Then, she turned, walked away and crossed over a tiny wooden bridge near the edge of the forest to blend and disappear among the trees.“No, no, come...back!” she and Mason cried in unison. “We still need you.”Startled, Mason woke up and opened his blurry eyes. His heart was racing like he had just run a marathon. It was not yet dawn, but he could see Emily’s face, her forehead pressed against his. She was still asleep, but whimpering like she was stuck in a bad dream. Unconsciously, he pressed. Most of the time,though, she photographed them indoors, in a hotel suite's bedroom,living room, or kitchen. Sometimes, she made a man wear a frilly pinkor lavender apron, adding a feather duster (handheld or inserted intohis ass) as a prop.A feminized man was a handsome man, she thought. She found genderbending erotic, especially when it was she who played the mistress andher subject had an especially superb ass. Other times, she strovesimply to capture the highly charged juxtaposition of. More

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