Halloween for Helen

A story for my "Baby".

Halloween will be upon us soon enough, in these modern times many of us have forgotten to notice that magic that happens in our lives.

This started when out with friends, exploring the thrift stores and antique shops. In one shop there was the very old camera sitting on the back shelf. being interested ask about the camera. Shop owner was more than glad to let me look at the camera.
Decided I wanted the camera. When I started to negotiate the cost. Was informed that the consignment had already been paid by the owner of the camera. I could have the camera. Was happy to get it our of the shop. Along with other camera accessories. Asking for more information was given the address of the owner, who was likely to have more photographic equipment.

having learned from prior experience. Do not open the film holders unless in a darkroom. Yes! there was film and glass plated still in the holders. Got buys and processed the film and workable negatives became developed. And, made prints for the previous owner.

The following weekend scheduled my day to make the visit to the address given. Was greeted by the charming older woman. A visit for the afternoon.
Not to bore the readers, know over time made many visits. We became friends.
Soon the regular visits, along with the use of the old darkroom. I know now Helen was very happy to know the darkroom is still being used. During the last days, her enjoyments would be sitting in the darkroom as I worked, and she would tell me stories from her life.
I learned some of the story of her life. In the past the exceptionally beautiful woman. Under the glow of the red darkroom safe light glow she appears as ageless.
Over time I would ask how she met her husband. One night Helen told me her story.

Was the 29th of October, had the old family Ford. Driving myself to visit my school girlfriends. The intense thunderstorm about to drown me. To make this even worse, slid off the road into a ditch. Was stuck.
Getting stuck is the best thing that ever happened to me. Walked to the last house I had passed. Not too far behind me. The very same house we are in now. Then was nothing else here. Soaking wet as the drown rat. Go to the door, and 'he' answers.
Invites me in. discuss my problem. Nothing to do about being stuck till the morning. Was still cold and wet, he takes me to bathroom and tells me to have the hot bath and he will take care of things.
I have the bath. He had taken my clothes to hang and dry. Did leave me with the selection of his shirts and pants.
I looked the mess.
Yet when I entered the room where he was sitting. I could see his eyes glow. As if I was the embodied Venus.
The fire in the fireplace had been built up to warm me.
We shared the hot chocolate, and we talked the evening away. Would not have been proper to have stayed in the bed. Instead we made the pallet of blankets at the fire. I remember falling asleep to his voice. Can still hear his voice even today.
Sometime during the night I woke, When I turned my head to look at him, his eyes were open, looking at me. I do not think he slept a wink. He looked at me the entire night.
I as I lay at the fire he would stroke my hair. Soft touches. Before the midnight then, I knew I would spend the remainder of my life with this man.
During the wee hours when I woke, he kissed my lips. so soft a kiss.
That alone started my blood to boiling. hands moving from my face to my neck and then down to my chest.
His fingers trembling with nervous as he unbuttoned his shirt I was wearing.
His kisses went from my lips to my chest and then breasts. His lips brushed against my nipples.
My body was on fire. I would deny him nothing.
Back then we had to be more careful. Was still the virgin. Being raised on the farm I knew what animals would do.
I know the mechanics of the sex.
What we had was not sex, we made love.
Holding each other for the longest time. Making the time to learn our matching bodies. When he removed his pants from my body and his fingers explored me it was obvious I was still the virgin. I would have given him my maidenhead that first night.
Instead we waited. We learned over time the many ways to bring pleasure to each other, while I still remained the virgin. Technically speaking.
I remember falling asleep in his arms, Knowing this is where we will end our days together.

Sometime early in the morning he was gone for a time. When I wake he was in the kitchen cooking a breakfast. The stove then was also a wood cooking stove. The house felt even warmer.
While we had breakfast I discussed getting the car out of the ditch. Sometime during the night, he had gone out and had managed to free my car and had it back at the house.
The hardest thing I ever did was drive away that day looking at him in the mirror.

My girlfriends as we prepared for our Halloween event would tease me about my accident and the being rescued by the valiant knight.
We were silly girls, Looking for answers that maybe did not exist. Lat at night with the Oui-ja board. Playing numerology. Which was a thing them. His house number being 157 on the mail box. 1+5 is 6, 6 =7 becomes 13. The good luck, or the bad luck, the 13 turned around is 31 and the day was the 31st. and How I need to return to him in 3 days and other silly ideas.
That is exactly what happens. In 3 days I return.
Another glorious night in his arms.

His house being between our 2 towns, soon all of us were be meeting at his house.
Having the sleepovers, and as out home base for local adventure.
he was trying to make it as the photographer, Which was far different that today's picture taking. Hours of darkroom working. Building the backgrounds for photo sessions.
Almost by accident we learned of what today might be called fine art photography, or glamour photography. For us these were the 'French Postcards'! Even though these postcards could not be mailed.
All us girls wanted to be a part of this, Building scenes, and props. Then posing for these photographs, in various manners of being undressed.
If our family's found out, us girls of a station in life posing naked for French postcards to be purchased by unknown men.
Building scenes from the classics, Paintings, and literature. So we could call this art.
My girlfriends conspired to seduce him away from me. A weekend when I was not able to arrive till later. They made the special actions of undressing if front of him, asking for not needed assistance. Lovely young ladies in the twenties, Hanging onto my man, The half dozen girls, flirting, working in concert to seduce a man and he only wanted me. He could have had the harem, for the night or weekend , or longer.
He was mine, I made a good choice in a man for my life.

Over time she told me even more stories. How the French Postcard business became lucrative. I learned what to look for on the back of the French Postcards, a line drawing of the Frenchman wearing the beret, and the trade name Jacaquarie. Been searching the antique shops ever since.

In the files of the photography studio was the examples of most of the French postcards. there are 3 albums I have promised not to look through till after Helen's death. I suspect these are her "French Postcards.

After telling of her story Helen requested my assistance with her last photography project. She had decided she wanted some photographs of herself as she is now to place as the ending pages of her album.
A young lady also named Helen was a part of the photography project. The younger Helen assisted helen with clothes and hair and even a little makeup and the 3 of us together created her last portrait. The proper Black and White print. There are a few photographs I assisted with the creation, without knowing what the photographs are.
I would prepare the camera, the Helens would ask me to leave. and 2 of them did a photograph. I would prepare for the next, and again leave so as not to know what was the actual photograph.
I have promised not to develope these photographs untill after Helen is buried.

The younger Helen has become an assistant of sorts. More and more often when I am there to use the darkroom, young Helen is there also. The 3 of us have our meals together. Helen has her room at the house and I have my room also,

The 3 of us have become our own special type of family. Our Helen has been acting as the match maker.
Then Young Helen asks me to create some photographs of her. She has been going through closets and chests finding old dresses and such and together we are creating the brand new old photographs. Sometime the finished photographs, do not know which Helen is which. They are both that attractive.
Young Helen has also discover the French Postcards, and we have managed just a few recreations. She is so attractive, To be reserved and professional requires much inner reserve.
Life repeated it's self. Young Helen had some of her friends join us to create the "French Postcard" There was obvious interest from her lady friends. I was not interested in return.

A few photo sessions ago Young Helen was acting out as the spoiled child. As if I could make Helen behave? The taunting and boasting went back and fort for the entre afternoon. I had enough. Pushed her down onto the table which she was posed against. her words daring me. Lifted her brief gown, Her bottom was bare, And I started to spank her. her taunting me continued till her ass was glowing red.
Truly the taming of the shrew.
When I let her up, she turned and wrapped her arms around me, showered me with kisses.
The remainder of our photographs forgotten. Gown removed from her shoulders, her naked body in my arms. Pressing her to posing table again. lifting her legs to my shoulders. she guides me into her. Being together was learning to dance with a new partner. We started to move together. Bodies rocking back and forth. Helen's legs tighten around me. and soon I am spilling into her.
Too many emotions flow from the both of us. As we lay embraced The match making is a success.
The next days the overwhelming events. The early in the days, the last photographs of the first Helen. The afternoons more photographs of my young Helen creating her versions of previous Helen photographs.
The three of us having meals together.
The nights my young Helen and I sharing beds during the night. Discovering how to express and create love, more than the animal sex we had known from our respective pasts.
All too soon a few months or many weeks later, the world is upended. Our Helen passes on.

My Helen and I have been gifted the house and possessions, along with a small allowance on which to live out our days. As long as we share the house. respecting Helen's wishes. To continue her legacy of continuing the art of photography.
Helen has already purchased the new beret for me, and again an image of Jacaquarie will be found on the backs of the French Postcards.

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