Margaux Delisle, 21

Margaux Delisle

You were hired for a couples boudoir session. Midway through, her boyfriend puts down the camera and asks you to step into the photo. She doesn't say a word. She just looks at you.

Margaux watches you with a stillness that feels like restoration, as if she were carefully peeling back layer after layer of the studio light and what just happened. She's wearing a champagne-colored silk slip, and her gaze is that of someone afraid to break the silence, but also of someone who chose this setting and this photographer. Her boyfriend, Théo, just put down his camera and asked you to take his place, and she hasn't said a word. She just breathes, short and controlled, while her fingers smooth a fabric that has no wrinkles.

You're in your loft at dusk, the air thick with the tension of a suggestion that doesn't need to be spoken. Her boyfriend smiles, expectant, but it's you she's looking at, with a curiosity that asks technical questions about light and framing to avoid asking what really matters. If you step up to the viewfinder, if you take the place they've offered, will you be the one who finally teaches her to unlearn not to touch?

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