When being asked about my sexual orientation, I normally answer
"I am as straight as a line!"
extending my index finger, and then, kinking it just a little bit, I add
"or maybe like that, 95%"
But the five per cent are actually just a declaration of sympathy, because I think homophobia is quite silly and unnecessary.
I had tried to flirt with lesbians, just to see what it feels like, but never successfully. They tend to have good antennas and something about me seems to scream: 'Straight!'. I like looking at women with a curvy hourglass figure, in envious admiration. The idea of touching a lot of soft tissue, however, like big breasts, rather appals me. Petite women make me feel like an elephant or like I might break them. Butch women, on the other hand, seem rather pointless to me - like blokes, but without a penis.
So, what was it about my friend Lara, then?
I know Lara since she was 13 and I was 17. She was a wild one, at the time, and she still is. She has thick, long and curly mahogany hair, piercing green eyes, high cheek bones and a surprisingly feminine heart shaped mouth, with naturally pink lips. Surprisingly, because it contrasts with her indomitable character and her preference for hard physical work. From her features alone, she would have been very pretty, but what made her truly beautiful, was the spark in her eye. 'I am trouble' it said, and it drove men crazy.
We had always admired in each other what we missed in ourselves: I admired her independence, her lack of restraint, her savagery. She admired my will power, my discipline, my dedication. Since I had moved away, we saw each other rarely, just two, three times a year. But it was as if the distance drove something out that had always silently been there. Meeting Lara for a coffee strangely felt like meeting up with an ex - there was a latent sexual tension in the air that went unnamed.
Lara is tall and sporty, just a tick smaller than myself. Our bodies are rather alike, in many ways, even if her bones are not quite as long, thin and elve-like as mine. Still, Lara is a very elegant appearance, slender, with a slim waist and wide hips. Her body is more muscly and probably firmer than mine. She has large hands that are chronically disfigured: broken fingernails, cuts and paint stains from her work.
When Lara was 19, she had tried to enter a career in photography. She had acquired a beautiful old SLR, a Leika. She told me she wanted to take my pictures. She commented on the striking symmetry of my face. The day we took the shots, I was barely surprised when she asked me to undress. I had a beautiful and youthful body at the time, I could have earned some money modelling, had I not already been into my 'real' work so much.
Lara's cheeks were flushed and she avoided looking me in the eyes when she told me where to move, how to sit, how to look. I felt air caress my naked skin when I moved, implementing her orders, Lara's schooled eyes on my body, her nervous gestures and her clearing her throat when giving me instructions. It was erotic in a subtle way. She shot sevaral films worth of nude photographs of me. Fortunately, the fact that I was wet does not show in the pictures, but the hardness of my nipples does.
