She wonders where everyone is.
    She bends down and starts looking through her own photographs. The gallery has chosen to exhibit what seems to Valentina to be quite a random selection of her work. There are two portraits of Valentina’s new dancer friend, Celia, and her friend, Rosa, together. One shows Celia on her toes, naked, with her leg raised in an arabesque as Rosa caresses her, and the other is of the two of them together, with an antique lace scarf binding them as they touch each other. There is one of her first erotic compositions: a sepia-toned, nude self-portrait, showing her body reflected in a Venetian canal. And then there are three more recent works. One is inspired by her experience with Leonardo. It is a close-up of a bottom (Celia’s), dripping with candle wax, her pussy just visible. The last two photographs are of Antonella and Mikhail. One is a black and white close-up of Antonella’s face, with Mikhail’s cock inside her mouth, and the second is a close-up of Mikhail holding one of Antonella’s breasts and sucking the nipple. They are simple, yet striking in their explicitness.
    Valentina knows that some people will call these photographs pornography yet, as far as she is concerned, there is no denying their beauty: the raw exposure of her subjects’ desire, the need within them portrayed as pure aesthetics. It is not just naked bodies and sex. It is something poetic, other-worldly. Valentina believes that all those who criticise what she and her fellow photographers are doing are really just afraid. Everyone has a shadow self. Everyone has dark desires. She is sure of it.
    She leafs through the pictures again. She has the feeling that there is something not quite right about the selection, but she can’t put her finger on it.
    She hears a woman’s laugh and footsteps approaching. She notices now another doorway opposite the one to reception, leading out of the gallery into another space. A light flicks on and into the room walk two women. The first to speak is a tall, willowy woman with very long dark hair. She is wearing a maroon silk shift dress, and Valentina can’t help noticing how very thin her arms are, how bony her shoulders.
    ‘Valentina?’ the woman says, walking over to her. ‘My name is Kirsti Shaw. So lovely to meet you.’ She has a soft American accent. Kirsti reaches out her hand, but Valentina is only half looking at her as she shakes it. She is completely distracted by the other woman in the room, for Kirsti’s companion seems to have stepped straight out of a fifties burlesque show. The woman has lustrous blond hair, styled into high waves, similar to Marilyn Monroe but even more extreme. Her skin is perfect, paler than Valentina’s, and she has deep blue eyes, framed with thick black liner and false eyelashes. Her lips are a perfect pink bow to match her outfit. She is wearing a fuchsia pink bustier with black lacings all the way down the front, and a matching skirt, hugging her hips and thighs. She has an hourglass figure, full breasts, a tiny waist and a curvaceous backside. To complete the look, she is wearing long pink gloves up to her elbows, fishnet tights and pink stiletto court shoes. On her elbow hangs a little pink purse on a chain. The whole look is completely over the top: a sugary sweet femme fatale. Valentina does her best not to stare, but she just can’t help it.
    ‘Valentina,’ Kirsti says, ‘I’d like to introduce you to one of the other exhibitors, Anita Chappell. Anita, this is Valentina Rosselli.’
    Anita totters over to her and extends her hand. ‘Lovely to meet you,’ she says in a perfect English accent. She certainly