Release Me

papers are sensitive only to blue or blue-green light. But if you’re working with color like I usually do, then the prints need to be kept in total darkness until they’re properly fixed.”
    I shrug. “It’s really not a big deal. Access to a darkroom is expensive and doing your own developing eats up a lot of time. One of these days I’ll get a digital camera, but in the meantime,I send my film out and get back a contact sheet along with all the pictures on disk. Then I sit down and play with the images in my native environment.”
    “The computer?” he asks, grinning.
    “Ever since I got my first one at age ten,” I confirm. I don’t tell him that the computer was my escape. I could turn it on and tell my mother I was doing homework, then lose myself in games and later in writing my own code. For a week or so, I’d even used the screen as a nightlight, but my mother caught on. My mother never missed a thing.
    “Doing photographic work on the computer is like holding magic in your hand,” I say. “I mean, I could take a picture of you and then find stock footage of the surface of the moon and make it look like you’re standing in space.” I grin wickedly. “Or I could put your head on the body of monkey.”
    “I’m not sure that would show me off to my best advantage.”
    I have to agree. “No, it wouldn’t.”
    “That’s one of the apps you have for sale, isn’t it?” he asks.
    I blink, surprised he knows about that. I’ve designed, coded, and am selling three smartphone apps across various platforms. I designed them while I was at UT, though not for any particular class. Turns out there’s actually a market for apps that allow you to paste a headshot onto a provided stock animal photo, then share the new image across various social media.
    “How did you know about that?” I ask. That app is reasonably popular, but it’s not bringing in so much money that it would be on Stark’s radar.
    “I make it a point to know everything I can about the things I care about.” He’s looking at me as he speaks, and there’s no mistaking that he means me and not the app. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Damien never misses a thing, either.
    I smile, feeling flattered but also exposed. I can’t help but wonder what other things he knows about me. How deep has he looked? Considering the resources at Damien Stark’s disposal, hecould have looked pretty damn deep, and that truism gives me pause.
    If he notices my mood this time, he ignores it. “I’ve always thought of science as magic, too,” he says, returning to the thread of our conversation. “Though not just computer science.”
    “I was pretty impressed with your questions during the pitch,” I say. His questions had covered the technical aspects of the software design as well as the anatomical components, reflecting an understanding of both tech and basic anatomy. “What did you study in college?”
    “I didn’t go to college,” he says. “For that matter, I didn’t go to school. I had private tutors from the time I was ten. My coach insisted, and my father agreed.”
    An unfamiliar edge sharpens his voice, and although I want to know more, it’s clear I’ve stumbled upon a sore subject. “So, do you know much about photography?” I ask, grappling for a shift in the conversation. I remember the photos in his reception area. “Did you take the pictures outside your office?”
    “I know just enough to be dangerous,” he says lightly, and I’m glad of the change in mood. “And no. I tried to find photos that represent my hobbies. Those are done by a local photographer. He has a studio in Santa Monica, actually.”
    “He’s very skilled. His use of contrast and perspective is stunning.”
    “I agree, and I’m flattered you thought I might be the photographer.”
    I shift in my seat to look at him better. “Well, you are a remarkably talented man. And very full of surprises.”
    His decadent grin is pure Damien, promising more surprises to come, and I feel an answering tingle between my thighs.
    I drop my eyes and clear my throat. “Your hobbies, huh? So there were photographs of the ocean, some mountains, redwoods, and a bike tire. I’m guessing sailing, skiing, I have no idea, and biking.”
    “Not bad. The ocean represents diving and the trees are for hiking. Other than that, you got it right. Any of those appeal to you, Ms. Fairchild?”
    “All of them,” I admit. “Although I’ve never tried diving. Not