Hollywood’s Fallen Angels: Sandy

Hollywood’s Fallen Angels — Sandy Ch. 2

Hi again fellow Literotica fans. Welcome to chapter 2 of Hollywood’s Fallen Angels — Sandy’s story. This story explores how bright, young adults descend into the murky world of the Los Angeles porn industry. Set in 1980 at the beginning of the “Greed is Good” decade Sandy, a 19-year-old Oklahoma native with dreams of stardom flees her abusive stepfather for the bright lights of Hollywood. This is the continuation of her fascinating and torrid story as this starry-eyed dreamer descends into the shady depths of L.A.’s mushrooming porn industry.

Just a head’s up this story builds using character development coupled with sex scenes, so if you’re looking for only sex scenes and nothing else this may not be the story for you. But if you enjoy getting into a character’s life, loves, hopes and dreams coupled with ultra-specific sex scenes than I think you’ll enjoy this story.

Note, this is an experiment to see whether you like this type of story pacing and style. If you do, please provide a few thoughts about what you felt about the story. And if not, please let me know that too. Your comments help me adjust my writing style for you, my audience. Thank you and enjoy!

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I wanted to be a Hollywood movie star ever since I was a little girl. My G-ma and I sat for hours in front of her old Zenith TV, tinfoil on the antennas, watching her favorite black and white movies from the ’30s and ’40s. I remember her absent-mindedly stroking my blonde curls as she whispered how I looked like Shirley Temple. My fondest childhood memories were of the two of us watching the golden age of Hollywood.

I cuddled her on the worn brown couch in her warm little trailer back in the ’70s, relishing the safety and security she exuded. Together we were swept into the beautiful world of Hollywood. Ginger Rogers, Garland, Hayworth, Garbo and many more of Hollywood’s great assuaged our fears with dancing, singing and performances that spirited us far away from our harsh reality. G-ma’s fondness for the glamour of the classic movies rubbed off on me. My little brother and I would perform mini plays for her as she would clap and hoot.

“Sandra, wonderful performance! When y’all are grown leave Oklahoma, go to Hollywood and be a star!”

A few years later she repeated the same mantra after each of my school plays. Her words of encouragement, kindness and support like warm hugs. She was the antidote for my forever-missing father, and my sometimes-here, often gone mom. My mom parachuted into our lives like a sudden storm. Gaunt, agitated, begging for money she would only stay long enough to disrupt our peaceful little world before vanishing again for weeks or months at a time.

When G-ma died my brother and I were sent to live with my Uncle. He was an often drunk, sometimes violent, always bitter man whose hobbies included molestation as I grew older. He and his harsh, bad-tempered wife shattered our world and exposed us to the pain that can consume kindness and corrupt hope. He ignored me as if I was a rug on the floor of his broken, dirty house until I started developing. Then the touching began, leading to more as he exerted his control over me. Broken by my Uncle and imprisoned with my little brother I prayed for escape like Maria in the Sound of Music.

Fast forward to today, 1980, and me at the tender but too experienced age of 19. I packed my car, said a prayer at G-ma’s grave and told-off my druggie, good-for-nothing mother. Having closed that painful chapter of my life I drove west, to Hollywood. I was going to meet my destiny. I was going to be a glamorous movie star.

Only, it didn’t quite turn out that way.

The happy-endings from so many of G-ma’s movies failed to materialize.

Hollywood stardom was impossible to break into. Hundreds of casting sessions led nowhere. Costs increased. Money decreased. Waitressing at Friday’s didn’t pay the bills. My roommate threatened to kick me out if I didn’t pay my rent.

And so I find myself here, in Northridge, California. I’m walking with trepidation down a dark hallway inside a large warehouse now converted into a photo studio. I’m as far away from the Hollywood of my dreams as a bedraggled cat staring through dirty trailer windows at birds on a powerline.

Desperate for money and without options I agreed to pose in a photo shoot in a bikini for one hundred dollars. The offer was up to five hundred if I agreed to model naked. The thought terrified me, partly because of the nudity but mostly because I was considering it.

My eyes adjusted to the dark as I walked down the gloomy hallway. It opened into a small brightly lit foyer, I was surprised to see a large, ornate wooden desk. Behind it stood an older woman with dark skin, short curly black hair with wisps of gray and reading glasses on a gold chain.

“You must be Sandy,” she said warmly. She walked around the desk and gently shook my hand. Her clothes were impeccable. Her black pumps looked brand-new. Her pretty knee-length black skirt decorated with small pink flowers glistened like satin. A soft, pink blouse buttoned all the way up with a large string of pearls draped around her neck complemented her round but not plump figure. She looked wealthy, successful. Her perfume smelled rich and luxurious.

“Welcome dear! Right on time, that’s nice. I spoke with you on the phone yesterday. My name’s Emily, but everyone calls me Em. It’s wonderful to meet you in person sweetie. Please sit down.”

I don’t know what I had been expecting, but whatever it was it certainly wasn’t this. I sat in one of the two large and comfortable leather chairs facing the desk as Em walked back to her seat.

Tucking her skirt under she sat with grace, reaching for a folder in a drawer. She placed it on the table in front of her and ruffled through several papers. I took the time to look around.

Expensive-looking throw rugs were spread on the concrete floor. Antique lamps, tables and credenzas were sprinkled around the room. Candles wafted the smell of spice and flowers. Large framed pictures on the walls featured a variety of semi-nude and nude men and women in artistic poses.

The women were beautiful, sensuous, stunning. The men were handsome, their tight abs and hunky bodies gleaming with health and vigor. I felt out of place. Compared to those gorgeous Gods I felt ugly, insignificant, a plain-Jane Okie from Muskogee.

Em finished sorting the papers and passed several to me.

“Here’s the contract, the release, your measurements sheet and a payment receipt. Just read through these, complete this form and sign everything sweetie.” I hesitated. Ted the photographer hadn’t mentioned any paperwork.

“Do you have your Book with you hun?” She asked with a pleasant smile. I blinked at her with a blank expression.

“Is this your first-time modeling, sugar?” She asked delicately.

I nodded, my anxiety at a high level. My lips were dry, and I didn’t trust my voice. I might squeak if I tried to reply.

“I thought so.” She said, smiling reassuringly. “A Book is a portfolio which has your best photos, kind of like a scrapbook. Models use Books to show agents their best shots. It’s alright if you don’t have one. You’ll be able to start one with the photos we take today.”

She must have noticed my confusion and nervous fidgeting.

“You don’t need to be nervous sweetie! You’re going to be fine,” she said with a soothing tone. “I think you’ll enjoy your first shoot, everyone does.”

She turned her attention to the paperwork, placing each paper in front of me.

“I’ll help you with this dreary paperwork, hun. Don’t worry about a thing. This first paper is a contract between our photography firm and you. It gives us your approval to take your pictures in exchange for payment. The release gives the studio your permission to use your photos. The next paper is your measurements sheet, we’ll use this when we provide your wardrobe. And here’s your cash payment invoice and receipt, we’ll complete it after you finish your shoot. How much you get paid will be up to you. And if you decide you like modeling you should probably get an agent and manager. It’s their job to handle all this for you. But we can talk about all that later.”

I skimmed the documents, feeling very confused but better because Em was so nice and helpful. The contract and release were in legal-speak and made zero sense to me. From what I could tell they said the photo studio could use my photos in any way they desired.

I didn’t really feel comfortable about that, but I saw no alternative. I signed my name. The measurements sheet was extremely detailed. It required shoe, bust, hat size, eye color, height, weight and much more. I completed as much as I knew. I filled in the first part of the payment sheet which said I would be receiving a cash payment for my work today.

“Em? Why a cash payment?” I asked passing the papers back to her.

“Oh hun, everything is cash here,” she said as she gave me a knowing wink, “that’s the way things are in our line of work. No hassles with taxes. Isn’t that nice?” I realized Emily was as smart as she was beautiful.

She placed my papers back into the folder, then stood.

“I’ll give you your copies at the end of the shoot. Now let’s go touch-up your hair and makeup, shall we sugar?”

She led me down another hallway and through a door that opened into a large dressing room. A wall-sized mirror with round, bright lights and a counter with several makeup chairs took up the entire length of one wall. On the opposite wall were racks and racks of clothes and props.

Em rifled through the hangers of clothes. Most still had cleaner’s plastic bags on them. After a brief search she pulled a hanger out with a black bikini. She handed it to me.

“Here you go sweetie. Freshly cleaned and close to your size. Just put this on. Oh, and here’s a robe to keep you warm while we do your hair and makeup. There’s a locker over on the far wall where you can put your things.”

I walked stiffly to the far wall, where old, metal school lockers had been repurposed as storage units. I shivered more with fear than cold as I took off piece by piece, folding them with care as I placed them into a locker.

Oh shit. I’m really doing this.

The black string bikini was very tight, and very tiny. The thin strings of the halter dug in around my neck from the weight of my boobs in the barely-there top. The bottoms had single strings tied high on each hip attaching the narrow front and back. Lots of skin showed between them. I felt embarrassed, I hadn’t thought to trim my bikini line. My hands shook, and my ice-cold fingers struggled to position the thin fabric to try to cover as much of myself as I could.

With the bikini in place I looked in the mirror. Half my butt was exposed and my boobs were almost completely on display and squished tight, the top barely covering my areolas. My cleavage burst out like two melons squished together. I wrapped the thick white terrycloth robe tight around my neck and clenched it as I sat in the chair by Em.

Em donned a smock with pockets in the front and various hairbrushes, make up brushes and eyeliners sprinkled in them. She looked at me with a smile.

“Do you want to do a line sweetie? Most of our models just adore coke!” She said, pulling a small mirror from the side with care.

“Uh, actually, I’m fine,” I said with a nervous stumble.

“Of course, that’s quite alright sugar. Some of our models like it, but some prefer pot. Helps them steady their nerves. Would you like to take a couple hits? I’m going to have some. It’s a bad habit I know. But I just love the high. Don’t you?”

Feeling scared and rather timid I shook my head no thanks, even though I still had my dime bag in my car.

“Well that’s perfectly fine sugar. If you change your mind it’s right here.”

She went to the side of the room and brought out what looked like a large glass pipe. Apparently Em noticed my confused look.

“This is a water bong.” She explained, holding the pipe up so I could see it. “Pot goes in here, and you smoke it by inhaling through the mouthpiece at the end of the tube up here.”

She lit the pot in the bowl, then took several puffs. Smoke curled up from the bowl in lazy spirals, filling the room with the pungent aroma of Marijuana. She inhaled, sucking the smoke through the water with a bubbling sound. She held her breath a second or two, then exhaled, filling the room even more.

“This is the best way to smoke pot. The water cools the smoke, and the wide pipe doesn’t mess your lipstick.” She took another hit. Holding it for a moment, she exhaled slowly as she sighed and walked behind me. Even though I wasn’t smoking I still caught a mild buzz from the second-hand smoke. I relaxed a little.

She began brushing my hair, looking at me in the wall mirror as she spoke.

“I just love your beautiful blonde hair! So thick! And what a perfect complexion you have. You really don’t need makeup, but we have to use it because the lights wash out even the best skin.”

She continued working on me for a moment, humming as her brush and fingers worked my hair. I relaxed even more, feeling my shoulders release tension I hadn’t known was there.

“Anyway, back in the day I was an actress in Hollywood. Did pretty good too! But as I grew older parts dried up, not that there were ever a lot of parts for African American women, mind you. So I had to find other work.” Her touch was soft, gentle and felt delicious as she brushed my hair with long, slow strokes.

The second-hand smoke from the pot relaxed me even more.

“I did some modeling, like you. I had quite the bod baby, if I do say so myself.” She laughed as she turned me in the chair to work on the sides of my hair, draping it in waves over my shoulders.

“Eventually I met Ted. We had many photo shoots together, but hair and makeup were always a passion of mine. So it was easy to make the transition. He needed someone to help with his models, and I was more than happy to oblige. And, well, here we are!”

She worked on my hair with a large curling iron while she continued her friendly banter. Occasionally she took a puff from the pipe which she kept lit on a small table next to me. I enjoyed the pampering and relaxed. I hadn’t had anyone brush my hair since G-ma. It felt delightful to have Em dote on me. I inhaled the smell of the pot, helping calm my nerves even more.

After several minutes and lots of hairspray she turned her attention to my makeup.

“Oh, you are just so lovely! I think a little mascara, a bit of blush, a touch of lipstick and a hint of eyeliner. You don’t need makeup sugar, because you’re lovely as you are. But the blush and lipstick will help because the strobes will wash out any complexion. The eyeliner will make your dazzling blue eyes pop.”

She cooed and kept up her chit-chat as she worked on my makeup. I was enjoying this pampering very much. I felt spoiled. It was so delightful to have her indulge me. I felt so relaxed.

“You’re sure you don’t want to try just a small hit from the bong?” She crooned as she continued working on me. “It’ll make you calmer sweetie. I sure hate smoking this by myself.”

I felt bad that she was toking alone, and the smell was enticing. Maybe just one or two hits.

“Well, maybe just a little,” I replied with a bit of a waver in my voice, “I don’t want you to feel alone.”

Em smiled and furnished me the pipe. I inhaled gently as I watched the smoke rise in the tube. The cool smoke filled my lungs. I held it for a moment, then released it unhurriedly. As the high from the pot enveloped me, I had to admit, it was much nicer using the bong than fumbling with small, wet joints Stu used to roll for us. And the pot was having the desired effect, I felt the wash of pleasure flow through my body, relaxing me even more.

Em took another hit as well, then turned back to me to continue her pampering.

When finished, she stood behind me, turning my chair so I was facing the mirror. She peered over my shoulder as we admired her work. I was stunned. Gone was the plain Okie from Muskogee. The dazzling woman staring back was beautiful, alluring, sexy. I barely recognized myself!

My hair was mounded tall and wide with dazzling blonde waves sweeping around and across my shoulders. My cheeks had a hint of color accentuating my cheekbones. My lips were bigger, bolder, luxurious, painted with rose lipstick making me feel special. My eyebrows and eyelashes, normally invisible, were dark, full and rich.

I feel like a Hollywood movie star.

Em tuttered with pleasant mmm hmmms as we gazed at her work and she fussed with a few final touches. I felt pretty and sexy in a way I hadn’t felt in, well, forever.

“Sugar, you’re dazzling!” Em said with excitement. “What do you think?”

I stared at myself in the mirror. I turned my eyes up to Em’s image in the mirror and smiled up at her.

“Oh Em, I love it! I’ve never seen myself this way. You’re the best!”

She beamed, happy with her work and with my compliments.

I started to cry.

“Oh no, no, no child! Don’t you dare mess up your lovely makeup,” she sternly scolded me, while at the same time massaging my shoulders soothingly. We took several more hits from the bong, calming me and making me feel better.

“Now we just need to find some heels. It’s almost time for your shoot,” she said as she turned and walked back to the racks. Below the long line of hangers of clothes were hundreds of little clear storage bins full of shoes. The sizes were clearly labelled. Em examined the section with my size and pulled out a pair of candy-colored spaghetti strap high heels.

“Let’s try these on for size.” She said as she knelt down and tied the thin straps to my ankles.

Once on, I stood and tried to walk in them. I nearly fell over. They were very high with tiny stiletto heels that made walking almost impossible. Balancing on tiptoes I felt in constant danger of falling forward, flat on my face.

“I’m guessing you don’t wear high heels often, do you sugar,” Em laughed as she watched me stumble around. “They look like a pretty good fit. Take them off for now. I’ll give you some flats to wear until you get to the set. It’s a bit of a hike. Let’s go, it’s time.”

My hands shook as I took my heels off and put the flats on. Em walked me out of the dressing room and down another short hallway which opened into a cavernous open space. The vast room was an empty warehouse floor. It smelled of dusty, musky concrete and steel.

Sprinkled around the enormous empty warehouse floor were numerous sets. There were bedrooms, living rooms, offices, kitchens and others that looked like outdoor spaces with what appeared to be silk plants. Over the sets hung grids with large lights dangling down.

The walls of the sets looked like normal room walls, but they were actually thin plywood held up with rough wood stands behind them.

So this is the magic of Hollywood I thought as I walked down the yawning space past the various sets.

Em brought me to a far corner of the warehouse with a large white wall wrapped around two sides. The high wall curved down as it became the floor so there was no line where a normal wall would join a floor. A cherry and chrome, fast-looking and sparkling-clean motorcycle with low, short handlebars rested several feet in front of the curved white wall.

On the floor, stands with lights pointing into silvery umbrellas were placed a dozen or so feet away from the motorcycle and to each side. Other stands held black or white fabric boards, some next to a light, some near a camera. The camera was mounted on a sturdy tripod behind the lights, pointing toward the motorcycle. There were several tall director’s chairs behind the camera. Near the chairs a tall table had an assortment of water, snacks, glasses and a bucket of Champagne.

Ted was adjusting one of the lights as we walked up. He looked up and gave me a big smile.

“Sandy! It’s so great you took me up on my offer. You look absolutely stunning. Wow! Em, so impressive! As usual you did an excellent job. She looks like a million bucks!” He walked up to me and gave me a gentle hug.

Ted was dressed in a one-piece zippered tracksuit. A small black box with a white dome on the side dangled on a cord around his neck.

“She’s ready for you, sugar,” Em said as she gave Ted a quick hug. She turned and put her arm around my shoulder, turning me around in a circle for him. “Isn’t she just so stunning?”

“Absolutely! Sandy, you’re drop-dead gorgeous,” Ted replied with a big smile.

“I’ll leave her with you,” Em said as she turned to me and gave me a deep hug. “Enjoy your first photo shoot, sweetie. I know you’ll have a wonderful time!” And with that she headed back to the front office.

“We’re going to experiment a bit today, Sandy.” Ted said. “We’ll see how you adjust to being in front of the lights and camera. I’ll also be testing lighting and camera angles to find the most complementary look for you.”

Ted turned to the table and pulled the Champagne bottle out of the ice bucket. “But first, we need to toast your very first photo shoot!” He pulled the wire cage off the top of the bottle and pushed the cork off with a loud Pop!

He poured two glasses and handed one to me. My nerves, gone in the dressing room, were back. I took the offered Champagne with a shaking hand. I never had Champagne before. I clinked glasses with Ted and took a little sip as he smiled and said, “Cheers!” The bubbles tickled my nose and danced on my tongue as I savored the flavor. It was nice! I could get used to Champagne.

The stereo system, connected to large speakers hung from the ceiling was playing “Fame” by Irene Cara. I sipped my Champagne, the irony of the song and my present situation not lost on me. Ted fussed with the camera and lens.

After a minute, he turned to me, “Now let’s get your heels on, and when you’re ready take off your robe and go stand behind the motorcycle.”

After strapping on my high heels I took my robe off with cold, shaky hands and placed it on the director’s chair. It was cold in the vast warehouse, and my bikini did little to cover my goose-bump flesh. But the bright lights aimed at the motorcycle warmed my almost naked skin as I got into position. I felt warmer. Or was it the Champagne and pot? I tried not to fall off my high heels.

Doubt and fear burst in me like a flash of lightning.

Oh my God Sandy! You’re not really going to do this, are you? Run!

But I didn’t run. Instead I positioned myself behind the motorcycle, waiting for more instructions. Butterflies swirled in my stomach as my nerves intensified. Ted walked up to me with the little black box attached to a long cord.

“This,” He said showing the box to me, “is a light meter. I use it to determine how much light is on you. It helps me adjust my camera settings. I’m going to take some readings before we begin. The sounds of the strobes might startle you at first. Those lights with umbrellas are strobe lights. They flash a very bright light when I take a picture. The strobes will make a loud popping noise when they flash. Let me show you.”

He pressed a button on the light meter. There was a loud Pop! and a bright flash of light from the umbrellas. I jumped.

He laughed pleasantly, “Happens all the time. But believe me, in just a minute or two you won’t even notice the noise and flash.”

He placed the light meter next to my face.

“Okay. Look into the camera lens.” He pressed a button on the meter.

Pop! I jumped.

He moved to my chest, holding the meter just in front of my boobs.

Pop! I jumped again.

He moved to the front of the motorcycle and pressed the button again.

Pop! I jumped, but not as bad this time.

Ted walked to the camera and made some adjustments to the lens. He walked behind the camera and pulled up what looked like a little black plastic stick with a red button on the top. It was connected to the camera with a long cord.

“Okay Sandy, now look right into the lens. Place your left foot on the peg, the peg is that stick-looking thing down on the side of the motorcycle. Lean forward. Hold the handlebar with your left hand. Hold the back of the seat with your right hand.” I did as instructed, aware my boobs were hanging down over the bike with my cleavage well exposed.

“Great! Now give me a sultry look, a bad-girl look.” I tried to look sultry, unsure what a sultry, bad-girl look might be.

Pop! Pop!

“Good! You’re a natural at this! Now tilt your head back and to the right. Push your back down and push your chest up more. Give me a sexy pout.” I did my best to comply, my boobs were in grave danger of completely slipping out of my top. I wondered if he could see my areolas, God, the thought was frightening, yet at the same time exciting in an odd way.

Pop!

“Fantastic! You’re so hot! So sexy! You’re doing a great job! Now walk to the rear of the bike. Spread your legs and lock them straight. Lean down onto the seat and wrap your hands down around the engine. Turn your head to your right and look into the lens. Pout your lips. Swipe your hair around your right ear so we can see your beautiful face.”

I walked to the back of the bike, trying not to fall of my high heels. “9 to 5” by Dolly Parton was now pumping out of the speakers. I took my position and gave him my best pouty face while wondering what a normal, 9 to 5 job might be like. Whatever it was, hanging my cleavage over a motorcycle was probably not it.

What I’m doing is so far away from a normal job! God, I hope nobody I know sees these pictures!

Pop!

“So hot! Give me more sex in your eyes. Yes, like that.” I felt nervous yet excited, my mood shifting with Ted’s on-going ego stoke.

This is wrong, nasty, slutty. I’ve gone too far. I should stop this.

But I didn’t. I hated to admit it, but I was enjoying posing in slutty positions. Being the center of attention felt so exciting.

Pop! Pop!

“Now climb up and sit on the seat. Put your feet on the pegs. Turn your upper body to the right to face me. Tilt you head back. Chest out. Good. Chest out more, push those boobs way out. Yes. Give me that sexy look.” I did as Ted instructed. I was calmer now. I was enjoying his compliments when I did a good pose for him. With surprise I realized I wasn’t jumping at the Pop and flash anymore.

I kept working on my poses and my sexy face, making them more and more sexy and nasty. Ted kept crooning, stoking my ego, making me feel even more sexy. My fears melted away. I enjoyed myself, it turned me on to have my picture taken, it felt good.

Maybe it was the pot, or the champagne, or Em’s pampering, or my own acceptance of what was happening to me, but whatever the reason I felt like I had climbed a big hill, reached the top, and was now coasting down the other side. This was easy. It didn’t feel like work at all, and it wasn’t scary. It was fun.

Pop!

“Yes! You’re so pretty and sexy Sandy. Yes, do it! Give me more!”

Ted put the button-stick down, took the camera off the tripod and walked closer to me while focusing the lens.

That lens became the center of my world. I focused on it, on the darkness inside. I wanted to please it. I wanted to please Ted. I wanted whoever saw my pictures to be pleased and excited by me.

I feel just like I feel when I’m on stage! I love this feeling, being on stage, the center of attention.

“Squat on the pegs Sandy. Lift your butt off the seat. Hold the handles and keep your elbows low. Arch your butt higher. Even higher. Look straight ahead. Raise your head higher. Push your chest out even more. Give me that smoldering, sexy look. Yes!” Ted moved to the front of the motorcycle, much closer to me now. It was difficult to squat above the seat with high heels on. I could see him focusing the lens on my boobs and skin-tight top. My cleavage was fully exposed to the camera. I felt self-conscious about my boobs being the center of attention. Yet at the same time I felt sensuous heat enveloping me. I wanted more of this feeling.

This is wrong, I shouldn’t be enjoying showing my boobs!

But I couldn’t deny the electric feeling of being desired, of being sexy for the dark, black lens.

Pop! Pop!

He moved around to the back of the bike. “Push your back down more. Bring your ass up higher. Yes, that’s so sexy! Lift your ass even higher. That’s it, great! Now turn your head and look into the lens. God, you’re so incredible, so hot!” I complied, giving my new-found sultry look into the camera lens.

Pop! Pop!

It was clear Ted was zooming in tight on my ass now, getting closer, and even closer.

Pop! Pop!

It made me feel embarrassed to have my ass exposed in such a slutty way. With my ass so high the thin fabric of the bottom was now riding up my ass crack.

Is my bikini bottom covering my ass? Could he maybe see my little brown hole? No, I mustn’t show myself that way!

So why was I feeling excitement rousing me? It was nasty to show myself off and hear Ted’s praise, but I liked it, wanted it, craved it. It made me feel erotic in a way I hadn’t felt before. I knew it was wrong, but I enjoyed being so nasty, so sexy, so slutty for the camera.

“I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross was grinding through the speakers. I became aware I was grinding my hips and moving my feet to the beat. It felt good to move to the music. It felt hot, sexy, stimulating.

“Sandy, pull your bikini bottoms up your hips high and tight.” I hesitated. He wanted me to pull my bottoms deeper into my butt crack, exposing all of my ass cheeks to his lens.

Feeling self-conscious yet oh-so naughty I complied. I pulled the material high and wedged it into my ass. My butt was now exposed to the lens completely. Only the thin line of material going up my crack prevented the lens and the world from seeing my puckered, brown anus.

“Your ass is so sexy Sandy! Now lift your ass higher. Perfect! Even higher. So hot!”

Sluts in dirty magazines pose like this. Am I a slut for doing this?

The thought scared me, yet excited me in a way I didn’t understand. It was clear Ted was focusing tight on my ass.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

My legs were beginning to shake with the effort of squatting over the seat in my heels. Maybe Ted saw it, because he had me change positions again.

“Sandy you are so hot, so erotic! You’re beautiful! Now turn around and sit on the seat facing the back of the bike. Put your feet on the floor on each side of the bike. Spread your legs. Yes! That’s so hot. Spread your knees wide, yes, even wider. Now arch your back. Lift your chest up more, push those boobs out. Perfect! Now give me a smoldering look. Yes! Amazing!” I realized he was now focusing the lens on my crotch. My thin bottoms tucked tight against my slit were the only thing keeping him from seeing my sex.

Why is this pose turning me on? Am I a slut? Is that bad?

Pop! Pop!

“Now pull your bottoms up tight, like you did for the back.” Again, a momentary embarrassment passed. But it was replaced with the smoldering flame of sexual excitement building in me. I did as instructed. Pulling the thin bikini bottoms up tight transformed it into a tiny black G-string. Were my lips exposed on either side of the material? Because my chest was high and my boobs were in the way I couldn’t look down to see how exposed I was. I started breathing heavier with the thought that they might be peaking out and exposed for the lens,

I broke out in a sweat as the feeling of being so erotic fanned into an open flame of lust. I wondered again if I was a slut, and why that thought turned me on so much.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Ted moved in even closer, focusing his lens on my crotch. “You’re such a hottie! Such a turn-on! So sexy!” God, I hoped I wasn’t wet down there! If I was, could he see it?

Pop! Pop!

“You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC was pumping through the speakers. I couldn’t help but sway to the music and wiggle my ass on the seat. The desire to expose myself to the camera burned hotter and hotter.

“Now skootch your ass further down the seat. Lay your back down on the bike. Put your feet up on the pegs. Put your hands over your head and hold onto the handlebars. Great, now arch your back. Push your chest up. Yes, higher. Arch your back even more. Yes. Chest even higher. Perfect” This was another difficult pose. I felt like I would fall off the bike. I balanced as best I could. “Spread your legs wider. That’s so erotic! Even wider.”

I was aware my crotch was exposed to his camera with only the tiny cloth of the bikini hiding my sex. My boobs were arched high, pressed tight against my top and almost spilling out. I felt so exposed. Were my lips showing? And what if they were? The tingle of carnal excitement twirled through my body as I exposed myself to the camera even more.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

My breathing became faster as the stimulus of exposing myself swelled my libido. I felt hot. The sweat rolled off my forehead. I felt that familiar pleasurable tingle and wetness between my legs. My nipples ached to be touched and my clit became sensitive.

I’m such a slut! Why is that word turning me on?

I was enjoying the fierce stimulation of exposing myself to the lens. I wanted more. The thought burned me with sexual elation and pleasure.

God help me, but I love it.

Where did this desire to expose myself come from?

I scanned my memory. Were there other times when I enjoyed being on display? Yes. I thought back to my childhood when I acted for G-ma and at my school. I enjoyed performing in front of an audience. Was that part of it? I remembered my part-time waitress jobs in high school. I learned fast that flashing smiles and flirting with the guys was a good way to get bigger tips. Was that it?

Perhaps I’ve always been an exhibitionist, and I just didn’t know it until right now.

Whatever the reason, the erotic stimulation of exposing myself to the camera was exciting me with a pleasure I never experienced before. And I wanted more. I almost wanted to show off my naked body.

“You’re incredibly sexy Sandy. Now bring your knees up to your chest.”

My precarious balancing-act lying on the leather seat of the motorcycle was made even more difficult as I carefully brought my knees up to my chest. My sex was wet, I could feel myself soaking the tight material of my bottoms.

Could he see the wetness? I shouldn’t let him see it. Yet it felt so intense, so erotic, so nasty.

My tight bottoms rubbed me, bringing the familiar tingle between my legs. The urge to touch myself grew. Without being told to I arched my butt down more, forcing the material even tighter against my clit.

Mmmmmm. This feels so good.

“Oh that’s so hot Sandy. You’re so sexy!”

Pop! Pop!

Would Ted call me a slut? What if he did?

I became even more excited thinking about it.

“Now put your back down on the seat. Straighten your legs up in the air. Keep your legs tight together. Point your toes to the ceiling.” I did, almost falling off the bike as I slowly raised my legs straight up and brought them together. I was lying on the seat, facing the back of the bike. With my legs straight up in the air my butt, legs and crotch were exposed to the probing lens completely.

“You’re so totally sexy Sandy! Such a turn-on! So fucking hot! Now look at the lens and give me that burning, sultry look.” Wobbling slightly, I carefully balanced on the seat and looked into the lens. He moved in closer, zooming in on my legs, focusing on my ass and crotch.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“You’re stunning! Incredible! A 10!” Ted said as he moved around and took a few more shots of my ass from different angles. Excitement coursed through me. I knew I shouldn’t be this turned on, but I couldn’t help it. If felt so good to be so slutty.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Spread your legs as wide as you can. But keep them straight.” My leg muscles and abs screamed in protest as I slowly spread my legs wide. This pose was the ultimate in nasty. It exposed my sex completely to his camera with only the narrow fabric of my now bunched up bottoms hiding my hot, dripping wetness.

Could the lens see me down there, see my lips?

Pop! Pop!

Without warning I felt myself start slipping off the seat. The sweat caused me to slide off the leather. With a loud splat I fell off the bike and into a heap on the floor.

“Oh my God, Sandy! Are you alright?” Ted cried with concern as he ran up to me. He put out his hand to help pull me up. I took his hand and carefully stood. I wobbled a bit, still not used to the high heels. I laughed, breaking the tension. Ted smiled, laughing with me.

“Yes, I’m fine, but totally embarrassed,” I said sheepishly.

“Let’s take a break, I think you deserve it,” he said with a warm smile, then continued, “and I think this is a good time to touch up your hair and makeup. Take your heels off, let’s go find Em.” He passed the robe to me. I put it on and untied my heels. The flats felt wonderful compared to the torture of high heels. We headed back to the dressing room.

“So how do you like it so far Sandy?”

“I’m a bit surprised, but I’m liking it.”

“It shows. You’re a natural.”

“Thank you!”

“You’ve a special way of projecting your inner-heat for the camera. That’s rare, and a sign you’re a born model. Are you sure you’ve never done anything like this in the past?”

“The closest I ever came was acting in plays at school. I used to love doing that. It’s why I’m here, in Hollywood I mean. I want to be an actress.”

“Well that fits. You’ve a rare way of exuding your personality, your sexuality. I don’t see that with too many women. You’ve got the ‘it’ factor. You just light up the camera with your heat.”

“Thank you,” I said blushing. His praise was embarrassing, yet at the same time a huge ego boost.

We were almost back to the dressing room.

“So, do you want to take it to the next level?” He asked me evenly.

I paused. “Uh, what do you mean?” I suspected I knew the answer.

“Going nude. We can do the next scene with a couch. No clothes. Just heels. And I’ll pay you three hundred dollars cash. How’s that sound?”

I thought about it. The shots we took on the motorcycle might as well have been nude. I was practically showing everything to the camera anyway. And I really needed the money. And if I had to be honest, I was enjoying being sexy and exposing myself in front of the camera. I knew it was wrong, but it felt so good.

But I worried, who would be seeing these pictures? Where would they end up?

“Ummm, can I think about it?”

He smiled. “Of course. I’m going to get the set ready. You can do the next scene with or without clothes. It’s one hundred percent your choice.” We rounded the corner and stopped at the open door to the dressing room. “Here’s Em. She’ll touch you up for our next scene.”

“Well hello Ted, hello Miss Sandy. How’s she doing Ted?” Em asked.

“Fabulous! Em, can you give her a touch-up? And she’s thinking about posing nude, so if she does we’ll need a little time for her bikini lines to fade.”

“No problem sugar! I’ll handle it.” She said with a warm smile. She took me by the arm and led me into the dressing room and into a chair.

“You see sweetie? I knew you had it in you. You’re a natural-born model,” Em gushed. She started worked on my hair and makeup, pampering me. It felt so wonderful. She paused, looking at me in the mirror.

“How about trying a little bump of coke sweetie? I’ll do a line first, don’t you want to try it with me?”

I hesitated.

“C’mon sugar, it’ll make you feel so good, and maybe calm your nerves just a bit.”

“Uhhh, I don’t know.” I said, vacillating.

“Well don’t worry about it now, hun,” she said, smiling as she brushed my hair, “the offer’s open if you want to try it later. It helps the models get over their nerves when they pose.”

She stopped, looking at me in the mirror.

“And speaking of posing. You sure you don’t want to try posing nude hun? You’ve already earned a C-note. There’s two more if you pose nude. Why not give it a try?” She asked, rubbing my shoulders while looking at me in the mirror.

So why not? Hell, I was practically naked in the last set anyway. And I need the money. And, yeah, it turns me on being nasty for the camera. Why not?

I smiled up at Em. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Yes, that’s the stuff!” Em beamed. “Sugar, you won’t be sorry, you’re gonna love it!”

She turned me in the chair to face the clothes racks.

“Now go take your bikini off. You can put that robe on. We have to wait for the lines from your bikini to fade on your skin.”

I did as she asked, my fingers shaking as I committed myself to going through with it.

“Sweetie,” Em said, “since you’ll be posing nude do you mind if I give you just a little trim down there?” Embarrassed I didn’t know what to reply.

“Oh don’t worry sugar, I help all the models keep trim. It makes for better pictures. And I’m very safe and gentle, promise!”

What the hell, I’m already in this far. Why not?

“Umm, okay, I guess.” I said hesitantly.

“Wonderful hun! Stand here, spread your legs, pull your robe up around your waist.”

Em knelt down with scissors and a comb and I had the most awkward hair styling of my life. But for some reason I trusted her, even with something as personal as this. But she was very gentle, and soon I felt better about her touching me down there. And I felt better not having to worry about out-of-control hairs causing me embarrassment in the shoot. After she finished she smiled and asked me to sit back in the makeup chair.

Perhaps she sensed my building nervousness, or maybe she just wanted to enjoy more herself, but for whatever reason she lit another bowl, took a hit, and passed me the water bong. I inhaled deep, several times. The pot calmed me, and the wash of sexual pleasure glowed brighter again. I decided I was going to do this, no matter what, and nerves be damned.

After we both took several more hits Em laughed, set the pipe aside and continued working on my hair and makeup. I felt spoiled like never before. A half hour later, Em asked me to stand and open my robe to check for any lines. For some reason it didn’t bother me to expose my naked body to Em. I felt safe and secure in her little world.

“Perfect hun! Your hair, your makeup, out-a-sight! No lines on your smok’n bod. You’re ready! Look at how stunning you are. A stone-cold beauty!”

I looked at myself in the mirror. Only it wasn’t me anymore. Instead, Em had converted me into a sexy model. The awkward Okie with wind-tossed blonde locks, thin lips and freckles on her nose was gone. She was replaced by a stunning, sexy beauty with red, pouty lips, accented cheek bones, big bold eyelashes and flawless complexion. Her hair glowed like spun gold as it bounded around her face.

“Em, I, I don’t know what to say,” I said, almost crying, “I feel so sexy, so beautiful, so excited. I can’t believe that’s me!” I stood and turned to her.

“Thank you so much Em,” I gushed, giving her a hug, “for everything. You make me feel so beautiful, and so sexy. I feel like a different person!”

Em’s words and my perfect hair and makeup made me feel like a sexy, hot, model. And I liked it. A lot.

Em smiled, hugging me back. “You’re so welcome sugar. Now let’s go get you to the set darl’n,” she said approvingly as she fussed with a curl in my hair, “you’re ready.”

Together we walked back to the warehouse.

I hadn’t been nervous with Em in the dressing room. But my nerves grew with each step toward the set.

At the set, Em gave me a big hug and whispered. “You’ll be fantastic hun! Just enjoy it. And never let fear stop you from doing what your heart desires.” I smiled at her, feeling like she could be the mom I wished I’d had. She smiled back, gave me one final big hug, turned and walked back to the front.

Ted had replaced the motorcycle with a large antique red cloth chaise lounge with one arm halfway down the back. Seeing the lounge with the lights and umbrellas spread around it made me anxious.

“Hot Stuff” by Donna Summer cranked through the ceiling speakers, but I didn’t feel very hot.

“How about a drink before we get started?” Ted asked, pulling the bottle of Champagne out of ice. He poured me a tall glass. I was becoming quite fond of Champagne. I savored the cool sparkling bubbles in my mouth, enjoying their little zesty bursts.

Ted checked the lights with a Pop! The sound increased my tension. The pot and alcohol made me feel happy, yet still a bit anxious. Like a nervous racehorse fidgeting at the gate I wanted to get it started Yet at the same time, I didn’t. I hugged the robe tight around me. The shy, reserved Okie in me was coming out again.

“Sandy! Your hair and makeup are stunning! Em did herself proud. You look beautiful, sexy!” My fears defrosted as Ted stoked my ego.

“Alright. You ready for this? Let’s put those heels on and when you’re ready come over here.”

I put my cherry high heels on with trembling fingers. My mouth dry, those pesky butterflies flittered in my stomach again. With my heels on, I gingerly tiptoed toward the lounge, trying not to fall.

Being naked in front of Em was no big deal. But being naked in front of Ted and his lens made me tense.

Oh my God. Am I really doing this? Should I stop?

But my body had a mind of its own. I continued walking to the lounge, eyeing it as if it were a dangerous tiger. My heels click clack clicked on the concrete floor as the smell of warehouse dust filled my nostrils.

“Okay, give me your robe.” Ted said walking up to me. Feeling modest again I untied the soft cloth belt and slipped the robe off me. Like a gentleman Ted took my robe and placed it on a director’s chair.

I sat down on the soft, red cloth, hunched over, crossing my legs and arms to hide myself.

Silly! Why the sudden modesty? He’s about to take pictures of me naked, for God’s sake.

I hunched over even more, feeling awkward and nervous. Facing the camera lens nude made my nerves so much worse. Where I felt comfortable in front of the lens with my bikini, now I felt unprotected, exposed, shy.

“Alright Sandy, it’s the same routine. I’m going to take a few readings and then we’ll get started. Lay down on your right side facing the camera, head on the headrest. Cross your left leg in front of your right leg. That’s it. Now put your left arm across your boobs to hide them. Perfect!”

In this position my boobs and sex were hidden, which made me feel a bit more relaxed.

Ted moved around the lounge as he took readings. The Pop and bright flash didn’t scare me the way they did the first time. After several more tests, he walked back to his camera, adjusted the lens and faced me.

“Alright Sandy, now just relax. You look sensational! Give me that same fiery look you’re so good at!” I did my best, giving him a sassy, pouty look and staring into the lens with intensity.

Pop! Pop!

“You look so hot! So sexy! Magnificent! Now place your left arm along your left side.” I did as he said, my boobs now exposed to the lens.

Quit now before it gets worse.

But I didn’t. I stayed in that exposed position as my breathing increased and I felt warm again.

Pop! Pop!

“My God. You have the most awesome boobs ever! So perfect! So sexy!”

Pop!

As cheesy as he sounded, Ted’s positive reinforcement and constant ego-boost were nectar to my soul. His banter helped quell my nerves. I thought back to the last person who told me I had great boobs. It was Stu. My mind wandered back to our lovemaking in the car.

“Perfect Sandy. You’re so sexy, so pretty. Now lift your left leg at the knee, bend your left knee and put your left foot behind your right knee. That’s good. Keep your right leg straight. Straighten your left arm. Drape your left hand over your left knee. That’s it! So beautiful! So fuck’n sexy!” I realized with a start this position exposed my boobs and sex to the camera.

This is it. I’m completely exposed now. No putting the Genie back in this bottle.

“Babe” by Styx crooned from above, settling my anxiety and making me think of Stu and the back seat of his parent’s car. I felt torn. On the one hand I felt wrong, ashamed and guilty for exposing myself when all my upbringing told me I shouldn’t.

But at the same time that naughty, nasty, dirty feeling turned me on. I focused on that feeling. I helped it grow by focusing on the memory Stu playing with my boobs, pinching, squeezing, fondling them.

My inhibitions eased as the memory of his pleasuring me blossomed. The sexy feeling of posing and being nasty conquered my nerves. I felt the familiar tingle and glow between my legs.

Pop! Pop!

“Stunning! So hot and sexy! Now sit up and face me. Put your feet on the floor. Knees bent. Cross your right leg over your left leg. Cover your boobs with your left hand. Put your right hand up and over your head and hold the back of your hair. Pull your hair up. Now arch your back and push your chest out. More. That’s it. Even more. Great! Wow!”

My sex was covered by my crossed legs, my boobs by my left arm and hand. Yet I felt even more sexy and sensual. I gave Ted my best nasty look. I relaxed even more.

Comfortable and feeling slutty and erotic, I moved my position without his direction. I pushed my chest out more. I turned and tilted my head. I turned my chest in different angles. Each of my poses was followed by the now familiar Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Absolutely magnificent, Sandy! Gorgeous! Now spread your legs, both feet on the ground. Elbows on your knees. Interlace your fingers palms down, lean your chin down on your hands. Now look at me and give me that sexy heat.” I did as instructed. The heat and wetness grew between my legs. My nipples were hard, sensitive. My breathing increased. I felt nasty, slutty, hot and the more turned on I became, the more I enjoyed exposing myself, which turned me on even more.

Am I a nasty slut? Why’s that turning me on?

I thought about how the lens penetrates my modesty like Stu penetrated my sex. Pop! Pop!

Without being told I spread my legs even more. I placed my hands behind me on either side and arched my back, pushing my boobs high.

“Wow! Yeah! Hot!” Ted uttered softly, closing in on my boobs..

Pop! Pop!

My boobs and sex now exposed, I spread myself wide to the lens.

God, I love being nasty for the lens!

I felt sexual tingles fanning out from between my legs to my whole body. I was breathing faster as my arousal swelled. The urge to rub and pull on my nipples became difficult to ignore.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

“Good! Lay your back on the arm of the lounge. Drape your upper body against the arm. Spread your legs wider. Even wider. Reach both arms up and grab the back of the lounge.” I moved into position as Ted came in closer with the all-seeing lens. My sex was wide open to the camera, my heat and wetness visible for all to see. My breasts heaved up and down, stretched and exposed, nasty, slutty, turning me on even more.

Pop! Pop!

I turned, laying down with my back lengthwise on the lounge. I positioned my feet together pointing toward the end of the lounge. I lifted both legs straight up, keeping them straight and together. I crossed my right leg in front of my left leg and locked ankles. Ted moved closer to my exposed ass. The lens had a perfect view of my butt and slit.

God, I’m so turned on being nasty for the lens.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Stretching my legs straight, I pointed my toes and heels to the ceiling while looking around my legs into the dark lens. I cast sexy fire from my eyes deep into the black lens. Ted moved closer to the end of the lounge with a clear shot of my legs, butt and face. I tightly squeezed my legs, causing pressure and pleasure down there.

More. I want more.

I squeezed my legs tighter, rhythmically, crossing and uncrossing them harder, over and over again. The motion massaged my sex, stimulating me and making me pant. I could feel my thighs getting slippery, increasing my yearning. Desire to rub myself intensified. My mind flashed back to Stu moving his hard shaft up and down my sex, teasing me before his deep, penetrating, filling thrust.

“Ohhhhhhh!” Pop! Pop! Pop!

Was that my voice? Did I just moan out loud?

I straightened and spread my legs wide to the sides, exposing my sex to the camera. With a will of its own my right hand snuck down to my sex. My left snaked up to my hard nipples.

“Yes! So fucking hot,” Ted murmured as he moved in closer, taking close-ups of my sex and boobs. “Show me how you play with yourself, just like that.”

Pleasure screamed through my brain as I rubbed my slit and lips. Being slutty in front of the all-seeing lens felt so amazing. I pushed my mons and button with the palm of my hand. Ripples of ecstasy burst in me. My nipples demanded attention. I flashed-back to Stu tasting them, gently biting and pulling on my engorged nipples with his teeth.

“Ohhhh!”

God, I just did it again, moaning like a slut in front of Ted!

I ignored the small, prissy voice in me demanding modesty and propriety. Grabbing my right nipple hard I pinched and pulled it, reveling in the pain and pleasure.

“Mmmmhhh!” Pop! Pop! Pop!

Oh my God, this feels so fucking amazing. I’m a slut. And it makes me so fucking hot!

I spread my legs wide, allowing full access for my fingers as I played with my wet lips, open slit and button. I mashed my boobs, kneading them harder, pinching and pulling my nipples mercilessly.

Show the camera everything. Do it slut.

Spreading my legs wider, I exposed my sex as much as I could.

God help me, I love it! I feel so fucking nasty!

Memories of Stu filling me filled my world, the camera and lights disappeared as I focused on the fantasy of him taking me.

“Ohhhhhh!”

I slid my fingers around my sex and clit as I moaned, closing my eyes, lost in my sexual paradise. I couldn’t control it anymore. It felt so good to touch myself.

“Mmmmmmm.”

I rubbed harder with insistent, probing fingers, feeling my button swell and harden like a little eraser. I spread my wetness around my sex as I teased myself with my fingers. The sexual intensity of my fingers on my button sent bolts of pleasure pulsing through me. I shuddered with passion as I squeezed and pulled my nipples with aggressive insistence.

God this feels soooooo good!

The memory of Stu grinding into me, again and again and again took me far away into my sexual depravity.

“Uggghhhhh,” I moaned louder, filled with lustful desire, “Ohhhhhhh!”

I closed my eyes, laying my head back as sheer desire took me every downward. Like Stu during our night of passion lust consumed me. I rubbed myself with fast, light flicks of my finger. My orgasm was close. Very close. I was on the edge. With eyes squeezed shut I focused on the intensity building between my legs.

“Ohhhhh! Fuck! Uhhhhhhhh!”

Slut! Slut! Slut! The word was the trigger I needed.

“Oh fuck! Slut! Yes! I’m gonna cum!”

Images of Stu driving deep into me, his hot butt pumping up and down, again and again. The slut in me was in complete control now. I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t want to stop her.

“Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me hard Stu! I’m your slut!” I screamed out. “Oh God! Yes! I’m cumming! I’m CUUUMMMMING!”

The orgasm burst through my entire being. Wave after wave of incandescent bliss exploded through me as I careened down the mountain of sexual gratification. Concentrated pleasure swept me away like a leaf in a raging river. Pulse after gripping pulse of pure ecstasy raced through my convulsing body.

“OHHH! UUHHH! OOHHH! UHHHHH! OHHHHHHH!” I screamed as pleasure detonated in every cell in my body.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but absolute orgasmic delight. Roaring filled my ears. Stars burst in my eyes. My vision narrowed, the world tightening into a smaller and smaller tunnel. I slipped down, out of consciousness, wrapped in pure paradise.

Time and space ceased.

Dimly I became aware of sound. The sound grew louder and resolved into a rushing, roaring, waterfall noise. I became aware of blackness. The roaring, waterfall sound filled my ears, then slowly subsided.

As if from a long, dark tunnel I became aware of Ted’s face. The tunnel grew wider as my vision restored. He was staring down at me. Fear, concern and something akin to desire alternated in his eyes. I became aware he was cradling my head. The world came back in a rush as the waterfall sounds ringing in my ears ebbed. He was speaking to me, but I couldn’t make out his words. His look of concern gave way to a smile of relief as I looked up at him, I could hear again.

“Oh my God!” He said with concern. “Sandy, are you alright?

I gave a weak nod and tried to smile. I felt so feeble from my post orgasmic glow, like I had just finished a run on a hot, steamy Oklahoma day.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked holding me gently.

That was without a doubt the best, most intense orgasm I have ever had.

I nodded again and sat up.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

I tried, getting about halfway up, but my legs were spaghetti. I sat again. Ted dashed to the table, grabbed water and my robe and dashed back. I sipped the cool water down. I wrapped the robe around me. I felt so relaxed. I laid back down on the lounge, resting my head on the armrest and turning to the side to look at him. I felt blissful, exhausted, radiant.

“Hold that pose!” Ted exclaimed, jumping to his camera. He moved in close, hovering just a few feet in front of me, focusing on my face. I didn’t change my pose or expression as I looked into the lens. I couldn’t.

Pop! Pop!

He smiled as he put his camera down and sat next to me on the floor.

“Sandy, that was the most intense sexual experience I ever saw,” he said with an soft, awestruck tone, “you alright now?”

I smiled with tired satisfaction. The urge to sleep crept on me.

“I feel very alright, thanks,” I said, adding, “but I think I’m spent. I’m not sure I have any more in me.”

“Of course. Let’s get these off,” He said, pulling my heels off gently. “I’ll take you back to Em.”

He brought me the flats and put them on for me. He pulled me up slow, this time my legs held.

“I’ve been in this business for a long time,” he said, looking at me as we walked back to Em’s dressing room, “and I can say there’s not a model that can hold a candle to you, Sandy.”

He paused, and with a hint of angst asked, “Did you enjoy it, the shoot I mean?”

I nodded, too exhausted to trust my voice.

He continued, “I’d love to have you back. Will you come back and do another shoot?”

I hesitated, not wanting to commit as my bliss faded and the reality of what I did bounded back into my consciousness.

Oh my God. I just posed nude. And I masturbated like a complete slut. All while having every detail of my body photographed for all to see.

“Well, no matter what you decide, I’m happy I had the chance to work with you. I can’t begin to explain how beautiful, sexy and stunning you are.”