Chapter 4.  Monday


Morning Catwalk

I woke up again still straddling Jerry.  My legs were up to the sides of his ass and waist.  The rest of me was lying right on top of him.  The last thing I remembered was his softening cock falling out of my wide-spread pussy.  It was like I hadn’t moved since then.  He hadn’t either except for whatever that stiff thing was poking around my legs and ass.  He was hard again and it was like his cock was looking for a way to get back into me.

The clock-radio was playing softly.  I was surprised that the lively station I liked was playing such sweet, soft stuff.  I expected a reverb riff any second and didn’t want a replay of the morning before.  I sat up on Jerry, leaned over and turned off the alarm and the music.  Jerry’s cock ran down the crack of my ass, across my pussy and smacked his belly while I was reaching.

I sat on him again and noticed two things.  He was sound asleep.  That wasn’t surprising at all.  His stiff cock came out of the place where our bodies met.  It looked almost like it was my cock.  I picked it up and played with it.  I pressed it to my mound and pretended it grew there.  Did it make me want to be a guy?  No!  I’m having too much fun being a girl and that night had been one of the most fun times ever.

His cock made me relive how it felt inside me.  I wanted another taste of that.  I rubbed myself and got wet and ready.  It didn’t take much rubbing with my mind that well focused.  I raised up and slid him right in.

“Uunghh, Emily,” he moaned as my vagina engulfed him.

Hey, he got the name right in his sleep.  I did the rising, falling and dragging my sensitive spots across him again.  I was getting everything I could and gave out with the squealing.  I went through my orgasm with loud squeals and wild wriggling.  I collapsed on him with only my hips wriggling a little.  I started wondering when he’d wake up this time.

“Damn, Emily.  Even when I can get some sleep, you’re still fucking me,” he whispered.  “Roll over.  Let me do the work.”

He was awake, he wasn’t finished and he had my delighted cooperation.  I lay on my back.  He climbed on and got back inside me.  His thrusts and the firm pressure at the end of each one worked on me again.  I was orgasmic right away and stayed like that.  I had my legs around him and my hips bucking for all they’re worth.  Yep, Emily was going through yet another one.

I lasted as long as it took him come and enjoyed every second.  Jerry finished just after I did.  He collapsed on me and lay there cuddling.  Well, he was cuddling at first, then he started that slow heavy breathing he does when he’s asleep.

“No going back to sleep, Jerry.  The alarm went off,” I admonished.  “Lets shower.  Just shower, I promise.”

I did a visit to the toilet, then had to drag him into the bathroom for his turn.  We got to the shower right after that.  The sharp, warm shower spray and his hands made me tingle again on top of the glow.  I just stood there and let him wash, rub and handle whatever parts of me however he wanted.  I think the sight of my body and feel of boobs in his hands started waking him up.

I washed him – just washed him and did it rather quickly.  He stayed soft and yawned a lot.  We dried each other.  Jerry dressed in his workout clothes, kissed me and started walking to his room – all very slowly.  I hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep before he got his morning’s work done.

I turned on the TV and got it on the web site.  The early morning session was at Mr. J studios and so were the late morning and two afternoon sessions.  The instructions called for light makeup and casual hair.  Nothing special about clothes.  Models were to report to show manager Gertrude Nussbaum.

I did my hair in my favorite wave, applied light eye makeup, covered some leftover red spots from paint removal and fluffed my trademark circle of pubic hair.

Breakfast was packed.  Lots of models and our agents had things to do that morning.  I was getting used to being the only one naked at the buffet.  The food was expected to go fast this time.  It was hot, good and plentiful.  Some of the models picked at skimpy portions.  Some were eating normal-looking portions.  I was hungry as hell after working and fucking all night.  Lots of models groaned when they saw how much I’d piled on that plate.

Rachel had shows in the morning and afternoon.  Tish only had something in the morning.  Ari and Mieko, it turned out, were doing the same shows I was.  I didn’t see Tara, and didn’t miss her after the way she kept coming at me.

Jerry came to breakfast a little later.  He was dressed in his suit and his eyelids only drooped a little.  By the time the coffee kicked in, he was his normal professional self.  I asked him about the four runway shows in the same place.

That building houses the studios of four designers, all with professional names that with “Mister” and the initial J.  Those four share a showroom and try to schedule shows on the same day to share the buyers and press in the audience.

I asked and he told about show managers.  Some designers have one of their assistants work backstage in the dressing room to supervise the models.  Some hire professionals.  In either case, the main qualification for a show manager is a drill sergeant’s demeanor.  He knows the manager mentioned for that day’s shows and predicted a smooth, easy time.

I stopped at my room to brush teeth and get my coat after breakfast.  I wondered how may of the models also undid their “normal” breakfast portions.  I need my food and thought “Eww” about the purging.

Jerry took Ari, Mieko and me in the taxi to our show.  We were met at the door by a matronly older woman who Jerry introduced as Ms. Nussbaum.  She corrected him.  The tone in her “Gerty, and nothing else,” showed her drill sergeant qualifications.  Jerry excused himself.  He had to meet new arrivals at the airport and try to get work for some models with free time.  That sounded familiar to me from last season.

Gerty took us to the first dressing room behind the stage that led to the runway.  She pointed us at our racks of clothes.  I got number three.  There were eight models there and eight racks.  One had twice the clothes on it, though.  I recognized the model at that rack instantly – Christy.  She’s been a supermodel for so long that she only needs one name.  She’s about four inches taller than me and maybe thirty pounds lighter.  She has broad, square shoulders, but without any flesh on them, she looks bony.  Her rack is tiny, maybe an A cup, maybe not.  Her skinny build is part of what made her famous.  If it worked for her, I won’t criticize.  I did wonder why her other rack had so many more items on it.

The other models were all stripped to their panties, ready to start walking.  Ari and Mieko got ready, too.  They dropped their coats and dresses.  My coat went, too.  All eight of us were topless – bras just aren’t done on a runway unless that’s what we’re modeling.  I was the only one bottomless.  Gerty raised an eyebrow.  I don’t know if that’s over my figure or that I was going naked, but it seemed like a mild and pleasant surprise rather than shock.

Models noticed me, too.  There was a little whispering around the dressing room and more than a little from Christy and her friends.  I didn’t hear any, but there were probably some meows among the whispers.

I checked over the clothes on my rack.  The sequence tags started with three, then twelve and stepped by nine after that.  Christy had more stuff because she was to go twice for every time we walked.  The first few items were tops.  Number three was a plain white stretch tube.  It was in my size and so were the next few things.  Gerty and the designer already knew my sizes.  That’s not what surprised her.  That stretch thing could leave a red mark if it stayed on too long, so I left it hanging.

I’ve mentioned that the custom now is to model only one thing at a time.  If a top leaves the model bottomless, she has the option to wear panties.  Every one of us is expected to go topless when showing pants or skirts.

Gerty called a huddle.  This is when the designer gets to meet and instruct the models.  Six topless girls and one naked gathered around her.  This show was for Mr. Jared.  Gerty introduced him.  He looked around at all the bare girl-skin surrounding him.  I wondered if he cared.  He didn’t say anything until he saw the last of us join the huddle.

“Ah, Christy, sweetheart.  There you are.  We can’t go very well without you, can we,” he lisped.

I know, I’m terrible at writing people’s accents and manners of speech.  This guy was just so sweet and a real joy to be around.  No, that’s not catty.  I mean it.  He asked us to introduce ourselves, repeated our names back and shook our hands.

He gave me a limp handshake, lingered on me for a moment, then said, “My, how I wish we had more in your size, Emily, dear.”

He kept looking at me as he went through our instructions.  When he moved, there was a definite stiff, wobbling object in his loose, baggy pants.  He told us to make eye contact with the audience and smile as much as we felt like.  That’s really unusual.  Most designers want the models to be moving store dummies.  Christy and several others looked surprised, then shrugged.  This must be their first time working for this guy, too.

“My stuff is sophisticated for the modern woman in modern society.  It’s also casual.  Keep it light and smiling, ‘kay?  Let’s go,” he concluded and left.

I went to my clothes rack and it looked different.  The stretch white tube wasn’t there.  Two very sheer blouses had taken its place.  The sequence tags read “one” and “five.”  Oh, crap!  I was going first.  My hand went to my mouth like it does when I get nervous.  I thought about it a little more.  With this transparent top and my trademark hanging out, I’ll get great exposure.

I tried on number one.  It would have fit Christy quite well with enough room for her boobs to jiggle around inside it.  There was no way I could button it around my chest.  I could close it around my waist, but my boobs pulled it open too abruptly and made the blouse look like crap.  We’re supposed to make the clothes look good.  I left it unbuttoned and presented myself at the stage wing for Gerty’s inspection.

She caught one look at me and glared at Christy.  The supermodel had her back turned and stayed that way.  She was trying to get that stretch tube to stay up.  It didn’t stretch on her.  She was looking for pins.  Gerty had steam coming out her ears.

Mr. Jared started his patter from the podium on the stage.  We were to stand beside him while he described the clothes, then do the catwalk. 

After his greeting to the audience, he started on number one, “Our first number will be shown as usual by our featured model ...”

Gerty interrupted him by waving frantically.  She pointed at me.

“... Emily O’Connell,” Mr. Jared finished with a scowl at Gerty.

He motioned to several assistants around the showroom and waved them backstage.

I was so proud that he remembered my name.  I walked to the podium with my best model moves, crossing my steps over each other and landing my heels hard to make my boobs bounce.  Here was my first catwalk of the season and I was as near to naked as I could be and still get paid.  Was that the joke Christy had tried?  Did she try to get me so naked I’d be embarrassed to walk?  Fat chance.  I was more than happy for my trademark to get this exposure.

The lights weren’t in my eyes that badly, so I could see many of the audience shuffling through their programs. 

“Wasn’t Christy supposed to be featured?  Who is this Emily person?” I imagined them asking.

Mr. Jared finished his blurb about the blouse and I started walking.  It was being pushed around by my boobs and didn’t look that great.  I held it by the bottom button and its hole and pulled the fabric out straight.  That showed off the frills and details that he had talked about.  It was still so transparent that everyone could see my whole chest.

I walked the length of the catwalk with a big, proud smile.  I think I could have made more eye contact, but I was still a little nervous.  The people I could see didn’t care how much eye contact I made.  They were gaping and staring at my trademark and the very bare pussy right under it.

Flashes went off during my last few steps, the pause and caught my back after the turn.  There’s this service that almost all designers subscribe to – EarlyLook.  They put a camera at the end of the runway, take pictures of the designer’s whole line and show them on the internet.  Store buyers subscribe to see the designs for the first few months, then the site is released to the public to build publicity and sales.

EarlyLook photographers take at least two pictures of each garment.  If the model’s breasts or bottom show, that’s worth two more pictures.  The flash popped six times for me.  My trademark little red circle would be on the internet, in a professional context, before lunch.

I almost froze when I turned around.  I hadn’t been paying attention.  I was the only one on the stage or catwalk.  Number two should be walking by now and the announcement for number three should be starting.  There were no other models and even Mr. Jared was not at his podium.

The pause worked for the photographer and I recovered quickly.  I walked up the catwalk as I had walked down it, but I tried harder to look at the audience.  As I got closer to the dressing room, I heard more and more noise from it.  It was louder than the polite applause from the audience.

There was chaos in the dressing room.  Mr. Jared was pointing and calling out numbers.  His assistants were throwing garments around, seemingly at random.  Gerty was catching most of them and hanging them – on my rack.  Now it was Christy who had steam coming out her ears.  She was Not Happy with a capital NOT.  She tried to say something to Gerty.

“You did it to yourself, honey,” Gerty said in her strong voice that allows no backtalk.

I pulled off the blouse that was just hanging on me and hung it on my rack.  I seemed to have number three back again.  It’s coming right up, so I put it on.  The tight part of the tube grabbed my boobs and stretched enough for the color of my areolas to show through.  It was loose and floppy above and below and some of my boobs showed in both places.  I got in line behind Ari who was ready with number two.

“Nice move.  No complaining and no whining.  You just walked it,” Ari complimented me.

“That’s only ‘cause I didn’t have time to think,” I responded.

Mr. Jared was finally satisfied and went to resume the show.  He introduced Ari’s number and Gerty came over to check me.  I bounced on my heels to show how my boobs would jiggle and how the loose parts of the tube wiggled.

“Well, you’re set up as the featured model, honey.  We got stuff that might not fit, but you can live with it.  Don’t fuss, now.  You get paid double for doing twice the work,” she told me.

I got a lot more pants and skirts in my added load because my hips are about average and there were plenty of those things that fit me.  There were these transparent genie pants with a wide decorative belt holding them up.  The audience got warmed up by some of those and by the smiling, happy model.  They gave me applause that matched the nudity.  Those pants and my topless chest got the best applause of the show.

That show went on for about an hour.  I did every fourth or fifth number and got wonderful exposure.  I’ve seen the EarlyLook shots.  I couldn’t have hoped for a better time.  The only problem was Christy.  She was totally pissed.  She finished the show, though.

I was walking the last number of the show.  That was a pair of shorts that was abruptly brief and loose at the same time.  It rode low on my hips, but not low enough to show anything interesting.  Lots of my ass showed at the bottom, though.  I kicked extra high on each step to bounce the loose front.  It showed a flash of my pussy at each step and sometimes my red pubic hair.  EarlyLook caught one of those flashes just right with lots of the hair.

I didn’t get all the way back to the dressing room before the applause picked up a lot.  Mr. Jared had stepped out from behind the podium.  He was doing his mincing walk right toward me.  Something about his gleeful smile and body language made me stop and return the smile.  He hugged me.  The guy lisps and minces, but don’t let that fool you.  He had this huge hardon that I could feel when he pressed tight against me in that hug.

He turned me around and we stood there with his arm around my waist while the audience applauded and EarlyLook flashed away.  I sort-of remembered that this is how shows end – with the designer taking bows and accompanied by some other people - sometimes with assistants, sometimes with models.  This time Mr. Jared was sharing the bows with his featured model – me.  I’m glad that was a surprise or I’d have been nervous again.

I’m also glad I hadn’t seen Christy.  When I did get to the dressing room, I saw and felt her look.  It felt like the darts from her eyes pierced me all over.  She was one pissed off bitch.

Mr. Jared came backstage with me and gathered us together again.  He invited us to the buffet wearing our first numbers.  I stripped off the shorts and reached for number one while he was still talking.  I thought it was a great idea.  I’d get more exposure on the clock and get food, too.

Their buffet is to keep the audience there between shows and gain good will.  They usually have rich pastries, coffee and juices at such an early buffet.  Later ones will feature wine.  They all feature nearly naked models.  Some of the other girls felt intimidated into it – like they had little choice.  A lot of them wore their number one and something else to cover their other half.  No panties showed and only a few were topless.  Me?  I didn’t even try to button that sheer blouse.

Buyers and especially reporters descended on us.  I got more than my share of attention because I was the only one this close to naked.  I accepted congratulations about being a featured unknown and ducked all the questions about Christy.  I expect she did the same.  I was glad and even flattered when some of the reporters mentioned the publication they write for and wrote my name in their notes.

I made several trips to the food table.  On one of them, I found myself looking down into the blond hair with gray roots of a small, sharp-featured, loud-talking woman.  This was the same one who got in my way when I was checking into the hotel.  This time the little diva was demanding wine.  It was on hand for later buffets, so an attendant scurried off to get some.  The little diva gloated to anyone who would listen.  Of course, she stood blocking the way to the food so lots of people had to listen.

She got her wine.  She was giving someone a self-satisfied smile when she turned to step away from the table.  She looked where she was going only after it was too late.  This time she ran into me and took my nipple right in her eye.

“Aah!” she gave a little scream.  “You again!?  Why do you have to be so damned naked?”

“Hey, a bra wire would have actually hurt,” I retorted with more teenage attitude than she was ready for.

All the people around gave little nervous coughs.  The little diva took her wine and stomped off.  The coughs turned to snickers and then laughs when she got far enough away.


Afternoon Catwalk

An assistant came through the buffet and rounded up all the models.  We had be in the second dressing room to get ready for the second show. 

Gerty and two guys were in there rearranging the racks – trading stuff on mine with many others.  This stuff was the swimsuit collection of Mr. James.  I was getting stuff that was one-piece topless, moved a lot when my boobs jiggled or were sheer.  This collection had lots of sheer one-piece that would let me feel dressed and let everyone else see everything.  There were some sheer cover-ups, too.  They came with SPF ratings.  My strong, curvy figure works great with swimwear like this.  Looked like that stuff would show me off as much as I would show it off.

Mr. James instructions were to move a lot to show how the suits move.  Right - a long winded way to get us to bobble and jiggle as much as possible.  There wasn’t any “featured” model, but I got number one.  I put on the bikini with supporting bra and see-through fabric in the top and bottom.

I got glares from Christy.  She was stuck with stuff that covered her small figure too much and even got a maternity suit.  I got six more flashes from EarlyLook that made me not care about Christy.  They didn’t let me forget, though.  I must have looked like I didn’t get it.

One of the other models poked me with an elbow and said, “Ya don’t fuck with the queen bee.”

That one, Christy and another one in their posse didn’t even look at me again during the show that lasted more than an hour.  The audience looked a lot, though.  Mieko even remarked that I was getting more applause than any of the other models.

We were invited to the buffet again at lunch time, wearing our pick from the rack we’d just modeled.  I grabbed a topless one-piece.  It had a loop around my neck and wide straps down the center of the front and back to the waistband.  A one inch wide sheer strip went from the waist over my mound, over my pussy and up my butt crack to the back of the waistband.  My bottom felt dressed, but I knew my trademark was going to get a lot of attention.  My chest felt naughty.  That strap was wide enough to press and rub against the insides of my boobs with every move.  Even when I’d been going naked so much, that suit made my boobs feel undressed.

Gerty caught me just after I filled my plate.  A columnist wanted to interview me because I was such a big hit that morning.  She said the columnist writes about fashion personalities for weekly and monthly rags.  She also does TV stuff about celebrities arriving at award shows.  That part tipped me off.  I wasn’t totally shocked when she took me to a small room where we found the little gray-rooted diva waiting for me.

Ms Lakes, the aforesaid diva, looked me up and down.  She sighed, but I don’t know at what.  She’s in trim shape for someone old enough for gray hair.  She looked at my plate and sighed again.  She didn’t have her lunch yet, but she did have her wine.  We started in on questions about nudity and modeling such revealing stuff.  She remarked about me getting all the showy numbers.

“It’s like you don’t really need clothes.  Are you a nudist?” she asked.

“Not really.  I think of nudism or naturism as being enforced sexlessness,” I answered.  “I go naked because it’s fun and sexy.”

“You really are a newcomer.  Not much modeling in your background at all,” she commented after she asked about my background.  “But sports?  High school?  Just how old are you?”

“Fifteen?” I said wondering whether that answer would be good or bad.

“Well, you’ll do okay.  Pretty soon they’ll have you doing a calendar, probably with a lot of naked shots,” she predicted.

I let her know, “Shot it Saturday.  All naked.”

“Well, you’re doing pretty good for yourself.  I’ll have to forgive you for putting my eye out.”

“And I’ll forgive you for deafening me in the hotel,” I was feeling a little too good.

“Impertinent,” she whispered, got up and stomped off in the direction of the buffet.


They rounded us up and herded us to the first dressing room for the first afternoon show.  I passed Gerty, Mr. James and Mr. Jared talking to another man in a gaudy ruffled suit.

“But we don’t feature any one model,” said the frilly guy.

“Give her tops.  She’ll go bottomless.  This audience has been eating that up all day,” suggested Mr. Jared.

“Her chest is great, too.  How can I exploit that?” asked the first guy.

“That’s why they tried to stick her with the sheer top,” Gerty explained.  “She goes for the bare stuff, but ... Oh.  Emily.  This is Mr. Jeffery.  Pose here for a second.  She’s not exactly standard size.”

“Give me tops I don’t have to button?” I suggested.

All of them rolled their eyes and Gerty pointed me at rack three again.  This time the racks were full of business suits and dressy daytime dresses.  Very little skin would show if these things were worn as intended, but that’s not how we modeled them.  Gerty and Mr. Jeffery’s people started putting jackets on my rack.  They told me to leave them unbuttoned and let my boobs push out.  That would be great for showing my trademark, too.

The first time they tried to take a jacket from Christy’s rack, she launched into a tirade.  I won’t repeat the diatribe because it was all venom directed at me.  It even had stuff about how I got an interview that she should have had.  She kept going loud and long until Mr. Jeffery showed up.

She pointed at me and put the final demand to him, “Her or me.  She goes or I’m outta here!”

Mr. Jeffery walked up to her, looked her in the eye and said, “Hmm.  Let me think.  An over-the-hill bitching diva or a hardworking kid who looks better and costs one third as much?  Bye-bye, Christy.”

Christy’s jaw dropped.  When she recovered she motioned to the two that ran with her.  All three of them left.  They just walked out.  I guess you can do that after you’ve made supermodel rates for a few years.

Mr. Jeffery gave Gerty a sheepish look.  He’d just blown her modeling plan and the show would run way overtime without enough models.  I grabbed my cell phone and speed-dialed Jerry.

“Hey, do you have three girls with nothing to do this afternoon?” I asked him without any preliminaries.

“Yes ... at least three,” was his wary answer.

“Talk to the manager,” I told him.

I took the phone to Gerty and did my best terse New Yorker imitation, “Talk to the agent.”

Ten minutes later, Jerry came in with Tish, Tara and one other in tow.  They were hired on the spot and got the departed models’ racks.  Tish introduced me to Mandy, one Jerry had to pick up that morning.

Tish also said, “Jerry said to thank you for getting us this show.”

Tara was dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, yes.  Thank.  You.”

“Hey, all I did was tell him that there were openings.  He got you the jobs,” I replied.

Mandy blushed and said, “Thanks anyway.  I really need the work.”

They stripped to their panties and we all got into our first numbers.  I had a jacket for number one followed by Tish in the skirt and Mandy in a blouse.  They’d look great together if they were all on one woman.  As it was, my tits and trademark, Tish’s tits and Mandy’s panties got as much exposure as the clothes.  The audience applauded and EarlyLook flashed a lot, so we knew it was working.

This show was a lot more friendly, at least the models in it were more friendly to me.  I didn’t miss Christy and her pissy attitude at all.  The show ended almost on time and was a great success.  That was measured by how all the models got people’s attention during the wine and cheese buffet afterward.  I heard later that is was also a success measured by the orders Mr. Jeffery got.

The final show was back to casual and sports wear.  Mr. Jamaal had loose tied-up shirts, puffy cropped peasant tops, micro-short skirts and shorts.  He was a little far the other way in his instructions to us.

“This isn’t about you.  It’s about the artistry of my creations.  Show the clothes and don’t be distracting,” he said, then he looked at me.  “Well, at least try not to be.”

This time I got almost all bottoms.  Those micro-skimpy things ride really low.  They were down as far as they could go and still show only the start of my butt crack.  They sloped down from there as they came around to the front.  They showed all of my mound and most of my trademark circle of pubic hair.  They all had a lining sewn in that kept them down in place.  They were so short there could be no riding up at all.  Those bottoms were just crying for a panty-free model.  They got one – in a straight face with eyes up and forward.  Sometimes it’s fun and sometimes it’s work.

All the store buyers and reporters were out of there after that fourth show.  Gerty made a point to say something to me when I was getting my coat.

“You have all our votes – about six I think,” she said and I was totally puzzled.

“Thanks.  Glad I could do what you needed,” I tried to be gracious.


Evening Catalog

We were out of there soon after that.  Jerry showed up to collect all the models from our agency and stuff us into one taxi.  It got cozy, but just for a few minutes.  We were all like “Did you see when ...” and “That looked so ...”  We were all saying funny things and even Tara wasn’t picking on anyone.

I got to relax for about an hour.  A few minutes of that went to algebra homework.  After that was the reception before supper.  This was more like a social hour or happy hour.  There weren’t as many invited guests – just a lot of models after a hard day’s work.  The bartender didn’t challenge me when I asked for a glass of wine again.  That made me feel grown up ... mature and accepted among the adults.

Some photographers from a fashion weekly came in and asked to do some shots for an editorial.  Jerry, Helen and the other agents had them do limited releases, then gave the okay.  They shot us in groups in front of the buffet or against a wall.  We all had wine glasses in our hands.

After the group shots, they got some of the more famous models alone.  Rachel went first.  Two shots later they came for me.  I squeaked and put my hand over my mouth.  I am not in that class.  Maybe someday, but ... now?  I got over it and did good poses, of course.

Two models I’d met before came in just before the food service started.  This time they were naked.  It looked like they were trying it out without being stuck in too much of the social hour.  I gave them smiles and started a conversation about their day.  They were all too happy to talk about something beside their nakedness.  Tara wasn’t ready to do even that.  She rolled her eyes and stayed away from the three of us with her tararists.

Willis came through the room reminding Rachel, Tish and me that we were supposed to eat early and get to the catalog shoot.  I loaded up my plate again, but skipped any second trips to the buffet, even desert.  I’d had plenty at all those tables between shows.

Jerry lit into me when he got there, “What did you do at that first show?  Christy has half the models in town ready to tear you apart.”

“I was innocent ... really.  Christy was trying to set me up and embarrass me ‘cause I didn’t have panties.  She gave me her first sheer thing and they gave me the rest of her workload.  I just walked what they gave me,” I claimed.

“Way to stay professional.  They gave you Christy’s fee – super and doubled – and were happy to do it.  Their only problem after the show was getting enough sheer fabric for all their orders.”

I took longer to eat than Tish or Rachel, so Gilda did their makeup and hair first.  When all of us were ready, we kept going with the Hopewear lingerie.  That night the racks were filled with more flowing robes and loose nightwear.  They were all sheer and showy and obviously were for the more mature members of Katarina’s Hope clientele.  Yes, they made me feel more mature, but not in a good way.  Oh, well.  Sometimes it’s fun and sometimes it’s work.

The lingerie racks were empty with more than an hour and a half to go in the scheduled shoot.

“Told ya so,” Ralph taunted Julian who rolled his eyes.

Julian had another set of racks ready.  These were filled with dresses.  Katarina’s Hope dresses are for the times to be naughty.  They are daring and even revealing party and clubbing dresses.  There were lots of cutouts, plunges, tightness and shortness on those racks.

Julian specifically picked my first.  It was green to match my eyes and had a neckline cut down to my cleavage.  No, not that cleavage.  Look lower – down past my trademark.  It comes with double sided tape to hold it at exactly the right depth.  Julian took utmost delight in applying that tape to my labia and attaching the dress so the little red circle of pubic hair showed, but nothing more.  He made sure it didn’t stick to any hair and pulled it off gently when the shot was done.  Dontcha just love it when a guy is so helpful?  Dontcha just love it when his cock almost tears through his pants?

I danced around in the dress while Ralph and Willis were adjusting lights and the backdrop.  Julian watched intently and I saw the bulge in his pants twitching.  Willis had to turn his back to pay attention to the lights.  Tish just rolled her eyes.  Rachel stared at me with her mouth open ... absolutely salivating.

“Don’t do that to me unless you’re ready to follow through,” she whispered and punched at me playfully.

Julian and Willis did stuff with Rachel’s clothes when she needed it.  They were more careful with Tish.  They got me horny again.  They were always making sure my boobs were lined up just right and taping low-cut backs to my ass.  We kept up the pace, so Ralph let us have our fun again.

Rachel didn’t help the horniness.  She was whistling at me under her breath or patting my ass whenever we got close.  At first I blushed and looked away.  After the last shot, she grabbed my ass and dug her fingers in.  I just looked at her smiling seductively back at me.

“Maybe someday,” she sighed.

I realized that this was the same reaction as the guys were showing in their pants.  She liked me, was turned on by me and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Jerry’s more to my taste, though.  I looked for him in the fitness room.  He was there running on the treadmill again.  This time his tight round ass was showing itself off in short spandex shorts.  All the details showed through the thin tight fabric.  My knees wobbled as I walked around in front of him.  All the details showed in front, too.

He took one glance at me, jumped off the treadmill and grabbed me.  He pulled me tight to him with one hand on my ass making sure the hug was tight all the way down.  I felt all the details of his front then.  He was getting hard and the shorts were holding him down.  I wriggled against him mercilessly.

“So I take that as a yes,” I said when he took his tongue out of my mouth.

He straightened his cock, pulled me tight against him again and resumed the deep, probing kiss.  He tried to lift me by the ass and carry me, but that didn’t work.  I went with him eagerly.  He didn’t need the caveman approach.  He did it anyway.  I led the way into my room.  By the time I was near the bed, his shorts were on the floor.  He ran right through me and body slammed me again.  I got my legs around him so he fell with me and we bounced on the bed together.  It actually felt good, especially when his hand got between my legs and got my pussy aroused.

“Ralph was saying you didn’t have much more lingerie to go.  I really wanted you to finish early tonight,” he said between kisses.

“We did and they moved on into tomorrows stuff,” I answered.

By then he had my pussy running wet, my hips wriggling  and I started squealing.  He pressed gently into me and got his cock wet with my juices.  When he got all the way in, he started hammering me hard.  Each stroke slammed into my pussy and pinched my clit.  I liked it.  His roughness was just in bounds.  I was as horny as I thought from the sexy clothes and from being handled so much during the shoot.  He got me off extra quick.

The orgasm started quickly, was way intense and didn’t last all that long.  That all came from Jerry’s vigorous action.  He didn’t slow down after I came.  He kept going and got me going again.  His hands squeezing boobs made me give appreciative sighs.  His hips rubbing the insides of my legs made me give little soft squeals.  His hard cock running in and out over my labia and the sensitive spots in my vagina had me giving louder squeals on each stroke.  The sharp pinches my clit got brought sharp loud squeals that built higher and louder each time.

I wasn’t paying attention to my voice when I came.  I think I was actually screaming and I know that second orgasm lasted a long time.

Recovery took a long time, too.  We’d both been going at it hard, so we were both breathing hard.  He rolled off and invited me to snuggle against him.  You can bet I did.  I lay against him feeling more and more perky while he nodded off to sleep.  I ran my hands over his chest and rippling stomach.  After a few minutes I started to play with his soft penis and cup his balls.

He started getting hard.  He rose right there in my hand.  I was thrilled.  The thought of getting him excited and making him rise in his sleep got to me.  My other hand got to me, too.  I was wet and ready.

I climbed on top of him, spread my juices on his now-stiff cock and settled it into me.  I did wriggling thrusts, then started dragging my mound and tits over him.  He woke up moaning when I did that.

“Oooh,” he groaned.  “Don’t you ever quit?”

“I’m feeling like a predator tonight.  Do predators ever quit?” I answered with a giggle.

Dragging over him, running his hard cock in and out and wriggling with my legs around his hips got me off fairly soon.  He was tired.  Oh, he stayed hard, but he just lay there and he lasted a looong time.  I caught two orgasms before he finally came.  After that he was gasping, so I rolled off him.

“Umm, Emily?” made me think “uh-oh.”

“This is so wonderful and you’re so sexy, but I can’t sleep with you all night tonight.  It’s too much work.  I fell asleep at the wrong times today.  Enjoy a good night’s sleep.  After these times with the sexiest model in town, I know I will.”

“Okay, if you have to.  C’mon and shower,” I invited.

I tried to be coy and seductive in the shower – stroking and kissing at him non-stop.  I used my tits on him in ways that worked before, too.  He only sighed and told me to quit.  He kept slapping my hand away from his cock.  He finally put me out of the shower until he finished.

I stood there naked, dripping and pouting outside the shower.  He noticed the pout and made an exaggerated roll of his eyes.  That started me giggling and laughing.  He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel.  I pounced.  I leaped on him, hung myself on him with my arms around his neck and started the kissing again.  He was body slammed against the wall.

“Good night, horny predator,” he said when he pried my tongue out of his mouth.

He did let me exchange kisses after he slipped into his shorts.  Then he slipped out the door.  I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep in moments.  He may not have been the only tired one that night.




Geffo's Naked Universe Index

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