Megan Makes a Movie

 

 Megan Makes a Movie

By Robert Lubrican

Bookapy Edition

Copyright 2024 Robert Lubrican

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

If you would like to share this book with another person, lend them your e-reading device.

Otherwise, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to cover art purchased at freepic.com

Table of Contents

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen |

Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-one | Twenty-two | Twenty-three | Twenty-four | Twenty-five | Twenty-six | Twenty-seven | Twenty-eight

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Foreword

Fiction with an expansive plot can require the author to do extensive research, if he wants things to be as believable as possible. Some things, however, cannot be researched and the author has to make his best guess. Since this book involves references to the COVID-19 disaster, I'll use that as an example. What was the most popular board game sold during the pandemic? If you ask Google, you get the normal 275,000 pages which claim different numbers for different games. So, if the book referenced a particular game as "the most popular board game sold during the pandemic" then it would be a crap shoot, on the part of the author. With this in mind, this author humbly begs that, should you see some glaring error as you read this, be tolerant. People who are familiar with me know I welcome being apprised of mistakes, so I can correct them. I want my books to be as clean as possible so that the reader is not distracted from the story. I'll put the email I use for receiving those kinds of notices at the end of the book. If you see something that can be corrected, let me know.

See how clever I am? I sell you a book and then ask you to help me edit it for free.

What can I say? It's a tough economy.

Bob

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter One

Erica Blaylock had been modeling off and on for five years, ever since she had turned twelve. She was "discovered" by a talent scout looking to build a "family" of people to picture in an advertisement. He needed a cute, pre-pubescent girl and he saw her at the mall, with her mother, Megan. It had taken him three days to convince Megan to go to a photo session and watch as a magical, instant family of four was created to sell toaster waffles. Somebody else had seen that ad and wanted the little girl in it to model clothes being sold on the internet.

The rest, as they are so fond of saying, was history.

She had done tons of catalog work since then and been well established as an independent "working model" in the local market, even if it was only part time work. She loved it, though, and thought of it more as an avocation, rather than a job. She didn't have an agent and didn't want one. Neither did Megan, her now fully-supportive mother.

Then three quarters of the way through one job, her photographer, Jerry, succumbed to the cancer he thought he could stave off for a few more years. On top of that, while she was communicating with the company whose clothing she'd been modeling when Jerry died, her mom's teaching position at the high school in their town got eliminated, due to budget cutbacks. Normally, teachers signed new contracts as soon as their old ones expired, but instead of being offered a new contract, Megan was told her services would no longer be needed.

It was June, 2019.

The long and short of it was that the company told Erica to hold onto the clothing they had sent and find another photographer to finish the project. Jerry had sent them enough of the finished work that they didn't want to start from scratch with a new model and photographer. Jerry had also recommended to the company to trust her to finish the project. While that was going on, Megan also found a job in a new town, in another state, that had not slashed their school budget and they moved. They got settled in, which meant they unpacked roughly half of the boxes they moved. It was summer, so they both had time to relax a bit while Megan went through the process of getting her license to teach in that state and the normal bureaucratic red tape all new hires had to endure.

Modeling had grown Erica's self-confidence and that emerged in her negotiations with the company that was trusting her to finish the contract. Jerry had given her a thumb drive with everything he had sent them, as well as all the other shots he'd taken of her on it (which he felt needed some tweaking). They liked the work he had sent them and wanted her to finish it, rather than start from square one with another model.

Now Erica needed to find another photographer and convince him (or her) to take on the project, which would involve editing the "extra" shots on the thumb drive, and take more as she modeled the rest of the clothing.

Not knowing anybody, or having any leads in here new town, Erica decided to just go talk to the photographers in her new town and explain her predicament. She had a portfolio to show them, and the unfinished contract to review. She didn't know "the territory" either, so she was going to have to do some investigating.

She started by going into a high end photo studio, where she met a woman named Julie. Julie said she didn't do any fashion photography, but she knew three people in town who did. She gave Erica a piece of paper with the names and addresses, and wished her well.

She started at the top of the list and within an hour she'd been turned down twice. Yes, they did some commercial photography, now and then, but it wasn't the core of their business and they rarely needed models.

There was only one more place for her to try. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address. The name above that was "Bob Chambers."

When the cab stopped, she almost told him to go on. The place appeared to be an old warehouse in a run-down industrial part of town and looked like a dump. But she needed to at least finish the project and, hopefully, find more work to stay in the game, so she paid the cabbie and went to the paint-flecked door that didn't even have a company name on it.

The door was unlocked, so she took a deep breath and went in. She had only gone five feet before she stopped, shocked. She knew why the outside was so shabby. This Bob person had spent a ton of money on the interior of his building, converting a lot of the space into a huge studio. She saw four different places where scenes could be created and recognized a big roll of backdrops on a large metal frame with wheels on it, so it could be moved around. There was also a green screen. There were lights everywhere and everything gleamed. What she was looking at appeared to be about half of the building. There was more farther back, but it was in darkness, above an eight foot wall and she couldn't see what was there.

She moved further in and saw a tall black man bending over a light table, looking at some kind of film. He looked up at her and said, "I wondered who came in. That's the first time my new door buzzer actually went off. Welcome. Welcome. And thank you for coming. It gets a little lonely around here, at Chambers Video and Photography." He smiled and his teeth were brilliant white, surrounded by his black face. "How can I help you?"

"I'm a model," she said. "I have five years of experience in consumer fashion and am technically still under contract with a company for an advertising campaign. My last photographer got sick and died right in the middle of the project. At the same time, my mother, who is a teacher, got a new job here in Hillsdale, so I had to move. The company we were working with gave me a month to find a new photographer and finish the project. So I'm looking for a new photographer who will finish the contract and, hopefully, keep me as a model for future work."

"Hmmm," he said. "How old are you?"

"I'll be eighteen in seven months," she said.

"And where is your guardian?"

"My mom is at a seminar or something that all the teachers have to attend. I don't really know who my father is. Mom doesn't like to talk about that."

"Come in and have a seat while I vet you. What's your name and one company you worked for?"

She answered him as he showed her to a table that had salt and pepper shakers in the middle. She looked around and saw she was in a small, almost makeshift kitchen. A spiral stairway nearby led to a platform that looked like it had a bed and dresser on it.

"Do you live here?" she asked. He was looking at a monitor and tapping keys.

"I had to save money," he said. "I put every cent I had in this place and didn't have anything left over for frivolities like an apartment."

"You have a lot of equipment," she said.

"Since you have been so forthcoming about your situation, I'll be up front about my own. I was a photographer for another company and we parted ways under less than happy circumstances. We were friends but had different work ethics. I knew what was needed so I decided to try striking out on my own. I learned there was a man going out of business, so I furnished this place by buying him out and going to auctions. Unfortunately, his building was already rented to someone else and all I could afford was this place. I've done a few projects and I'm treading water, but I expect things to pick up once people know where I am."

It was silent while he moved his mouse around and clicked on things.

"There's soda in the fridge, and cold water. Help yourself," he said.

She went to the obviously old and used refrigerator and got a bottle of water out of it. She watched her sugar intake carefully. Her body was in perfect shape and she wanted to keep it that way. Her mom helped by working out with her and eating well, too.

"Okay," said the man, as he sat back. "Your work looks very good." He frowned. "Did I introduce myself?"

"You said it's Chambers Video and Photography, and a lady I talked to said your name was Bob Chambers. So it's okay."

"Not at all," he said. "I should be professional, especially when I'm speaking to a potential model. You said you were under contract. To whom?"

"It's called Teasdale Designs and about three fourths of the still photography is finished. They also want video of the model, in close-up, saying various things. Like 'I'll never wear anything but Teasdale.' I'm told they'll mesh it all into an ad campaign."

"It's a new idea," said Bob. "Usually companies go for either photos or video. There are so few physical magazines anymore that photography has changed a lot. Now it's all short ads to sell to You Tube and the like. What they'll probably do is show a picture of you in a dress or whatever, and follow it up with a video shot of a beautiful face urging them to buy the product."

"I don't know about beautiful," she said.

"Don't fish for compliments," said Bob. "You know you're gorgeous. I looked at some of the shots of you out there and I can tell the photographer was a pro. And a pro tells his models what he's thinking. Your photographers have told you you're beautiful, haven't they."

"Well," said Erica, looking away as she flushed.

"There's nothing wrong with being beautiful," said Bob. "It's a hell of an asset in this business. If you look like most people, you get a part in a toilet bowl cleaner ad. If you're a babe, you get to sell hair products, or jewelry, or skinny jeans. You're a tad young for that now, but in a year or two I could get you into commercials. I have contacts and I've shot commercial footage before."

"Oh. So you don't have anything for me now?"

"I didn't say that. I'll need to see the contract details for this Teasdale thing. I'm willing to bet I can finish your project. I'll do a run of the stills, and one video and send all of that to the company. I'll offer them that for free and use it as an audition to offer my services to them for future work. All I'll ask for is compensation for you. That will take care of your current situation. Then you can help me with a project I have half finished. My model got pregnant and then married and quit on me. This project is for a clothing catalog company and they want the same girl in various kinds of clothing, on different pages in the catalog. I can send them what Vicky did and add you in. I know they'll love you. They probably have tons of pretty blonds and brunettes. Vicky is blond, but black-haired beauties, like you, are rare."

"Okay," she said. "I can start any time."

"I don't write long-term contracts," said Bob. "I work on a per job basis. I know about how much time it will take and I pay union scale, even for minors. I'm sure your mother would want to be here, though."

"No, she got tired of watching me model years ago," said Erica.

"The reason I said that is there are a few outfits left that are brief," he said.

"How brief?"

"Bikini brief," he said.

"How tiny?"

"It's not the size. It's the material. There are no modesty panels in them."

"Can you shoot it so my face is obscured?"

"I'd have to take it both ways. The close-ups, that show the fine detail won't have your face in them, but there will be a shot of you where the whole suit can be seen. They want their wholesome girl-next-door to be recognizable. Their focus groups apparently say they look at the entire catalog, just to see if their favorite model is somewhere else, in a different outfit."

"Okay," she said.

"And the other problem is that you're not eighteen. The photographs will be legal, but it's always better to have parental consent if slinky photos will be taken of a minor."

"When do you want to start?" asked the girl.

"Strike while the iron is hot, I say. I'd like to start today, if possible. We have half a day left and can get a lot done in that time. Can you go get your mom?"

"I can call her," said Erica. "Would that do?"

"I can record her voice giving consent. Yes. Then she can sign a release later."

Erica dialed her mom's phone and it went to voicemail. She sent her a text, explaining the situation and asked her to call as soon as she could. She was looking over the clothing Bob wanted her to model when her phone rang.

"I'm sorry I bothered you at your thing, but I can work today if I have your permission. He says he'll take verbal permission today and you can come sign a release, tomorrow."

"Put him on the phone."

"Her name is Megan," said Erica, handing him her phone.

Bob spoke to her mother and notified her that two of the bikinis were pretty slinky and one was a thong.

"She's modeled nightgowns before," said Megan. "Some of them were pretty risqué. I trust her judgment."

"Okay. Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up and said, "You still have the clothes they sent your former photographer, right?"

"Yes. When he started going downhill and got hospitalized, he called them and negotiated for me to keep the clothing and find another photographer within thirty days. If I couldn't do that, I was supposed to ship all the stuff back to them. I've talked to them, too. They're shooting seasonal stuff and there are time frames they have to adhere to. The boxes with all that stuff in it are at home."

"Digital photography has changed the game and the time frames are more relaxed. I'm sure I can get them what they want within a couple of weeks. I'll take you to your house to get the stuff. We have the whole afternoon, but I want to get as much done as we can."

They went out and got in his car. Half an hour later the put three boxes in the back seat of his car and they returned to the studio. They took the boxes to the dressing room and set them down.

"Okay! Let's take some pictures! Let's get your video out of the way, first. You'll be sweating after we do the fashion shots. There's some makeup in the drawers of that table. Muted makeup to start with. Some eyeliner, a touch of rouge and some dark red lip gloss. Okay?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," she joked, saluting sloppily.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When she came out Bob looked at her. She had added some lilac eye shadow that had sparkly something in it.

"Perfect," he sighed. "You won't have to send any clothing back. You're going to knock them dead."

Bob placed her on a tall stool in front of a green screen. Teasdale could specify what the background should be and that could be added later. He had her remove her T shirt and push her bra straps off of her shoulders and then draped her in a pale ivory mass of cloth that contrasted with her hair. He touched up her makeup here and there and pulled up the list of comments she was supposed to make.

"I'm using low intensity lighting so I can get in close and not show all that pancake makeup you have to wear if the lights are bright. So just smile and look beautiful while you say all this stuff and I'll take care of the rest. Okay?"

"Super," she said.

He zoomed in, framing her hair, face, and the drape. He had her "perform" each thing she was supposed to say three times, changing the angle of the view each time. It took them two hours to get everything done.

"Okay," he said. "I'll review it all later and we can redo anything needed. You ready to model some clothes?"

"Absolutely," she said.

She returned to the changing room and got the list she and her former photographer had been using. It had a long list of things on it, about two thirds of which had been lined through, to show they were finished. She took the list to Bob and showed it to him.

"It looks like maybe not as much was done as I thought," she said.

He looked over the list.

"I'd say you were ready to do beach wear. I have a backdrop that shows a beach scene. Let's start with the sundresses and then move on to the cover-ups. We'll save the swim suits for tomorrow."

"Got it," said Erica.

She put on a sundress and walked back out to the studio. He had a background of a beach set up. The first dress was blue and white and made a startling contrast to the sandy brownish tan of the beach scene. They progressed through eight more dresses. He used a fan in some and even poured sand onto the floor for her to stand in, to show she was bare-footed on the beach.

"I'll shop vac it up and put it back in the bags," he said. "It will make a nice touch for the swim suits, too."

They moved on to cover-ups and she put on the one-piece swim suit that was at the top of that list. She covered it up with various wraps and the lights thumped over and over. When those were done it was almost five.

"We got a lot done, today," said Bob. "More than I expected. You take direction really well. I'm sure we can find more work for you in the future."

"I'm so glad. Moving was stressful. I was worried I might not be able to keep modeling."

"Not to worry. Now, go home and get your beauty sleep. There are twenty swim suits and a bunch of pairs of shoes and sandals to do."

"Okay. What time do you want me to show up?"

"I live here, so it doesn't matter. The bell rings in several places, including where I sleep." He tossed his thumb toward the platform at the top of the spiral stairway. "I usually wake up at five, so you won't wake me up."

"That is correct. I'm not getting up at five to model swim suits," she said, with a grin.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Megan was home when Erica got there.

"Hi! I modeled for the new guy," said Erica.

"I gathered, when you called. I didn't approve starting any negotiations with a new photographer," said Megan.

"I know. I only went around to the studios to see if anybody needed any models. I got to his studio last and he almost fell on his knees and begged me to help him finish a job. His previous model got married and quit. It was regular catalog stuff, so I just did it. He also finished the series Jerry was doing when he died. Remember those boxes of stuff I'd been modeling for Jerry? Well, Bob brought me over here and we took them back and he finished the job. He's been a photographer for years but is just getting started with his own agency. Anyway, he's sending it to Teasdale, along with their clothes. He isn't charging them anything and says the work he did is an audition to them for future work. He's hoping they'll take it and give him more work, and me more work, too."

"So who is this new photographer?"

"His name is Bob Chambers and he's different."

"Different. What does that mean?"

"Well, the outside of his studio looks like a dump, but the inside looks like it belongs to Vogue, or something. I guess he spent his life savings setting up the studio but he still had to borrow money and he's making payments."

"And how did that happen to come up in conversation?"

"I told him I almost turned around and left when I first saw the outside. He was very thankful I didn't. He's going to try to get more work for me. He's going to bid on two projects he didn't have a model for. Now he does, so I might get more work right away." She grinned.

"Please tell me you didn't sign anything," said Megan.

"I didn't. He paid me in cash at the going rate." Erica produced the envelope containing the money.

Megan counted it, said, "Hmph," and then said, "I'm detecting something you're not telling me."

"Come on, Mom. Can't a girl have a secret or two?"

"Not at your age," said Megan. "You know what I'm worried about."

"I do, and today I got the first taste of what you're worried about."

"No! What happened?"

"I don't know. I was modeling summer dresses and Bob was taking pictures and talking, you know, telling me how to move and that I looked great and all the regular stuff. But this time I got horny! It was crazy. There was this guy – he's really nice - telling me I was beautiful and it sounded like he meant it, and I got horny."

"Did he know that?" asked Megan, softly.

"I think so. He asked me if I was okay, because my face was all red and he had to stop. I told him I was just tired.

"Do I need to be worried?" asked Megan.

"No. He was a total professional. And he's good," said Erica. "His studio is gorgeous and he knows what he's doing. We worked on the Teasdale stuff all afternoon. We might be able to finish it up tomorrow."

"Good," said Megan. "I was worried about all that."

"If Jerry hadn't sent them more than half of the finished shots already they would have told me to send the clothing back to them," she said.

"That wouldn't have been your job," said Megan. "You're the model. All you do is pose."

"What happened with Jerry was so unexpected, and went so fast, nobody was prepared for it. Teasdale needed their shots and we convinced them I could make that happen. I am making that happen."

"I'm so proud of you," sighed her mother.

"You'll like him when you meet him," said Erica.

"About that," said Megan. "I can't go tomorrow. This school district does team building exercises and the teachers from all the schools in town have to meet early. We are apparently going to play games all day. I've heard of this kind of thing, but thought it was only in the really big districts."

"We have plenty of work to do," said Erica.

"I'll go with you Thursday," said Megan. "I promise."

"Okay," said the teen. "We have time for a run before we eat, don't we?"

"You do," said Megan. "I'm bushed."

"Okay. I'll just do two or three. We don't have any real routes, yet. I can run around and see where we might be able to establish some."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At eight-thirty Erica pushed the button she hadn't even seen on her previous trip to Bob's studio. She tried the door and found it was unlocked, again. When she went in she didn't see Bob anywhere until he came into the finished part of the studio from the darkened back half. There was a door in the back wall that had a red cloth of some kind hanging in the opening and he emerged through that.

He waved and then sauntered over to where she was standing.

"Where's your mom?" he asked.

"She had to go do team building exercises and play games. She promised to come with me tomorrow."

"Okay. Ready to make some more magic?" he asked.

"You're pretty full of it, sometimes, aren't you?" she teased.

"Beautiful women make my brain soft," he said with a grin.

"Like I said, you're full of it, sometimes."

"I'm set up to do the swim suits," he said. "You ready?"

"Yup," she said.

Then it was time for the swim suits. There were ten one-piece suits. She put on the blue one she'd worn for the wrap shots. Again he used a fan, to make her hair flow back away from the camera. He had her hold a beach ball in one shot, and stand in front of a beach umbrella lying on the floor behind her. He couldn't stick it in the floor, but it was open. She was looking at the camera in some shots and elsewhere in others. They progressed through the changes smoothly.

Through all of this Bob had been talking, giving her instructions, and feedback on how she looked. His repeated "Good! Perfect! You look great!" and so on was familiar in her ears and she already knew she'd like working with this man.

Then it was time for the bikinis. They took a break and she sat, drinking water, while he looked at what they were going to shoot, next.

"Did you know two of these bikinis are really small. I don't even know why they included them. They aren't at all for the same audience as the rest of the stuff. I can't see them putting pictures of you wearing these next to the girl-next-door stuff."

"Maybe there's some dirty old man who owns the business and likes sexy pictures of women," she said.

"That's happened before," Bob acknowledged. "Your mother said you'd done nightgowns before. How adult were the nightgowns?"

"Not super adult. I did a series of lacy nightwear that had black panties and bra under them. They wanted that to show through but you couldn't see the actual fabric in the underwear."

"How brief is your own bikini?"

"It's modest. I get enough stares as it is, when I go swimming. I don't want to increase it by showing off my ass or too much of my boobs."

"Well, two of these have thong bottoms and I'll have to shoot your ass. I'll get a lot of your boobs, too. These suits are for showing off at the beach, not swimming."

"It's okay," she said. "It will just be you, here in the studio. I'm comfortable with you."

"I'm glad, because you're a natural at this. I'm pretty sure that when people discover me and then see you, we'll have lots of business. Maybe we can even get some commercials."

They went through twelve two-piece swim suits that were modest, saving the teeny ones for last.

The first of those was white and Bob was right. It was designed to show off the woman wearing it, rather than for actually swimming. Bob was pretty sure that if that suit ever got wet it would be transparent, too. She looked good in it. There was no doubt about that. He admired the way the bikini top strained against her breasts. She was between 34 and 36 inches, measured below the breasts, and depending on whether she had breathed in, or out. It was a string bikini, so it would fit almost anyone. Bob tied it for her, standing in front of a full length mirror, so he could see how tightly it cupped her mounds. Her nipples printed through the cloth, but that was fine. People selling bikinis loved stiff nipples. She got into position, which was simply standing, looking at him. He looked at her through the camera, snapped two photos, and then paused.

He took the card to the computer setup he had on a big table and moved his mouse around.

"We have a bit of a problem here. Come look," he said.

She went and peered at the two shots that were up on the monitor, side by side. The issue was obvious and she couldn't believe she hadn't caught it when she looked at herself in the mirror in the changing room. Despite the fact that she had trimmed her pubic hair so that none of the hairs stuck out (and had tucked five or six errant hairs back in), you could clearly see her dark hair through the thin material of the Bikini bottom.

"We could maybe get away with your dark nipples showing through, but they generally don't like seeing pubic hair, at least not for this kind of shoot," he said.

She asked, "Do you have a different bikini I could put on?"

"Can't do that. This is what they sent, and what they want. They're already fired up about working with a new photographer. I could call them and tell them I'm working on it, but all they'd say was find another model. If you were blond it wouldn't be an issue."

"So, what can we do?" asked the teen. "Is there something we could put inside the bottom that would block the dark hair?"

He shook his head, slowly.

"I doubt it. The cloth is too satiny. Anything we did that with would also show through the suit."

There was a long pause, while each of them thought about it. He already knew what the solution was, but was reluctant to say it. He kinda hoped she would know it, too, so that it wouldn't seem like he was coming on to her.

Finally, after the pause seemed to go on forever, he said, "Look, you're a great model and this is going really well. This is the first time we've worked together, though, so we don't know each other, yet. Please understand that what I'm going to suggest is something I'd suggest to any model, not just you. I'm reluctant to suggest this in case you think I am coming on to you. But I know something we can do, if you are willing. Only if you are willing of course."

"What is that," she asked?

Reluctantly he said, "I don't know if they forgot the modesty panels or removed them intentionally. When I looked at it, it didn't seem to have a pouch to put a modesty panel in. I know of one thing that would solve the problem. You could just shave it all off. That way it won't show though. It will also smooth the fabric. And we can finish the shoot. It would save me having to go find some girl to wear one swim suit for the shoot."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything for a few minutes. Some of the girls she knew before she moved shaved down there but Erica had never contemplated doing that. She trimmed, but that was all, and it was difficult, so she only did that when she had to. Finally she said, "I shave my legs, of course, and under arms. But all I've done down there is trim for my own bikini." After a few more seconds she said, "I guess I could do that. I'm just not sure how to do it though."

Bob said, "You could go home and get some help from your mom. How unhappy do you think she'd be about that?"

"I have no idea," said Erica. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like the suit. I mean it actually shows my whole ass, and the top barely covers my boobs."

"Okay, well, I'm going to be selfish here. If you go home to do this you might never be allowed to come back and that would be a disaster for me. I have shaving stuff. What if I got that and then you can use the shower over there." He pointed to what was obviously a bathroom in the making. There was a shower stall and, not far from that a toilet and a cabinet with a hole for a sink a few feet away. There was framing for walls around it, but drywall had only been put up on two walls. A regular shower curtain covered the stall, and would provide some privacy.

"Okay," she said. "I don't want my mother getting upset, either. I mean it's just one suit."

Bob went up to get his razor and shaving cream. She had already gone into her dressing room when he got back. Not wanting to just walk in, he knocked on the door. She invited him in. He was startled when he saw that she had already pulled off her bottoms. She was holding a towel that blocked his view of her nude lower half.

She said, "I've never done this before and I'm scared I'll cut myself. I know you've seen models naked before, so it's no big deal for you. So, could you do it for me?"

"Uh … you do realize how unorthodox that is … what I'll see," he said. "I'm pretty sure your mom would not be happy with that idea."

"You are correct on both accounts, but Jerry had a saying. It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Yes. I've never done anything like this and I know it will be … strange … but I need this job, so … go ahead."

Trying not to show his eagerness, he said, "If you want me to, I will, but you can't ever tell anybody, not even in your memoirs, after you're a world famous supermodel."

"You and I both know I don't have the build to be a supermodel," she said.

"Styles change," he argued.

She simply said "Please. Let's just get this over with."

There was a wooden chair beside the computer desk that looked like it had once belonged to a dining room set. He got it and brought it into the dressing room. He took the towel she had been using to preserve her modesty and placed it on the seat.

Then he had her sit on the edge of the chair and spread her long, slim, teenage legs wide.

"Full disclosure," he said. "I may have to touch you in a way that may be … um … exciting? Do you understand?"

She nodded and blushed.

"I know we haven't worked together long, but we've worked together enough that I trust you. I know you won't do anything wrong on purpose," she said. Five years of modeling had given her a false sense of security when she was working with a photographer.

He snipped with the scissors he'd found, but they didn't work very well. He got some of the dense hair off and then applied the shaving cream. When he rubbed it in, mixing it with her dark hairs, she moaned.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she said. "It just felt good and I don't think I'm supposed to enjoy this."

"Well, I hope it doesn't traumatize you," he said.

Slowly he began to shave her pubic hair. She assumed that he was just being careful not to cut her and in part he was. But the bigger part of it was the thrill of seeing her naked flesh. Flesh that no one else had ever seen, outside her family anyway.

"I need to get better scissors," he muttered. "The razor loads up after an inch. This is going to take some time."

"It's okay," said Erica, who had been almost overwhelmed by embarrassment when she spread her legs for the first man to ever see her down there. As she watched his face, though, she saw him concentrating, rather than ogling. He bit the tip of his tongue and frowned as he dragged the razor a short distance and then had to submerge it in a bowl of water and shake it to get the cut hairs from between the twin blades. He also had to drag the razor backwards on a towel, which pulled hair out of it.

For that reason he touched her and then removed his hands, over and over again. As she sat there, watching him, it became oddly routine as he worked.

His warning came true, though. While he shaved her he put his thumb on her clit as he pulled skin taut and she moaned a lot. He was pretty sure no black man had ever touched her there and it made his dick stiff to be the first one. When her pussy lips were exposed he just got harder. They were fat and loose, as if to say, "Come on in!" He was pretty sure that when she got back in that bikini, there would be a beautiful camel toe. The customer might not want to use it, but Bob would save it for his private collection, for sure.

Her mons was peppered, now, with occasional groups of long hair that had escaped the razor, and bare patches that had been stripped clean. He applied more cream and she whined as he rubbed it in. Now he was "on her" for longer periods before she got a break while he cleaned the razor. She was shocked to find that she was eager for his fingers to touch her again and she was afraid she was going to have an orgasm if he didn't get finished pretty soon. She was panting and trying to think of other things as he slowly massaged her button.

"Sit still," he said, at one point.

"I can't," she groaned.

"Hey," he said. "I know what this is doing to you. If you want to cum, there is no shame in it. Go ahead. It's better than you wiggling around and me cutting you."

To his amazement her hand flashed to push his thumb away and she rubbed furiously, sinking her middle finger into her vagina. Her hand moved in a blur until her body arched as she gasped and then flopped back down as she went limp.

"I can't believe I did that!" she panted. "If you tell anybody I did that I'll kill you."

"Like I said, it's normal," he said. His cock was iron hard in his pants. "If you can sit still I'll be finished in a jiffy."

He addressed specific, small areas and sat back and stared at her bare pussy when he was done, pronounced himself finished, and then turned around so that when he got up she wouldn't see the state his zipper was in. If there had been flashing red lights and klaxons on his zipper, they'd be going off right now.

"Get dressed and I'll see you outside," he said, looking at the door.

Erica put her bikini bottom back on and looked at herself in the mirror for a long time. When she went back out to the studio she said, "I'm not sure this worked."

She did, indeed show a stark camel toe that made her look like a Playboy model's daughter. Bob looked at her and sighed.

"Well, you look fantastic. Let me take a couple of test shots."

"Test shots?"

"Act like you're putting your hair in a ponytail," he said.

She did so and the lights flashed as he took a photo.

"Now put your hands on your hips and look at me like you're annoyed."

She frowned and spread her legs a little as she did what he told her to.

The lights flashed again and he said, "Relax while I go take a look at those."

She sat down and Bob pulled the card out of his camera. He plugged it into the computer and moved the mouse around. Then he stood back.

"Come here," he said.

She did and he showed her both pictures. Her dark nipples showed through the fabric and she gasped when she saw how detailed her camel toe looked.

"These are fantastic. I could sell them at the drop of a hat. If I did a whole series I could sell it to any number of outlets I know. It would be borderline illegal, but they'd sell like hotcakes. Unfortunately, it's no good for this shoot."

"Wow," she said. "I've never seen myself like that."

"Haven't you ever examined yourself in a mirror, naked?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't look like that."

"Shaving your pubes makes a big difference," he said.

"It sure does. But shaving was supposed to fix it, not make it worse."

"You're right, and with normal fabric it would have. What they made that suit out of hugs every hill and valley. We have to think of a way to fix this. I'd love to take pictures of you like this all day, but that's just me being a man."

"I had a friend who wanted to wear this dress she was in love with to a dance but her nipples showed. So her mom put Band-Aids on them."

"You know that would show through," he said.

"What if it was little circles of something skin-colored?"

"Okay. But we can't make strips for down there. I can't imagine covering that and it not showing."

Erica's eyes wandered around, as she tried to think. She saw a small container of blue Play-Doh and her eyes stopped. She went to the table and picked it up.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I had it in a shoot of a toddler," he said.

"My mom used to make playdough for me. It was kind of tan-colored."

"Okay," said Bob.

"So if we made some it could be molded to solve the problem.

"I don't get your meaning," said Bob.

"Well, if you filled up my … um … crack, then it would be smooth, wouldn't it?"

"That's an innovative approach," said Bob. "I'm trying to imagine doing that and I'm having a hard time."

"I'll explain what I'm thinking and maybe we can try it," she said.

Chapter Two

"We make the stuff. You can make it pretty stiff by putting in more corn starch. So we push it into the crack and smooth it. The fabric will smooth it even more."

"Wouldn't that get playdough in your … inside you?"

"I don't have a tampon, but I could use Kleenex to keep that from happening."

"You know how crazy this sounds," said Bob. "Having me shave you was bad enough. Now you want me to shove something in your girly part?"

"It's not crazy. It's innovative, as you said. And it won't be in me. It will be against me."

"I don't know how to make playdough," said Bob.

"You have a computer and there is this thing called Google that has that kind of information," she said, snarkily. "You could probably find a You Tube video that shows you exactly what to do."

"This would be pretty uncomfortable, wouldn't it?" he asked. He was still skeptical.

"Yes, for maybe the sixty seconds it took you to take the pictures. I can live with that."

Bob thought.

"Okay, I like the idea of circles over your nipples. Let's try that first and take all the shots where down there isn't visible, like standing sideways and holding a beach ball. If those come out we'll try to figure out how to take the two shots where your who-ha will be visible."

"Okay," she said. "What can we use?"

"It has to be really thin," he said. He looked around. There was a rag on the back of a chair, but it wasn't pale enough. "Aha!" he said. He went to an equipment bag and pulled out a lens cleaning cloth that was beige. "I can cut circles out of this. I think that might work."

He got scissors and held the cloth up against the tip of her bikini bra. He tried to stand back and hold the cloth at the same time. It was obvious he was trying to figure out how large to make the circles.

"Bob," said Erica.

"Hmm?"

"Move your hands."

He looked up and then back at his hands. He jerked his fingers off of her breast.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to touch you … um …"

Erica pulled the bra cup upwards, baring her breast and the dark nipple on it.

"Now you can measure," she said, calmly.

"Oh! Yeah. Okay."

"You saw my fandango. My boobs is no big deal, compared to that."

He smiled.

"Of course."

He held the cloth up and then carefully cut a round piece out of it that was about an inch in diameter. He handed it to her.

"Put that over a nipple and let's see."

She held the cloth over the nipple and pulled the bra back down, trying to trap the circle. When she took her hands away she lifted her hands, palms up and said, "Ehh?"

Bob looked and said, "It's a little off."

"I can't see to get it right," she said. "You put it in there."

So Bob pulled the bra out until he had a good view of her chocolate nipple and the circle he had cut. Her breast was just as good looking as the rest of her, but he tried to put that aside as he placed the little circle.

"This is harder than I thought it would be," he said. "I need to figure out how to hold it exactly where it needs to go."

"Glue?" she said.

"Right. You want me to glue cloth to your nipples and then let it set up and harden while I shoot you. How does one get glue off one's nipples?"

"Mom has some wood glue. If you get it on your fingers you can wash it off with water, if you get to it quick enough. And if you don't, all you do is rub your fingers together and it balls up and comes off."

Bob stared at her.

"Glue like that sets up in about a minute. I'm trying to imagine you in the shower, rubbing your nipples between your fingers. Have you ever done that?"

"Oh," she said, her voice weak. "Not the best idea."

Neither spoke. Erica looked around, some more.

"Wait. I have an idea," she said. She went to the same table the Play-Doh had been on and picked up a container of Vaseline. She brought it back and handed it to him.

"Put a thin coat of this on the nipple and then the cloth will stick to it. Once the bra presses against it, it won't move."

"That will work," he said. He cut another circle and then said, "Take your top off."

"Gee, Bob," she said. "Aren't you supposed to take me to dinner, first?"

"Ha, ha," said Bob. "As you mentioned, I saw your beaver when I shaved you and I'm going to see it again when I do something about the problem down there. You said seeing you topless wasn't so bad."

Erica reached behind her and untied the top. She pulled it to one side and let it lie on her shoulder. She was blushing a little as she looked at his eyes as he looked at her chest.

"Want to know something weird?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, as he put his forefinger into the Vaseline jar.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen," he said. "I'm sorry you have to go through it."

"You're the first guy to see my boobs," she said. "I thought I'd be freaked out, but I'm not."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm going to put the thin coat on."

"Okay."

Neither of them thought about the fact that she could put the thin coating on just as easily as he could.

She stood there as he gently circled her areola and nipple of her left breast. The nipple was erect, which did not help, but the cloth would still cover it. She took a deep breath as she felt someone else touch her nipple for the first time in her life.

"That feels … I didn't know it would feel like it does," she said.

"Normally this would be foreplay. It's supposed to feel like that. Haven't any boys touched you like this?"

"They've tried," she said. Her voice made it clear she had not tolerated such attempts.

He carefully placed a circle and then pressed it gently against the nipple. When he pulled his hand back it stayed in place. He stepped back and looked.

"That may actually work! You're brilliant, Erica."

He did the other nipple and she hummed.

"Maybe I should let boys touch me there," she said.

"You don't have a dad, so I'll just tell you what he'd say if he heard you say that. Do not, under any circumstances, start letting boys play with your boobs."

"Most dads don't play with a girl's boobs as they say that to her," said Erica, with a smile.

"Okay. I'm going to press the top over your breasts. Once you're covered, put your hands over them while I tie it."

"Got it."

He took the top from her shoulder and stretched it out, holding the sides and aiming. Erica stifled a laugh as he frowned and moved the bra around as he got it closer and closer to her body.

"I wish I had a picture of you doing this," she said. "I bet it would be hilarious."

"If this works, and you want that picture, I'll take it for you," he muttered.

The fabric touched her body and he pressed quickly, sheathing her breasts. Her hands came up and she cupped them over her nipples. Bob went behind her and fastened the top. He went back in front of her and she slowly lowered her hands.

"I can't believe this, but I think that's going to work!" he said.

"Then take some pictures," she yipped.

He put her through a series of poses. He had her hold the beach ball in front of her groin, but that covered part of what the company was trying to sell.

He went to the computer again and Erica followed him. When the shots came up he examined them, carefully.

"Beautiful," he said. "It worked!"

"We can just leave them there while we make the playdough," she said.

They went to his computer, where Google produced a recipe that recommended combining flour, cornstarch, cream of tartar, oil, and water.

"I don't have cream of tartar," said Bob. "I don't even know what that is."

"Maybe it's not critical," she said. "We're not going to play with it. It just needs to be malleable enough to do what we need."

"I think maybe I should just call the customer and explain that the cloth is too thin and this outfit isn't going to work for them."

"Before you do that, let's at least try this. I've already gone through things I never thought I'd do to make this work. I don't want that to be for nothing."

For lack of anything else to do, Bob assembled the ingredients and followed the instructions, producing a pale blob of something that looked vaguely like dough. He pinched off a bit and tried to form it.

"Geez! This might actually work!"

"Let's do it!" Erica yipped. "I want to be done with this!"

He picked up a larger piece. He flattened it, squeezing the bottom to make roughly shaped V. He looked at her.

"You can't possibly want me to shove this stuff up against your … muff."

"I'm just the model," she said. "The photographer has to make the decisions on what works and what doesn't."

"I admire your attitude, but, as I said, shaving your pussy was bad enough. Sorry. Actually playing with it is kind of too much." He blinked. "There. I said it."

"You won't be playing with it," said Erica.

"I'll be rubbing all over the place packing you full of goop," he said. "And we don't even know if it will work!"

"If you'll recall, you've already rubbed my cunny. I had to rub off while you shaved me. That's the most embarrassing thing I ever did in my whole life, but I'm over it, now. You were the first man to see me there, and then touch me there. You're the first man to see my boobs and touch them. Why can't you be the first man to play with my pussy?"

"Erica," groaned Bob. "Please do not tease me. This is hard enough as it is. I've probably committed three or four felonies already, today."

"I don't see any cops and I have to say this is the most exciting shoot I was ever in. I'm game to try this if you are."

Against his better judgment Bob gave in.

With his pre-formed shape in his hand, he had her lower the bottoms to her knees and then spread her legs shoulder's width apart. He watched as she took two tissues and made a largish ball, which she pressed between her labia and closed her vagina off with. He carefully pressed a thick glop of "putty" into her cleft and against the tissue ball. It fell out almost immediately, taking the tissues with it and Bob saw she was producing lube. Under other circumstances that would have made him happy; say if she was eighteen.

"You can't get excited," he said. "It won't work if you get slippery."

"Go get the flour we used," she said. "We can dust things with that. It should dry things out, right?"

He got the sack of bread flour. She reached into the bag and got two fingers loaded. She dusted the tissue ball and pressed it into her labia.

"Does that dry things?"

He tried the thick mess again and it was better, but still wouldn't stay in place without something holding it there.

"Okay. Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get it as smooth as I can. I'll place it and you hold it there while I pull your bottoms up. Then I can mold it through the cloth."

"Got it," she said.

Holding the putty in place, he pressed, here and there, trying to make it match her body. It was still lumpy when he told her to hold it.

"Don't press too hard," he cautioned.

"I know, Dad," she said, her voice snarky.

He pulled up the thong, moving it into place and pulling the connection between the front and back tight.

"I do not understand why any woman would want a cord pulled up in her ass," she grumbled.

"Sorry. It's just how this is designed."

"I know."

He squatted and looked at it. Carefully, he pressed on each lump and, to his astonishment, the suit held everything in place as he made it smooth.

"This has to be clinically insane," he sighed, "but it's going to work. There will still be a bulge, but if I shoot at the right angles it won't be obvious in the photos."

"You should market it to other photographers."

"Right. I'll offer Bob's Original Pussy Putty for sale and everybody will think it's great." He laughed. "Walk carefully back to the set. Let's get these pictures before everything falls apart."

Carefully she took baby steps with her feet still apart until she got back to the set. She turned, stiffly, and faced him.

"Don't move," he said. "Test shot."

The lights slaved to his camera flashed. He went to the console.

"You stay there. I'll know if it worked in a second."

A minute later he lifted his head and looked at her over the top of the monitor.

"It worked. I can't believe it, but it worked. Let's get the rest of this done."

"Yes!" she said. "And no one will ever know this happened. Not even when you write your memoirs."

He laughed, moved back to the set, picked up his camera and began telling her how to hold her body.

"Relax. You look like you're terrified."

"I'm afraid to move."

"It's thick enough nothing will ruin it," he said. "I'm not having you do the splits or anything."

She moved through the poses as he clicked away. The intruding tissue ball and goop felt weird pressing into her vaginal vestibule, but she was able to be distracted by listening to his instructions and trying hard to obey them perfectly.

Finally, he stood back.

"Stay there while I look at these," he said.

"Bring me a bottle of water," she said.

He did and then uploaded the shots. He peered at them carefully and decided he could make them work.

"Ordeal over," he said. "You can go remove things and take a shower."

"I can't believe we went through all that just to take fifteen or twenty pictures," she said.

"As our beloved former president would say, I am in complete agreeance that this will be a secret we both take to the grave," said Bob.

"Question," she said. "Doesn't what happened kind of make you my boyfriend, now?" She grinned.

"Yeah. Right. Go home and tell your mom you have a new boyfriend." He made his voice go in a higher register, simulating her voice. "He's a foot taller than me, and seventeen years older than me, and, oh, by the way, he's black. Aren't you happy for me, Mom?"

"Seriously, I'm not freaked out about all this," she said. "That amazes me even more than everything else that happened, but I'm not traumatized. Okay?"

"I'm very, very glad you feel that way," he said. "Now, go clean that mess off of you so you can go home and not mention that this strange man played with your nipples and pussy, today."

"One other thing," she said. "Are all those video cameras on?" she asked.

"They're motion activated," he said.

"Do all photographers use video as well as still shots.?"

Bob said "I don't know about others, but I do it. Sometimes the video will pick up a better shot or angle than the still. And it can be valuable as evidence if a model claims sexual harassment."

He stopped and stared at her.

"Good grief. The whole process is on video. There's enough evidence on them to put me in jail for life!"

"You did not sexually harass me," she said. "You can erase it, can't you?"

"Yeah," he said. "I guess I can. You're being pretty cool about all this."

"Are you kidding? This is the most fun shoot I ever had."

"I'll have to delete all the film from today. The still shots I have of you are quite good. I won't need the video for anything."

He didn't tell her he also had a hidden camera in the dressing room and door to the shower. Both were for his protection. The whole studio was wired so he would have proof of what did and did not happen in any shoots involving women. Models had also been known to steal things and violating their privacy was something he had to do to keep from being required to pay for stolen clothing or jewelry or whatever. The only area not covered by video was his loft bedroom. He admitted to himself that he wouldn't be above looking at the "private" video, occasionally. He didn't need any of the video of the studio to have naked shots of this girl.

He watched her almost naked back go to the half-finished bathroom that had the shower in it.

He already knew she would be beat-off fodder for a long time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the bathroom Erica stood behind one wall and stripped the white bikini off. She peeled the lens cleaner cloth off of her nipples, first. Then she bent over and carefully extracted the home-made playdough that was covering her pussy lips. It came out easily because of the natural lubrication she had produced. The tissue plug came out with it, and was soaked. All this might have overwhelmed her mind, but her body worked on auto pilot and when Bob had "played with" her nipples and pussy she'd been aware of how exciting it was. She liked the man. He hadn't pushed her down and raped her. He hadn't even suggested that anything sexual happen. Her mind was still whirling, but she felt safe and that nothing really traumatic had happened. Basically, she chose to be okay with everything.

She got in the shower but all she washed were the tips of her breasts, to get the Vaseline off, and all around her pussy lips, to get any errant bits of play dough out. She almost rubbed to orgasm, but decided not to. She'd wait and do that at home.

She finished up and realized she had not brought any clothes with her. The towel she dried off with was a beach towel, which was large enough she could wrap it around her and cover everything, so that's what she did.

Bob was waiting for her.

"Change of plans. Don't get dressed," he said. "We still have an hour. Now that we have completed your previous contract, we could begin on the one I need to finish. You can put some of that on. You're not going to believe what it is."

He grabbed the frame of a roll around clothes rack packed with sets of fancy underwear and nightclothes and rolled it toward her.

"I did not plan this," he said. "All I did was unpack it. I swear I didn't know exactly what it would be."

Her eyes widened at the number of items there were. There was everything from a cat suit that covered all of her body, though tight enough to reveal all her curves, to baby doll nighties which covered almost nothing. There were even a couple of cup-less bras that held up the breasts, but did not cover them. One had crotch-less panties to match and the other had easily-opened snaps at the crotch. There was a garter belt and stockings that had matching panties and bra to go with it.

"If my mother saw some of these she'd have a whole litter of kittens," said the teen.

"I know you're kind of young to model this stuff, and normally I wouldn't even have asked you to do it. But you look old enough and I'm in a jam, here, and considering what we've already been through, maybe it won't be so threatening to you, so I'd really appreciate it if we left your mother out of this."

"What are the chances she'll see the catalog these will be going into?"

"None. The customer is in Bulgaria and just wants American women in his catalog."

She decided to do it because it was exciting. Getting her pussy shaved had been exciting. She still couldn't believe she'd rubbed off right in front of the guy. Then there was everything else that had happened, which was just mind-blowing. What made it seem even more incomprehensible was that she hadn't even known him twenty-four hours ago. She looked at him and his skin color still impressed on her. He was so black! She'd seen "black" men before, but they were all brown, not black. Bob was black. Maybe that's why she did it. He wasn't like any other man she knew, so doing that in front of him was harmless. Now she was going to wear some definitely naughty things, and she was already worried that she might make the bottoms damp.

"Okay, I'll do it," she said.

"I'm going to turn the video on and introduce you. Please tell me you're eighteen when I ask that question, okay?"

She smiled and nodded. Five minutes later she looked through the items he'd brought in.

She decided to start with the cat suit, as though form fitting would show less of her body than any of the others. She put the cat suit on and looked at herself in the mirror. She realized right away that it was good she hadn't put on a bra and panties, first. It was so form fitting, the outlines of both her panties and bra would plainly show and that would detract from the shots. She looked at herself in the mirror again. Now it looked perfect. Covering everything but still revealing all. She also noticed that despite herself she could see her nipples pushing erectly through the material.

'This thing makes me feel sexy as hell,' she thought.

She went out to the studio for the shoot. As she posed in various positions for Bob, she realized that yes it was very exciting to be modeling without underwear. He had her model the outfit in several poses, including a few that were quite provocative.

The next outfit she chose was the fancy lace bra and panties that, though leaving belly, legs, and shoulders bare, covered her important parts. Again he had her pose in several positions. In one, which she at first thought too daring, she had her thumbs in the waist band of her panties at each hip. He let her see the photo afterwards and she had to agree that it looked good, if a bit more sexy than one she would normally do.

The next outfit was one of the ones she had been dreading. He asked her to put on the one with the cupless bra and split crotch.

"Nobody's ever seen me in anything like this," she said, as she emerged from the dressing room. "This feels weird."

"You look fantastic," he replied.

"I'm almost naked," she pointed out.

"That's part of why you look fantastic. You're an exceptionally good looking woman, Erica."

"Yeah, but this definitely makes you my boyfriend."

He took pictures of her in several poses, but the one that embarrassed her the most was when he had her lie down on a bed in the corner she hadn't seen. In that one he explained he had to show the split crotch. Now not only was her almost unsupported breast exposed, but a hint of her slit would be as well. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't deny her obvious arousal. Her nipples were so stiffened that she could probably cut glass with them. Her sex was so wet that she could have drowned a rat.

"For the next shoot, I want you to wear the snap crotch panties," he said.

She went into the dressing room and changed into that set. When she came out, she said, "Bob, fair warning. All the bottoms of these outfits will need to be washed."

He grinned and looked down. She looked at his groin for the first time and gasped at the size of his bulge.

"You're normal," he said. "So am I. These are sexy clothes and they're supposed to turn us on."

Again he took several pictures of her and finished by having her lie on her back on the bed. This time, he took one picture of the panties fully snapped and one as each of the snaps were undone. Her fingers were in all the shots and he was glad her pink-painted fingernails were in such good shape. There were four snaps. When she got to the last snap she paused and looked at him.

"Do I have to undo the last one?" she asked.

"I want you to," he said, "but you can refuse."

"You'll send them a picture of my bare pussy?"

"I'll send them a picture with the flesh blurred and the ends of the garment visible, showing what they look like undone."

"So you'll be the only one to actually see my pussy?"

"Yes," he said, softly.

She pulled and the snap came loose. Carefully he arranged the loose ends so the snaps would show and took a picture. Then he pulled one end up and told her to hold it. The other end he pushed down under her. He took another picture.

"Bob, that doesn't look like it would show the customer anything except my pussy," she said.

"This one is just for me," he said. He clicked and stood up. "You can call me a sexist pig, now."

"Do you promise that will only go in your private collection and never, ever be shown to anyone else?"

"Cross my heart," he said, making the motions.

"Okay." Her eyes dropped to his groin, where the front of his pants was practically pointed.l

An hour later Erica almost asked him to pause so she could masturbate, but she didn't. She didn't know it, but that would affect her judgment, later.

For the last shot, she put on the garter belt with a full cup bra. When she put it on she had started with panties, therefore the straps of the garter belt were over the panties. He took a few pictures, then said, "Let me fix your outfit." With that said, he walked over to her and one strap at a time unfastened them from the stockings and ran them under the panties so that now all four straps were between her panties and skin. This, he explained, was how they were supposed to be worn. That way when she needed to use the restroom all she had to do was pull the panties down. He took more pictures of her with the garter belt that way. She was getting very aroused just from having pictures taken of her wearing the sexy outfits.

Her brain was foggy from her arousal. So when he asked her to pose wearing only the garter belt, unthinkingly she removed her bra and panties. He took a number of photos of her that way, also for his private collection. The last few documented her arousal. Her leaky pussy was literally dripping as the flash went off.

He lowered the camera.

"Take off the garter belt and hose," he said, softly.

"You can't show any of these pictures to anybody," she panted. "I'd just die if anybody else saw them."

"Ever since you took off the top the pictures have all been just for me," he said.

She stripped with no evidence of shame.

"Why do I like doing this?" she asked, as he took a picture of her totally nude.

"Men love to look at a beautiful, naked woman," he said. "Beautiful women like to be naked for a man to look at."

He moved in.

"Spread your legs for me," he said.

"You are so nasty!" she accused, as she widened her legs.

"You have the most beautiful pussy," he sighed.

"How can a pussy be beautiful?" she asked.

"Your pussy lips are plump and have color in them. A lot of women's lips are thin and white. All they have is a tightly closed slit. Your lips are flushed and a little open. I can see a hint of darkness between them that is crazy exciting."

"Why is it exciting?" she panted.

"Because I want to put something in it," he said, honestly.

"But I'm a virgin," she moaned.

"That has no bearing on whether I want to put something in you or not," he said. "Well, actually, that's not true. I do want to be the first man who you let inside you. That would be a real honor."

"Honor?"

"That you chose me to be the first, when you could have any man or boy you wanted."

"Not any," she demurred.

"I could prove it," he said.

"How?"

"All I'd have to do is let some of my friends sit in on a session. You wouldn't even have to model slinky clothes. Some men I know have sons. I could invite them to watch you pose, too. And every one of them would want to fuck you."

"I don't want to be fucked," she said.

"That's why I would feel honored if you trusted me to be your first. I wouldn't fuck you. I'd make love to you."

"Isn't it all the same?"

He laughed.

"Not even close. Remember the cat suit, and how you felt wearing it?"

She nodded.

"Compare that with how you feel right now. The cat suit was fucking. This is making love."

"Oh," she said. "I think I get it."

He set the camera down.

"You should probably get dressed and go," he said. "Things have gotten kind of crazy."

"They have," she said. "I would never have believed I'd let a man take pictures of me naked. Especially not a …" Her voice trailed off.

"A black man?" he finished. He grinned. "Sweetheart, I would never have believed that a teenage white girl would pose for me that way."

She approached him, invading his personal space.

"I'll pose for you naked again, if you want me to."

He reached for her hands and held them.

"Erica, what you are feeling now is lust. All the pictures have been a kind of foreplay between us. Do you know what foreplay is?"

She nodded.

"It's what my mother says she wants me to avoid on dates at all costs."

Bob smiled.

"She's right, because right now, if I wanted to touch you … kiss you … maybe even be naked with you … you might let me. That's what foreplay is for, to get the man and woman ready to have sex. Now I'll be honest with you. I'd love to have sex with you … make love to you … but I'm not sure you'd be happy about that when the hormones making you horny right now leave your bloodstream. You need time to process these new feelings so you can make good decisions. Later, if you feel the same way … well, then that will be different and we can have an honest conversation about you experiencing new things. But for now I think you need to get dressed and leave."

She looked up into his dark brown eyes with her green ones.

"You're the first man to touch my pussy. I was scared to let you shave me, but something told me it would be okay. I'm not unhappy that you touched me. I can't believe I rubbed off right in front of you, but even that felt almost normal. You've been walking around with a boner in your pants for hours and I was never scared or worried once. That has to mean something."

"It does, and I'm incredibly happy you feel that way. But the law says you're too young to understand the consequences of agreeing to have sex. That's why, in this state, it's illegal for any man to have sex with you until you're eighteen."

"That's only six months away," she said.

"Seven months for you. Twenty to life in prison for me, if anybody found out about it."

She stepped back.

"Well, I don't want that. Am I old enough to make that decision? Can I decide I want to keep working with you and that you not go to even one day of jail?"

"Sure," he said. "As long as you realize what happened today was not normal, and that because of it your feelings may not be normal. If we were trying to become a couple, what happened today should have taken a month or two. We just met yesterday. Somehow the accelerator got stuck and we went a hundred miles an hour for a while."

"Okay. We can't make love today. I get that. I don't think there is any way in the world that I'll be sorry that any of today happened. If I keep feeling like I do right now, then isn't that evidence that I have thought about it, and I do want to make my own decisions?"

"It would be to me, but not anybody else."

"Hmmm. Okay, I'm going to get dressed, but before I do, will you at least do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Kiss me and rub me like you did when you were shaving me, so I have an orgasm and can calm down before I go home."

He closed his eyes. If he kept his clothes on and only kissed her and fingered her, he'd be okay. Once she left he'd pull up some of her photos and beat off like a mad monkey, but he'd be okay, now.

"Promise me that's all you'll ask me to do," he said.

"I promise."

She made a little cross over her left breast with her index finger. The polish on that nail contrasted with her pale skin and Bob thought back to the few times he'd watched his black prick slide into a white pussy. He felt his cock leak a little.

Chapter Three

He put his hands on her waist as he lowered his lips to meet hers. All they did was kiss, at first. His large lips dwarfed her pale, pink ones and she practically wallowed in the kiss. She made noises and grabbed his hand, pushing it down. The kiss went on and on as they breathed through their noses. She stiffened as his hand slid over her mound and slippery vaginal vestibule. Then she lifted one leg and the passion in her kiss increased.

She was genuinely excited. That was clear to Bob. Whether she'd be excited later was the issue. But he did what she asked for. He slid his middle finger over her small clit and hooked it to push it into her virgin channel. She gasped and pulled her face away, going rigid and he stopped.

"Don't stop!" she panted, as she correctly intuited that he was worried and about to cease. "Keep going!"

He tentatively slid his finger in and out of her, always crushing and mauling her clit.

"Ohhhh Mama!" she whined. "Ohhhh, Bob, please don't stop!"

He kissed her again and felt it in both her mouth and pussy when the orgasm hit her. Her pussy clenched, making it difficult for him to move his finger and her lips opened as his tongue invaded her receptive mouth. He knew to stop moving his finger and felt her begin to relax. He pulled his lips from hers.

"You're going to be sticky, and it can be intense when I break the bond and remove my finger."

She nodded, only breathing rapidly, trying to catch her breath.

He broke the seal slowly and her pelvis pushed against him, but then his finger was free and he pulled it out. He lifted his hand and sucked that finger, licking around it where her juices had soaked his hand.

"Ewwww, Bob!" she complained.

"Oh, no, no, no," he said. "You taste delicious." He kissed her – just a peck – but made sure some of her essence was in that kiss. "See?"

She froze and blinked. Her eyes moved first and then her tongue licked her lips.

"I taste like that?"

He nodded. "That's why intelligent men like to make love to a woman with their mouths."

She shuddered, but looked into his eyes.

"I cannot even begin to imagine what that would be like," she said.

"You have the rest of your life to find out," said Bob. He stood back and glanced at the last outfit she had slowly taken off.

"I know. I know. I have to go," she said.

She padded to the changing room and in short order came out dressed in the street clothes she had worn into his studio.

"Thank you," she said.

"I haven't paid you, yet," he said.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about letting me explore. I was terrified and excited at the same time. And I get how crazy it was and what you're making me do, but I don't think I'm going to change my mind."

"You have to bring your mom to the next shoot." His voice was serious. "Things got completely out of control today, and I don't want that to happen again."

"I'll only bring her if it's not a sexy shoot at all," she said.

"I know of three jobs that would work for a girl who looks like you," he said. "I didn't bid on them because I didn't have a model. Now I do."

"So you'll call me if you get some work for me?"

"Of course."

"And if I come over to see if there's any work, can you take more sexy pictures of me?"

"You're making this hard for me," he groaned.

As she walked by she let her hand drift over his bulge.

"I believe you said that was normal."

Erica didn't feel any different when she got home. Her mother still wasn't home from the team building thing yet, so she took another shower, during which she rubbed to two orgasms and put on fresh clothes. The panties she had worn were soaked and the crotch of her shorts was damp, so she put a load of clothes in the washer and got it going. She was lying on the couch, reading a book, when her mother got home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Megan Blaylock's life had been a hard one. She developed early, was gorgeous early, and was used and abused by a string of "boyfriends" and two grown men early, as well.

The boys just fucked her and left her, hoping some other guy would fuck her too, so that if she got pregnant she couldn't blame it on anybody but the last guy to fuck her. Of the men, one was her math teacher, who was young, hot, and married. He actually tutored her in math, because she had a hard time understanding it, but he also fucked her two dozen times.

She learned from him that the boys had had no idea what they were doing and she never let another boyfriend fuck her. It was the other grown man who fucked up her life. His name was Dan and he was her boss at the ice cream store where she worked part time. He took her to a storage closet where he fucked her standing up. He only did it three times, but it was his sperm that got her pregnant. She was fifteen at the time. He was married, and reminded her of all those boys she'd let between her legs, in terms of his skill as a lover. She'd had a period since the last boy had gotten his dick in her and her parents had taken her on vacation after he fucked her, so when she missed her next period it looked like her boss had gotten her pregnant. It was her word against his, and she had let three boys get her drunk and gang bang her just a few days before she should have started. She knew her parents would try legal stuff so she just told them she didn't know who it was. In one sense, she didn't know who it was.

All she knew for sure was that it wasn't her math teacher's baby, because Erica was a beautiful Caucasian baby. Her math teacher was black.

Now, at thirty-three, she had it figured out. It had taken backbreaking work and determination to get where she was. Along with a scholarship she got from the Benevolent and Protective Order of the Elks, she had put herself through college as a single mom. She had worked two jobs while she was in college and Erica was a frequent attendee at the college day care center. She had not dated since Erica was born. Basically, she gave up men to get an education so she could support herself and her daughter. She was a teacher, now, and had gotten a job teaching science and biology at the high school her daughter would go to at the end of this summer.

Being celibate for seventeen years had not been particularly difficult, in some senses. After two or three years it became a habit. She remembered sex, but only dimly. The math teacher was the only one who had created reasonably happy memories. She remembered being with him a little more clearly, but it had been so long all she could dredge up in her mind was exactly how her dildo felt when she used it to get some sexual relief, and she knew he hadn't felt like that. She used her dildo often, three or four times a week, because two of the men she worked with were attractive, and the vice principal of her new school was a hottie, too. She knew better than to have a work romance, and in any case, felt like her life was fine the way it was.

So, her buttons got pushed, occasionally, but she didn't let that affect her decisions. There was nothing wrong with her libido. She just didn't trust any man she had met enough to become intimate with him, or even date him, for that matter. Men who went on repeated dates with women expected to eventually have sex. And Megan Blaylock just wasn't ready to get down and dirty with a man … yet. Maybe when Erica graduated and went to college. Maybe then she'd go out with a few guys and see if it was fun.

When she got home from a completely useless "Team building and refresher training" session, it was because she'd been around and gone through so much, that Megan sensed something different when she looked at her daughter. Actually, nothing looked different. It just felt different. Call it a blip appearing far away on a radar scope.

"What happened to you?" she asked. She had always been honest and blunt with her daughter. Erica was at "that age" where danger lurked everywhere. So far it looked like Erica's dating life (she was only allowed two per month until she graduated from high school) was going better than Megan's dates went, back in the day. She was very thankful for that. She wanted Erica's eventual sex life to be very different than her mother's. To that end, she had made sure Erica was comfortable talking about anything with her ... especially her sexual feelings.

"I modeled most of the day," said Erica. "We finished Teasdale and started on the project he was in the middle of when his former model quit."

"And?"

"I got horny again," Erica sighed. "By the time we got finished with the Teasdale stuff I realized he was going to find out because I modeled six swim suits as part of the shoot and … well, I told him they were going to have to be washed."

"Ohhh, no," groaned Megan. "What did he do?"

"He said it was normal, and that lots of models get excited during a shoot. He said not to worry about it."

"And he kept shooting?"

"We were almost done. I think it was only half an hour before he told me to rest while he did something with all the shots he'd taken. He said he'll edit them later. Then I modeled the stuff for his project."

Erica decided it wasn't necessary for her mother to know about how they had "prepped" her for the white bikini shoot. Nor did she think her mother would understand why she had masturbated in front of Bob, and then asked Bob to masturbate her before she left.

"He didn't try anything with you, did he?"

In Erica's mind, Bob had not "tried anything." When he shaved her he didn't molest her, really. He got her hot enough that she masturbated in front of him. She still couldn't believe she had done that. But she'd asked him to shave her. She'd been terrified he'd just tell her she wasn't ready for the big time and to go home. When faced with the fear of that, asking him to shave her had seemed less scary. Then it turned out it hadn't been scary at all. And, after that, all he had done was what she asked him to and that wasn't "trying" anything in her young mind.

"He was a perfect gentleman," said Erica.

"There is no such thing," grunted Megan.

"Yes there is. He got excited during the shoot. I could tell from … the front of his pants."

"Oh, no," moaned Megan.

"It was okay. Like I said, he didn't do anything I objected to."

"I'm worried about this man," said Megan.

"He told me to bring you the next time he has work for me."

"That makes me feel a little better," said Megan.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was five days before Bob called. Teasdale had accepted the series of pictures of Erica he'd sent them and even paid him for them. It had saved them a ton of money and they could get their ad campaign going before the season changed. Four days later, on the recommendation of people at Teasdale, another company offered him a contract to shoot a line of winter wear. They said "The young woman with black hair" would be a good model, if she was available. They had overnighted the clothing and he could shoot it as soon as Erica was available. He had also been offered another job by a different company that would have to be done by an adult, since it involved very slinky underwear and semi-nude shots. He could wait on that. The winter wear project was time sensitive.

And so it was that Erica led her mother to Bob's studio.

"This is the place?" Megan scoffed.

"Just wait," said Erica, smugly.

Once inside Megan said, "Okay. I get it. You were right."

Then Bob came around a corner and saw them. His smile gleamed white in his dark face.

"Erica! I'm so glad you can help me with this series. And who is this vision of loveliness you have brought to me? I told you to bring your mother with you, not your older sister."

"This is my mother, Megan," said Erica, ignoring his obvious play. "Mom, this is Bob Chambers, my new photographer."

"No!" snorted Bob. "How can she be your mother when she cannot be more than five years older than you are?"

Megan was still in shock from seeing Bob. He was so tall and so black that she froze, with her mouth hanging open. Memories of Mister Cummins slammed her and made her feel faint.

"She didn't tell you I was black, did she," said Bob as he recognized the shock in her. He took Megan's hand and elbow, to stabilize her until she got control of her body again.

"No," she gasped. "She didn't."

"I hope that's not a problem," said Bob, his voice serious.

"No. No. It's not that. You just look very much like someone from my past, that's all, and I was startled."

"I have a doppelganger?" said Bob, as he led Megan to a chair.

"No. You just reminded me of him."

"Well, I hope he treated you well. I do not want my likeness out there being bad."

"He wasn't … bad," said Megan, weakly.

Bob's voice even reminded her of the man who had taught her how to have great sex. He had been dark black, and thin, though he was much shorter than this man, and less muscled, as well. She was alarmed to realize that her panties were getting humid. She hadn't thought about Mister Cummins in a long time.

Bob got her a bottle of water and then explained the new job to both Erica and her. This series was winter wear, including ski outfits, both outer wear and things for inside a chalet, after the day of skiing was over.

The deal was struck and Erica was photographed in a dozen different outfits standing in skis and holding them up with a winter scene in the background. She had to take breaks because the clothes and lights were hot. Megan watched the man control her daughter and then care for her health. They finished the outside clothing and before starting on the "ski lodge" clothing, Bob told her to take a break.

While she did that he sat down by Megan.

"You feeling better?"

That was a preview of Megan Makes a Movie. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Megan Makes a Movie» to Cart