Filename: ImmodestProposal.txt
Title: An Immodest Proposal
Author: Knickers
Universe: Nicola Adventures
Keywords: FF exhib mc? rape?
Summary: A debt is repaid, and a model finds a new direction in her career.

Disclaimer: The following story contains sex scenes and 
rude words. It's fairly tame, and I'm pretty broad-
minded, but the decency laws in most states would 
require it not be read by persons under 18. Also, if 
you're offended by adult themes, you should probably 
leave now.



 More importantly, this tale features women presented 
as sexual objects. There is nothing wrong with this as 
they are only fictional characters. I urge readers, 
especially young males, to not regard real women in this 
way.



 This work is © 2009 the author. Permission is granted 
to freely distribute, provided it is not altered in any way. 
It may not be posted to any website or included in any 
archive without the author's permission.



 There is no Nicola. All characters are fictitious. The 
situations are made-up. This is only a fantasy, and any 
similarity to real persons, events & institutions is pure 
coincidence.



 An Immodest Proposal (FF exhib mc? rape?)





 The moment she saw him waft in through the door, 
Margie knew it wasn't going to be an ordinary day.



 It was after 11. The office was busy, as always. Trevino 
Talent was the largest agency in Melbourne. The fourth 
floor of the Herald Building was buzzing with activity, 
phones ringing, people rushing to and fro, heated 
arguments and racous laughter as the entertainment 
industry rushed to churn out the constant stream of 
music and images our culture craves.



 And yet, the moment Margie saw him enter, smiling 
that ever-so-slight enigmatic smile of his, it seemed as if 
it all stopped. Just for a moment, the whole world 
ground to a halt. For all she knew, it really did.



 He strode toward her, ignoring the tumult of activity 
all around them, ignoring the slightly open-mouth gape 
of astonishment she gave him, even ignoring the big 
MARGIE TREVINO - MANAGING DIRECTOR 
sign engraved in crystal on the door of her private office.



 "Hello Margie," he murmured, softly, in that damned 
Manhattan accent of his.



 "What are you doing here?" Margie finally managed to 
speak.



 He grinned. "Time to pay the piper."



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



 Margie always kept a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black 
Label stashed in her desk. There was always gossip 
about the licentious appetites of those in the talent biz, 
and in Margie's case they were pretty much untrue. 
However, there are always moments when a girl needs a 
good stiff drink.



 "Easy," he said, as she downed the second glass in a gulp. 
"It ain't even lunch time yet."



 She paused, glass poised midway to her lips, watching 
him warily, out of the corner of her eye, as a bird 
watches a cat.



 "Last I heard you were based in LA."



 "Still am. I've come down here to pay a visit, and see if 
I can't find some new and exciting talent."



 Margie made the connection instantly. "Oh no, you're 
not going to-"



 "You owe me," he cut her off sternly. For a moment his 
friendly American charm vanished.



 It was true, she did owe him. Owed him everything. Her 
career, her own agency... if it hadn't've been for her 
handsome, mysterious American friend, Margie would 
never have been able to create her own little empire.



 A sullen silence settled over Margie's office. Finally, he 
consented to sip the drink she had given him before 
knocking back a couple of her own.



 Margie always knew he'd come and collect on the debt 
someday. Or maybe she'd forgotten about it. New York 
had been so long ago and so far away. Back in her 
native Melbourne, Australia, Margie had grown older 
and wiser.



 "I'm looking for someone new. Young, gorgeous. 
Australian. Sexy foreign accents are very in in 
Hollywood right now. A hot Aussie babe with just the 
right attitude."



 "I can't," Margie murmured. "I know what kind of 
career she'd have."



 "It would be fun, I promise. First rule of being one of 
my clients: you gotta enjoy yourself."



 Margie shook her head. Reluctantly, she placed her 
empty glass back on her desk.



 Undettered, he tried a different tack.



 "I, ah, heard about Cathie."



 Cathie. Even after a year her name still had the power to 
squeeze Margie's heart like a vice. She tryed to shrug it 
off. "Yeah, well... yknow how it goes in this business." 
Well, he probably didn't, he wasn't normal.



 "Bad break?"



 Margie nodded. Cathie had been more than her 
girlfriend, more than her lover, she'd been a sizeable 
chunk of her personal reality. When she'd stormed out, 
gone to take the job in London... the words "bad break" 
didn't come close to describing the pain Margie had felt.



 Still felt.



 "I'm sure that whoever I choose to come back to LA 
with me would be very grateful to you for everything 
you've done. I'd bet that lucky girl would be very 
willing to make her departure very memorable for both 
of you."



 Margie's eyes flashed in anger. He was bribing her with 
sex?! Sure, it had been a long time since Margie had felt 
the gentle caress of a lover's hands across her body. But 
she was like a mother to her girls. They were more than 
clients. And no matter what, Margie had always been 
careful to keep it strictly business.



 But was there any point in arguing with him? He held 
all the cards, and they were probably marked as well.



 "Alright," Margie said. "I'll get you what you want. But 
you don't have to go that far. I've never taken 
advantage of my girls and I'm not about to start now."



 He smiled. Beamed. He always got his way.



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



 They repaired to Conference Room 3. Margie ordered a 
mocca and they sat with the agency's books splashed out 
across the table. There were strict instructions not to 
disturb the boss.



 He flicked through the pages, pausing on each one with 
lips pursed. He was the eternal connisseuer of 
femininity. His requirements were, no younger than 19, 
no older then 22. Tall, slim, and a decent sized bust. 
That was the only criteria he gave to Margie, although 
she guessed he was looking for something more, 
something not normally stated on a talent card.



 His eyes eagerly devoured each headshot, assessing the 
vital qualities of each girl. Blonde, brunette, readhead. 
Black, white, asian. He looked at them all. Trevino was 
a big agency, and Margie had collected many clients, 
but despite the range she'd met them all, knew all of 
them on a personal level, and each and every time he 
paused to closely examin a candidate, Margie felt a 
twinge of guilt over who she was throwing to the lions.



 Abrupty he stopped and glared at her. "It's not like 
that," he rebuked her, as if reading Margie's mind. Hell, 
for all she knew, he could read her mind. But Margie 
had repped enough TV psychics to know that an eye for 
detail and a keen sense of human nature were all it 
really took.



 "What kind of work exactly can she expect?" Margie 
shot back.



 "Glamour modelling," he replied, industry code for 
nudity. "Softcore direct-to-video movies. All above 
board. No porn, at least, not hardcore. And I can assure 
you that whoever the lucky girl is, she will enjoy it."



 "Yeah? How do you know that?"



 "Because it's one of the qualities that I'm looking for."



 Margie sniffed. He was describing some kind of slut. 
There were none of them on Trevino's books. All good 
girls. Sure, some of them modelled for the men's 
magazines. People, Picture, Penthouse, Playboy. But 
Margie worked hard to make sure that it was all kept 
clean and legitimate. Just because a girl takes her 
clothes off for a living didn't make her a whore. Margie 
had a certain distaste for that kind of work (and she 
liked to think it wasn't just because she was a lesbian), 
but, as Cathie had always argued, it didn't make good 
business sense to cut out such a large part of the market.



 "Hmmm..." he murmured. Margie leaned over to see 
who it was had caught his keen eye.



 "Nicola Baron?" Sure, she was ravishingly beautiful, 
but not exactly what Margie would think he was after.



 "Nicola doesn't do nude. Some lingerie, but that's it." 
Margie almost laughed, she'd always imagined him as 
infallible and all-knowing. That he would think Nicola 
Baron was a suitable candidate for the kind of career he 
was planning was absurd.



 But he was right about how stunning Nicola was. 
Margie had first met Nicola when she was 17, and had 
been instantly struck by her special kind of beauty, her 
laid back girl-next-door charm and a sophisication 
that belied her youth.



 "Yes," he breathed, as if savoring Nicola's beauty 
already. "She definitely has potential."



 Margie buzzed on the intercom and had her assistant 
bring through Nicola's portfolio.



 He took his time, lingering over every picture. Nicola 
had been modelling professionally since she was 15, 
starting out in the dregs of Kmart catalogues. But 
fashion was her forte, she possessed the grace, the poise, 
the liquid elegance of a catwalk model, and by 16 
Nicola's lithe figure was gliding along the runways of 
fashion shows in Melbourne, Sydney and even London. 
But there was more to Nicola's repoitre than that. 
Swimwear, lingerie, and even a few acting classes 
rounded off her talents.



 Just because Nicola didn't do any nude modelling, 
though, didn't mean there was nothing erotic in her 
portfolio. Margie allowed her eyes to wander across a 
revealing photo of Nicola wearing a silk blouse open to 
reveal her breasts wrapped in a lacy Elle brassiere. The 
garment bulged, attempting to keep her cleavage in 
place. Nicola stared out of the picture, a slight smile 
dancing on her lips, as if teasing the viewer to lean and 
look closer at her scarely-concealed charms.



 Another page, another picture. Nicola in a bikini, 
rolling across a beach. Wet sand plastered against her 
flesh, eyes closed, head thrown back as if captured at the 
moment of orgasm.



 "She definitely possesses a sexual quality. It's tempered 
by her shyness, and that make her all the more enticing. 
Yes, I'll need to meet this Nicola, in person."



 Margie felt just the slightest twinge of guilt as she 
replied, "I'll set it up."



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



 Nicola was at a shoot that day, so the meeting wasn't 
until the next day. Margie greeted the delay with a 
mixture of anxiety and longing. She was nervous about 
how her mysterious old friend would handle the 
beautiful young Nicola, but at the same time Margie 
couldn't help but wonder what the end result of this 
experiment would be.



 As to be expected, he was at the office early. Even 
earlier than Margie. She'd known him for years, they 
were old friends, but still there was something about this 
strange, powerful man that made Margie 
uncomfortable. Here, at Trevino Talent, she was empress 
of all she surveyed, and she wasn't used to feeling this 
way.



 There was a small studio in the office. He'd brought a 
camera to take some test shots. The atmosphere was very 
professional as he checked the lights and positioned the 
reflectors. And once again, he seemed to know what she 
was thinking.



 "Cold feet?"



 Margie shook her head, but it wasn't too convincing.



 He set aside the tripod and glided alongside the agent. 
"You don't think this will be a great adventure for her?"



 "I'm sure it'll be all good fun," Margie replied with 
heavy sarcasm. He laughed. "Didn't you enjoy yourself?"



 "That was different," Margie replied. "Nicola's not like 
that, she's not that kind of girl."



 He raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"



 "No! That's not what I mean. It's just... this isn't her."



 "We'll see," he replied, grinning like a wolf.



 The studio door burst open and in marched the most 
breath-taking young woman you could ever hope to 
meet. She was young, barely out of her teens, but still 
possessing an air of maturity. She was tall, statuesque, 
and carried her self with a firm confidence in her own 
sexuality.



 He'd been in this industry for years, but never had he 
laid eyes on a model quite like this girl.



 The young woman tossed her long, straight chestnut-
coloured tresses and greeted her agent with a warm 
smile.



 "Margie!"



 The older woman greeted her warmly, exchanging an 
affectionate peck on the cheek (did she know Margie 
was a lesbian, he wondered. Interesting...)



 She was so bright and sparkling, even the pure white 
walls of the studio looked pale next to the model's 
dazzling smile.



 "Nicola Baron, there's someone here who wants to meet 
you very much..."



 As Margie introduced them, he appriased her beauty 
up close. Nicola had a wonderful bosom, only a B-cup, 
but on her slim figure she looked stacked. She was 
dressed in a white blouse, open at the neck to reveal her 
copper-toned throat and just the smallest hint of her 
chest. The ensemble was rounded off with a pair of 
Guess jeans, the fit snug around her hips. Nicola's 
wardrobe was casual, everyday, but on her it seemed as 
sexy as hell.



 "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Baron," he smiled 
warmly as he extended his hand.



 "Likewise," Nicola replied, gently enveloping his hand 
with her own as they shook. There was a definite 
excitement to her voice, and he could feel his blood 
rising at being so close to such an enchanting youg 
woman.



 "I represent an agency in Los Angeles, looking for a 
beautiful young woman who may be interested in 
relocating. Margie and I were going through Trevino's 
books and your lovely face seemed to be perfect."



 "Oh, thank-you," Nicola gushed. "Yes, I'd love to go and 
work overseas."



 They took a seat, Nicola looking ever-so-elegant as she 
sat down and crossed her legs.



 "The work will primarily be print modelling, to begin 
with, and we'll look for suitable movie parts. But 
broadly speaking you may be required to fulfil a variety 
of roles in the entertainment industry."



 "Sounds great!"



 "First, I'd like to interview you though, get to know you 
very well. Find out all the intimate details of Miss 
Nicola Baron."



 Margie raised an eyebrow. In this situation, if that line 
had come from anyone else but him, Margie would've 
guessed in an instant what was really going on. But that 
kind of sleaze was not his style. Whatever else her 
friend was, he was gentleman who sold fantasy but did 
nothing else.



 Nicola, however, just laughed. "No worries!" Was she 
naive? Or perhaps something else was going on...



 They began with her stats. He'd read them before, in her 
card, but it was always more stimulating to hear the 
lady in question spell it out.



 "I just turned 20 three weeks ago. I'm 5'9", and my 
measurements are 38B-24-35. I've been modelling since 
I was 15. Mostly fashion, runway modelling and shows, 
catalogues, but I'm also taking acting classes."



 Without so much as clearing his throat, he asked, 
"Have you ever posed nude?"



 Nicola's didn't bat an eyelid. "No, I've done some fairly 
revealing bikini and lingerie shoots, but never nude."



 He continued in a similarly probing vein. "Do you have 
a boyfriend right now?"



 "No, I haven't really had a steady boyfriend for a while. 
Just random guys I like to see every now and then." 
Nicola blushed, ever so slightly, the closest thing to 
discomfort she'd shown so far.



 "Are you a virgin?"



 Again, Nicola didn't seem to mind, or even notice, the 
incredibly personal nature of his questions. "No, my first 
time when I was 16. I've slept with three guys since 
then."



 "Do you enjoy sex?"



 "Sure! I just gotta find the right guy to be with."



 "And what kind of guy is that?"



 Nicola shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Dunno. I can 
fancy just about any man. Young, old, slim... a little 
overweight even. Last bloke I slept with was 35."



 He grinned. "Do you fancy me?" Nicola giggled. "Tall, 
handsome stranger from America. Yeah, you're pretty 
cute."



 "Have you ever performed oral sex?"



 "No. A couple of the guys have been down on me, but 
I've never returned the favour."



 Margie was slightly stunned but the brazen nature of 
his inquiry, and no less stunned by the young Nicola's 
nonchalant answers. Of course, knowing him, she 
shouldn't be that surprised, but to see him working his 
magic, right before her eyes, was breathtaking, in more 
ways than one.



 "Excellent, thank-you Nicola. If you don't mind, I'd 
like to take some test shots now."



 "Sure," Nicola replied. "Where do you want me?"



 He indicated the white screen, as Margie fired up the 
battery of lights. "Can you lose the shoes please?" Nicola 
complied, kicking off the flats she was wearing, standing 
barefoot in front of the camera.



 They ran through a few poses. Nicola threw her head 
back, running her fingers through her luxurious hair. 
He murmured encouragement, snapping away on the 
digial camera. After only a short time, he instructed 
Nicola to undo the top three buttons of her blouse. 
Nicola's elegant fingers nimbly unbottoned her shirt and 
gave it a flick so that it opened far enough to let her 
Bendon-clad breasts fall forward with an enticing 
blouse.



 Margie felt hot. She'd done this a thousand times, been 
backstage at countless fashion shows and seen many of 
her girls (including Nicola) speed-stripping off one 
outfit before throwing on another, and she'd always 
maintained her professional cool. But this time, Margie 
could feel her body responding. She could feel herself 
getting turned on by the sight of the incredibly sexy 
young model stripping before the camera.



 Once again, he seemed to know what she was thinking. 
Without even looking in Margie's direction, he began to 
talk:



 "That's what our business's all about, really. Sex. Not 
the actual act itself, but the appearance. Sex appeal. 
Sexiness. When we say a girl is hot, we're saying we 
want to fuck her. We won't, of course. But we want to, 
and she, knowing that we'll never have her, wants us to 
go on wanting her. And that's what we're trying to do, 
capture on the film the absolute, pure look of sex. But 
not the act itself."



 "Yeah, I know," Nicola replied. "There are times when 
I'm on a shoot and I get turned on. I dunno if it's the 
situation, or if it's me, but there are moments where I 
just get aroused. And my nipples are as hard as 
anything. And everyone around me knows what I'm 
thinking about but they don't say anything. Or the 
photographer will say, 'yeah, that's great, keep doing 
that,' like it's just an act, to get a great picture with my 
nipples poking through a lacy bra, or whatever."



 He paused in his snapping and smirked at her. "And 
whatabout now? Are you aroused now, Nicola?"



 She blushed, and dissolved into giggles. Her elegant 
palms grazed across her boobs. "Yeah, little nipple action 
going on." It made for a great shot.



 "You are very sexy, Nicola. What you need is a sexy 
nickname."



 Nicola posed with her shoulders back, her hands on her 
head, her chest thrust forward.



 "I've never had a nickname before. Do I need one?"



 "It would be a great asset in LA. If you have a cute 
name it's more likely to stick in the head of a producer 
or a director."



 "Hmmm..." Nicola struck an exaggerative thoughtful 
pose, her head turned upwards and to the left, her index 
finger pressed into her right cheek. A flash captured this 
stance on camera. "Any ideas?"



 "I represent a rather busty Russian girl named Titania. 
She likes to be called 'Tits'."



 Nicola burst out laughing, cupping her own breasts 
with her hands. "I'm glad that one's taken!"



 They settled back into a business-like routine, him 
reeling off instructions and Nicola obeying as more 
pictures were snapped. Margie melted into the 
background alittle, watching Nicola do what she did 
best. It was easy to sneer at the business of modelling, to 
be paid vast sums of money to stand there and have 
your picture taken, but this gorgeous young girl 
demonstrated why not everyone can do it. She was 
enchanting, alluring, it was hard not to stare at her 
beauty, and in staring at her Margie felt her heart grow 
warm. Margie even found her gaze drifting down to 
Nicola's bare feet, which looked stunningly erotic.



 She was developing feelings for her protege (or ex-
protege, she should say). Feelings no agent should have 
for her talent. Margie wanted to wrap her arms around 
Nicola and smother her perfect face in kisses. 
Embarassed by that sudden, licentious thought, Margie 
glanced away, but moments later her gaze drifted back 
to the model.



 "Could you remove your jeans, please," he said softly. It 
wasn't a request.



 With a faint ripping sound, Nicola tugged down the 
zipper. Thrusting her fingers into the waistband, Nicola 
pushed the garment over her hips, down her shapely legs, 
letting them slide to her feet. Deftly, Nicola kicked them 
out of frame.



 "Good, excellent," he murmured. The words of 
encouragement were punctuated by more camera 
flashes. Nicola's crisp white blouse barely covered her 
white Bendon bikini briefs. Margie smiled, Nicola could 
make even the homliest of lingerie brands as sexy as 
hell. There was just the slightest hint of dark, betraying 
the presense of her pubic hair beneath the thin veil of 
material.



 "Now undo all the buttons."



 Again, there wasn't a mumur of protest from the model. 
But, of course, this wasn't quite uncharted territory for 
Nicola, who had modelled in her underwear before. As 
if performing a chaste striptease, Nicola slipped open 
each of the buttons. The matching bra was on display 
now, the cups cut low enough to show her luscious 
bosom to good effect, the fabric light enough to should 
the outline of her dark nipples.



 "Nice tan," he commented. "How do you keep it?"



 "Regular salon sessions."



 "No nude sunbathing, then?"



 Again, Nicola dissolved into a fit of giggles. "No!" she 
squealed through the laughter. "You're obsessed with 
seeing me naked."



 He shrugged. "What's wrong with seeing you naked? 
You've got a beautiful body."



 Nicola recovered her poise. "Thank-you," she said, 
pulling the shirt sleeves down her arms and tossing the 
garment aside.



 The photo session continued, with Nicola posing in 
nothing more than the Elle-brand lingerie she had worn 
to the shoot. If she was uncomfortable showing off her 
body like this, Nicola certainly didn't show it, and was 
ever the professional as the camera flashed on.



 Margie found herself wondering how far would it go. 
Nicola had never posed nude before. Would he push her 
into that so quickly?



 "Excellent!" he proclaimed at last. "Thank-you, Nicola." 
He smiled, the camera dangling her his hand.



 "It was my pleasure," Nicola beamed, reaching for her 
clothes. Margie experienced a slight tremor of regret 
that Nicola wouldn't be showing any more of herself 
again today.



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



 Margie was on the pheriphery for the next couple of 
days. She was vaguely aware of her old friend making 
numerous calls back to LA, and the selection of photos 
emailed across the Pacific to god-knows-who Stateside.



 Meanwhile, Nicola was wrapping things up in 
Melbourne as she prepared herself for the great leap into 
the unknown. Only, it wasn't that unknown to Margie. 
In a different decade and a different city, Margie had 
lived the life Nicola was about to embark upon. And 
the worst part of it was she had loved it. The sex, the 
excitement, the glamour, Margie had done everything 
she had warned her own little flock never to do.



 And she had never regretted a moment of it, until her 
mysterious former mentor had breezed back into her life 
and told her to even the score.



 So Margie passed the time gnawing on her guilt, until 
the last night the three of them were to have dinner 
together.



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



 When Margie arrived, he was already there. He stood 
up from the private booth and greeted her with a gentle 
kiss on the cheek. Margie ran her fingers across the 
smooth black lapels of his Pierre Cardin jacket.



 "Very nice."



 She ordered a glass of white wine. He was already 
drinking, Jack Daniels (of course).



 The conversation drifted back to their shared past. 
Margie still had fond memories of her time in New York. 
She wistfully remembered those days, living a carefree 
life in a plush Upper East Side apartment, her life a blur 
of parties, photoshoots and almost continual sex.



 Although she had already come out, young Margie the 
up-and-coming model had slid easily into the role of 
sexual plaything to New York's glitterati. Men, women, 
she didn't seem to care too much who fucked her, just as 
long as her cravings were satisfied.



 It wasn't just about having sex; it was as if Margie 
became sex itself. Just to think of the luscious young 
Aussie was enough to bring a shiver of delight to those 
who knew her.



 They laughed together, remembering the stories. The 
young model had entertained rich bankers, serving as 
hostess as they jetted out to California or sailed on their 
private yachts down to the Carribean. Many of these 
episodes had begun with Margie gorgeously packaged in 
a stewardess's outfit, or if travelling by sea, she was 
deliciously decked out in a revealing bikini. Not long 
into the trip, the delighted men (and/or women!) would 
relieve Margie of the burden of her clothes, baring her 
beautiful body and leaving her a giggling mass of naked 
female flesh for all to enjoy.



 More than a few of these encounters had been captured 
on video, and occassionally Margie worried that her 
past might come back to haunt her. She recalled a very 
provocative sales brochure she had posed for, 
advertising an exclusive gentleman's club on St Lucia. 
Margie, dressed in a skimpy t-shirt and short skirt, 
smiling as she caddied two men's golf game, laughed as 
she served them drinks in the bar wearing considerably 
less, and finally epotimising the establishment's concept 
of service, down on her knees in their private bedroom. 
What would happen to her career if that suddenly 
surfaced?



 But it never had. Margie had done her dash, had her 
fill of sex and adventure, and returned home to 
Australia to launch her own agency. A nice plan, one 
that had originally envisioned Catherine playing a 
major role.



 A discernable ripple ran through the restaurant. 
Margie looked around to see Nicola making an 
entrance, stunning in a black cocktail dress, the hem slit 
up to her thigh and and the neckline slung low over her 
smooth bosom. Everyone nearby stopped to stare at this 
vision, but Nicola, smiling as if in a dream, didn't notice 
them.



 He stood and greeted his new protege with a chaste kiss 
on the back of her hand. Margie stood as well, and to 
her slight surprise Nicola flung her arms around her 
and kissed her on the cheek.



 "I took a taxi," Nicola explained breathlessly as they 
seated themselves. "I am going to get soooo drunk 
tonight!"



 "Not too much," Margie chided her. "You mustn't lose 
control."



 "Oh come on," rumbled the very masculine American 
voice. "It's a celebration."



 And, being a celebration, they ordered a bottle of 
Barossa Valley champagne. The three crystal glasses 
gave a distinctive chime as they pinged together.



 "To the future," he toasted.



 "To the future," Nicola repeated.



 "And the past," added Margie.



 Nicola slurped at her drink. "So what happens now?"



 He produced a sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket 
and a gold plated fountain pen.



 "First, I need to officially sign you up as a client."



 It took but a moment for Nicola to scribble her 
signature on the document. Margie watched, sipping her 
champagne.



 "I've booked you a nude photoshoot. It's a local 
photographer, Philip Thee."



 "Phil?" Nicola laughed. "I met him about nine months 
ago at a party. He's been trying to get me to pose nude 
for him ever since."



 "Well, he's going to get his wish. I've booked a session 
for Tuesday morning. We're going to increase the range 
of your portfolio, with more of an emphasis upon your 
body."



 Margie frowned. "Phil Thee's got a bad reputation. My 
girls don't usually pose for him."



 "Well, Nicola isn't one of your girls anymore, is she?" 
came the firm reply. Margie took the hint and let it drop.



 "My first nude shoot!" Nicola breathed. "Oooh, I hope I 
do OK. Don't want to blow my big chance at the first 
hurdle."



 "Don't worry," he breezed. "You're a natural in front of 
the camera no matter what you're wearing. Just 
remember to not be shy, and the fewer clothes you've got 
on the more you flirt." Again with the wolfishly grin. "I 
remember your first nude shoot." A bikini ski-trip in 
Aspen, that had evolved into a bikini-less ski trip. 
Margie's nipples had never been colder.



 "You posed nude?" Nicola squealed. A few other diners 
glanced in their direction.



 "There's nothing wrong with glamour photography," 
Margie defended herself. "I just think it needs to be done 
tastefully."



 The waiter hovered politely. They ordered, and for a 
while the conversation remained decent.



 "You'll need to invest in a good bikini. And by 'good', I 
mean one that doesn't cover up too much. A bikini is 
not swimwear, a bikini is for showing off your tits and 
ass. And you'll need to learn how to tie it correctly, so 
that your boobs bounce just right whenever you move."



 "Uh-huh," Nicola was making mental notes of all his 
wisdom. She'd need it in Hollywood.



 "Always remember to smile and make eye contact. 
Always. You can have the best tits in the world, you 
can be completely naked, but unless you're smiling and 
enjoying yourself it's not completely sexy."



 "Flirt alot. Men love that. Laugh and make physical 
contact, yknow, like a light brush of his arm. Always be 
aware of your own body, how you're moving, what 
you're wearing (or not wearing). Make sexy small talk. 
American guys are going to love your accent, play it 
up."



 "Don't be shy to show off your body. If men are staring 
at your cleavage, it's a good sign. With your warbrobe, 
don't think about what you're covering up, think about 
what you're showing off. Leg. Thigh. A hint of nipple."



 The waiter returned with their mains. As he placed 
Nicola's scallops before you, she caught him peeking 
down her dress, getting an eyeful of her spectacular tits.



 "Thank-you," she purred, pushing out her chest for his 
benefit. He blushed and bustled away. Nicola giggled at 
her first taste of the power she was destinied to have in 
Hollywood.



 "Have you given any more thought to your nickname?" 
he asked, as a sliver of calamari disappeared between 
several thousand US dollars worth of dentristy.



 Nicola schrunched up her face (looking adorable). "I 
haven't been able to think of anything. I wish 'Tits' was 
still free."



 "Other girls in Hollywood go by Angel, Dizzy, Jugs, 
Pussy, Perky, Kitten..."



 "Did you have one?" Nicola asked Margie. She nodded.



 "Most of my clients knew me as Muffy." In moments of 
intimacy, she'd loved it when Cathie had called her that, 
although her lover never knew the full story why.



 Nicola shook her head. "I'll have to think on that one."



 "Don't think too long. Within a day of you getting off 
the plane in LA I'll have you at an audition. You'll 
need to be as sexy as possible when the casting director 
meets you."



 Nicola battered her eyelashes coyly. "I'm sure he'll find 
me memorable enough." She leant forward, her hand 
snaking under the table to his thigh. The front of her 
dress fell open, affording Margie a spectacular view of a 
single brown nipple, slightly erect.



 He patted her questing hand. "I bet you will, 
sweetheart." His cellphone rang. Fishing it out, he made 
his apologies and stood up.



 Alone with Nicola, Margie found herself growing 
uncomfortable. It wasn't the thought of where Nicola 
was heading, but rather it was where she herself was 
going. Margie felt a definite warmth coursing through 
her body, the hum of expectant sexual desire.



 Nicola drained her glass and reached for the bottle. A 
very merry smile spread across her pretty lips, and it 
looked like she was having difficulty getting her eyes to 
focus.



 He returned with an apologetic look. "Sorry, something's 
come up. I need to fly back to LA tonight."



 "A problem?"



 "Not with this. Look, sorry to leave you ladies short like 
this but I need to go." He tossed a hundred dollar on the 
table to cover the meal, then gently kissed Nicola on the 
cheek.



 "I'll see you in LA in two weeks time. Good luck with 
the shoot," he whispered in her ear.



 Nicola, tipsy, giggled.



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



 By the time they left the restaurant, Nicola was 
serverly drunk. One of the spaghetti straps on her dress 
had slipped down her shoulder, and the whole outfit 
looked on the verge of sliding off her body althogether. 
Still giggling, and unable to stand, Nicola draped her 
luscious body across Margie, entwining her limbs 
around her former agent.



 "Mmmm, Margie, let's go to a club," Nicola slurred.



 "Sorry, honey, the only place you're going is to bed."



 Nicola gasped in mock surprise. "Margie! You're so 
forward!"



 Margie knew she was joking but it didn't stop her from 
blushing furiously.



 On the car trip back to Nicola's flat, the model slipped 
in a sleepy state, resting her head on Margie's shoulder. 
She tried to concentrate on the road, but all she could 
smell was the musky aroma of Nicola's perfume.



 When they arrived, Margie carried her out of the car, 
fished her keys out of her purse and took her inside. 
Nicola flatted with two other models, although Margie 
knew one of them was in a shoot in New Zealand. It 
wasn't even ten yet, so the other must be out for the 
evening.



 Margie quickly deduced which room was Nicola's and 
guided her in. As the model flopped backwards onto her 
bed, her cocktail dress, which had been struggling all 
night to keep her privates covered, finally gave up and 
splashed open to reveal Nicola's perfectly trimmed 
pubic hair framing a deliciously open pussy, lips parted, 
labia riding obscenely high on her pelvis.



 It was hard not to stare at the sight. Margie had been 
celibate for longer than she cared to remember, and here 
was the most beautiful girl on earth splaying her 
charms before her. True, Nicola was almost senselessly 
intoxicated and probably unaware of what she was 
doing.



 "Let's get you ready for bed." Margie did her best to 
sound professional, but it didn't help that Nicola's only 
reply was a dreamy moan. Margie pulled off Nicola's 
shoes, her fingers sliding across the model's delicate feet.



 "Tickles!" she squealed without opening her eyes.



 Next came the dress. Margie seized the gauzy black 
garmet and pulled it upwards, sliding it off Nicola's 
body. Through the fog of booze, Nicola did her best to 
comply, raising her arms, before slumping back on her 
bed completely naked.



 Margie hung up the dress. There was no longer any 
reason for her to stay, Nicola had been seen safely home 
and was tucked up in bed (well, on bed, but it was an 
unusually warm August night anyway), but still 
Margie lingered.



 She looked down at the nude Nicola draped across her 
bed, legs parted wantonly, her pert boobs standing firm 
and proud on her chest.



 She'll do well, Margie mused. She's got fantastic tits.



 This is what he'd promised her. Not in so many words, 
but the pleasure of enjoying Nicola's body with no 
strings attached is pretty much what he'd offered her if 
she played her part and helped entice Nicola into 
signing.



 Margie's gaze settled on Nicola's stomach, perfectly flat 
and toned. She bent down, her lips moist, and allowed 
herself the luxury of planting a small kiss just above 
Nicola's bellybutton.



 Nicola responded with a moan and a wiggle that set her 
body undulating on the bed.



 Margie bit her lip. Would she do it? Would she really 
take advantage of one of her girls?



 It was like he said, Nicola wasn't one of her girls 
anymore.



 Margie kicked off her own shoes. Carefully, she knelt 
down on the bed, planting one knee on the duvet, 
maneouvring her body across Nicola's to prop herself up 
with her elbows.



 Another kiss, this time higher up, just below Nicola's 
right breast and accompanied by a slight brush of the 
tongue against Nicola's skin.



 Her eyes were still closed, but Nicola's lips curled into 
a lazy smile.



 Emboldened, Margie kissed her body again, this time 
right between her breasts. Margie's long hair trailed 
across Nicola, tickling her slightly.



 This was going too far, getting to the point where 
Margie couldn't stop even if she wanted it.



 Another kiss, planted right on the softness of Nicola's 
throat. There could be no mistaking the girl's reaction 
now, she was groaning in ectasy.



 Margie adjusted her position on the bed, gingerly 
moving her thigh and planting it on the opposite side of 
her would-be lover, so that she now straddled the model, 
although her ass still maintained a chaste few inches of 
clearance from Nicola's exposed vagina.



 Did Nicola really know what was going on? Although 
her body betrayed the obvious signs of arousal (nipples 
taut, cunt moist), Nicola's face still seemed to float on 
an alcohol-induced sea of bliss.



 Margie's lips lowered for another kiss, this time directly 
onto Nicola's. Her mouth opened, tongue slithering into 
Nicola's. The model responded warmly to the intrusion, 
opening wide to admit her lover, sucking greedily on 
Margie's tongue.



 God it felt good! Finally, to feel the moist goodness of a 
woman's mouth after such a long time. Breaking off the 
deep kiss, Margie sat back, allowing her ass to press into 
Nicola's now-grinding crotch. She pulled her own blouse 
over her head and threw it aside. Nicola, as if missing 
what she had just had in her mouth, opened her lips. A 
line of drool trickled out.



 As if her life depended on it, Margie yanked open the 
clasp on her bra before it too joined her blouse in a 
crumpled pile on Nicola's bedroom floor. Then she fell 
face forward into Nicola's chest, her teeth seizing the 
very same nipple that had teased her in the restaurant, 
nibbling her teat with gentle bites.



 Nicola's body was trembling in delight. Margie knew 
that Nicola was straight, and would never pick her for 
bi either. So this would probably be her first girl-on-girl 
encounter. It would be a shame if she was too drunk to 
remember it.



 Her lips still planted firmly on Nicola's body, Margie 
slithered her way crotch-wards, leaving a trail of saliva 
across Nicola's perfect stomach. The smell of Nicola's 
natural perfume filled her nostrils, telling her the 
would-be starlet was primed and ready. Margie nudged 
apart Nicola's thighs, positioning herself inches from her 
most intimate treasure.



 Nicola let out a moan, and writhed slightly on her bed. 
Margie froze, thinking she was about to wake up. But 
her lover slumbered on, blissfully unaware of what was 
taking place at her crotch.



 Gently, Margie slid her fingers inside Nicola, teasing 
apart the lips of her cunt. If Margie only suspected 
Nicola's unconscious arousal a moment ago, now she 
was absolutely sure. Nicola was soaking wet, and her 
clitoris stood out pink and moist.



 Margie's tongue flickered forth, diving into the fold of 
Nicola's cunt and slithering along her clit.



 The reaction was instant: a deep sigh of contentment, 
but still Nicola slumbered on, emboldening Margie to 
continue the assault. Again, her tongue ventured deep 
into Nicola's pussy, questing to find her sweet nub. The 
licking had an instant effect on the model, Nicola's sighs 
and moans continued to build, but Margie carried on, 
either knowing she was fast asleep or not caring that she 
might wake and find what was going on.



 Margie's licking strokes increased, and as they did the 
tempo of Nicola's gasps grew sharper. An orgasm was 
building in her trembling, slumbering body. Margie 
jammed her face tighter into Nicola's pussy and was 
finally rewarded with a shuddering climax that sent 
strands of sticky girl-cum squirting into Margie's 
mouth.



 For a moment they lay together, locked cunt-to-lips, as 
Margie caught her breath and listened to the rising and 
falling of Nicola's hefty breasts. Now, it was her turn to 
return the favour.



 Nicola's arms were still splayed across the bedspread 
over her head. Gingerly, Margie grasped her right wrist 
and laid it across Nicola's tummy, fanning out her 
fingers as she did so. Next, she knelt just to one side of 
her lover, gently cooing and teasing her fingers across 
Nicola's face, while with her other hand she positioned 
Nicola's digits at the entrance to her own steaming 
pussy.



 With a sigh, Margie scooted her pelvis forward, letting 
three of Nicola's fingers slide inside her with just the 
slightest squelching noise. Slowly, she began to work her 
hips, back and forth, slowly at first but quickly rising 
with passion, so that Nicola unwittingly delivered a 
vigorous finger-fuck to her former agent.



 Margie was already trembling with emotion. Part of 
her screamed to stop it now, to at least leave her 
violation of Nicola's scrumptuous body before crossing 
this one, final line, but she continued to thrust, fucking 
away on Nicola's fingers, caring for nothing but the 
pleasure building in her own cunt.



 At last she came, slamming her thighs together in a 
vice-like grip on Nicola's hand and stifling a banshee-
scream of pleasure that left the agent panting.



 Reason once more began to creep across her skull. 
Margie looked down, gazing upon Nicola's sleeping 
body. So beautiful, so innocent. Had Margie really 
defiled her like that? With a slurp she disengaged her 
cunt from Nicola's fingers, leaving them coated in slime.



 She wanted to blame him, of course. He had 
manipulated Margie, manipulated both of them, to the 
point where this unthinkable act had happened. And 
Margie almost convinced herself this was true, if it 
wasn't for the fact that Margie had always fancied 
Nicola, and buried somewhere deep and dark within 
herself had been the monstrous desire to have her way 
with the model.



 Margie blinked back the tears. Shame and humiliation 
blushed across her bare chest. Nicola, innocent, 
slumbered on, a smile across her tender lips. There was 
really nothing left for Margie but to gather her clothes 
together and slink out, hoping never to see Nicola again.



 From somewhere in the flat came the bang of a door 
closing. Margie's head snapped up in panic.



 "Nicola?" a voice called out. English accent, Margie 
recognised it at the other flatmate. The agent froze, 
hoping the darkness of Nicola's bedroom would conceal 
her.



 More footsteps. "Oi! Nicola, you 'ome?"



 Margie held her breath. The girl was marching through 
the house, great hammering footfalls, yelling Nicola's 
name out.



 "Nic! Nic, you 'ere?"



 She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Petrified. What to 
do, what to do, what to do????



 "'ere Nic Nic Nicky!"



 There was a male voice, as well, much quieter, and 
some shared giggling. The footsteps approached the door. 
The handle turned.



 Finally, at the last moment, Margie's wobbling legs 
moved, and she quietly drove behind the bed.



 The door opened. A young female head popped in.



 "Nickers, is you asleep?"



 Margie stuffed her fist into her mouth to silence the 
pounding of her heart.



 In the gloom, all Nicola's flatmate could make out was 
the shape of her friend, naked and passed out on her bed.



 "I bet someone had a good-night," she murmured with a 
smirk. Then she softly closed the door behind her.



 It was at least an hour before the terror finally 
subsided within Margie. She waited until the yelling 
and banging in the next bedroom was at its loudest 
before getting dressed and sheepishly letting herself out.



 END









