No, not the girl, the image:
It’s from a book called Rapture: 13 Erotic Fantasies by Raffaelli. The book dates to 1975, but I got my hands on it when I was about age 14. I obtained it by ordering it, on the strength of the title alone (well, that and the “must be 18 to order” legend), out of a thick remaindered-books mail-order Publisher’s Central Bureau catalog that listed titles by name only in tiny print on cheap pulpy newsprint pages. It was quite literally the best $6.95 I ever spent in my life (plus shipping).
I became, shall we say, somewhat familiar with the images in Rapture. I’d seen Playboy, and I’d seen cheap harder-core porn, but Rapture was the first time I ever saw genuine delight portrayed in an explicit photograph. I shouldn’t be surprised if this very image is primarily responsible for my quasi-fetish for joyous smiles.
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