Victor Lindenborn 4

15 Super Size photos of Louisa|Manuela|Melissa by Martin Krake
Added June 23, 2003

In last week's gallery fiction, I introduced the idea of a Beauty Park, where men could go to spend time with beautiful nude women in a luscious retreat-like setting. I had always suspected that there were enough Good Guys out there to make this prospect interesting, enough men who have always believed that beauty for it's own sake was an important moral concept - but I had no idea the kind of interest it would generate among Body in Mind visitors. It proved to me yet again that our viewers are a very special elite, the kind of men that I, as a woman, always hoped existed - romantic, noble, moral men who find the beauty of women more than just intoxicating, they find it morally necessary as well.

So I let this idea develop a little further, envisioning the full potential of this groundbreaking idea. What if there really was a Beauty Park? What would it look like, and what would one do there? And most importantly, what would the women be like? I envision it as a place like no other, a place that we need very badly, where The Good Guys can be rewarded and treated decently and fairly and have their interest in beauty respected. I imagine that a typical visitor to the Beauty Park would begin his day something like this:

Louisa greets you at the entrance to a shaded terrace, where elaborate wrought iron curls into elegant gateways and railings. She opens the gates for you, stands there in a simple black bustier and little else, showing off her long, slender legs and the barest hint of dark pubic hair.

The two of you stroll along the terrace and look down at the expansive gardens and swimming pool with it's own rock waterfall. She asks if you'd like a cool drink, and a waiter is summoned to bring you both refreshment.

As she sips from a tall glass of lemonade she regards you with penetrating brown eyes. She has an intensity about her that you've rarely seen in such a beautiful woman. You realize that it's awareness of her own potent sexuality you see reflected in her eyes - for nowhere else has such a woman dared be so overt, so beautiful, so unabashedly semi-nude and enjoying it. As the two of you sit with your drinks she casually lowers the top of her bustier and lets you look at her breasts without shame or subterfuge. She wants you to notice her, she says frankly. She's proud of the way she looks; she's fortunate to have been blessed with the genes she has and she's done a great deal to maintain her figure and enhance her femininity. She wishes she could be like this all the time, dressed or undressed, whatever she felt like, just talking openly with someone and not having to worry about wrong signals or unwanted reactions.

You tell her that you wish she could be like this all the time as well. You tell her how difficult it is for a man like you to meet a truly beautiful woman, how so many women are so entirely absorbed in self-criticism and self-censorship that even if they let themselves enjoy being pretty, their staunch morality hardly ever lets them enjoy being sexy too. You ask her what she thinks men like you should do to encourage greater femininity in women. As you watch the sun move across the sky for the next two hours, the two of you engage in a thoughtful conversation about what women are looking for in a man, how to approach women, how not to approach them, and how to change the world at large into a place that embraces the differences between the sexes instead of trying to quash them. She asks you to figure out precisely what it is you like in a woman - and asks you to demonstrate by pointing out poses or features of hers that you particularly like. She stands naked by the railing, regarding you with forthrightness and purpose, challenging you to identify your values in her. You find it stimulating beyond your wildest dreams, and yet when you leave her an hour later, you feel more like the beneficiary of a sister's wise counsel or a friend's helpful advice than someone whose sexual desires had just been so clearly spelled out. You know that the image of her perfect, sweet little ass and her penetrating eyes combined - defying you to be so narrow-minded as to think of her as either a sex object or a formidable intellect, but not both - will be with you forever.

Down below by the waterfall you meet up with Jacinta, a fun, free- spirited woman who would be impish and sprightly were it not for her impressive height and well-proportioned figure. She's splashing around in the waterfall, enjoying relief from the sun and entertaining a group of photographers who have gathered around. You recognize one of the world's top photographers snapping away, and you remember that this was one of your dreams since adolescence, to take pictures of the world's most beautiful women and make your living from it. You take out your camera and start to take pictures as well.

Jacinta toys with her pale green bikini, lifting up the bra to expose her breasts and let the water cascade down them. She smiles and slicks back her hair, laughs with delight as the photographers encourage her to take it all off. She does a cheeky little burlesque dance, pretends to take off the bottoms, then removes the bra top but covers herself with her arms coyly, like an old feather dancer in the vaudeville days. When she finally stands there naked you remark on her fabulous sense of showmanship, and feel like applauding the best show you've seen in years. When the other photographers thank her and move on, you ask if you can photograph her as she dries off in the sun. She leans against the stone bridge and lets the sun dry off her long, lean body - but she's still having fun with you, merriment sparkling in her beautiful eyes. She puts on a white peasant dress, and hikes it up past her hips as she poses on the bridge for you, teasing you with just a bare glimpse between her legs. She likes being sexy, she says. She hopes the pictures turn out well. Before long she's off, heading towards the restaurant for her lunch, telling you to come back any time and she'll do her water routine for you again.

And then there's Gretchen, soft eyed, soft featured, a nubile beauty with full breasts and just a thin line of downy hair between her thighs. She's just strolling through the grounds alone when you fall in step with her, wearing only a see-through lacy sweater and an ankle bracelet above bare feet. She has the kind of look you've wanted to capture in art for years, and so you ask if you could sketch her. She's amenable, and tugs loose the drawstring on her little sweater. She lets it fall from her shoulders casually, and walks with you towards the edge of the park. She poses by an outcropping of rocks, letting you take your time and savor the soft sensuality of her womanly curves as you sketch her perfection.

She's patient, and an excellent model, moving and twisting in the gentle breeze whenever you ask her to find another pose. She lets the wind play in her hair, flashes a brilliant smile as she turns to reveal her shapely behind, arches her back and lets her hair fall free in a gesture of pure delight, as though being nude were indeed the natural thing it's supposed to be. You mention that you'd like to bring back an easel sometime and begin a painting of her, and she says she'd enjoy that.

As you continue to sketch, trying to capture the 'wise behind the eyes look' that she has, you talk about her future career plans, about her upbringing in Europe, about what her family was like when she was a child. You share jokes and laughter, she tells you that in her household, nudity was perfectly normal, that her parents raised her and her siblings to be comfortable with their bodies and that she doesn't understand what all the fuss is about. You almost feel like disrobing yourself, she makes it sound so cool. But you can hardly take your eyes off her, and know that her incredible beauty is what makes her nudity seem like the most elegant clothing you've ever seen.

The day ends with the sinking sun, and as you return to your room your mind wanders back to Louisa, thinking of the engrossing conversation you had with her and the sheer, scintillating beauty she possesses. You think of Jacinta and her playfulness, Gretchen with her soft, demure eyes and gentle wit and you realize that there are a dozen more women employed here, all waiting to share their own unique beauty with you. You close your eyes, eager for sleep, to start the day anew and thank God for this sanctuary you've found, at last.


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