Stories
A MODEL WOMAN by Sarah Dobbs
Anna had been drawing people naked since she was sixteen years old. She thought nothing of it - it was art and that was all. Light and shadow could make the ugliest of bodies glorious. So now that she was the one about to pose naked, she wasn't in the slightest bit worried that she would 'overexcite' her employer.
At least, that's what she tried to tell herself as she pushed the door bell to the huge, sprawling house on the outskirts of County Down, Ireland. But when the man's dark head appeared around the white door, Anna found herself wishing that this job would not be all business and no pleasure.
'Hi there, I'm Greg. Anna Kingsley right?' He drawled in a friendly American accent and stuck out his hand.
Anna was lost for words. Greg was handsome in that horrible breath-taking way that made your jaw drop. He was the kind of six foot four, toned and honed Alpha male that made everybody wonder, What on earth is he doing with someone like her?
I didn't know they really made people like you, she thought to herself, grasping his hand lightly. 'A-Anna,' she managed.
Greg grinned, showing off a dazzling white smile. 'You blush the most beautiful shade,' he said, furthering her embarrassment. 'Come on inside and we'll get started.'
Anna followed Greg up the white staircase, taking the chance to drink in his broad shoulders, his narrow hips, his perfect ass. 'So, ah, is this your own house?' Anna asked.
'Yes and no,' he said, leading them into the room they were using. A tripod and camera had already been set up.
Anna waited for him to elaborate, but it never happened. She followed him into the bright room, her heels echoing over the light pine floors as she moved to the black aluminium stool that had been placed in front of the camera.
'Here?' she asked, pointing at the stool.
'Please,' he said, totally uninterested in her as he fiddled in a leather bag that was full of films. 'Just undress and leave your clothes somewhere out of the shot.'
Now that it actually came to it, Anna's heart began to race. She had only expected her ad to bring in college or art school jobs. But Greg Patric's portfolio read like a who's who of the media world. He was a must at London Fashion Week and his last shoot was for American Vogue. Yet in Anna's opinion, his biggest success was his recent exhibition at The Tate. When she'd first got the call on her mobile, she was sure it was a joke. But in spite of it all here she was in Ireland - at his expense - for a two day shoot. Even now she questioned why he would possibly want to photograph her when he could take his pick from the rich and famous and arguably more beautiful. However, when your telephone had just been disconnected, you didn't remind your employer of all the reasons why he shouldn't want to pay you.
'Now just get up on the stool and - oh, I thought you'd be ready by now,' Greg said, turning back to his camera and loading it with a film. 'Do you need anything?'
'No I'm fine. Just, well, this is my first time. Sounds stupid I know...'
Greg smiled, but not wide enough to show his teeth. 'Not stupid, Anna,' he said and Anna thought how strange and good her name sounded in the hands of his easy accent. 'Only time wasting. Sooner we get this done sooner you can get dressed again. Sound good to you?'
Anna opened her mouth to speak but, not trusting herself to say anything intelligent at that point, she closed it again. She smiled tightly and undid the neck-to-hem buttons of her flowery dress. So it was just going to be business. Why did that thought make her feel deflated, when she ought to be relieved at not having to fend off any unwanted advances?
Anna lay her dress on the floor in a heap of lilac and then set to stripping off her baby-pink, silk thongs. She hadn't worn a bra and her berry-brown nipples puckered upon meeting the cold air. Cinching in her stomach, hoping Easters' excesses didn't show too readily on her usually slender waist, Anna walked to the chair and sat upon it. The cold metal shocked her cheeks as she fitted her toes on the rung and waited to begin.
'Beautiful,' Greg said.
Although she was aware that photographers - and possibly American photographers at that - bandied that word around too frequently, it made her smile and sit up a little straighter.
'Okay now just do what feels natural. Play with yourself a little - look at me, look at the camera. Try to keep moving all the time as I get off the first reel of film,' Greg said, hunched down with his eye behind the camera lens.
Anna froze. 'I'm sorry, you want me to touch myself? What kind of shoot is this?'
Greg stood up straight, his loose white clothes stark against his Florida tan. Irritated, he said, 'We went through all this on the phone didn't we? The calendar we're doing is called 'Sexpression.' For that, I need to watch you pleasure yourself - whatever it takes to get you excited. I would have thought that was evident. You're not going to waste my time are you?'
Anna bristled with anger. She felt like a child just told off. But then she thought of the phone bill and how much Greg was actually paying her to do this. 'I'm not doing anything that's pornographic,' she warned.
'Mmhm,' he mumbled, not interested at all. He started snapping the camera and the light flooded her face. 'I need movement Anna.'
Self-conscious, Anna started to stroke her long ebony hair. She lifted it back over her shoulders like a black silken waterfall, so that it tickled her waist. But what she was doing hardly felt sexy.
'That's right, Anna. Yes. Beautiful. More of the same. Gorgeous.'
At least Greg was being encouraging. As he snapped away, the flash shocking her each time it exploded, Anna became more daring. She traced the curves of her breasts with her fingers, down to her abdomen, her hips, back up to toy with her hair. Greg finished the reel and reloaded quickly.
'Is that it?' she asked hesitantly.
'No no, keep going Anna. This is good stuff. You're going to look stupendous.'
She smiled, got brave and stared into the camera lens. She pressed one finger to her lips in a childlike pose and then sucked it, still smiling at the camera. She looked away, the true coquette, letting the soft summer sun from the window kiss her features. The garden was huge, she noticed then, perfectly manicured and populated with hulking, brooding oaks. Slowly she parted her legs and actually grazed the nest of her wiry pubic hairs, stroked the inside of her thigh, traced her fingers up over her breasts and then lifted her hair up high. She was running out of things to do. Another roll was finished.
'Okay good Anna. For this next film I want you to be more daring. Squeeze your breasts together. Insert a finger into your vagina,' said Greg, not even looking her way as he ripped open another film.
How he could say such things so clinically was a mystery to Anna. She didn't think she would be comfortable with doing that, but instead of complaining, she just got on with it and avoided doing what he asked. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
'No no no!' Greg broke off in the middle of a reel. 'Sexpression, Anna! Touch yourself - I want to see you wet - or are you Brits not capable of that? Come on, I want to see you delirious!'
'I don't, I can't...'
'What? You're too embarrassed?'
'No! I just, I don't know what you want me to do, I -'
'Well then I guess I'll have to show you won't I?' he asked and abandoned his tripod. He clicked his fingers and another man came in from nowhere.
Anna clasped her hands over her body, but Greg's fingers grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her. 'Anna, meet my assistant. Don't be shy, he's been watching everything anyway.'
Anna ripped free of Greg's grasp and shielded her breasts. 'What the hell are you planning here?'
'Relax, I'm just going to show you what I want from you and my assistant will take the pictures. Okay?'
Anna's eyes darted to the assistant. He seemed wholly disinterested in her as he fussed with the camera settings. Anna bit her bottom lip. It wasn't okay, not really. But how did you say no to Greg, especially when you hadn't been on a date in months? If she could just pretend the assistant wasn't there...It felt so naughty she nearly giggled.
'Yes,' she said finally.
It was all he needed. Greg's capable, yet slightly chilly hands, grasped her by the shoulders and moved her off the stool. He twisted her around so that her naked back was to his chest. 'Lean your elbows on the stool top,' he whispered, his breath making her neck shiver and exciting goose-bumps.
With his guidance, Anna did as she was told, her breasts squashing against her and her arse in the air, brushing Greg's bulging trouser area. She wanted to feel his dick inside her then more than anything. But she still wasn't certain how far he would go for the shoot.
She needn't have worried.
Greg undid his zip and let his trousers sink to the floor. Carefully, he reached an arm around her and gripped her hand, guiding it to her hot pussy. The wet heat seemed to burn her cold fingers. Greg's hand started to move up and down, bringing Anna's with it, rubbing her eager clit with deep, slow circles. Gradually, Anna got wetter and wetter and, forgetting the assistant, she began to arch forwards to rhythmically meet her own hand.
Greg slipped away and leaned back against the wall, fitting one tanned hand over the bulge in his boxers. His head rolled back, exposing his Adam's apple and reminding Anna of a tiny prick, one yet to be excited. The thought sent a sweet spasm through her and she literally took the plunge and slipped her index finger inside her tight pussy walls. Already she was too big and needed to cram a second finger in to fill the void. The sight made Greg groan and he moved his hand away from his cock, so Anna could see a dark stain of precum on his boxers. That was right before he peeled them off.
Anna inhaled sharply, digging her fingers in deeper and faster. All the while she heard the camera click and whir behind her, felt the flash snap again and again - quicker and quicker - increasingly urgent.
'Now for the head shot,' said Jason, lust burning in his eyes as he strode towards Anna, one hand curled possessively around his erect member. 'Are you getting this Alan?' he asked his assistant.
Anna glanced behind her and saw Alan removing the camera from the tripod. 'Oh yes, loud and clear, Jay,' he said, walking around to Anna's front and kneeling down.
Greg stood close to Anna. So close she could smell him, so close she could see the veins in his dick and almost feel the golden hairs of his legs tickle her chin. Slowly, deliciously slowly, he began to wank himself, just as Anna was doing. As the camera clicked, surely and undeniably coming to the end of its roll, Anna looked up into Greg's heavy eyes. Their gazes remained locked, the only parts of their bodies that were in contact. She felt air waft against her nose as his fist flew up and down, felt the irrepressible surge of her own orgasm as it leaped high and finally broke.
'Oh my God,' she breathed. 'Oh...God.'
The camera snapped Anna gazing up at Greg, one hand shoved inside her pussy, the other gripping the stool's seat. Just then, Greg squeezed his eyes tight shut and then released them as delight drenched his entire body.
Flash. Anna arching, pussy against palm. Flash. Anna gripping her breasts with one hand, tweaking the blood-filled nipples. Flash. Anna's eyes fluttering, mouth parted as a heady orgasm engulfs her body, muscles straining. The camera had caught a moment of pure satisfaction, a moment usually so fleeting but which was now captured forever.
The reel was finished. The furious clench and release of Anna's orgasm ebbed softly away as Greg gradually caught his breath and Anna heard the reel rewind as if ready to receive another.
Greg's eyes found hers. He glanced pointedly at the camera. 'What do you say, shall we load another one?'
To begin with Anna had hoped that the end of the first reel signalled the shoot's climax, but now she didn't want it to be over. 'How do you want me?' she asked, shifting without being ordered into pose after pose after pose.
Copyright (c) Sarah Dobbs 2003
This story first appeared in Issue 12 of 'In The Buff' now re-named THE HOT SPOT. www.hotspotbooks.co.uk All copyrights are recognised and are acknowledged to be the property of their respective owners....
At least, that's what she tried to tell herself as she pushed the door bell to the huge, sprawling house on the outskirts of County Down, Ireland. But when the man's dark head appeared around the white door, Anna found herself wishing that this job would not be all business and no pleasure.
'Hi there, I'm Greg. Anna Kingsley right?' He drawled in a friendly American accent and stuck out his hand.
Anna was lost for words. Greg was handsome in that horrible breath-taking way that made your jaw drop. He was the kind of six foot four, toned and honed Alpha male that made everybody wonder, What on earth is he doing with someone like her?
I didn't know they really made people like you, she thought to herself, grasping his hand lightly. 'A-Anna,' she managed.
Greg grinned, showing off a dazzling white smile. 'You blush the most beautiful shade,' he said, furthering her embarrassment. 'Come on inside and we'll get started.'
Anna followed Greg up the white staircase, taking the chance to drink in his broad shoulders, his narrow hips, his perfect ass. 'So, ah, is this your own house?' Anna asked.
'Yes and no,' he said, leading them into the room they were using. A tripod and camera had already been set up.
Anna waited for him to elaborate, but it never happened. She followed him into the bright room, her heels echoing over the light pine floors as she moved to the black aluminium stool that had been placed in front of the camera.
'Here?' she asked, pointing at the stool.
'Please,' he said, totally uninterested in her as he fiddled in a leather bag that was full of films. 'Just undress and leave your clothes somewhere out of the shot.'
Now that it actually came to it, Anna's heart began to race. She had only expected her ad to bring in college or art school jobs. But Greg Patric's portfolio read like a who's who of the media world. He was a must at London Fashion Week and his last shoot was for American Vogue. Yet in Anna's opinion, his biggest success was his recent exhibition at The Tate. When she'd first got the call on her mobile, she was sure it was a joke. But in spite of it all here she was in Ireland - at his expense - for a two day shoot. Even now she questioned why he would possibly want to photograph her when he could take his pick from the rich and famous and arguably more beautiful. However, when your telephone had just been disconnected, you didn't remind your employer of all the reasons why he shouldn't want to pay you.
'Now just get up on the stool and - oh, I thought you'd be ready by now,' Greg said, turning back to his camera and loading it with a film. 'Do you need anything?'
'No I'm fine. Just, well, this is my first time. Sounds stupid I know...'
Greg smiled, but not wide enough to show his teeth. 'Not stupid, Anna,' he said and Anna thought how strange and good her name sounded in the hands of his easy accent. 'Only time wasting. Sooner we get this done sooner you can get dressed again. Sound good to you?'
Anna opened her mouth to speak but, not trusting herself to say anything intelligent at that point, she closed it again. She smiled tightly and undid the neck-to-hem buttons of her flowery dress. So it was just going to be business. Why did that thought make her feel deflated, when she ought to be relieved at not having to fend off any unwanted advances?
Anna lay her dress on the floor in a heap of lilac and then set to stripping off her baby-pink, silk thongs. She hadn't worn a bra and her berry-brown nipples puckered upon meeting the cold air. Cinching in her stomach, hoping Easters' excesses didn't show too readily on her usually slender waist, Anna walked to the chair and sat upon it. The cold metal shocked her cheeks as she fitted her toes on the rung and waited to begin.
'Beautiful,' Greg said.
Although she was aware that photographers - and possibly American photographers at that - bandied that word around too frequently, it made her smile and sit up a little straighter.
'Okay now just do what feels natural. Play with yourself a little - look at me, look at the camera. Try to keep moving all the time as I get off the first reel of film,' Greg said, hunched down with his eye behind the camera lens.
Anna froze. 'I'm sorry, you want me to touch myself? What kind of shoot is this?'
Greg stood up straight, his loose white clothes stark against his Florida tan. Irritated, he said, 'We went through all this on the phone didn't we? The calendar we're doing is called 'Sexpression.' For that, I need to watch you pleasure yourself - whatever it takes to get you excited. I would have thought that was evident. You're not going to waste my time are you?'
Anna bristled with anger. She felt like a child just told off. But then she thought of the phone bill and how much Greg was actually paying her to do this. 'I'm not doing anything that's pornographic,' she warned.
'Mmhm,' he mumbled, not interested at all. He started snapping the camera and the light flooded her face. 'I need movement Anna.'
Self-conscious, Anna started to stroke her long ebony hair. She lifted it back over her shoulders like a black silken waterfall, so that it tickled her waist. But what she was doing hardly felt sexy.
'That's right, Anna. Yes. Beautiful. More of the same. Gorgeous.'
At least Greg was being encouraging. As he snapped away, the flash shocking her each time it exploded, Anna became more daring. She traced the curves of her breasts with her fingers, down to her abdomen, her hips, back up to toy with her hair. Greg finished the reel and reloaded quickly.
'Is that it?' she asked hesitantly.
'No no, keep going Anna. This is good stuff. You're going to look stupendous.'
She smiled, got brave and stared into the camera lens. She pressed one finger to her lips in a childlike pose and then sucked it, still smiling at the camera. She looked away, the true coquette, letting the soft summer sun from the window kiss her features. The garden was huge, she noticed then, perfectly manicured and populated with hulking, brooding oaks. Slowly she parted her legs and actually grazed the nest of her wiry pubic hairs, stroked the inside of her thigh, traced her fingers up over her breasts and then lifted her hair up high. She was running out of things to do. Another roll was finished.
'Okay good Anna. For this next film I want you to be more daring. Squeeze your breasts together. Insert a finger into your vagina,' said Greg, not even looking her way as he ripped open another film.
How he could say such things so clinically was a mystery to Anna. She didn't think she would be comfortable with doing that, but instead of complaining, she just got on with it and avoided doing what he asked. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
'No no no!' Greg broke off in the middle of a reel. 'Sexpression, Anna! Touch yourself - I want to see you wet - or are you Brits not capable of that? Come on, I want to see you delirious!'
'I don't, I can't...'
'What? You're too embarrassed?'
'No! I just, I don't know what you want me to do, I -'
'Well then I guess I'll have to show you won't I?' he asked and abandoned his tripod. He clicked his fingers and another man came in from nowhere.
Anna clasped her hands over her body, but Greg's fingers grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her. 'Anna, meet my assistant. Don't be shy, he's been watching everything anyway.'
Anna ripped free of Greg's grasp and shielded her breasts. 'What the hell are you planning here?'
'Relax, I'm just going to show you what I want from you and my assistant will take the pictures. Okay?'
Anna's eyes darted to the assistant. He seemed wholly disinterested in her as he fussed with the camera settings. Anna bit her bottom lip. It wasn't okay, not really. But how did you say no to Greg, especially when you hadn't been on a date in months? If she could just pretend the assistant wasn't there...It felt so naughty she nearly giggled.
'Yes,' she said finally.
It was all he needed. Greg's capable, yet slightly chilly hands, grasped her by the shoulders and moved her off the stool. He twisted her around so that her naked back was to his chest. 'Lean your elbows on the stool top,' he whispered, his breath making her neck shiver and exciting goose-bumps.
With his guidance, Anna did as she was told, her breasts squashing against her and her arse in the air, brushing Greg's bulging trouser area. She wanted to feel his dick inside her then more than anything. But she still wasn't certain how far he would go for the shoot.
She needn't have worried.
Greg undid his zip and let his trousers sink to the floor. Carefully, he reached an arm around her and gripped her hand, guiding it to her hot pussy. The wet heat seemed to burn her cold fingers. Greg's hand started to move up and down, bringing Anna's with it, rubbing her eager clit with deep, slow circles. Gradually, Anna got wetter and wetter and, forgetting the assistant, she began to arch forwards to rhythmically meet her own hand.
Greg slipped away and leaned back against the wall, fitting one tanned hand over the bulge in his boxers. His head rolled back, exposing his Adam's apple and reminding Anna of a tiny prick, one yet to be excited. The thought sent a sweet spasm through her and she literally took the plunge and slipped her index finger inside her tight pussy walls. Already she was too big and needed to cram a second finger in to fill the void. The sight made Greg groan and he moved his hand away from his cock, so Anna could see a dark stain of precum on his boxers. That was right before he peeled them off.
Anna inhaled sharply, digging her fingers in deeper and faster. All the while she heard the camera click and whir behind her, felt the flash snap again and again - quicker and quicker - increasingly urgent.
'Now for the head shot,' said Jason, lust burning in his eyes as he strode towards Anna, one hand curled possessively around his erect member. 'Are you getting this Alan?' he asked his assistant.
Anna glanced behind her and saw Alan removing the camera from the tripod. 'Oh yes, loud and clear, Jay,' he said, walking around to Anna's front and kneeling down.
Greg stood close to Anna. So close she could smell him, so close she could see the veins in his dick and almost feel the golden hairs of his legs tickle her chin. Slowly, deliciously slowly, he began to wank himself, just as Anna was doing. As the camera clicked, surely and undeniably coming to the end of its roll, Anna looked up into Greg's heavy eyes. Their gazes remained locked, the only parts of their bodies that were in contact. She felt air waft against her nose as his fist flew up and down, felt the irrepressible surge of her own orgasm as it leaped high and finally broke.
'Oh my God,' she breathed. 'Oh...God.'
The camera snapped Anna gazing up at Greg, one hand shoved inside her pussy, the other gripping the stool's seat. Just then, Greg squeezed his eyes tight shut and then released them as delight drenched his entire body.
Flash. Anna arching, pussy against palm. Flash. Anna gripping her breasts with one hand, tweaking the blood-filled nipples. Flash. Anna's eyes fluttering, mouth parted as a heady orgasm engulfs her body, muscles straining. The camera had caught a moment of pure satisfaction, a moment usually so fleeting but which was now captured forever.
The reel was finished. The furious clench and release of Anna's orgasm ebbed softly away as Greg gradually caught his breath and Anna heard the reel rewind as if ready to receive another.
Greg's eyes found hers. He glanced pointedly at the camera. 'What do you say, shall we load another one?'
To begin with Anna had hoped that the end of the first reel signalled the shoot's climax, but now she didn't want it to be over. 'How do you want me?' she asked, shifting without being ordered into pose after pose after pose.
Copyright (c) Sarah Dobbs 2003
This story first appeared in Issue 12 of 'In The Buff' now re-named THE HOT SPOT. www.hotspotbooks.co.uk All copyrights are recognised and are acknowledged to be the property of their respective owners....
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