In Stag Actress, author Winston McElroy takes us behind-the-scenes in the often glamorous, sometimes ugly world of the photographer's model. Nicky Webster's career begins simply enough, but the lure of easy money soon pulls her into a helpless downhill slide into a mire of depravity from which she can't recover. Author McElroy pulls no punches, and the picture he paints can often be unpleasant; but the ugliness is there, and we do no service to anyone by pretending it doesn't exist. By presenting her experiences with true-to-life accuracy, and the necessary graphic detail to heighten its full impact on the reader, perhaps the whole story can be told for the benefit of all society.
Reading this novel, you will soon realize that Nicky's downfall cannot be blamed simply on one person or one thing. Each of the people in her life were in part responsible, the good and the bad, the concerned and the unconcerned.
We sincerely hope that by virtue of this publication, perhaps many can be saved from the fate of Nicky Webster, before it is too late. There are too many of our young, impressionable daughters who have already met this or a similar fate. Perhaps a warning like Mr. McElroy's to their fathers might change a few minds about the oftentimes false glitter of the modeling world.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
It could have been a way-out apartment anywhere. Rock band posters covered the walls, and in spots you could see the pale green paint left from a simpler, more conservative period in the old house's past. The rooms were large, with high beamed ceilings, anachronistic remnants of a more luxuriant, more extravagant time. The sparse furnishings were obviously Goodwill, but somehow they seemed almost right for the ancient house. A moth-eaten Oriental rug covered the floor, and you could nearly make out the pattern in the worn threads, if the light was just right. The flat contained a living room; a kitchen with what was once a breakfast nook, and was now used for all three meals, if the budget allowed it; a bedroom that opened onto the dried-up remains of the rear garden; and a bath. Sixty five dollars a month for half of a house that once would have befitted royalty. But those days would never be back, for this neighborhood had not stood up well under the ravages of time. In fact, the whole block was slated for urban renewal, if the politicians could ever get together enough money to finish the job. So far, they had succeeded in erecting a red, white and blue sign proclaiming their intentions, but that little burst of concern marked both the beginning and the end of their campaign, projects with more attached publicity having led them away.
But no one in this neighborhood cared whether urban renewal came. In a mixed section of poor whites and blacks, a few left-over old timers from the better days; and a motley assortment of newcomers, long-haired rebellious youth, bent on leaving behind their old homes and families and carving something better out of their newly-chosen land, not much community spirit was in evidence. Most everyone just stayed out of everyone else's way, and it worked out fine.
Nicky Webster and Clay Trott were just two faces in this influx of young people into Sutter Heights. If you saw them on the street, walking with arms entwined, you might have just written them off as a couple of deadbeat hippies, on their way to a free feeding, or a concert in the park. But you would have been dead wrong.
Nicky and Clay had both left behind upper middle-class families, and the well-defined promise of a college education and a stable family life. But somehow this had not been enough. They felt that there must be something better out there in the world than just continuing blindly on in the paths of your ancestors. There had to be a way of getting the luxuries of life without working nine to five, five days a week, in a job that you could never learn to enjoy. Surely two intelligent, alert young people could find out just what they were cut out to do, and find a way to utilize their talents to make a living. At least this had been their goal when they both quit college in mid-semester, and moved into this antique flat.
A little of the noble glitter had rubbed off in the months that followed. Now the stark realities of food and clothing seemed quite a bit more ominous, and their dream was becoming more and more tarnished as the days rolled by.
Nicky had tried her hand at painting, then sculpture, and finally writing. But none of these arty pursuits were successful. She found out immediately that painting and sculpting were not for her, and not even one finished short story could be squeezed out of her portable typewriter, for the words just would not come. Clay knew right off that photography was where he would make his fortune. His savings account, originally destined for college tuition, was quickly eaten up by new equipment-cameras, lenses, an enlarger, darkroom gear, print dryer, but his work seemed to be no better than when he had photographed school events for the college paper.
They both knew privately what neither would reveal in the open-that something had to change. Somebody had to give up their pursuits and take the first job available. Nicky decided it had to be her move. Clay had too much tied up in equipment to give up now, she had told herself. So Nicky began making the rounds of employment agencies, reconciled to taking the first decent job offered her. When she came home on the afternoon of the second day, she decided the time was right to let Clay know her decision. He was in his "dark room" when she came in.
"Hi. Shoot anything interesting today?" she asked, squeezing through the dark light-curtains that blocked off the end of the bathroom they had designated as the darkroom.
"Oh, hi baby. As a matter-of-fact, I did get some pretty good stuff. Here, take a look at these." Clay held up a wet roll of 35mm negatives. Nicky could make out the forms of people and the angles of tall doorways.
"I can't tell anything from the negatives. Have you printed any of these yet?" asked Nicky.
"No," he replied, "But they came out better than I expected. I shot them down at the market. Tom's chick ... uh, Carol's her name ... posed for me. I thought they might come in handy for some fashion work. It'll be good to have them in my portfolio."
"Uh, Clay...." Nicky began. There was a long silence as he poured out the deep trays of developing chemicals into the sink. "Clay...." she started again.
"Yeah, what's up? You got something to tell me?" He stopped and untied the strings of his black rubber-lined lab apron, and looked straight at Nicky.
"Well, I took a job today. As a counter salesgirl," she blurted. She stopped there to await his reac-ion.
"Okay. It's all right with me. But I thought you were going to write," he said.
Nancy looked down at the floor. Having failed at three creative pursuits was a sore spot with her. "I'm not going to write anymore for a while. I decided I had better get a job that would bring in a little money for us."
"Meaning you don't think I can make any from photography?" Clay snapped.
"No, no ... It's nothing like that at all," she explained. "I've got all the confidence in the world in you. That's why I'm taking this job. So that I can take care of the bills until you get your portfolio ready and start getting assignments. I know you'll be making plenty after you get established around the agencies."
That seemed to satisfy Clay, and her explanation left no wounds in his pride.
"Where are you going to be working. You didn't say."
Nicky smiled. "That's the best part. I'm working in a camera store. Nelson Photographic Supply on First. And I get twenty percent off on anything I want to buy."
"That's great!" exclaimed Clay. "You can save us a fortune in camera gear and chemicals alone!"
"Right, silly," she said. "That's one of the reasons I took this job. It paid a little less than one other I interviewed for, but I figured the discount would more than make up for the difference. And I told Mr. Nelson that my boyfriend was a photographer, and he said I could buy all your supplies there. So I know it'll be all right."
Clay threw his arms around her and kissed her tenderly on the neck. "I should have known you'd make the right move. Sometimes I wonder what I've done to deserve having you around."
"You just keep on taking pictures and make us a pile of money. Then I can just sit by the fire and count it all day. That'll be reward enough," said Nicky.
Nicky started work the next morning, and she caught on fast, faster than any girl Mr. Nelson could remember. He had her making cash transactions by the following day, a sacrosanct privilege usually reserved for the veteran employees. Nicky's meteoric rise to the top might have caused general rebellion among the other sales personnel, except that most of her co-workers were male, and they were too busy making plans of their own about her to be concerned with their threatened status. For Nicky was the sort of girl that could make men forget their work. She was well adjusted to eyes turning her way wherever she went, and wolfish whistles along the sidewalk were too common for her to even notice.
She had just enough of that certain "hippie" look to make men notice. Not blue jeans and buckskin, but bell-bottoms and sheepskin; and funny little wire-rimmed sunglasses that seemed always perched on her nose. Her luxuriant black hair was always worn straight down, for it draped across her shoulders in a dense fall, down to her shoulder blades in back. She was tall, and most of her body's length was in her long, well-tapered legs that blossomed out in the two gentle swells of her calves and thighs. Nicky was alabaster white from head to foot, without a single blemish to mar the ivory softness of her skin. She was fond of thigh-length vinyl boots that accented her long legs. She knew her best features, and didn't hesitate to show them to best advantage.
Her ripe, full breasts arched up and bulged in two perfect mounds beneath anything she wore, their youthful firmness holding them up without any support. Her tiny nipples could often be seen, poking two little peaks in her blouse, as Nicky seldom wore underwear, except for wildly-colored panties. She had a near-fetish about those, and her dresser drawer was filled with dozens of pairs, in reds, blues, yellows, and purples, her favorite colors.
Nicky may have been good for business in the long run, but she certainly did nothing to increase the productivity of those on the staff. One of the boys was always on hand to buy her coffee, or take her to lunch, or offer her a lift home, and Nicky knew what they all had in mind, but she was not about to miss the opportunity to take advantage of their well-motivated generosity. After all, she said, why pay for lunch when someone wants to buy it for you? She wasted no time in telling them about Clay, and that they lived together. But somehow a girl that lives with a man is not quite the same as a married girl. They always seem somewhat more available, and Nancy was no exception.
She learned the entire operation in three weeks, with plenty of eager instructors more than willing to show her the ropes. Mr. Nelson discovered that she could type, and soon her duties included typing his letters at the first of every day. He could have done them as quickly himself, for Nicky could not take dictation, except in longhand, but she suspected that he just wanted her all to himself for at least one hour of the working day.
But Mr. Nelson was always a perfect gentleman, and although he never offered to take her to lunch, he did take her home a few times. He seemed genuinely intersted in Clay and in his photography, and often asked about his work. Then one afternoon, just before closing he asked Nicky if she and Clay would like to have dinner with him and his wife. Nicky replied without a second's hesitation. The offer was doubly exciting, for Mr. Nelson suggested that Clay bring along some of his work. And that maybe he could make a few suggestions about agencies to visit, since he dealt with a lot of photographers in the course of his business. Nancy could hardly wait to get home and break the news to Clay.
"Clay! Clay, are you home?" she yelled as she rushed in the door. "Where are you? I've got something to tell you!"
Clay stepped from behind the darkroom curtains. "Okay. Okay. I'm right here. What is it! Did you get fired?"
"Don't be funny. This is really good news. Mr. Nelson has invited you and me over for dinner tomorrow night. And he wants to see your portfolio. Isn't that great!" Nicky exclaimed.
"Hey, that is good news!" replied Clay. "And I just finished some stuff I know hell like. Nicky, you're just too much. First the job. And now this. I just don't know what I can ever do to pay you back."
Nicky grinned a playful reply. "Oh, maybe if you try real hard, you can think of something," she teased. Clay didn't need a second hint. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and locked his lips tightly onto hers. Her response was fast and to the point. She clamped her arms around his back and probed into his mouth, her tongue pressed against his as if in combat. He pushed hers back into her mouth, and explored with his the inside of her lips and teeth. Their passionate desires came immediately, like lightning flashes that enflamed their bodies. This was the way it always was. Nicky responded to Clay's advances like a cat in heat. Just a simple caress was sufficient to set her afire with desire.
Still locked to her lips, he backed her across the narrow room to the bed, and pushed her back onto the mattress, still unmade from the night before. As they fell together onto the soft bedding, his hand grabbed her just above her knee, squeezing the soft whiteness of her inner thigh. His lips left the sweetness of hers, and made their way across her cheek to the soft flesh of her neck, while his hand coursed up the long ivory thigh, kneading the soft skin and leaving behind a trail of tiny red marks in her flesh. Inch by inch he came closer and closer to the soft, glistening hair-covered treasure that lay concealed between her thighs. But his progress was sure. And in seconds his hand was touching the elastic band of her panties, his forearm covered by the fabric of her mini-skirt. He hesitated there for a moment, squeezing the sensitive flesh in pink mounds between his fingers. Her agonizing twisting and tossing told him to go on.
With a practiced twisting pull, Clay jerked the bright red and yellow panties down to the tops of her silken thighs, exposing her sparse hair-covered mound and uncovering the full round bulges of her buttocks. Yanking on one side, then the other, he worked the undergarment down over her long, well-tapered legs, until the panties dangled from one upraised leg at the ankle. He shoved the fabric of her mini-skirt up to her waist, bunching it in two heavy folds. She was naked from the waist down, her legs opening and closing in a desperate rhythmic pace, as she thrust her naked loins up toward him.
Clay brushed aside her long, black mane of hair and whispered in her ear. "Oh, baby, you're just too much."
Nicky's response was a long hungry moan that echoed her aching need. She clasped him tighter to her breast, rubbing her open palms in circles on his back.
He teased his middle finger into the soft fleshy passage between her legs and she gasped from the sudden entry. Swirling it around in the moist confines of her cunt, he began to gently massage the glistening bud of her clitoris with his thumb, flicking the hardening sensitive nipple of flesh from side to side as it swelled into excited erection.
She turned on her side, extending her smooth, rounded buttocks toward him, the bulging lump concealed in his pants pressed firmly against her soft, fleshy bottom.
As he massaged the tiny clitoris she moaned and undulated her buttocks lasciviously back against his loins, grinding out to seize his slumbering cock and pull it into her aching body.
"That's fabulous," she sighed, and pushed his hand harder against her hungry, moist orifice.
Clay eased his other hand down between them, and pulled his zipper down in a quick motion, bringing his penis into the open. As she writhed and ground against him, the throbbing shaft swelled into full erection, snaking up through the groove of her buttocks until the swelling head lay along the soft, hair-lined lips of her vagina. Nicky pulled her thighs up toward her chest, and reached in back, searching for his penis. She located it, and held it tightly in her clenched fist, squeezing it for a moment, and then guided it toward her warm, gently pulsating pussy.
Continuing to caress her clitoris with his hand, Clay smashed into her vagina from the rear. He drove into her quickly, with a sensation of aching, hot relief mixed with animal passion as he tunneled into her moist open passage from behind.
As he thrust he felt the firm tautness of her buttocks grinding hard back against his loins. He slipped his other hand around in front beneath her body, and slid it across her smooth, supple flesh, up and over her flat stomach and caressed the round globes of her breasts. He tenderly squeezed the hard pink nipples, tracing a tantalizing circle around the little peaks, bringing shivers of delight to her burning body, tiny bursts of pleasure that shot out in all directions from the tips of her breasts.
Clay could feel the passion fanning the flames in his loins, and he could see that Nicky, too, was gasping and moaning in tortured delight as the desire welled in her body.
They lay there for a long while, and Clay slipped the few remaining garments from himself and Nicky. His body nestled against her smooth, naked back, every inch of his flesh pressed against her full length. His cock slithered in and out of her fleshy tunnel with ease, its path lubricated with the wetness from her vagina. His hand left her clitoris, and he lovingly massaged both her firm, youth-hard breasts, his penis continuing to snake up the furrow of her buttocks and into the hot wet passage of her cunt.
"Let me get on my knees," she whispered. "It'll be even better that way."
"Sure."
She lifted her weight onto her hands and knees, and he climbed to his knees with her, leaving his long, rigid cock buried in her as they maneuvered on the bed.
Nicky pulled a pillow over, and stuffed it under her breasts, gripping it with both hands, her back sloping gracefully up to him, arching up invitingly, a long, smooth expanse of soft super-naked flesh. She spread her knees wide apart, and he moved up into the opened thighs, spreading her legs even wider as he opened his own. Now Clay could see his rock-hard penis and the soft pink fleshy lips that it disappeared into with every forward thrust. He pulled the rigid shaft out until only the tip remained encased in the searing grip of her vagina, held it there for an agonizing moment, then plunged with renewed vigor into the warm, throbbing depths of her womb, the long fleshy spear vanishing in the moist opening, until he smacked against the softness of her smooth rounded buttocks, his balls slapping gently against the hair-lined furrow of her naked loins.
Gripping her hips so tightly that his fingers dug into her tender flesh, he surged into her, swiveling his hips and twisting from side to side. He remembered that this lateral movement always brought new gasps of ecstasy to her lips, and this time was no exception. She buried her head in the pillow to hold back the screams of joy. Her tight, pulsating passage constricted hard around his cock, sucking him in with a tense embrace. She flailed her arms on the sheet, then reached back, grabbing and clutching at the back of his thighs, pulling him at her with even greater force.
Sensing her desire for more, Clay worked even tighter up against her buttocks, and pushed her shoulders down flat against the bed with his palms, forcing her ass up at an even steeper angle against him. Her gleaming wet crotch lay almost directly beneath him, an inviting display that begged for an unrelenting animal assault.
He thrust into her up to the hilt, and left his penis buried in her a moment, then began the punishing piston movement again-powerfully, with agonizing slowness.
Locked together, flesh against flesh, they groaned in unison, a steadily building moan of passion and desire, as Clay rocked demonically in and out of her wet, throbbing passage. Then, he felt her hands slip from his hips and slide down along his thighs until they reached his testicles. She teasingly caressed each one, squeezing them ever so gently, tenderly brushing them from side to side. Clay felt his cock stiffen anew as the cool touch of her long fingers brought a new sensation racing to the surface. Her loving massage seemed to bring the fiery liquid in his loins to a raging boil-a seething river that ached to burst forth from his body.
Nicky's moans began to come quicker and louder, and for a moment he was unsure whether her cries were from delight or pain. He momentarily slowed his pistoning stabs, but immediately she squirmed back against his pelvis, wiggling up onto his shaft, and thrusting her buttocks against him.
"Oh, no, darling! Don't stop! Don't stop!" she begged. Her hands struggled to grasp his hips and force his rock-hard cock into the depths of her belly with even greater force.
In a split second, Clay realized her desires, and he began to pummel her upturned buttocks with such force that twinges of pain shot up from his loins as he smashed into the soft yielding flesh. Harder and harder he drove up into her belly, rocking back almost off his knees, then hammering forward with every ounce of his strength, until his cock disappeared in the warm, moist confines of her desperately contracting cunt. With every forward lunge, his balls slapped against her wet crotch with loud, audible smacking sounds. And as the intensity of his pistoning increased, they swung beneath him like two hairy lobes, like a pendulum between his opened legs.
"That's it! That's it! I'm almost ... almost ... Nicky's gasping cries came in staccato, choking breaths, as she begged for just a few moments more, just a few more delicious, deep plunges.
"Now! Now! Oh, God, now!" she screamed. "I'm cummmmming!"
Sweat pouring from his body, Clay throttled his smashing strokes down to rhythmic, grinding plunges, backed up by every muscle in his aching body. Nearly blinded from the tiny rivulets of sweat that poured into his eyes from his forehead, Clay could still see the helpless form of her soft, naked body, kneeling nearly prostrate before him, completely at his mercy, open and exposed to any barbaric attack he could make. Scorching flames of animal lust flared up from his bursting loins, as the hot liquid grew even hotter, a simmering pool, waiting to erupt.
He bent over and kissed her bare back, glistening with perspiration. As far as he could reach, he traced a fine of kisses along her spine.
The welling tide within him grew and grew until it was like a great flood, held back at the tip of his penis, as if all of his insides were pushing and shoving to funnel out the tiny opening. He was powerless to stop now. Nothing could have stopped him.
Nicky was pleading for him to hurry, as if she were holding back, waiting for his climax.
He was panting wildly, his loins heaving out against her wet buttocks. Suddenly the flood was too much to hold back, and with gritted teeth he felt the dam give way.
"Now, now!" he shouted.
"Oh, Clay! Oh! Ooooooh...." she gasped in unison.
One final thrust and Nicky moaned a long, animal cry and her straining pussy flowered open to twice its normal size. At the same moment, Clay could feel the fiery liquid race around within him, then burst, in a scorching blast that seemed to literally erupt from his loins, each spurt bringing magnificent relief. He uttered one long, low moan as Nicky buried her screams of delight in her pillow as she felt him erupt like an endless geyser of white-hot heat deep into the secret confines of her throbbing belly!
With the last weakened thrust, he fell forward, forcing her flat on the bed as he collapsed beside her, his deflated penis slipping from its warm sheath reluctantly as he fell.
They lay there for a long time, completely still, neither feeling the need to utter a single word.
* * *
"Now remember, Clay, no arguments. Mr. Nelson is a very nice man, but please don't start talking about campus riots, or the war. You've got to make a good impression." said Nicky.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. We've been all through this already. You know I want to impress him as much as you do." Clay nearly lost his grip on the heavy portfolio, and Nicky slipped her hand under it to help him get it up the narrow stairs to Mr. Nelson's door. They were right on time, for they had left home a half-hour early, just to be sure to make it by eight o'clock. Clay straightened his tie. It felt unbearably tight, his neck unaccustomed to the restrictive top button of his shirt being buttoned.
Clay rang the bell as Nicky made a last-second once-over to be positive that everything looked just right. Mr. Nelson had said it would be an informal dinner, so Nicky was dressed in bell-bottomed pants, with a long-sleeve blue blouse that flared toward the cuffs, covered with a wooly wes-kit from Afghanistan that hooked with a single loop in front. Several strands of gleaming brass and gold jewelry dangled down over her breasts, bulging slightly even under the vest Clay was not the only one uncomfortable, for Nicky, too, was wearing an unfamiliar garment. She had decided that since she was meeting Mrs. Nelson for the first time, she had better wear a bra. So for the sake of making the right impression, Nicky had sacrificed a little of her usual freedom. She felt unnaturally harnessed in the tight grip of the cloth cups, but she convinced herself that it was worth it if Clay could get a possible photo assignment out of all their efforts.
"Well come in. I was afraid you might have a little trouble finding the place." Mr. Nelson greeted them with a jovial smile. He seemed more relaxed than at the office.
Clay and Nicky entered, and Mrs. Nelson came out of the kitchen.
"Helen," began Mr. Nelson, "This is the young couple I've told you about. Nicky Webster and Clay Trott. That is, I hope this is Clay."
Everyone chuckled at Mr. Nelson's attempt at humor, and he appeared pleased.
"Oh, yes. This is Clay " replied Nicky. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson."
"Right," blurted Clay. "Very nice to meet both of you."
Mrs. Nelson hustled everyone into the living room, left for a minute, then returned with a tray of hors d'oeuvers. "Dinner will be ready in about ten or twenty minutes," she reported, "So help yourselves to these while you're waiting. I know you young people like to eat."
Clay really wasn't very hungry, but after Mrs. Nelson insisted, he picked out a small one, and sat back to listen to Nicky and Mr. Nelson talk shop.
Mr. Nelson noticed Clay squirming self-consciously in the corner, sitting in the large chair and browsing through a stack of magazines on the table at his side.
"Clay, I'm terribly sorry. It's very inconsiderate of us to sit here talking about the store. Besides, we both should have our fill of that during the daytime," said Nelson. "Let's take a look at that portfolio I've heard so much about. You'll never need a PR man. You've got the best little public relations gal around right here."
Clay spread the bulky portfolio on the sofa beside Mr. Nelson, and opened it, removing the stack of mounted photographs he had so carefully assembled for this meeting. One by one, he handed the large prints to Mr. Nelson, waiting for him to study each, then handing him another. Nelson only nodded slightly as he looked at each one.
"Mmmmmm. Very good," said Nelson.
Clay was reminded of a doctor examining his patient. And Mr. Nelson continued, with only an occasional comment. But not a hint of his real opinion, until he had finished examining the last one.
"You know, you've got real talent. There are some very professional shots there," said Nelson finally. Clay felt the tense muscles let go as he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'm glad you think so. Your opinion means a lot to me. You're the first person to see my portfolio. Except for Nicky, of course," said Clay.
Nelsen continued to thumb through the prints. "Yes, you could find real success in photography, Clay. How about coming to my office some time this week, and I'll suggest a few agencies for you to visit. I've got all the names and phone numbers in my desk. I'm sure you'll pick up an assignment or two right away."
That was just what he had been hoping for. "Yes, sir, that'll be great. I sure would appreciate your help. I haven't the slightest idea where to begin."
Nelson pulled one print out of the pile, and held it under the light from the lamp on the end table. "Nicky, is this you in this shot?" he asked.
Nicky acknowledged that it was. "I've got on a couple of hairpieces in that one. We just thought it would be fun to try. But it came out better than we had planned."
"I thought at first that it was a professional model. You photograph very well, do you know that?" asked Nelson. Nicky only smiled.
"I told her that, Mr. Nelson," said Clay, "But she wouldn't believe me."
"Have you ever studied modeling. Or done any professional work?" Mr. Nelson questioned.
"Oh, no," answered Nicky, "Just shots like that for Clay. It's too expensive for him to hire a real model."
"What do you mean, 'a real model'?" he asked. "Why I've seen girls with years of experience who couldn't look as naturally pretty for the camera as you do in these shots that Clay took."
Nicky leaned forward. "Do you really mean that?"
"Of course, I mean it. Now don't get any ideas about becoming a model. We need you too much at the office," said Nelson.
All the remaining conversation that evening just slipped right by Nicky. She just couldn't get the idea of modeling out of her mind. It was an entirely new possibility. Maybe I've found my right field at last, she thought. And why not, surely I can learn the right motions and positions, especially with Clay to help me.
As they lay silently together in bed later that night, brief flashes of bright lights, cameras, high fashion gowns, and way-out parties raced through Nicky's brain. She could already hear the whispered comments as she sauntered gracefully down the fashion corridors of New York City-lingering stares as the people recognized her from their magazine covers. And television!
I've got to give it a try, at least. If I don't, I'll never know.
CHAPTER TWO
"There. That's a little better. Try not to notice the camera. Just look at me and forget it's there." Clay was flat on his back, at Nicky's feet, his 35mm SLR camera against his face, squinting to frame Nicky's form in the viewfinder. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. I've got plenty of work I could be doing. If I don't finish those wedding shots for Mrs. Anderson, we won't eat next week."
"Don't worry about it. I get paid tomorrow. And I'll help you get caught up," offered Nicky.
"You just keep your mouth shut and do what I told you. If you want these shots to be any good."
Clay pulled and prodded her through a two-hour shooting session. First the 35mm, with black and white, then the larger 2MX2M reflex camera, on his tripod, loaded with color film for prints. She was clumsy at first, but she caught on fast. He showed her printed shots from magazines, and told her to duplicate the poses, and to try to imitate the atmosphere and feeling of the picture.
"Come on, baby. You've just spotted your long-lost boyfriend whom you haven't seen in years. Give me a little more emotion," he asked.
"Okay. Okay," she returned, "I'm trying."
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to summon up the desired feelings, pretending for the moment that she was someone else. Clay finished up the roll of film in the camera, and turned off the blinding fights.
"All right, let's go soup the black and white stuff, and see what we've got," said Clay. "I'm pretty interested myself now."
Forty-five minutes later, he was holding up the dripping black film, careful not to expose it to bright light until the image hardened.
'You know, these might be pretty good. I think I'll print these up as soon as the negatives are dry. The art director at Reikoff Agency wants to see my work tomorrow, maybe I can take him some of these," Clay said.
"That's fabulous. How soon can we print them. I can't tell anything from the negative. Everything's backwards." Nicky dropped the film back into the final water rinse. "Can't we print them now?"
"Now you just take it easy. There's not that much of a rush. Just go whip us up something to eat. I'll do it as soon as I can."
Clay soon forgot all of his already-late wedding shots, for the contact prints from the dried negatives were even better than he had hoped for. By ten o'clock, they had two-dozen eight by ten prints spread on the living room floor, with all the room lights on for the best viewing.
"Well, honey, what do you think? Can I do it?" she asked.
"I can't really say about that. But I do think you should go talk to Carol. She's got plenty of experience. And if anybody could give you any advice, it would be her," he replied. Clay trimmed the edges of the prints, and slipped them into a manila folder. "Take these along, and see what she thinks of them."
Nicky asked Carol to meet her for lunch, and explained to Mr. Nelson that she might be a little late. He seemed genuinely interested in her fledgling modeling efforts, but she knew he wouldn't be terribly happy if she left the company so soon.
Carol was fifteen minutes late, as she always was. Nicky wondered how she managed to make it on time to any of her modeling assignments.
Whenever she and Clay had her over for dinner, they always set the time ahead, so she would make it in time for the meal.
Every head in the small restaurant turned as Carol glided through the door, looking like she had just stepped seconds before from the pages of a fashion magazine. Every inch of her clothing, every minute dab of makeup was absolutely perfect. Nicky could easily see why she was in demand by all the ad agencies in town.
"Hi, Nicky. I guess I'm late, as usual. We were shooting the Lansing Shipping Lines campaign. I was supposed to be a movie starlet on board a cruise to Hawaii," she said. "I thought the whole campaign idea was a little corny, but they pay better than average, so who cares."
"Well, that's exactly what I want to hear about. Like I told you on the phone last night, I'm thinking about giving modeling a try. Clay has shot a portfolio ... or composite, isn't that what you call it?" asked Nicky.
"Right," answered Carol, "Composite. Is that it?" She pointed to the thick, bulging folder beside Nicky.
"Yes. I know it isn't professional looking, but this is just a temporary substitute. Clay finished them last night," said Nicky.
Carol thumbed through all of the prints, then pulled out a few and put them aside. She studied them more carefully, angling them in the dim light of the restaurant to see them fully.
"You know, these are okay. I mean really good. To tell you the truth, I didn't expect them to be terribly exciting. No offense, I just mean you can't expect top results your first time out," she admitted. "Why don't you take these around to some of the agencies. If nothing else, you'll probably get a few free lunches out of it."
Nicky was puzzled. "Free lunches?"
"Yeah. Those ad agency types come on a little strong sometimes. But they all have big, fat expense accounts, and they don't mind spending money," said Carol.
They were interrupted for a moment by the waitress, but when their order was completed, Nicky began to pump Carol for all the pointers she could get-what agencies to see, whether to make an appointment, how to dress, what sort of questions to expect, anything that might help her to land an assignment.
She could hardly wait to leave work that evening, so she could rush home and tell Clay all the news. She could tell that he was really getting seriously interested.
"That's just great, honey. If Carol thinks you can do it, that's enough for me," he said, "Let's get busy and polish up that composite a little before you take it around tomorrow."
Nicky phoned in early the next morning, and told the switchboard operator to tell Mr. Nelson she wasn't feeling well. Then she dressed in her newest outfit-a striped mini-skirt with matching jacket, and thigh-length natural leather boots.
Her first stop was the Reidkoff Agency. The art director there, Daniel Westman, had been very impressed with Clay's work when he had taken his portfolio there. But the real reason she went there first was because Westman had asked who the model was in the photographs. And Clay had told him that it was his girl friend. Nicky almost ran up the thickly-carpeted stairs to the agency reception area. At least someone would recognize her here!
She was asked to wait in the plush lounge until Mr. Westman finished a conference with one of their clients. She passed the time by examining the mounted copies of some of their art work and advertising copy that hung on the walls. Their client seemed to be mostly in the clothing industry-bathing suits, ski wear, and higher-priced outfits, mostly.
Nicky could see dozens of people working in the pretentious white offices as she looked down the center corridor. None of the offices and workrooms seemed to have doors, and she could see artists at work at their workboards, executive-looking men in suits gathered around a conference table in a walnut-paneled room, and three rows of very attractive girls sitting at their desks, some typing, others on the telephones.
As the well-dressed men in the conference rose to leave the room, Nicky hurried back to her chair. She didn't want to be standing around in their way when they all came up the corridor. She watched as they filed past; most were fairly young, in their late twenties or early thirties, and all were dressed in suits, some with matching vests. That is all except one. The last man out of the room, the one who had apparently been conducting the meeting, was wearing a bright yellow shirt with blue stripes, and an orange silk scarf tied around his neck, bandana-style. His dark hair hung at least an inch over his collar, and his wire-rimmed glasses completed his give-away outfit-he was obviously not like the others.
"And you must be Nicky," he said as he walked over to where she was sitting.
Nicky jumped up. "Yes, sir. How did you know?"
"Well, I don't see any other pretty girls sitting around the reception room. And you did have an appointment," he said. "By the way, you're even prettier than your photographs."
He excused himself for another minute, then returned with a file folder. "Let's go down to my office."
The office was obviously his. The colors were brighter than in any other room. Huge color prints were thumb-tacked to the cork wall that stretched the length of the office. His windows opened onto the inner courtyard, a beautiful oasis filled with palms and tropical plants, and covered with a transparent glass roof.
"Do you like that?" he asked. Nicky had been staring at the full-size color photograph that covered the wall behind him. It was a well-stacked blonde, wearing only the bottom of her bathing suit. "One of our photographers gave that to me for Christmas. He said I spent so much time in here that I needed it to keep me company."
"Well, it's certainly eye-catching. Thinking of using it in a campaign?" teased Nicky.
"No, no. It's a little too far out for Mr. and Mrs. Average American. Maybe one day we can," said Westman. "Enough of the foolishness. Let's take a look at those shots you're holding."
Nicky was almost reluctant to hand them over, after seeing the quality of the work hanging all around her. She was afraid her simple black and white shots would seem rather amateurish in these surroundings. But Westman took his time studying them, pausing several minutes over each individual print. Nicky was glad that she and Clay had taken the extra time and effort to dry-mount the prints, they looked so much better on the rigid backings. Maybe that will help make up for the content, she thought.
"How much time have you got?" asked West-man. "I'd like you to meet our CD."
"Oh, I've got plenty of time," Nicky replied, unable to remember whether Clay or Carol had said anything about a "CD."
They crossed the workroom of the art department, crowded with long-haired artists and technicians, past the tiny offices of the Assistant Account Executives, all of them looking like ads for natural-shoulder men's clothing, and finally, up a spiral staircase to the third floor office of Harry McDaniels, Creative Director.
Creative director! Of course, the big boss of all the creative efforts of the agency-art, photography, lay-outs, and copy. Great, she thought, this is going better than I dreamed it would!
They walked past the secretary and entered unannounced.
"Harry, this is Nicky Webster. She's the girlfriend of the photographer you met yesterday. She wants to be a model. I thought you might like to take a look at her composite," suggested Westman.
"What are you two trying to do-corner the market?" he asked. "I must say that's a pretty good combination. A photographer and a model living together in the same house."
Nicky felt her cheeks redden a little.
"Oh, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. I'm only interested in your modeling abilities; your private life is your own business."
She wondered why Clay had told him that they lived together, but since he didn't seem to care, she put the thought aside.
"I'm not really a model. Not yet anyway," she admitted.
"Not a model! Well, to hear your boyfriend talk, one would think you were already on the cover of Vogue," laughed McDaniels. "Maybe he's a little prejudiced. He probably figured you'd cut him off if he didn't give you a big buildup." He seemed to be leering ever so slightly. The color rushed back to Nicky's face.
McDaniels kept his thoughts to himself as he rambled through the portfolio of photographs. Nicky noticed that he spent more time studying the ones in which she was wearing a bikini. And he nearly stopped when he reached the one of her in black panties and a negligee. Finally, he put that one aside also, and turned back to Nicky.
"Very good. You've got the makings, anyway. Good legs and firm breasts. Not too big, but big enough," he said.
Nicky felt like she was being auctioned off, as he discussed her anatomy as casually as passing the time of day.
"There's just one thing you lack."
She was almost afraid to ask. "What's that, Mr. McDaniels?"
"Experience. Experience that only comes from lots of hours of posing. It's not enough just to be photogenic. You've got to know all the tricks. Makeup, hair styles, arm and leg angles, expression, setting the right mood ... All these things take practice to pick up."
Nicky felt her heart sink down to her stomach.
"Then you can't use me for anything now," she asked.
McDaniels smiled again, and looked her over from top to bottom. She knew her mini-skirt had ridden up along her thighs when she sat down, but she made no effort to pull it down. The smooth flesh above the tops of her stockings must have been visible to his roving eyes.
"I think you've got real potential, so I'll tell you what: Why don't you go talk to Branner Agency, maybe they have some beginner stuff you can do. If not, they can suggest a good school. You could probably go at night, and keep your job. I think Clay said you're working for Nelson's?"
"That's right."
"Well, you go see Branner," he continued, "And I'll work it out so you can come down here when we're shooting and sort of hang around and observe. You can pick up a lot of tricks that way. And when you're ready, well use you in some of our stuff. How's that?"
"It's just wonderful," she replied, "But why the Branner Agency. Aren't they just like this agency?"
"Baby, you are a newcomer," he laughed. "Branner is the biggest model agency in the state. They don't handle advertising. Just models."
Nicky felt like a complete idiot. "Oh yes Clay told me about them. I guess I forgot."
"It's about chow time," said McDaniels, looking at his watch. "Could I buy you some lunch? Or did your mother warn you about advertising executives?"
Carol was right, she thought. She would eat well on this tourl
"Sure. Why not." she answered, "Maybe I could get some free advice over lunch."
McDaniels laughed loudly. "Now that's the right attitude. You should go far in this racket. You're learning already."
The agency art director, Westman, joined them for lunch, and Carol's comments about expense accounts really proved to be correct. Nicky hadn't seen such a delicious looking spread in months. If they spend this much when they're with me, I wonder what they spend on a big client, she thought.
They really didn't talk much about modeling, or even about advertising. McDaniels and Westman seemed more interested in hearing about young people her age-what they want, their views on American big business, their plans for the future. She told them everything she knew, although she assured them that she and Clay weren't really typical members of the "turned-on" generation.
"We both know what we want, and we are more than willing to work very hard to get it," she said.
They walked her to the bus stop, and McDaniels told her to be sure and call him when she was ready to come down and watch the shooting.
Branner Model Agency, on Second Street, was her next stop, for Mr. Westman had called a friend of his there from the restaurant, and he had said to come right on over. She smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes and adjusted her makeup in the ladies room on the main floor, then walked through the doorway into the agency.
Suddenly she stopped dead still! Only after a full minute was she able to recover her bearings. The entire room was filled with the most beautiful girls she had ever seen! Tall, leggy blondes; flaming redheads, and an assortment of gorgeous brunettes. Nicky couldn't believe they were real. Such a crowd of beauties!
She asked at the receptionist's desk for Mr. Carlton, as Westman had told her to do. After a brief wait, standing, for all the chairs were taken, an older, gray-haired man entered from a side door marked "Staff Only."
"Miss Webster?" he called.
"Yes, sir. I mean ... that's me." she said.
"Give me your composite, and take this form down to room 104 and complete it. When you have finished, bring it back to the desk and wait for me." He took the folder, handed her a lengthy form, and walked from the room without another word.
She labored over the involved questions for almost forty minutes. They wanted to know everything-religion, education, family, friends, interests, favorite movies, buying habits, scars or blemishes, measurements, the works.
It was nearly an hour before the receptionist called her name. "Mr. Carlton will see you now. Room I'll."
He didn't look up as she came in. She sat for a moment while he finished something on his desk.
"Miss Webster, have you considered taking any professional training?" he asked.
"Not until today. You're the second person to suggest that," Nicky replied.
"I'll be frank, and to the point," he began. "Our needs are for professional, well-trained models. Girls with the right experience are always in demand here. Looks aren't enough. Now you've got the makings of a fine model. These shots here are amateurish, but they show you are on the right track." He handed her composite back to her. "If you will get the list of modeling schools from the girl at the front desk, and pay them a visit, you should be able to walk back in here in six months and name your price. It'll be hard work, but it's up to you."
CHAPTER THREE
Nicky tossed her composite folder on the bench beneath the telephone in the tiny booth. She had been to every school on the Branner Agency's list, and everywhere, the story was the same. "Full course ... $1200. Complete course of study ... $1500. Nine-month evening class ... $900." And they all wanted a sizeable down payment, and regular monthly payments, while attending the school How can I possibly pay for modeling school while I'm going, she asked herself. Even if I go to night classes, we can't afford it on my salary.
It looked as though her modeling career was screeching to a halt before it even began. She leaned her aching back against the side of the phone booth, and searched through the yellow section for one last try at finding a school. Then she saw it:
Sweetheart Modeling School
Pay as You Go or No Payments 'til Your Career Begins
Telephone Now for Appointment!
She called them, and the girl on the other end of the line asked her when she could come for an interview. Nicky told her she had to work during the daytime hours, but that she could come over after she got off one evening. They had set an appointment for the following Thursday, at six o'clock.
Nicky wore the same outfit she had worn the day she called on the agencies and modeling schools. She left off the boots this time, and wore a pair of grey suede shoes instead. The school was on a side street, in the commercial section of the downtown area, but the building was well-kept. The directory by the elevator indicated that the Sweetheart Modeling School shared the building with an employment agency, a printer and a wig supply wholesaler. The school occupied the entire third floor.
She pulled the iron gates closed on the elevator car, and pressed the button for the third floor. She could see the dark corridors of the second floor as the ancient elevator creaked its way toward the next floor. She began to have second thoughts as she remembered that everyone in the building was probably on their way home by now. But the third floor was well-lit, and she was back to her usual self-confident self as the gates opened. As she stepped from the car, she heard a door close down the empty hall. A short, stocky man, in a white shirt with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, stepped into the fight. "Nicky Webster?"
Nicky identified herself, and followed the man into his office. It was nicely decorated, not plush like the offices at the Reikoff, but well furnished. There was even a bit of a view, and in the darkness settled on the bay, Nicky could see the fights of freighters unloading at the docks.
"Have a seat, Miss Webster. I'm James Elliott. I direct this school. I understand from my secretary that you are interested in taking our modeling course," he said."
The lights in his office were almost as bright as studio lights, and they glared on his bald head. Nicky tried not to stare.
"Yes, sir."
He seemed to be studying a note on his desk.
"Could I ask why you chose Sweetheart Modeling School? There are a lot of other schools that are more well known," he questioned
"Well, Mr. Elliott...."
"Call me Jim. Everyone else does," he suggested.
Nicky began again. "Well, Jim, to tell the truth, I picked Sweetheart because you have a plan that will allow me to pay for my training after I have finished the course. You see, I work during the day, and I can't afford to quit now. And even if I go to night school, I just can't afford any big payments right now."
"That's certainly a good enough reason. We have a lot of girls who study here because of our very liberal payment plans. Your training comes first here. We don't take girls without potential, so we really have little to lose. With our training, we know you'll do well in the profession." He sounded as though he were reading off an advertising card.
He quickly ran through the composite, and asked her the questions she had answered a dozen times at this point.
"Miss Webster," he started, "A lot of our training is in the television field. That's where the real money is today. Have you ever had a screen test?"
"Why, no sir. I'm not even sure I know what one is," she confessed.
Elliott smiled, and pulled another form from his desk file.
"This is a model release," he explained. "We require it for any photography done in our studios. Of course, it's only a formality. Just something our lawyer dreamed up."
"I don't quite understand," Nicky confessed, "Does this mean you have accepted me?"
He rose to his feet and crossed to the door.
"Not exactly, but you've almost got it made. I'd like to shoot a screen test. To see how you come across ... on film." He checked her over with probing eyes from head to toe.
He led her to a large room, with back-drops covering all the walls, and enormous studio lights dropped from the ceiling beams. At one side, a large three-legged stand, topped with a professional-looking movie camera, stood, covered with a plastic cover. Elliott turned on the bright lights.
"I don't have any more film in here," he said. "I'll go to the storeroom and get some more." He pointed to a small room, hardly larger than a closet. "That's the dressing room. You can take off everything but your bra and panties and...."
"Take off what!" exclaimed Nicky.
"Sure. Take off everything but your bra and panties. This is the only screen test we give, and you can't expect us to accept you, and spend thousands of dollars on your training without knowing whether you've got an operation scar across your chest, or a birthmark that covers half your thigh," said Elliott.
"Why can't you take my word for it. You asked me all those things when I was applying," Nicky questioned.
"Now look, Miss Webster, a rule is a rule. And our rules require that you take a screen test. And they specify what you shall be wearing. Now if you don't want to attend this school you can simply back out right now. Models are often required to model in less than you'll have on, and if you aren't cut out for that sort of thing, perhaps you've chosen the wrong career." He looked a bit angry, and Nicky thought it best not to antagonize him with more questions.
She stepped into the tiny room, and hesitantly removed her clothing. She wasn't wearing a bra, and she started to call Elliott to ask for something to wear, but for some reason, she hesitated.
He thinks I'm embarrassed to pose half-naked. I'll show him!
Elliott was loading the camera when she stepped from behind the curtain. He glanced her way, and the film spool dropped from his grip. She was standing in the spot-lighted center of the room, wearing only a pair of sheer black panties, nothing else. The soft, curly fringe of her pubic hair peeked out beneath the elastic leg bands of the panties. Her firm, young breasts stood up boldly by themselves; ripe, full globes capped with rigid, pink nipples that hardened under his stare. Her long legs curved away from her panties, bulging gently along the smooth expanse of her thighs, coming in slightly at her knees, and then curving out again along her supple calves. She was barefooted, and even her feet seemed to convey the beauty that was so definitely hers. She was a new goddess, golden in the intense lights.
* * *
They labored under the hot lights for over an hour, with Elliott directing her to walk, dance, exercise, pose, and just stand. Nicky could not understand why he needed so much filmed footage. Finally he rolled the huge movie camera aside, and picked up a smaller still-camera from the shelf along the wall.
"I'll need a few nude shots. Just to round out your photo file for reference," he said. "Step into the dressing room and remove your panties while I set up the 35 camera."
Nicky started toward the curtain, and stopped short. She stepped back onto the platform, looked Elliott in the eye, and haughtily rolled the cotton panties down over her legs, leaving her completely naked in the glare of the lights. "I don't need the dressing room," she explained.
Elliott's jaw dropped open, followed by a long, slow examination of her nude body. Then he remembered his professional attitude, and returned to his work.
"Could you hurry?" she asked. "I'm going to get sunburned under these lamps." He was moving her arms into the right position for a shot when it happened. His bare arm brushed against her breast, his flesh just grazing the taut, quivering nipple. Her muscles were quivering in his grip. Without warning, his arm slipped around her, his fingers lightly touching the firm jut of her underbreast.
She didn't know how to react to this new development. Maybe, she thought, if I just pay no attention, hell soon quit. But her luck just wasn't holding out.
Elliott felt a thickening bulge swelling in his pants. God, what a delicious creature! he thought. What a fantastic fuck she must be!
She avoided his eyes, as his fingers lightly teased her nipple. He became even more brazen, and his fingers squeezed firmly the soft flesh of her breast, his loins fast becoming an inferno of desire and yearning.
"Stop that!" she said finally.
But Elliott only grinned at her, keeping his hand in place, kneading her tender flesh with his fingers. His desire had gotten the best of him, he couldn't stop himself now. Nothing could have stopped him.
Nicky could see his state mirrored in his eyes, and she suddenly looked pale and frightened. Under the harsh lights, her paleness was particularly noticeable. She tore at his hand.
"Now cut it out!" her demand became a plead. "Oh, please. Stop, please."
But Elliott was deaf to her pleading. He wrapped his other arm around her, and forced back her face with his own, his mouth locked firmly onto hers. She writhed and squirmed, trying desperately to get free, but his grip was surprisingly strong, and she was helpless in his grasp. His tongue darted into her mouth. She fought to keep her lips closed, but it was hopeless.
His mind was filled with only his desire to ravish her; to plunder her helpless body, to drive ferociously into her soft, warm pussy. To bring her pain ... and agonizing pleasure.
"Please stop. No. No." She was begging continuously as she fought as though possessed with demons. Her fingers jabbed at his face, and tore at his hair, but he knocked her hand away and continued to fiercely knead her soft young breasts as she hopelessly struggled to escape his grip.
Holding her securely with one arm locked in a vise-grip around her, he slipped one hand under the full pear-shaped bust that jiggled and bounced with her frantic squirming. Lowering his head, his lips brushed over the taut nipples, his tongue brushing the smooth skin around them.
She screamed at him to stop, and fought with renewed fury to escape his attack. She arched her back away from him, and pounded on his chest with her fists. As she leaned back, he seized the twin globes of her buttocks, the smooth flesh oozing between his fingers as he dug into the soft mounds, pulling her hips towards his burning loins. The fever in his now aching cock soared, and with a quick pull, his pants were opened and the heavy, thick instrument fell out into the open, like a slumbering giant coming awake. They fell together onto the thick carpeted floor, her soft form crushed beneath his weight.
He forced her to receive another lass, and taking advantage of her undefended hips, quickly rammed his hand between her tightly-closed thighs, forcing it up to the sparse fringe of soft, curly hair that covered her pubic mound, his fingers pressed firmly against the opening to her warm, young cunt.
His entire body was quivering with anticipation as he slipped his hand down to his own loins, as he guided his enormous shaft into position, just inches from the tight flesh that surrounded her naked pussy.
As he raised his body slightly to maneuver the heavy cock into the space between her thighs, his grip on her must have slipped ever so slightly, for she suddenly squirmed from his grasp, clambered to her feet, and scrambled across the room, toward the door. He jumped up fully erect, with the speed and agility of a man half his age. Elliott caught a fast glimpse of her backside as she raced toward the doorway, her dimpled buttocks rotating smoothly, the taut cheeky mounds grinding against each other as she ran.
He caught her just three feet short of the door, and her frail form collapsed beneath his heavier body. Her writhing had become less intense, and Elliott could sense that she was tiring, both mentally and physically, and that her helpless body was about to become his alone.
His hands pinning her shoulders to the floor, he kicked off his trousers, his thick penis still hovering in the opening of her thighs.
Nicky caught a glimpse of his cock as he raised slightly to slip out of his pants. My God, it's so thick, she thought with sudden horror. It'll split me apart!
But, there was no escape, the time had come. His bulging penis was filled with blood, and the tip was swelled to twice its normal size. With his knee for a wedge, he forced her thighs wide apart. She made one last futile effort to protect her defenseless loins from his obscene ravishment, but to no avail.
In her desperate struggle to ward off his attack, her hands flailed at him wildly, even pushing indiscriminately at his genitals as they tossed and squirmed. Her brushing touch only excited him more. Pushing up between her supple thighs, he could feel the first warmth of the tight flesh that surrounded her hot, wet passage, squeezing tightly the swelled tip of his thick searching cock.
"Oh, God, no! Please, no...."
She begged and pleaded, her terrified eyes locked on the huge bludgeon, waiting for the first painful thrust.
And then it came!
With a thrusting lunge, the great shaft parted the soft, sparse pubic hair and slithered between the folds of soft, yielding flesh, and into the burning wetness of her vagina.
A visible relief seemed to come over Elliott as he felt the constricting walls close in tightly around his cock, his shaft rippling aside the soft, pink flesh as he drove up into her belly.
Damn, she's tight, he thought. Hasn't had it thrown to her much.
He held her firmly by her upper arms, her whole body jerking convulsively as she sought to escape him and the torturing pain he brought to her loins. Her legs flailed from side to side, opening up her thighs, leaving his path clear for an even deeper penetration. He lunged forward, sinking his thick spear up to the hilt in the warm, slippery tunnel between her legs. His bulging cock sank deliciously and tightly into her soft passage, forcing a strangled hoarse cry from her lips. He kissed her parched lips, as streams of salty, helpless tears criss-crossed her pale cheeks, his loins grinding out fiercely at here. Nicky tossed her head wildly from side to side, her long hair with each toss-a sweeping mane that fanned out behind her. She still attempted to stop him with futile blows to his chest and arms, but her strength was gone; her punches did nothing to stop his cruel attack.
Oblivious to her weak blows, he slipped his hands down her smooth back, and cupped the fleshy softness of her buttocks, one in each hand, raising her loins toward him, driving into her womb with renewed vigor. Her agonizing moans of pain mingled with her sobbing cries. Nothing mattered to Elliott except his bulky cock, squirming deeper and deeper into the soft, wet depths of her cringing pussy. Her passage clamped hotly around his member, a warm, feminine complement to his strong male rigidity.
He craned his neck and kissed her straining breasts, tauntingly licking the rigid nipples, feeling her chest heave and flinch at his contact. Her sobbing gasps were continuous now, as if she sensed that the degrading end was nearing, her face twisted in anguish as she thought of Clay, and their wonderful life together, and this maniacal assault which had so suddenly befallen her. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, in a vain, hopeless effort to shut out the humiliation and awful subjugation she was experiencing at the hands of this horrible stranger.
His huge cock seemed to swell even larger, and extend past its normal length as the flood began to build within him. Sweat covered his entire body, and he panted like an animal, gasping for breath, lunging harder and faster, racing toward his climax. And suddenly, her pounding blows stopped, and her long fingernails sliced into his back, digging painfully into his skin even through the shirt.
"Oh, God. Oh, OHHhhhhh...."Her eyes flew open, glazed with the sudden unexpected waves of pleasure that were rolling uncontrollable through her body, surging up from her belly as the enormous cock tunneled down to new unplundered depths. Her humiliation was being swept aside as the first shafts of delicious pleasure burst from her insides, racing along tightened nerves through her body. He jerked frantically as he sensed her first taste of ecstasy, and forced her thighs back against her chest, her knees pressed to her breasts, and he entered into the very heart of her. His eyes gleamed lustfully from the triumph he was experiencing.
And then the surging tide from deep in his loins swept over its restraining dam, and swept through his painful erect penis, and hot, fiery tide that burst through the tiny opening in a warm, searing spurt. He eased his lunges to a steady, slow grinding as his penis exploded again and again, the burning liquid draining from his testicles and filling her belly in great, hot, white streams of cum. She cried out her own involuntary orgasm, as the hot fluid flowed ceaselessly into her insides, and her cry became a long, low soulful moan as the thick cock emptied its remaining load deep into her quivering young belly.
He continued to jerk convulsively until the last burst had squirted into her, and he collapsed on her warm, soft body, unable to move or make a sound.
Her tear-reddened eyes dry now, she squirmed from under his crushing weight, and climbed unsteadily to her feet.
He rose to his feet, retrieved his pants, and pulled them on, and turned to Nicky.
"You can start training any night this week. Classes are Monday through Friday at eight o'clock. Call the training director tomorrow, she'll have your application. It will have my approval."
Nicky stared in disbelief. How could he do this to me and then so casually tell me to report for classes? She only looked at him, without a reply, until he finally left the room, his shirt stained in back with scattered splotches of sweat from the intensity of his attacks.
She climbed into her clothes, each movement an agonizing test of her endurance, as the feeling returned to her hips and loins, and the reddened, bruised flesh began to ache. Her vagina felt like a huge cavern, filled with lukewarm water, and she painfully made her way to the bathroom at the end of the corridor.
Elliott had returned to his office, and the door was closed.
"Oh God, she moaned guiltily to herself, how did I let that horrible man turn me on like that. How, Howl
CHAPTER FOUR
Nicky changed her mind four times the following evening. First she decided never to go near that awful place again; then she decided that she couldn't give up her only chance at a modeling career, no matter what the price. Half-way out the door, she reversed her decision, and turned back. Finally, she decided that her awful experience with Mr. Elliott would just have to be a lesson for her: she would remember not to get herself trapped in a similar position again. From now on, she told herself, she would be careful about modeling, clothed or unclothed, and would consider her companions before it became too late.
There were nine other girls in the class that waited assembled together in one of the large, drafty rooms on the third floor, just a few feet away from the spot where Nicky had endured such a humiliating assault the night before. The other girls were mostly younger than Nicky-about eighteen or nineteen, she guessed, and she wondered how many of them had gone through the same "admission procedure" she had experienced. If they had any regrets or fears, none of them showed it. They were all here for the first time, also; and for the most part, were as giggly as high school girls. Nicky just couldn't imagine any of them pinned helplessly under Mr. Elliott's weight as she had been, his enormous cock pistoning obscenely into their very young bodies.
Why, they're hardly more than children, she thought; then remembered that she, too, had been eighteen just a couple of years ago. But somehow she could not remember ever being so young.
"... but he was so fat and ugly. I just couldn't get turned on by a man like that, so I...."
Were her ears playing tricks on her? Nicky strained to pick up a little more of the conversation, without being too obvious. Was that tiny blonde, with her silken hair in two pigtails, talking about Elliott? Had she, too, suffered the same attack?
She didn't get to hear any more, for the door opened, and a woman entered. "Good evening, girls," she began after a moment. "I'm Christine Saunders, and I'll be your instructor. All my friends call me Chris, and I want each of you to be my friend. I'm always here to help you with any problem. That's part of my job and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Nicky wondered if she raised her hand and told her about her problem-with Mr. Elliott-if she would be truly her friend. She almost laughed thinking about the commotion that question would cause.
.. and there is another book you might need. But we are temporarily out of them, so they can wait. In the meantime, while we are waiting for those to arrive...." The woman was droning on, delivering an orientation that sounded as though it had been practiced and polished for years.
She probably had been a very pretty girl once, but the darker side of thirty-five was evident in her face, although her makeup was applied with obvious professional care. Her blonde hair may have been bleached, but not a single black or gray root showed in the heavily-sprayed hair-do. Nicky thought her face was familiar; maybe she had seen her on the cover of an old fashion magazine.
Miss Saunders spent most of their first session introducing the girls to the school's facilities-Nicky already knew one room only too well. She showed them the camera and equipment room-walls lined with shelves, and the shelves holding a vast assortment of still and movie cameras, lenses, filters, lights, strobe flash units, and hundreds of miscellaneous pieces that she couldn't identify. There were three studios, each with its own backdrops and sets, and four dressing rooms. The last room was the students' lounge-a small room with a pay phone, a couple of soft drink dispensers without carbonated beverages-just sugar-free drinks for the girls' figures, Miss Saunders explained.
* * *
The next three weeks were hectic ones for Nicky Webster. She had to get out of bed early, to study the texts Miss Saunders had issued her, and practice the poses and walking turns they had been assigned. Then it was off to the office for a full eight hours of work. Her job wasn't really very strenuous; but the eight hours there, combined with the three hours nightly at the school, were wearing her out completely. Each day was a little harder to begin than the one before, but by nightfall she was running on her "second wind" and was able to sail through the rigorous routine at the Sweetheart School. By the middle of the third week, Nicky had come to the forefront as Miss Saunders' "star pupil."
She was still unable to pass Mr. Elliott in the hall without turning her face the other way, but at least there was not a repeat of that terrifying evening. It was almost as if he had forgotten all about it. Then one Thursday night, Miss Saunders asked Nicky to wait after class. Nicky could see her through the glass talking to Mr. Elliott. After a few minutes, she came out.
"Nicky," she said. "How would you like your first modeling assignment?"
"Would I like it!" exclaimed Nicky. "You bet I would. Anytime. Anyplace. That's just great. Tell me all about it. Do I need..
"Now just hold it a second," she interrupted. "Let me say something first. Before you get too carried away. I heard you talking to one of the other girls about how tight things are for you and your boyfriend now, so I thought I would give you first crack at this. Most of the others are too young anyway, and they might not understand..
Nicky stopped her. "Too young? Too young for what?"
"Well, there are a couple of things you should know before you agree to take this job. First of all," she explained, "You will have to pose nude. Of course that is expected of a model nowadays rather often. And also, you will not be posing for very professional photographers."
"I don't understand," Nicky admitted.
"Don't look so puzzled. It's very simple actually.
You will be working for a group of local photographers-not amateurs, exactly; let's just say that they are not known in the field. They split the cost of your time, and you pose for nude art shots for them." She continued, "But don't worry. I'll be there too. And you'll be separated by several feet from the photographers."
Nicky was worried, but she remembered that the rent was coming up in less than a week, and that she and Clay had seven dollars between them. "How much does it pay?" she asked.
"Fifty dollars for two-and-a-half hours," Miss Saunders replied. "And we'll pick you up and take you home."
"Okay. I'll do it. When is it?"
Miss Saunders told her to be ready on Friday night at seven thirty. Classes were not being held that evening, anyway. Nicky told Clay about the assignment-about the nude posing anyway, but not about the amateurs. She decided that maybe she would save that for later. He might have worried if he knew.
Miss Saunders was on time, and took her to the Town Square Inn, a very plush motor hotel out by the expressway. They drove in and looked for a place to park, driving past the lighted fountain, and along an avenue of torch lights. She wondered why anyone would want to pay the cost of a suits in this place, just to take pictures. Along the way over, Miss Saunders had told Nicky that she had added another girl at the last minute-Sandy Alberne from her class. Sandy was seventeen, just out of high school, and still a bit of a "tenny-bopper," but beginning to develop into a very beautiful girl. They had dressed together many times, and Nicky had noticed that her blonde hair-almost platinum-was natural, and her figure was in that mysterious stage, between childhood and womanhood, but very well-formed and firm.
"The Penthouse Suite, please," Miss Saunders told the elevator attendant. And the glassed-in elevator began the dizzying ascent up the side of the twelve story structure. When they came to a halt, Nicky could see nearly all of the city sprawling beneath them-a spectacular view of millions of twinkling jewels framed against the black sky.
The suite was straight from a Hollywood movie-all satin, leather and walnut paneling. The carpets seemed a foot deep.
Two men were mixing drinks by the marble bar. Sandy was talking to a third by the huge plate glass window. All three of the men were fairly young-under forty anyway, and were casually dressed in sport shirts. One was holding his camera, and two others were propped on the dresser. Nicky could see that they were inexpensive models-the kinds that tourists take on their vacations. She wondered where they had their film processed after a session like this. Clay had told her once that the normal processing centers won't handle film with any nudity, and that occasionally they even turn you in to the police.
"Nicky, why don't you have a drink while we wait for the others," suggested Miss Saunders. "It shouldn't be too long. But you shouldn't mind. Your pay began the minute you walked through the door."
Three others came in together, all older than the first three, and Nicky sensed that the shooting was about to begin. She looked around for Miss Saunders, but she was not in the suite.
"Okay, girls. We're ready to roll em," someone yelled from the bedroom. Nicky walked in, and jerked back as she saw Sandy. She had already stripped down to her bra and panties, and was lying on the bed, with two tripods on either side holding photofloods.
"Come on, Nicky," she giggled, "you're next."
No one was taking pictures yet, just fiddling with the dials, and trying to steal a peek at Sandy's nearly nude body, without catching her eye as well. The men seemed far more embarrassed by her nakedness than she was. Sandy seemed to think it was all pretty funny.
"Nicky, hurry up and strip down. Unless ... unless you're too modest," Sandy teased.
"Don't worry about me, Sandy. Who's in charge here?" she asked no one in particular. A tall man with graying black hair spoke.
"I am. I'm Charles, and I set these sessions up. With Christine's help of course." Nicky wondered where Miss Saunders had disappeared to. Somehow just having her around would have eased her apprehensions.
"Now if you'll be land enough to remove everything but your bra and panties...." he continued, a slight grin on his face as he sized her up.
Nicky stepped to the corner, and began to remove her clothes, unfastening the buttons on her blouse first. Soon that was removed, and she pulled one leg from her slacks, balancing with a hand on the wall. Glancing up, she peered straight into the eyes of a blonde, heavy-set man across the room. He looked away sheepishly when she met his gaze head-on. In less than a minute, she was down to the bare essentials. She could feel every eye in the room following her as she crossed to the bed and sat down, her firm young buttocks peeking from her tiny panties, two white globes bobbing sensuously as she walked. This time, at least, I remembered to wear a bra, she thought.
"Okay, honey. First let's have the two of you on the bed. Just lie there and look sexy." Charles was giving directions.
Nicky crawled onto the bed, her ripe, full breasts dangling beneath her as she maneuvered into position. Her bra was the half-type, and in this position her breasts were barely in their halter, the pink edge of her nipples just visible over the top of the cups. She leaned back against the headboard, her arms clasped over her chest, and her knees pressed firmly together.
"Not that, like that, sweetie. Let's see a little more boobs. And open your legs." She blushed at Charles' locker-room language. She had never felt more naked, more completely exposed. It was as though a half-dozen pairs of eyes and hands were eagerly waiting for her to turn her back or look away. She remembered her degrading assault just weeks before, and suddenly she was not so sure she had made the best decision-maybe she should have turned this job down. But ... there was still the rent to pay....
She followed his commands to the letter. They photographed her on her back, on her stomach, and kneeling on her hands and knees. She felt the most humiliated in that position, for she could feel that the brief panties failed to cover her bare buttocks, and that the first few inches of the soft tempting crevice between her legs were exposed to their eyes and lenses. They were all behind her, and she could see their leering faces as she looked back between her legs. Someone asked her to hold that position, and they kept her there for several minutes, looking back at them between her dangling breasts.
Sandy was holding the same poses, but someone had moved her to the other bed, along with two of the glaring photofloods. At least it's not so hot any more, she thought. Only two of the six photographers were photographing Sandy, while four crowded for the best shots around Nicky.
"Charles, don't you think we've got enough in bra and panties," a man asked. "How about getting them off now?"
Nicky felt an involuntary shudder ripple along her bare spine as he suggested stripping altogether. She was getting used to her brief undergarments, but the thought of taking them off gave her a chill.
Where is Miss Saunders, she should be here.
Charles agreed that the time had come for the two of them to get rid of all their clothing.
"Okay, you two," he said. "Both of you over here. I want you to stand on these footstools and take off what's left. Do it slowly, one piece at a time. We'll be shooting while you strip. And forget what you've learned in modeling school. We want you to look directly into the camera all the time. And try to look really interested this time."
Nicky remembered that this was an assignment, and that as a model, she was obligated to do her best, no matter how much she disliked the people she's working with.
Turning her back on the men, Nicky unfastened the three hooks on her bra, and let it drop to the floor. Then she rolled her panties down over her long, well-tapered legs, and with a kick, tossed them onto a chair. She turned back to face the photographers, and the room fell into dead silence. They could only stare-the combination of the two nude girls-Nicky and Sandy-was nearly too much for them to take. They seemed to balance each other-Nicky's black hair flowing over her shoulders, and Sandy's gleaming gold mane hanging down her smooth back. Nicky was by far the more womanly of the two, though Sandy was definitely as exciting: she had developed in the right places, and her legs showed only a trace of girlish skinniness. She looked soft, incredibly so in fact. Her soft skin, her soft, rippling fall of near-white hair; even her golden triangle beneath her smooth, flat belly, a splendid, palomino-colored V of softness. In some ways Sandy was still a very young girl, but the six men in the room were not looking at her as a child.
Charles again gave instructions, and Nicky and Sandy were separated. Nicky started to object, thought better of it, and followed her orders without comment.
If her poses before had been embarassing, her next ones took her to the very depths of humiliation.
Charles lost what little courtesy he had shown earlier. "C'mon, baby, don't close it up. These guys aren't paying you fifty dollars for shots of your legs. Let's see that tight little pussy snap up at em.
Nicky closed her eyes and bit back the tears, unable to believe she was really lying flat on her back with three men snapping away with a clear view right up between her open legs. She twisted from side to side on the mattress, more from shame than anything else.
"Hey, that's good!" someone shouted. She couldn't make out his face through the lights. "Keep tossing and turning like that. Pretend you're about to get it!"
If Clay were to walk in now, he'd probably kill me!
She remembered again her vow to herself to follow her instructions to the letter, and she tried to shut out everything around her and concentrate on the fifty dollars she was going to receive.
"Pull your legs up. That's right, a little higher!"
"How about putting one hand on your tit and the other on your thigh? Right ... a little higher. Perfect!"
She followed their hoarse, shouted orders without hesitation now-tossing, twisting, standing, kneeling, bending over, anything and everything. They yelled ... and she obeyed. Like an animal on display, she was put through her paces, and there was no doubt they liked what they saw.
The other three men were as equally delighted with their model. Sandy, the other girl, was delighted to do anything they asked. She enjoyed watching them sweat-grinding her naked crotch toward their cameras, contracting the muscles in her buttocks, squeezing them together teasingly, even running her hands down over her downy mound and back and forth along the pink folds around the opening to her warm, inviting passage, tossing back her head and moaning in a mock display of wantonness.
She lifted a young, firm breast and held it out to one of the cameras.
"You like it?" she teased.
The man swung out with his outstretched hand, missing the soft pear-shaped globe by less than an inch as she jerked away.
"Oh, no you don't ... naughty, naughty." She was tormenting him, grinding her shoulder out at him, and squeezing the yielding flesh between her fingers as she caressed her breast.
But her admirer was stubborn; he climbed onto the bed, and leaped for her naked form, as she giggled and laughed. Sandy seemed to be reveling in all the attention. He pinned her beneath him, and locked his lips on the pliable flesh of her breast, his teeth clenching the jutting baby-pink nipple.
In a split-second, his hand released a button and a zipper, and his fullyerect cock popped out onto her chest, resting tightly between her twin mounds. His eyes mirrored his own disbelief as she grabbed his prick and began to rub it up and down between her breasts, still laughing and giggling as before, like a kid playing "doctor."
Nicky was standing on the bed, her arms above her holding up her long hair, offering a full frontal exposure to her eager photographers. Suddenly, through the open door, she caught a glimpse of the spectacle taking place in the other bedroom, across the large living room.
My God, what is she doing? What's going on in there!
"Sandy!" she screamed. "SANDY!"
She jumped from the bed and bounded towards the open door. I've got to stop them! I've got to-make them leave her alone!
But as she reached the doorway of the second bedroom, she snapped to a halt. Sandy was stuffing the long cock into her mouth, nearly choking as she attempted to get it all in. Nicky couldn't believe her eyes. She was obviously enjoying it, and no one was forcing her to do anything. Her hands and legs were completely free, and the man kneeling before her hungry lips was not holding her at all.
She stood there a full minute, taking in the sordid scene. The other two men had already pulled their cocks from their pants, and were waiting, as if in line for a movie. Sandy looked for a moment toward the door, and motioned with one sweep of her arm for Nicky to shut it and go away.
Nicky turned away, and started back across the living room, only to be startled again. This time by the front door opening. It was Miss Saunders and another girl-from the class!
Nicky felt even more naked and embarrassed, and she ran into the bathroom, snatching up her clothes as she passed them on a chair. Once locked safely behind the bathroom door, Nicky sat down on the low padded bench and buried her head in her arms on the vanity counter.
Oh, what's happening to me! What am I doing here with these awful people!
"Nicky, honey, let me in please. Everything is all right, Nicky. Just let me in and you can quit now. You've earned your fee." Miss Saunders sounded convincing, and Nicky was eager for any familiar face, no matter whose.
She helped her into her clothes, and walked, arm around her shoulders, out of the penthouse and down the corridor to the elevator. They passed the bedroom on their way out. The door was still shut, and the other three men were not visible in the suite. Nicky could hear muffled groans and laughter from the other side of the closed door.
Cars flashed by in the night, just streaks of light along the rainy highway. Nicky closed her eyes and tried to forget, but those leering men, their filthy comments, and worst of all, that brief look at Sandy, with the man's hardened penis filling her oval mouth kept rumbling through her tired mind. She looked down at her crossed arms, and discovered she was trembling uncontrollably.
She said only "good night" to Miss Saunders, and ran inside. Clay wasn't home yet, and the flat was dark and empty, not warm and receptive as she would have liked.
She tossed her jacket on the floor, and cried herself to sleep, alone....
CHAPTER FIVE
The assignments soon got better, and Nicky posed for three ad campaigns in the following six weeks. Granted, they were small companies; and the ads were for local papers, but at least it was a start. But Nicky found that the glamour rubbed off quickly after three hours under the hot lights for twenty-five dollars. She worked with very professional art directors and photographers, and was treated to a day-to-day round of "wet lunches"-far more liquor than food. And her co-models were great to work with: beautiful, well-bred girls with many, many credits behind them.
But somehow all of that glamour and excitement meant very little at the end of a long day. She had finally quit working at Nelson's, but the parting farewells had not been as hard to take as she expected. In fact, Mr. Nelson had been very understanding.
As she fumbled through the growing pile of unpaid bills, she began to wonder if she was doing the right thing. Clay had missed out on two big assignments in as many weeks, and again they were short of enough to pay the rent.
She had had a long, tiring day-two hours in the morning, and three in the afternoon. No hot lights this time, but equally as exhausting and damaging: modeling sports clothes on the deck of a sailboat. Nicky swore she would never get near a boat again. The sponsor wanted a rough sea for a background, so they had deliberately picked the ugliest day to go out on the bay. For five unbelievably long hours she had mopped the spray from her face, and tried to look alluring, all the while being tossed like a rubber ball on the huge swells.
The soft bed felt so wonderful, she wondered if she could ever bring herself to get up again. She kicked off her boots, unzipped her skirt, and curled around a huge pillow, feeling the day's tensions literally ebbing from her body. That's how Clay found her when he came in.
"Hey, what are you doing in bed at this hour? You sick or something?" he snapped.
Nicky rubbed her eyes open. "No, honey, I guess I just fell asleep. I didn't hear you come in. Did you have a nice day?"
"What about supper? Have you fixed me anything? You know I've got to leave early for those shots with Carol."
She hadn't remembered at all. Her tired brain just wouldn't function.
"Oh, Clay ... I'm terribly sorry. I'll fix you something right now. What would you like?"
Clay threw his jacket on the bed, narrowly missing her, his face bursting with rage.
"Damn you, it's too late now! It's already after seven," he bellowed, "And I've only got thirty minutes to get over to Carol's." He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "If you'd spend a little more time around the apartment, and less time with those faggot advertising people, maybe I could get a little more work done. How do you expect me to go out now and do a night's work-I haven't eaten since breakfast!"
"But Clay, I can fix you a couple of sandwiches and some soup. It'll only take a minute and you can....
"Damn it, don't you ever listen? I said I've only got a few minutes." He threw his camera bag over his shoulder. "Maybe I can get something at Carol's. Good-bye!"
He slammed the door so hard the glass rattled in the bedroom. Nicky burrowed under the pillow, as the first big tears streaked her eye-makeup down her soft smooth cheeks. And the glamour really was gone.
* * *
Stock-brokers were hurrying to their offices, the first of the morning regulars pouring into the empty downtown streets. They operated on New York time, and were forced to begin their days at seven o'clock, timed to open with the eastern exchanges although they were three time zones away. Maintenance crews were already at work on the city's vast digestive system, and the city was slowly, but surely awakening.
Nicky leaned into the bone-chilling wind, her hands over her ears, as the gale blew down between the walls of the man-made canyon. Just three more blocks to the school. She kept thinking how good a hot cup of coffee would taste as the wind whistled up her short skirt, coating her thighs with an all-over layer of goose bumps.
She had awakened with her alarm, only to discover she was alone in the bed. The other side was still neatly tucked in at the top. Clay had not been home all night!
Who does he think he is, she kept asking herself. What gives him the right to stay out overnight, without even a call! Just wait 'til tonight; I'll tell him off like he's never heard before.
The door to the building was still locked when she finally arrived.
Oh, hell! I'll freeze to death if I wait out here.
She was about to head for the first open door, when a horn sounded. It was Jim Elliott, driving his foreign sports car-with Miss Saunders in the passenger seat. She called to Nicky from the curb-side loading zone.
"Have you been waiting long?" she asked.
"No, just a few seconds. The building's locked."
If she tells me the shootings been cancelled, I'll jump off a bridge. Nothing seems to be going right this week.
"The janitor doesn't usually open up until about seven forty-five," she explained, looking down into her purse while she talked. "Here, I knew they were here somewhere. Take these keys and let yourself in. Your clothes are in the boxes in studio number two. They've got your name on the outside, so you shouldn't have any trouble. Fix your hair like I told you. You know where the hairsetter is. You can do your make-up over there. It'll be a little too much for so early in the morning. When you're ready, bring the clothes, and lock the hall door, and take a cab to 1105 Jackson ... that's the Executive Club. I'll reimburse you when you get there. Do you have some money?
Nicky told her she did, and went inside to get warm and begin the tedious, time-consuming task of preparing for the show. It wasn't really photographic modeling-although they were planning to film the whole thing for television. It was to be a fashion show, complete with runway and commentator; and at the most exclusive club in the city. She was beginning to stop worrying about Clay. After all, it wasn't every day that she was chosen for such a prestige assignment.
Maybe he'll see me on television tonight. That should cool him off a little, she thought.
The main auditorium, built in 1911 in an elegant style no longer found, was decorated for the showing by the city's top designer. Special sets, complete with miles of wiring for the colored lights, stroboscopic floods, and the flashing light show of colors, lined the corridors behind the stage, making movement difficult. Nicky climbed on a wooden box to look for Miss Saunders.
"So there you are," came a voice from behind her. Nicky turned to find Miss Saunders and a very handsome, distinguished-looking man wearing a gray striped suit that must have been specially designed for him.
"I was looking for you. I had a hard time finding a cab, and we got slowed down in the freeway traffic," apologized Nicky. "I'm sorry, Miss Saunders, if I had you worried."
She only laughed and squeezed Nicky's arm reassuringly. "No, no. You've got plenty of time to get ready. And stop calling me Miss Saunders-you make me sound like an old maid aunt." Her gentleman friend thought that to be funny. "Make it Chris ... Okay?"
"Okay. Chris it is. Now where do I dress?" Nicky asked.
"I'll show you. It's through that maze of sets, and to your left, the second door ... But I've been so rude! Nicky, this is Jefferson Robard. Mr. Ro-bard is the brains behind this showing. Without him there wouldn't be any show," explained Chris.
He gave Nicky's extended hand a gentle squeeze, then bowed graciously and kissed it.
My, my, she thought, he certainly is continental.
"Chris is too kind, I assure you," he said, "I'm the promoter: really the co-ordinator more than anything else. Chris is the real brain-coming up with so many incredibly beautiful girls. I wish all my projects were so much fun."
Nicky felt very flattered, and somehow felt that she would like this man. He had an air of refined elegance ... but without seeming affected or effeminate. And his broad-shouldered good looks weren't bad, either. Yes, she thought, I might enjoy this show more than I expected.
She finished putting on her make up, and wiggled into the first outfit, just in time for her cue....
"... lovely Nicky wearing one of Richard Am-ler's latest creations, in velvet, for at home wear or entertaining...."
They had allowed barely enough time for a quick change between cues, so Nicky was unable to see much of the show. But the audience seemed to be enjoying it, and through the partition she could see the men with their ladies, sitting comfortably at the linen-covered tables, enjoying a complimentary lunch and cocktail while watching the fashions parade before them. Nicky made her last walk down the brightly-lighted runway as an explosion of color flashed across the set from the projectors in the rear of the enormous room, accompanied by the rising blare of some unknown rock band in the wings.
"You did an excellent job, thank you very much." The unexpected male voice startled her, for she was pulling her skirt up along her long well-tapered legs, and had just slipped it over her hips; but she tried to look professional-it was Jefferson Robard. "There's a party at my townhouse following the usual chit-chat. I'd be delighted if you would come as my guest."
Nicky couldn't believe it. She had read somewhere about Jefferson Robard's townhouse-it had been written up in some interior decoration magazine as a prize-winning home. And she was being invited to go as his personal guest!
"Well, I had planned to go home after the show, but...." She remembered Clay's behavior last night, and that he probably hadn't even come in yet." ... that can wait. Yes, I'd love to go."
"Wonderful. Now listen carefully. I have some obligations to take care of-you know, boring people I would just as soon never see again. But it must be done; so when you finish dressing, go to the rear entrance. My driver should be parked there ... it's a black Continental ... I'll alert him, so hell be expecting you. He can take you on to the house. Just make yourself at home. I'll be along as soon as I can," he said.
"Can I go like this?" she asked, "I mean, I didn't dress this morning for a party."
He laughed. "It's certainly obvious that you don't read the society pages, or you would know about my parties. They are never formal ... and besides, this is only for a dozen or so people, very friendly, and very, very informal."
He kissed her hand again, and left to return to his guests. It's about time something like this happened, she told herself. I was beginning to wonder where all the "beautiful people" were hiding.
She couldn't find Chris, so she left the clothes in the dressing room, and went downstairs. Robard's chauffeur must have spotted her coming down the stairs, for he was waiting beside the long, black car when she walked out into the chilly air. It was shocking to see it almost dark outside. She looked at her watch, and saw that she had spent nearly six hours in that crowded building. At least she could understand why she was so completely worn out. She climbed into the incredibly soft rear seat of the limousine, covered in rich velour, hoping that maybe one of her friends would see her as she glided along the streets toward Oak Hills, and Mr. Robard's townhouse.
CHAPTER SIX
She could only stand with her mouth dropped open, slowing panning from left to right and taking in the opulent splendor sprawled in front of her eyes. Persian rugs in rich reds and blues, original oils from Europe, a gilt grand piano, framed in an enormous picture window overlooking the bay, antique furniture from the world over. That's right, she remembered, his hobby is collecting old furniture! There were rooms as far as she could see, all opening onto the center core, two stories high, from the marble floors to the vaulted ceilings.
"Miss Webster? ... Miss Webster?...." Nicky had forgotten the man at her side-the one who had let her in.
"Oh! I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, "This place is so fantastic, I just couldn't take it all in at once."
The rather stuffy-looking older man didn't seem to think her comments rated a reply.
"Mr. Robard phoned and said you would be coming. The lounge is at the far end of this wing...." He gestured down the long room, pointing past the indoor pool. " ... and I think you will be most comfortable there. May I take your ... uh, your coat."
He held the coat like a diseased animal, and strode off with his nose in the air. But Nicky wasn't going to let anything spoil this experience for her. She went into the lounge, and was greeted by a roaring cedar fire in a fireplace large enough to stand in. For a moment, she didn't notice the man in a red vest standing behind the bar.
"Oh ... I didn't know anyone else had arrived," she said.
"No one has, miss. You're the first. I've been here most of the day, with the rest of the staff."
She felt a little foolish for not recognizing him as the bartender. But maybe it was a common mistake.
"Would you care for a drink, miss?" he asked.
Nicky remembered the long day she had just completed, and how sore her arms and legs had become.
"Yes. A bloody mary, please," she replied, waiting to see by his expression whether she had said the right thing. She and Clay seldom drank, and a bloody mary was the only mixed-drink she could bring to mind.
He poured a generous shot of vodka, then added fresh tomato juice and the right spices, capped it with a slice of lemon, and placed it on a wooden coaster before her.
"Here you are, miss. Hope you like it." He seemed to have just the slightest remnants of an Irish brogue.
"Have you been with Mr. Robard long?" she asked, hoping to make conversation.
"Yes, about fifteen years," he answered. "I used to work for his wife-at her family's place outside of Dublin. "When they married, I came to this country."
"Oh, is he married?" she asked.
"Not any more. She passed on three-and-a-half-years ago. It's just Mr. Robard now." She could see that the bartender was really devoted to his employer, from the look in his eyes whenever he mentioned the name.
Well, she thought, at least he's friendlier than the one at the door. "Are you from Dublin? That's where my mother was born."
"You don't say! I thought there might be a touch of the Irish in ye, if you don't mind me saying so. Dublin's me home, too. Do you know what part she was born in? We might even have been neighbors." Nicky seemed to have found a good topic for conversation, and she didn't even notice when the one bloody mary became two, then three. She was finishing off the third one when the noise of conversation began to drift into the room. Nicky turned on the padded bar-stool as Jefferson came in, with Chris and another girl from the showing, and two other people she'd never seen before.
"Well, I see you made it," he said. "You didn't let old Carl here talk your ear off did you. Did he get started on Ireland yet? Get him on that and we can never shut him up."
The bartender tried to busy himself with cleaning a glass. "We were just having a little chat about Dublin. Her mother's from there too. And what do you mean "old Carl." That's no way to talk around all these lovely young ladies. There's still many a good year left in me yet."
Robard laughed heartily, and playfully punched Carl on the shoulder. "Okay, Carl, you win ... as usual. How about fixing up a batch of martinis for all these tired, thirsty people."
Carl was opening the refrigerator door before Mr. Robard could finish his sentence.
"I'm way ahead of you, sir. Got 'em already made and chilled," he said, lifting a frosty glass pitcher from inside the freezer section.
* * *
The score was three bloody marys, and four vodka martinis, and Nicky was feeling no pain. In fact, she was feeling very little of anything. The rest of the guests had arrived, and the twelve people were in the poolside lounge, around the shimmering blue heated pool. There had been a few abortive attempts at tossing in one of the girls, but so far everyone was dry.
Mr. Robard's serving maid had passed around silver trays of hors d'oeuvres, and Nicky felt very full-but very happy. She hadn't thought of Clay for hours, and she was wallowing in all the attention she was getting from the men-and not making any points with the women.
Robard was a master at entertaining, with years of practice, and when the pace started to slow just a bit as everyone ran out of witty things to say, he had Carl bring in a portable movie screen, while he set up a projector on the other side of the pool.
"All right, everybody!" He had climbed onto a lounge chair for attention. "We've got a special treat for you tonight. And I think this is just the right group to spring these on. Just settle back, get a good grip ... on yourself, and watch these little delights. I'll guarantee you won't see these at the corner theater."
Nicky was totally confused, and her alcohol-numbed senses weren't working too well. She just stared at the blank screen, eagerly awaiting whatever he had planned.
Robard switched off the lights, and started the projector. A few seconds of numbers, and meaningless titles flashed by ... MAN'S BEST FRIEND ... LOCAL ALLNITE ... FILM BY CASSENI....
On the screen flickered the image of a small room, with a vanity and a mirror, and a bed. Sitting on a covered bench before the vanity was a very young innocent-looking girl, who appeared to be Spanish or Mexican, her face was filled with sadness, and a sort of lonely, despondent look. Nicky thought for a moment of Clay, and how much she would like to see him, despite their argument.
The girl opened a crumpled envelope that showed signs of many, many readings, and pulled out a wrinkled letter. She studied it a moment, and closed her eyes, her teeth biting into her lower lip. Nicky thought she saw a tear in the corner of her eye. She tenderly tucked the letter away, as if it were a valuable document, and began to undress.
She pulled her dressing gown over her head, exposing the white fleshy curve of her calves, followed by her full, well-rounded thighs. She was wearing mesh stockings, held up by a black lace garter belt, contrasting starkly with the creamy whiteness of her legs and thighs.
Nicky could hear the breathing pick up in the darkened room as the girl on the screen tossed the gown aside, revealing her upper body, and her ripe, full breasts, resting in their restraining halter. One quick movement with her left hand, and the bra, too, was cast aside, allowing her high, proud breasts to swing freely. They almost seemed to sense their new freedom, and they soared even higher, her rigid nipples quivering as she raised her arms to release the clip holding her flowing black hair, releasing it to fall luxuriantly over her shoulders.
She turned to face the camera-just the sheer panties, the hose, garter belt, and high heels remaining. With a slight teasing look in her eyes, she turned her back to the lens. Her hands coursed over her naked torso, and then along her sides to the elastic band of her panties. With agonizing slowness, she drew the filmy garment down over her hips and the luscious curve of her buttocks, sliding them over her thighs, and finally, raising one foot, then the other, and stepping out of them, leaving her back to the camera-a long, smooth expanse of ivory-white flesh. She pushed her long hair high in the air with both hands, and turned to the lens, letting the silken, black cascade flow down to the tips of her full jutting breasts. Her delicious nudity was now complete, and all was exposed-her firm young breasts, the perfect flatness of her belly, and the soft sparse triangle of pubic hair at the junction of her supple thighs.
Nicky shifted uneasily in her chair. She had never seen anything quite like this before-at least not on the screen. It all seemed somehow much more exciting that way. She could watch every detail without the embarrassment of having the performer actually in the same room. Robard had settled quietly onto the large chair alongside her, but she was watching the girl on the screen so intently that she hadn't noticed. The liquor had softened her inhibitions, and she was totally engrossed in the presentation before her.
The young girl couldn't have been a day over sixteen, and was one of the prettiest girls Nicky could remember seeing. She thought briefly of Sandy, and how she had stripped for the men at the photographic session, and then lowered herself to the depths of depravity, and without a moment of remorse. Nicky had seen her numerous times around the school; and she behaved as if Nicky had never seen her that night-kneeling at a stranger's loins and wantonly doing something she had never done, even with Clay. She put that memory out of her mind, for the action was picking up on the screen and a warm tingling sensation was beginning to dance hotly between her tightly pressed thighs.
The girl had pulled the tear-stained letter from its resting place again, and was reading it once more, a look of obvious longing and loneliness on her face.
Nicky gasped. What is she doing now?
The girl's hand began to massage her own breasts, tracing delicately a circle around the throbbing nipples, gently squeezing them as they suddenly became very hard beneath her touch. Her legs opened and closed on the white sheet, each movement revealing the soft dark hair between her legs, and the first trace of the thin pink slit concealed there. Her face was twisted with sheer animal lust, and her eyes were glazed with desire, as she slowly worked her naked body into a raging, wanton passion. The sheet became twisted beneath her as she ground her buttocks into the mattress, scissoring her long legs as her desire grew more intense.
Nicky couldn't believe the girl was acting for a movie. Her passion seemed so reall Maybe they filmed it without her knowing, she thought. The idea that it was secretly made, perhaps from behind a one-way mirror, made the lurid scene even more exciting. She thought of the nights alone without Clay, and how she had lain awake in their bed, afraid to even think of the release that the girl on the screen was about to find. She knew that girls could ease their unfulfilled desires that way, but she would never have dreamed of trying it.
She felt someone behind her, and turned to find Carl with a tray of fresh drinks. She took another martini from the assortment, her eyes still glued to the screen, although a brief second of guilt flashed through her mind as she realized what she was watching.
Robard handed her a familiar-looking hand rolled cigarette, and she took it without even thinking. It was too thick for a cigarette, and she took her eyes from the movie to look at it.
Marijuana!
Grass was certainly nothing new to Nicky: she and Clay had smoked it together many times. But to find it at this party, with all these "straight" people! She looked at him, and he smiled reassuringly.
"I've never tried grass and alcohol at the same time, she thought. I wonder what effect it will have.
She took a long, deep drag, and felt a warm tingling race through her body. And ... seemingly seconds later, something strange was beginning to happen deep in her belly-she was starting to feel the first sensations of dull, aching pain far inside.
Everything took on a completely different identity as she took a second, then a third puff on the marijuana cigarette. She even began to feel like another person herself. It was as if she had left Nicky Webster behind, and had stepped into another personality. Her surroundings seemed strangely familiar, as if she had lived there for years. Somehow she felt at ease in this house, although Chris Saunders was the only one present that she really knew.
Chris was curled against a husky, broad-shouldered man with a neatly-trimmed goatee, and she, too, was taking long puffs from a joint of marijuana. The big man had his arm around her shoulders, and she seemed to be nearly asleep against his side.
The room seemed to be getting uncomfortably warm, and the heat, coupled with the excitement of watching the screen, was beginning to stimulate Nicky against her will. She found herself wiggling against the cool leather of the love-seat where she and Robard were sitting. The coolness felt especially good touching her tingling buttocks, and pressing the edge of her panties into the warm wetness of her vagina. She rubbed it back and forth in the soft crevice, in a slight but definite rhythm, in time with the wildly writhing girl on the screen. She could feel the hot wetness spreading between her legs as the coarse fabric made contact with the tiny bud of her clitoris, swelling as her desire grew greater and greater.
Nicky looked over her shoulder at Chris and the man she was with. He had slipped his hand inside her blouse, and she could see it moving around beneath the fabric, kneading the soft flesh of her breasts. Her skirt was past her thighs, and the full expanse of whiteness was fully exposed, from her knees up to the white patch of her panties. She didn't seem concerned about her exposure. Her eyes were open again, as she watched eagerly the girl in the movie.
Nicky felt Robard's arm slip behind her, and finally, drop on her shoulder. She thought for a second of shifting positions, but realized how childish it would seem to a man like Jefferson Robard. She settled back against his arm, feeling strangely at ease resting against its firm muscular length, and she offered no protest as his fingers touched ever so slightly the rounded bulge of her breast.
Why not? Clay's probably shacked up with some cheap tramp. Why should I be the one to stay home while he runs around!
The intoxicating marijuana intensified all the sounds and colors around her, and she could hear a dozen voices in the darkness, whispering, talking, breathing, or just taking slow drags on the joints that were passing from hand to hand.
The girl on the screen had completely lost control. Her hands roamed all over her nude body, running up and down the long expanse of her flat belly, over the sparse black mound of pubic hair, and coming together in the vee between her thighs. Nicky became aware for the first time that the move had a sound track, for the girl began to moan as her fingers caressed the nerve-filled flesh around her vagina. The girl pulled her knees up against her breasts, opening her crotch fully to the view of the camera, and to those watching the film. And then, with a lustful, deep groan, she spread her long, tapered legs, giving the viewers a clear picture of the moist, glistening crevice between her legs. Her fingers slipped hungrily through her soft pubic hair, and spread the lips of her vagina apart until the full pink wetness of the soft passage was fully visible, and her cunt opened ravenously. The lights used in the filming glared brightly off the full, round globes of her buttocks, upturned toward the lenses; two soft mounds of ivory whiteness divided by the pink furrow between them, spread wide to reveal the tiny, puckered opening of her anus, clenched tightly just below the soft, hair-lined lips of her vagina.
Nicky squirmed forward in the seat as the girl slipped her finger into the moist open orifice, massaging the nodule of her clitoris at the same time. Almost at the very instant the girl's finger disappeared into her glistening slit, Robards hand tightened and squeezed her soft breast-just a single squeeze, almost in passing. But Nicky was too involved in the scene projected on the screen to voice any opposition; as the girl slipped one finger after another into the hungry tunnel of her vagina, spreading the ragged, pink lips wider and wider. In and out they slid, slipping easily between the lubricated walls of her fleshy passage. The girl gritted her teeth and shoved all four of her fingers into the voracious channel, another loud moan coming from her lips as the fingers plunged into the soft opening with a wet, sucking noise. Her back was arched off the bed, every muscle tensed as she strained to reach her climax-but her wild efforts were in vain; her flaming desire could not be quenched with just her fingers. She groaned in frustration as she tried to thrust them deeper and deeper. But she wouldn't give up, her feet kicking the bed savagely, her head tossed back as her gasping moans grew louder and closer together.
Suddenly the camera dollied back to reveal a huge gray dog, racing across the room and leaping onto the bed. The tiny girl was nearly dwarfed by the enormous animal, and her eyes grew wide in absolute terror. She choked back a scream, for as she raised her hand to her mouth the animal snarled viciously. She was afraid to make a move, and remained in the same position: her glistening, wet crotch upturned just inches from his tremendous head.
Nicky jumped to her feet as she saw the animal on the screen bound into the bed with the terrified girl. Only after Jefferson reassured her was she able to sit back down.
"It's all right, honey. Don't let it upset you; it's just a movie. Sit back and enjoy it, it's not every day you get to see something like this," he said. She settled back into the chair, and he pulled her closer to his side.
She knew she should run from the room without hesitating a second, and turn away from this filthy display, but the sadistic excitement was too much for her in her state of mind. She could almost feel that she was the girl in the bed; and that the great animal was hovering over her instead. Her drug-heightened nerves quivered as she watched the naked girl shaking with fear, the huge dog panting over her writhing body. Nicky moved a little closer still to Robard's side, as if she could hide there from the terrible attack that was about to take place on the screen. She had heard about movies like this and she could imagine what was about to come-the drooling, savage beast raping the young girl. And with her perception numbed by the marijuana, the action could just have easily been in the same room, for the screen, the people and the room were as one to her.
Robard's hand was back on her breast, but she had no urge to push it away. She knew he could only do so much with all the others there in the room, and she strangely felt that his roving fingers were really hurting no one. And besides, the drug had greatly stepped up her sex drive, and his hand felt good as her jutting nipples swelled under his touch, throbbing as they stiffened between his fingertips, his palm cupped under the soft fullness of her firm breast.
The edge of her panties was still rubbing against her tiny distended clitoris, and she squirmed on the seat to rub it harder against the sensitive bud. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but for some reason she felt no guilt. The sadistic fascination of watching the hapless girl on the screen, and the euphoria-inducing marijuana had seemingly joined forces to overthrow her powers of reason. Her eyes were still glued to the screen, and she offered no resistance as Robard continued to fondle her breast. She tried to imagine how the girl must feel, at the mercy of the huge animal, and the thought of the girl's impending ravishment stimulated her even more. Her rhythmic squirming on the cushion grew faster and more deliberate until, suddenly, she slipped from the drugged state just long enough to realize that Robard had noticed her excited writhing. She could see him staring at her out of the comer of her eye, a knowing smile on his face. She turned away, pretending to be unaware he was looking at her, but she could feel the redness pour into her cheeks, as the throbbing warmth continued to build between her tightly closed thighs.
Her eyes again focused on the screen, with her mind a few fuzzy seconds behind. The girl had tried to slip away, but the dog was well-trained. He growled savagely and began to lick greedily at the narrow pink slit between her legs. He licked it from top to bottom, lashing out at her tiny clitoris, then along the length of her opening, tunneling into the wet crevice, between the soft walls of flesh, and finally, wetly caressing the tightly-clenched ring of her anus. The helpless girl jerked convulsively as the huge beast flicked his long tongue deeper and deeper into her vagina.
She tried to decide whether the girl was acting or whether the whole happening was real and unrehearsed. The naked girl's writhing and trembling seemed almost too perfect to be anything but the real thing. Nicky was only partly aware of the stimulation that was inching over her own body, as she watched intently the girl's terror-stricken face gradually soften as the savage animal slithered his long hard tongue into her wet, warm passage. She had seemed to be fighting the animal's hungry, obscene advances, but now her face mirrored a definite change taking place, as her frightened gasps became soft moans of pleasure, the thick, rough tongue worming its way deeper and deeper into her cunt.
The huge dog seemed to sense her building desire, and his lizard-like licking grew faster and faster; the savage animal grinding his tongue and nose into the wet softness of her upturned crotch.
Nicky looked behind her, and found a shock even greater than the one on the screen. It was Chris Saunders and the man she was with! Chris's skirt had been pushed up past her full white thighs, and the man had his hand between them, his fingers slipped between the elastic of her panties and the softness of her upper thigh. He must have had at least one finger buried in her vagina, for Chris was completely off the seat, pushing down on the arm of the sofa with one hand and on the man's shoulder with the other. She was grinding her crotch against his hand, tossing her pelvis from side to side as his fingers buried deep inside her. Her blouse was completely unbuttoned, and Nicky could see the rounded outline of her breasts, bulging from her bra, still youthfully firm though she was at least fifteen years Nicky's senior. The man's plundering fingers were pumping into her faster and faster, and Chris responded with a long, low moan. She didn't seem to care about the others in the room, for her gasping groans were clearly audible, even above those of the girl on the screen. Nicky feared for a moment that Chris might see her staring, but then she saw the glazed look in her eyes, and knew that she was completely oblivious to anything except the exhibition on the screen and the strong probing fingers ravishing her loins.
Then Nicky noticed that Chris was not the only one who had lost control. At least three other couples were locked in lewd sensual embraces; and Nicky could see the bare legs of one girl-one of the models from the showing-raised like ivory columns from a sofa in the rear of the room, her panties still stretched between the long, tapering calves where they had been pulled down to her ankles. She knew it was only a matter of time before Robard attempted to maneuver her into the same position, and that she was going to be faced with a decision-one that she dreaded having to make, for the vicarious excitement of watching the savage attack on the screen was sending lewd tremors of desire throughout her body, and she could feel that resistance would be difficult, if not impossible, if she stayed a single minute longer. Jefferson was still tenderly fondling her breast, though the nipple seemed about to burst from his continuing caresses. She felt as if she were sitting in a lukewarm puddle, for the spreading wetness from her crotch had dampened the cushion, and soaked the seat of her panties.
She tried to postpone having to make the difficult decision, and turned back to the screen. The huge dog was nudging the girl again and again in the side, as if he were rolling over a log in search of food. He nudged her harder and harder, a fierce growl escaping from his mouth. The girl knew what he wanted, and was afraid to turn over, but his butting was too frightening, and his lips were pulled back to reveal his long, sharp teeth. The girl relented, and rolled over on her stomach, the twin mounds of her buttocks extended sensuously up toward the threatening beast. He nudged her again, this time in the crevice of her buttocks, and, completely defeated, the young girl raised to her knees, kneeling like a helpless slave before her animal master.
Nicky gasped with fearful anticipation as the tremendous animal mounted the naked girl from behind, his paws resting on her back. She had known it was coming, but that knowledge didn't soften the shock at all. She squirmed forward on the seat in guilty anticipation as the bright red penis slipped from its furry sheath, the dripping point stabbing around in her hot, fleshy passage as the beast struggled to bury the tapered shaft in the warm, soft depths of her cunt.
The girl had given up completely to her wanton desires, and she was prepared to offer no more resistance to the animal's assaults. She wiggled her buttocks to line up her hungry orifice with the huge scarlet shaft. Twice he jerked forward savagely, and twice the bright, glistening penis missed its mark, and the girl reached back, trying to guide the long thick organ into the sheltered warmth of her grasping fleshy lips. The dog began to growl again, this time in angry frustration as the huge penis slithered aimlessly in the crevice of her buttocks. Finally she was able to slip the tapered point into the thin wet slit, and the dog gave a hard vicious lunge, and his long red penis disappeared in the quivering girl's hungry, grasping opening. It was buried to the hilt, and the girl salaciously ground her glistening wet buttocks back hard to meet the animal's wild thrusts, rocking forward and then back in time with his rhythmic lunging. The young girl was at one with the savage animal, having, in her utter helplessness, lost all her inhibitions, and she bucked and reared like an animal herself as the huge dog fucked into her from behind. Her face was twisted with abandoned ecstasy, her large firm breasts tossing freely beneath her as she twisted back onto the scarlet cudgel, straining to sheath it all in the warm softness of her cunt. The long tapered spear skewered into her glistening, hot passage, impaling her helplessly on the full, extended length of his huge, throbbing penis.
Nicky heard another passionate moan from behind her, but she was too hypnotized by the sadistic ravishment on the screen, and was unable to pull her gaze away. The welling pain in the depths of her own belly was growing more and more intense, and the tiny distended bud of her clitoris was a delicate bundle of raw nerve endings, quivering as the fabric of her soaked panties rubbed against it. Robard's hand had left her breast, at least for the moment, and was curling around her trim curved waist, methodically rubbing against her outer thigh, moving closer and closer to the gentle mound at the base of her belly, as it inched relentlessly across her lap. Nicky knew she should stop him, but she just couldn't do it. The excitement of watching the obscene exhibition had pushed aside her sense of reason, just as the girl on the screen had finally given into her animal desires. She stole a quick peek at Chris and the man, almost as fascinated by watching his hand digging into the delicate wetness between her open thighs, as she was by watching the huge animal screwing the hapless girl in the movie.
I've got to stop him, she thought. I've got to stop all this before it's too late.
Her mind was hopelessly fogged by the alcohol and the marijuana, and she was unable to concentrate on anything very long. Her mind wandered back to the girl on the screen, and the savage plundering she was receiving from the huge, merciless animal; and soon she was oblivious again to Jefferson's steadily roving hand, moving closer and closer to the junction of her tender thighs.
It was as if the girl had become more of an animal than the beast, for she seemed to be gaining more savage pleasure from the lewd screwing than the dog, kicking her bare feet viciously against the mattress, her fists pounding the wall at her head. It no longer mattered that the huge pink cudgel pistoning into the soft depths of her belly was that of a snarling, drooling beast-all that mattered was the delicious wave of pleasure that his every forward lunge into her womb sent coursing through her writhing body. Faster and faster the dumb beast pumped his scarlet penis into the girl from behind, a steady growl slipping from between his sharp, bared teeth.
Nicky was finding it increasingly difficult to remain still on the seat, for the flickering spark of agonizing desire had been fanned into the scorching flame that now licked at her very insides. Jefferson's hand was resting almost innocently on the gentle mound of her pelvis, not moving, but just resting there as if waiting for another cue from her. She glanced at Chris from the comer of her eye, and could see that she had forgotten the lascivious display on the screen, for she and the husky man were creating their own excitement. The room was dark, but not dark enough to hide completely their actions. Chris's panties were around her ankles, and Nicky could clearly see the exposed crevice of her buttocks, for Chris had pulled her knees up against her body, and was resting her chin on them. With no obstacle to slow him down, the man was wasting no time-his hand was rapidly channeling into her wet, exposed vaginal orifice, and Chris had both eyes tightly shut, her mouth hung limply open as if she were about to speak but had forgotten what she was going to say.
Nicky was hard pressed to decide which spectacle to watch-the one on the screen or the one in the room. She noticed that one or two couples were no longer in the room, yet she had heard no one tell Jefferson good-bye. She thought it strange that anyone would leave without a word. But then a loud gasping moan from upstairs cleared the mystery. She looked up the long stairs, and could see the shadowy forms of several people writhing on a huge round bed directly in front of an open bedroom door.
The wetness between her thighs seemed to be a warm flowing flood now, and she shifted lightly to her left to escape the uncomfortable stickiness, sidling even closer to Jefferson. Her subtle movement seemed to be his cue, for at that instant, his hand began to massage the soft, gentle mound beneath her belly; slowly at first, then faster and more deliberately. Further and further along the gentle slope his fingers inched, until with each rubbing motion his fingers curved over the bony hardness at the very middle of her pelvis. Finally they crawled around the border of her mini-skirt, and made the first contact with the sensitive wetness of her crotch. His touch, even through the soaked fabric of her panties, sent an involuntary chill racing through her body, but she was unable to pull away. Like a powerful drug, the wanton excitement rampant on the screen and in the room held her securely in its grip, and she was unable to summon either the energy or the desire to fight back. His electric touch was a natural complement to the lurid display on the screen, and she felt reasonably secure in the relative safety of numbers-she was certain that Robard could not go much further with her while so many others were in the same room. So she closed her eyes and resigned herself to the forbidden surges of pleasure rolling through her body, as if by shutting off her vision she could enjoy the delicious pleasures without having to face the reality around her.
But her security was short-lived, for Jefferson ceased his gentle massage along the bulge of her pubic mound, and, catching her by surprise, wiggled his hand under her buttocks, squirming along in the narrow crevice until he reached the warm, soft wetness at the end. His hand was inside her panties, and felt strangely cool against her fevered flesh. Without a second's hesitation, he slipped his middle finger into the thin fleshy slit, burrowing between the soft, hair-lined lips in search of her cuntal opening. She gasped in shock as his finger slid easily into the hungry, seemingly waiting tunnel, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. She was truly in a dilemma-to fight back would cause a terrible scene, yet to offer no resistance, she knew, was to yield to all his coming demands and she knew what he had in mind for her. She squirmed against his impaling finger, biting her lower lip to hold back the squeal of ecstatic delight that threatened to explode from within. The walls of her vagina were soft and wet, lubricating his probing finger so that his invasion was not painful, but rather a sensual pleasure. The unfamiliar alcohol had numbed her senses, but the marijuana had more than compensated, for a million volts of sheer gratification seemed to course through her sensitized nerves. She could feel the hot, sticky wetness spreading from her cunt, smearing against his palm as he continued to dig into her soft, tender passage, gently rotating his finger inside her, expanding the narrow passage wider and wider with each further revolution.
Nicky closed her eyes again, her teeth clenched to hold back the moans of joy fighting to get out.
She was as completely surrendered as the girl on the screen. She lifted her buttocks off the seat, offering Jefferson's hand even easier access to her glistening, wet pussy; her hungry vaginal lips nibbling voraciously at his finger. The teasing finger fucking he was subjecting her to was driving her out of her mind! She would have pulled him over on top of her in a split-second, had they been alone in the darkened room. Her throbbing passage ached for something to fill it-something hard and thick to smash into the aching depths of her cunt and bring her relief. She had completely forgotten the girl in the movie, and then suddenly....
The girl on the screen screamed a bone-chilling cry. Her face was smashed into the mattress, tossing wildly from side to side, as her long hair tossed like a mane behind her. She was just beginning her orgasm, and the sharp, stabbing pains were wracking her helpless body as she screwed her buttocks hungrily against the madly bucking dog, completely possessed and abandoned to her fate. Harder and harder she ground her ravaged buttocks back at the humping beast, and he met her every twisting lunge with a savage plundering thrust of his own, driving the long, blood-swelled penis into her aching belly from behind. She screamed again, her face contorted with depraved ecstasy, and Nicky could see that she had reached her climax. Her smooth, round buttocks jerked uncontrollably, just as the huge dog gave one final lunge, and began to lewdly spurt his milky liquid into her belly; spitting it out in hot, sticky bursts deep into her hungry vagina. His sperm oozed from the tightly clasping cunt, and streamed down her smooth thighs in tiny white trickles. Her whole backside, from the delicate hollow of her back, to the matted wet pubic hair of her crotch, was soaked, and glistened under the hot lights of the grinding cameras around the bed.
The savagely mauled girl pitched forward on her face, and the limp penis of the beast slipped from the clutching grasp of her vagina with a lewd sucking noise. The huge animal stood towering above her naked form, as if in a final show of mastery, his tail wagging happily. The girl seemed unconscious, and didn't move as the big dog bounded from the bed, leaving her once more alone on the mattress, the lewd, white sperm of the beast still dripping from her ravished loins.
The film was over, and the screen was only a big white blank. Nicky was only half-glad to feel Jefferson's finger slip from her aching vagina and his hand slide easily from under her. Another few seconds might have been too much, for she was dangerously close to being as helpless as the ravaged girl on the screen. But her clasping vagina seemed almost reluctant to release his finger, and she couldn't help thinking how it would have felt so much more wonderful had he left it there a few moments more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nicky looked around the still-darkened room; she and Jefferson and one other couple were the only ones who had remained for the end of the movie. But the squeals from the upstairs showed where the party had moved. Jefferson put the projector away, but left the room lights off.
Chris and the man she was with were apparently among the ones upstairs, for Nicky couldn't see her anywhere. She started to ask Jefferson, but decided it would appear terribly naive. He came back with another drink for her in his hand.
"Well, what did you think? Pretty good, huh?" She wasn't sure whether he really wanted an answer.
"Yeah, it was different, anyway," she answered, still a little dazed from watching the incredible display she had been so unprepared for.
"You were getting a little excited there, weren't you?" he smiled rather too cockily she thought.
Nicky could feel her cheeks redden. She looked away, trying to avoid his eyes, but she could feel him looking at her, and suddenly, she felt nearly as naked and defenseless as the girl in the movie.
"Yes, I suppose I was," she replied bravely, "too much alcohol I guess. I'm not used to drinking so much...."
She was waiting for him to say something, anything, but he only sat and stared, twirling his drink between his palms.
"I really should be going. What time is it, anyway?" she asked half-heartedly.
"It's not very late, and you don't have to go anywhere. Not yet, at least," he said.
She had regained enough courage to look him squarely in the eye, but she didn't like what she saw. She knew what he had planned and she didn't have any intentions of going along with it.
"You don't have to be coy with me," he said. "We weren't exactly holding hands a few minutes ago. You didn't seem too eager to leave then."
Nicky opened her mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. She knew he was right-that she had allowed him to fondle her, and allowed his probing fingers inside her body; but worst of all, she knew she had enjoyed every agonizing second of it.
"What happened has nothing to do with the rest of the evening," she began, trying to instill a note of confidence in her voice. "And I do have to go. Now if you will have your driver take me home, okay. But if not, just say so and I'll call a taxi right now. And you'd better not try to stop me, or...." Her voice rose with every word, and by the end of her sentence she was shouting, almost hysterically.
"Now hold it. Hold it!" he laughed. "Nobody's holding you prisoner. You're free to go any time. And I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression of me." He put down his drink and put both his hands behind him. "Look, no hands. You can tie me up if you like. I'm not really a wild beast, you know. Please stay a little longer and let me prove it."
Nicky felt much better, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, I'll stay a little longer. And I'm sorry if I sounded like a schoolgirl. I'm not really like that. It's just that all this booze and grass have me a little up-tight. I'm not too sure of anything tonight."
Just then they heard a groan from behind one of the long sofas that divided the room in the rear. Nicky turned and caught a glimpse of two very feminine bare legs on the carpet, just slightly visible behind the sofa. She couldn't see anyone else, but from the sounds coming from the dark corner, it was obvious she wasn't alone.
"Come on," said Jefferson, grabbing her arm. "This is no place for a young lady."
Something told her to say no, to pull away and run out of the house, but she didn't. She went along meekly, without a word.
They crossed the enormous living room, and walked down a paneled corridor past the kitchen and the bar. At the far end of the corridor was a metal door.
At least there are some lights down here, she thought. It couldn't he any worse than that dark living room.
But somehow she couldn't help feel a little frightened, for being in this tremendous house, although only a few miles from her own home, she felt as if she were in another country, thousands of miles from anything familiar. He pulled a key from his coat pocket, and inserted it into the switch by the large door. With a slight swishing sound, the steel door opened, revealing an elevator. But what an elevator! Marble floor, with wrought iron walls twirling up intricately, a maze of carved rose vines, complete with tiny hand-carved roses. They stepped in, and he pushed a button marked 'F. The doors closed, and the light in the ceiling of the elevator car went out, only to be replaced by hundreds of blue bulbs, concealed in the elevator shaft, lighting their progress as the car smoothly bored its way upward.
The doors opened again, and Nicky and Jefferson stepped out into another corridor, shorter and even more elaborately constructed than the one on the first floor. Jefferson pushed another button, and two heavy, wooden doors slid back, opening onto an incredibly beautiful master bedroom suite, complete with fireplace. One entire wall, running at least fifty feet along the suite, was of glass. And out of that expanse of window was the most beautiful view of the city Nicky had ever seen. It was as if they were on a high mountain-top, and it was only then that Nicky realized they were on the very top of the town-house, four stories above the ground.
"Have a seat," he offered, pointing to an enormous black leather sofa. He walked over to what appeared to be a control panel, and turned a few switches. As he did, soft lights flickered on around the ceiling of the room, recessed in the beams. A moment later, music began to come from concealed speakers all around the room, filling the room with sound.
"It's incredible. This is absolutely the most beautiful room I've ever seen. It's like something out of a dream," she said.
Surprisingly, he looked a little modest about the whole lay-out.
"This is my own special part of the house," he explained. "Whenever I get tired of all the hangers-on downstairs, I just come up here. That elevator is the only way in, and no one has the key but me. The staff can look after things below, and I just hide away up here. I suppose it's all a bit childish ... like some little boy's tree house, or something. But it doesn't matter to me."
Nicky was enthralled by the place. It was like your own private world. The two-room suite had everything you could possibly want, including its own bar, with refrigerator and electric range; television, stereo, everything. Even a huge Roman sunken tub that Nicky could see through the open bathroom doors.
"Go over by the window and take a look," he suggested. "That's a view you won't find anywhere else in the city." It was one of the reasons I chose this site to build on. Those twinkling fights way off to your right are twenty-five miles away. Some nights you can see even farther."
The glass panes went all the way to the floor, and standing up close was a little like floating in space-you could look straight down and see the ground four stories below. She could see that all of the cars were still parked in the oval drive, so she knew that the others were still in the building somewhere. She remembered Chris and the man she was making out with downstairs, and wondered what they were doing at that very moment, although there wasn't really much doubt in her mind.
"Yes, it's really beautiful," she began. "I'd probably stay in this room all the time if this was my place. I'd probably...."
She stopped short, her eyes wide with horrified amazement at what she saw as she turned around. He was nudel Jefferson was standing just a few feet away, completely naked. While she was admiring the view, he had quietly removed all his clothes!
Nicky just stood there, her hand over her mouth, unable to speak or move. He was holding a drink in one hand, completely casual as if nothing was unusual about standing around naked in mixed company. Then he broke into a wide grin, still standing there, looking straight at her.
"What the hell ... Let me out of here this minute!" she demanded, regaining her composure. "I mean it. Let me out or I'll scream!"
He only laughed. "Scream? Are you kidding? There are fifteen inches of soundproofing in these walls. You could scream till next month and no one would hear you."
"I'm not kidding!" she yelled, stepping back toward the window. "You let me out of here!"
But he didn't seem to hear her, or if he did, her screams didn't seem to matter. He just stood there, that almost obscene grin on his face, stroking his chest; running his hand along the hairy roughness of his breast, and on down over the slight paunch of his belly, stopping just short of the thick bushy clump on his pelvis.
This was going to be one night he wouldn't want to miss for anything. He'd brought a lot of girls up here, but this was one of the best-looking yet. Chris knew how to pick 'em, young but not too young. Too old to run home to Mother or the cops, but still young enough to be inexperienced. And for what he had in mind, he wanted her to be as inexperienced as possible. Yes, he thought, she is going to be just right. His penis was still soft and limp, hardly more than a little lump between his bushy loins and his hairy thighs, almost lost in the thick hair. It may have been little at that moment, but he knew better. He gave it a little shake, pulling it out a little longer. He wasn't the slightest bit ashamed of its seemingly short length, for many girls had been deceived by its short, stubby appearance. Deceived, that is, until it began to come alive-like a slumbering giant waking up, until it doubled, then tripled in size. Then they had all learned the truth, usually just in time to feel its rock-hard thickness swelling up deep inside their quivering little bellys."
He remembered the last girl he had had up here. Come to think of it, she had been one of Chris' girls, too! I've got to remember to buy something nice for that Christine Saunders, he said to himself. Yes, that last one had been a real live wire. A little young, maybe, but certainly not a child. Sandy something ... yes, that was her name ... Sandy. He couldn't help smiling as he remembered her frail, slender body, still ripening into womanhood, not quite there, but nearly perfect ... like a peach, almost ripe, waiting to be picked. He remembered her delicate body, kneeling before him, and loving every second of it. Yes, that had been some blow job. She'd nearly choked trying to get it all down her throat. And she didn't miss a drop when he shot off, her little tongue just lashing out, so as not to miss a single drop.
"Get out of your clothes. Now!" He didn't ask. It was a command, and Nicky knew that in spite of all her brave spoken words, there was no way out. She was trapped, and she knew it. He had the key to the elevator and she knew he wouldn't let her out until he was through with her. Whatever he had in store for her, she knew she had to take it. Better to get it over with and not get hurt, than to suffer and still have to go through with it. Finally, she was able to fumble all the buttons free, and slipped it off, exposing the tops of her firm, full breasts jutting from her bra. In another moment, she unhooked the bra behind her, and let it fall, sliding along her outstretched arms, freeing her breasts. They bounced just a little, released from the support of the bra, but they stood out proudly, the tiny, pink nipples jutting out in proud, twin peaks of soft, resilient flesh. She could feel the goose bumps pop up all over her exposed breasts, and they shivered slightly as a cold chill passed over her body. She could feel his stare, locked onto her soft, round globes, and she began to tremble, afraid to even think of what might be next.
"Don't stop there. Take off the rest."
She knew better than to resist, and seconds later, her skirt lay alongside her blouse and bra on the floor. She wasn't wearing a slip, so she was now standing almost nude, just the sheer panties between her and completely nakedness.
"I can't. Please, I can't," she pleaded. But he didn't even bother to reply. Just the same icy stare that told her that all her pleading would be useless.
She gripped the elastic band of her panties, and slipped them over the firm, bulging mounds of her buttocks, and along her long, smooth thighs and calves, and finally, they lay in a little pile around her ankles. One kick, and they were beside her on the floor, and she stood completely nude, her soft expanse of flesh broken only by the black vee at her pelvis.
"Come here. Let's have a better look at that body of yours. I hear through the grapevine it's supposed to be something really special."
Nicky was frozen to the spot. She couldn't move! She didn't want to get him mad, but she just couldn't step any closer to him.
But Jefferson Robard didn't mind. In fact, he was kind of glad she was going to play hard to get. He got a little tired of the easy ones-two drinks and they were on their backs, legs spread wide and ready to fuck. Yes, he was looking forward to a bit of a struggle. It always seemed to be better when you had to fight a little to get it.
"Maybe you didn't hear me. I said come here."
She knew it was hopeless to resist. She walked over and stood directly in front of him, her whole body trembling with fear. Never had she felt so helpless-so completely alone.
He motioned for her to come a little closer.
She stood there for what seemed like an eternity. If only he would do something. Why doesn't he grab me, or throw me on the bed? Why does he just stand there looking at me?
Jefferson raised his hand, and she gave an involuntary jerk, every muscle tensed, waiting for his hand to knead into her soft, fear-quivering breast, or jab up between her tender thighs. She closed her legs tightly, in a futile gesture to protect her naked crotch. But his hand touched her face!
He placed his index finger on her lips, and ran his finger around the tiny circle of her half-open mouth, gently rubbing her top and bottom lips.
"Yes, that ought to be just about right."
Nicky was paralyzed with fear. Surely he didn't mean ... Oh, no he couldn't want her to do that!
"From the look on your face, cutie, I think you've guessed what's next. Down on your knees!"
She sank to her knees almost without thinking and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to say it was all a joke. That this awful thing was not about to happen. She was afraid to lower her head. She knew that his limp, waiting cock was dangling just inches from her head.
With a practiced movement, Jefferson spread his feet just the right amount to line up the slumbering organ with her lips. She tried to turn away, but he placed his hand alongside her head, and turned her back toward his loins.
"All right, the rest is up to you. Do a good job, and I won't be too hard on you. But if you force me, I can get plenty rough.
She lowered her head so that her chin was resting on her breast, the top of her head grazing the wrinkled bulb of his penis.
"Listen, I'm warning you. You'd be smart to do it right all by yourself, cause if I have to make you do it it's going to be a lot harder on you...."
"All right, then," he growled down at her pleading face, "well do it the hard way."
Nicky remained immobile, her growing revulsion at the horrible thing he was going to make her do.
He grabbed her by the hair, just above both ears, and twisted her head upwards. He could see the tears welling in her eyes from the agonizing pain. Lining up her closed lips with the tip of his cock, he gave his hips a lunge forward. But she wouldn't open her mouth. She had her lips and teeth tightly clenched, and refused to open them. He grabbed a little more hair between his fingers, and gave a rough yank, making her cry out from the pain.
"Come on, you're only making it harder on yourself. You should try to be a little more like your friend Sandy. Now that chick knew how to operate."
Sandy! So Sandy had been up here with him. She remembered Sandy at the shooting session, and the quick glimpse she had gotten of her down on her knees in front of that awful man, but she had never thought she might one day be in the same position. And the thought of Sandy's pursed lips clamped around Jefferson's hard, fleshy penis only made it seem more impossible to face. This was about to happen to her! The same obscene cock that had so recently plunged into Sandy's open receptive lips was now hanging just inches from her own lips!
The pain as he twisted handfuls of her long silken hair was unbearable. Her soft, lipstick-ringed lips opened just the slightest bit. He skillfully lowered the dangling cock into the tiny opening, stretching up on his toes, then lowering it down, so that the tiny prick settled limply between her lips. For moments it just lay there in her half-opened mouth.
He just stood there above her, holding her head between his palms, forcing her to look up at him, his cock still dangling between her half-open lips.
"It's your choice. You can do it the easy way, or the hard way. But you will do it."
There was no point in resisting any further. Any more resistance would only make him madder. She knew it was best to get it over with. Maybe if she could lower his guard, she could find the key to the elevator and get away.
She pursed her lips around the soft, spongy organ, and brushed her tongue against the bulbous head of it. Like the signal he was awaiting, her first sign of surrender released his tight grip on her hair. She was still trapped between his opened hands, but at least the pain was gone.
Jefferson was a little disappointed that she hadn't offered more resistance. He had sort of been primed for a little excitement before she got down to the task at hand. But, anyway, it really didn't matter, and he quickly forgot his disappointment when he looked down at her face, his cock slithering wetly in and out of her ovaled lips.
He smoothed his hands down along her neck, and down over her shoulders to her breasts. By bending his knees just a little, he could feel her soft, ripe breasts and still slide his cock in and out of her mouth. He twisted her nipples between his fingertips, and could feel them harden under his touch. He placed his hand under the smooth curve of one of her breasts, lifting its full, voluptuous weight with the side of his palm, then squeezing the firm fullness with his fingers, digging into the soft, resilient flesh.
Her warm, wet mouth felt good around his prick, but not quite good enough to suit him. She didn't seem to be doing quite enough. He grabbed her head between his hands, and stuffed the ever-growing cock deeper into her mouth, rocking her head back and forth with his palms. He could feel the swelling member sliding across the roughness of her teeth as it slithered moistly into her wet, pursed lips, then out again.
"Now, that's the way. Back and forth, in and out."
He began to sway his hips forward and then back, each forward lunge driving his cock up to the bushy hilt between her soft working lips, smashing his coarse curly, pubic hair teasingly against her face.
The slumbering organ was definitely coming alive. It had already grown to twice its earlier size, and was still growing as she sucked now more intently on its smooth, glistening length. He rocked back so that only the bulb-like head remained in the soft, warm confines of her mouth, then lunged forward, sliding her moist lips along the full length of the stiffening member.
He couldn't hold back a grin. She was nearly choking already, and his cock had grown to only half its full size. He tossed it into her with a hard lunge, nearly ramming the fleshy cock down her throat. She gagged and nearly choked, until he eased back just a little to allow her to regain her breath.
The ever-lengthening cock had reached almost its full size, and he could see that she was having a difficult time trying to get it all in. Every thrust now seemed to be gagging her, and he could feel the tip of it banging against the rear of her mouth.
She looked up at him, a pleading look in her tear-reddened eyes. He recognized that look of abject surrender, and that was just the cue he had been waiting for. He knew she wouldn't resist anymore now, and he eased his lunging thrusts enough to stop her choking. Then, rhythmically, he shifted into the slow, deep-pistoning motion that he knew would finish him up.
Nicky couldn't believe she was actually taking the whole, huge shaft into her mouth. At first, it had seemed impossible, but now the thick cock was easier to take. She was no longer gasping and choking with every thrust, as the stubby penis ground into the back of her throat, threatening to make her gag with each merciless plunge. She gradually relaxed the muscles of her mouth and throat, and the hard, quickening thrusts seemed much more bearable.
The snake-like member gave just enough at the end to slide down her throat, but she could feel its hardness filling the rest of her mouth. She tried not to swallow, for every time she did, she could feel the bruised and battered muscles of her throat tightening around the bulky cock, clasping the sensitive tip like a glove, and she could sense that her tightening muscles were only stimulating him more, and the cock continued to swell in her soft, sucking mouth, forcing her to breathe in short gulping gasps through her nose. Every time she tried not to swallow, the huge shaft choked her, and she was forced to do so anyway. She could taste the first tell-tale drops oozing from the gland on the tip of the bulky spear. He pulled the organ almost completely out of her mouth, then teasingly ran it around in circles around her lips, now parched and dry. His wet cock, aided by the oozing seminal fluid from the tip, moistened her lips, lubricating them for the final assault that was about to come.
He could scarcely believe his eyes. The very sight of the young, voluptuous naked girl kneeling at his feet, his long penis sliding over her lips, the bulbous head nearly bursting ... and her slightly rounded lips, eager and hungry, waiting for him to thrust the huge cock back in. He could hold it back no longer. He squeezed her head, holding it firmly in place, and began the final, grinding motion, each thrust burying the swollen cock up to the hilt between her soft ovaled lips.
"That's it. That's it. Keep it up, don't stop until I say stop. Just keep it up."
"Mrnmm," she half grunted in answer.
Nicky couldn't have answered him with words if she had wanted to. She was trying to relax, and let the hard cock run its course into her mouth. If her muscles tightened, it only gagged her and made it worse. She could feel it jabbing the back of her throat, but there was nothing she could do. The long penis slithered between her tightly closed lips, over her tongue, and banged into her throat. She could feel his rhythm picking up, and she knew that in a few moments the bulging cock would spew its load into her helpless throat, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing!
Jefferson was showing his first sign of feeling, his eyes closed as he smashed his loins against her face. The lava flow of sperm was about to explode out of his balls, but he wanted to hang on to every precious second. He grabbed her head, with both his hands behind it, and rammed his long cock down her throat, lunging forward with all his strength, shoving the huge member down until there was no more.
Any second now, he thought. It's coming! It's coming!
And then his aching balls exploded, hot bursts of sticky liquid rushing powerfully up and along the lengthy shaft. He held it back a second longer, his cock rammed to its full length down her soft, defensively contracting throat, poised for the scalding burst of cascading cum....
"OHhhh, God! Ohhhhhh!" He screamed. "Suck it, you bitch! Suck harder! I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum in your hot little mouth!"
Nicky could feel the obscene fires of unwanted desire welling up from inside her belly and she obeyed suddenly with a renewed effort. She sucked hungrily like a tiny child, at the exploding cock, great hot waves of the white liquid gushing into her mouth. She couldn't help herself, she felt like the the lowest animal on earth, but in spite of this she swallowed the sticky flow hungrily, nearly choking as she gulped down every drop, burying her face shamelessly against his wildly undulating crotch. She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until there wasn't any more and until finally he backed away from her still sucking mouth, his rapidly deflating cock slipping wetly from between her sperm glistening lips.
"Oooooh, baby," he crooned appreciatively down at the top of her shamefully lowered head. "You really got with it, nearly sucked me dry."
Nicky cringed nakedly down on the floor in front of him, her eyes smoky and dazed from the sudden rush of passion that came over her in her helplessness in those last awful seconds before he had squirted his hot, lewd semen deep down in the hidden recesses of her wildly sucking throat. Dimly she wondered what had come over her at that awful moment, what had driven her to swallow his gushing sperm as though it were the milk of life itself to her? What had made her succumb to him that way and degrade herself in his eyes by her sudden oral greed and hunger? But ... the humiliating thoughts lasted only momentarily as the hot burning fires that had been kindled between her tightly pressed thighs by her abandoned surrender moments before suddenly burst into a hot, searing, all consuming flame. Gone were the thoughts of her lewd surrender, gone were the thoughts of his leering triumphant face as he had slithered his deflated cock from her still sucking lips ... now ... now there was only the lewd, licking flame between her thighs and the ache in her own belly that had to be stilled.
"Fuck me," she hissed up at his still leering face. "I want you to fuck me silly."
"Sure, baby," he grinned down at her triumphantly, watching with bated breath as she slithered sensuously like a feline animal over on her back and spread her legs out wide to the sides, the tiny pink opening of her moist throbbing pussy beckoning him on to use it as he would....
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I'm quitting this whole crazy mess, right now!" she screamed. Mr. Elliott sat with his feet propped on his desk. "I said I quit ... No more assignments, and no more classes."
His face showed no trace of any emotion.
"Go ahead and quit. It's all right with me ... However, there is just one thing. There's the little matter of the eight hundred dollars you owe us for your training. Your contract clearly stated...."
"Sue me for your lousy money. Fat chance you'll have of getting anything out of me," she yelled.
"But you miss the point, Miss Webster. If you will recall, you and your boyfriend ... Clayton Trott, I believe was the name ... signed a note for the amount of the full tuition. And the collateral was your household furnishings and Mr. Trott's photographic equipment. And I don't think your boyfriend would like to give up his equipment. Right?" He smiled for the first time since she had brought up the point of quitting.
Nicky was speechless. He was right! They had signed the note. And she couldn't risk losing all of Clay's cameras and equipment that they had worked so hard for.
"Well, I'm still quitting. How long do I have to pay back the money?" she asked.
"The note comes payable the minute you leave the school ... But if you really want to leave so badly, I'll let you have two weeks. Pay me in two weeks, or I'll turn the note over to my attorney for collection ... Now if that's all, Miss Webster, I have other work to attend to." He got up from his desk, and left the room, leaving her standing there. She knew she must find some way to get the money before he took everything they owned. But how? Without the school to get her modeling assignments, there was nothing except what little Clay made.
Clay was at the photo library, collecting samples of architectural shots to study, so she sat through supper alone, still worrying about the money. She was about to admit defeat when the phone rang.
"Nicky, this is Jefferson Robard." The voice on the phone paused, obviously waiting for some response. Nicky was in no mood to talk to him.
"You've got a lot of nerve, calling me here like this. Just who do you think you are? I ought to hang up in your face...."
"No, don't do that. Just hold it a minute. I just finished talking to Chris. I know you don't think much of her, but she's really a very sensitive, kind person. She told me about your fight with Jim Elliott And that you have to pay him his money in two weeks. I called to offer you a chance to make that money in one night"
Nicky knew she should hang up right then, but her curiosity kept her from doing it.
"In one night" huh? Well, I've got a pretty good idea how I'd have to earn it"
"Well, listen, cutie, nobody's going to hand you that money on a silver platter. I'm offering you a way out. Now are you interested or not?
She thought about it for a second She knew she couldn't really afford to say no yet.
"Maybe. What do you want me to do?"
"It's very simple," he explained. "All you have to do is make a movie. The filming will be at my place. And you have my guarantee that no one within five hundred miles will see the film. I've already got a buyer-and he lives a thousand miles away."
"Make a movie?" Nicky remembered the one she had watched, with the savagely mauled young girl. "I don't think your land of movies would be terribly good for my health."
She could hear him laughing on the other end.
"No, no. No animals or anything like that. Just plain old, American sex with a male actor. You won't get hurt."
"I-I'll think about it." She stuttered after a moments pause, the vision of paying off that note dancing teasingly in her mind. "When do you have to know for sure?"
"Tomorrow," he replied. "By noon."
CHAPTER NINE
There were about a half-dozen people standing around Jefferson's spacious living room when Nicky arrived-all of them men. She quickly spotted a tall, Nordic-looking blonde man, wearing bathing trunks. He seemed to be the other actor, because two men were giving him instructions, and he was holding what looked like a script. Jefferson spotted her from across the room.
"Right on time. I like anyone who's punctual," he said. "Come over here, I'd like you to meet my crew ... This is Rick Jessen, my photographer ... Larry, the lighting man ... and Bob Walder, my lab man, he does all the film processing. Men, this is Nicky Webster."
She could tell they were all sizing her up, but surprisingly, it all seemed very professional. At least they weren't like those horrible leering men at that amateur session...." and this is Hamilton Adler, your "co-star."
He was very muscular, and tanned, obviously the 'beach-boy' type. She gave him a quick once over, trying not to make it too obvious. The thick bulge in his swim shorts caught her eye. It suddenly dawned on her that his cock was tucked away there, and that in a few minutes he would be fucking her with it. It was all so strange-so clinical.
"You might not believe this, Nicky, but this movie actually has a plot. We've shot most of the plot footage already. Hamilton plays a life-guard at an all-girl resort. You're one of three young ladies who decide to sample his wares." Hamilton grinned a big satisfied smile. "Any questions?"
"No," replied Nicky. "Not yet."
For an hour, they filmed the sequence where Nicky meets the fife-guard at the dressing cabana, after dark. The film was silent, with narration to be added later, so Jefferson could shout his instructions while the camera was running. Finally, they had finished the preliminary footage, and brought the filming up to the point where Nicky begins to take off her clothes, while the life-guard looks on.
"Okay, take 'em off slowly. Remember you're an innocent schoolgirl and not too sure if you want to go through with this.
Nicky knew she wouldn't have any trouble following those instructions, for she was as scared as any high school girl out to try it the first time. She felt incredibly self-conscious with the men watching her. Jefferson cued the cameramen, and the filming began again. She stared right at Hamilton, and stood up in the three-sided room they had built to look like the inside of a cabana. She could feel her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as she began to unbutton her blouse. One by one she loosened the buttons, then stopped for a few seconds, letting the unbuttoned blouse hang open loosely in front. Jefferson shouted for her to turn slightly, so the camera could get a better shot of her opened blouse. Her firm breasts were just slightly visible, two half-moons peeking over the lacy whiteness of her bra. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse, and pulled it off, tossing it at Hamilton's feet. She turned again, to show off her profile to the camera, her jutting breasts aching to get free of the restraining bra.
With one hand, she reached in back and unfastened the four little hooks that held her bra together. She held the two straps together a moment in back, then released them, angling her arms downward at the same time. The bra broke free and fell to the floor, exposing her full, pear-shaped breasts to Hamilton and the camera. They gave a little bounce, then soared upward, the tiny pink nipples popping full-erect under the hungry gaze of all the men present.
Jefferson told her to stop there for a minute, and just stand there, then lift her breasts with both hands. She thrust one shoulder forward suggestively, then cupped both breasts in her hands, lifting them up so that the nipples pointed straight at Hamilton. He still only sat there on the floor, a slight grin on his face.
Then, turning her back to the camera, she began to remove the rest of her clothes. Her pants came first, leaving her in only a pair of sheer black bikini panties.
She looked over her shoulder, directly into the camera, and hooked the taut elastic band of her panties with her fingers, rolling them down just a few inches. The narrow crevice of her buttocks was not exposed, and she could feel the atmosphere in the smoke-clouded room grow tense with anticipation. She slid her fingers under the waist band, tenderly rubbing the outsides of her thighs beneath the fabric. Then she pulled them down further in back, stretching them over the firm, protruding mounds of her buttocks, two perfectly formed soft, white globes that poked invitingly from her panties. The fabric was hooked just under the curve of her ass, and the first few wispy hairs of her vagina were faintly visible. Hamilton was obviously getting more and more interested.
She pulled the lacy panties down over her smooth flat belly, so that they were rolled tightly around her body, just a slight two inches of covering that banded her body, glistening with perspiration under the lights. Nicky rolled the panties down over her thighs, her back still turned, her two buttocks rubbing against each other as she lifted one leg, then the other and stepped out of the one remaining garment.
The crew had forgotten all about their duties; they could only stare at the long expanse of incredibly smooth, white flesh that was before them. Her long legs seemed even longer without any clothes on; two slender, gently curving stems that swelled smoothly into the softness of her supple thighs. She decided she had kept everyone in suspense long enough and with a quick spin, she turned around, her arms above her head, holding her gleaming black hair high. She stood there for a few seconds, delighted that at last she could sense some spark of excitement in Hamilton's eyes. She let her hair go, and it fell in a flowing cascade down over her shoulders, covering for the moment, the bulging peaks of her firm, white breasts.
On cue from Jefferson, Hamilton stood up and faced Nicky, looking over her completely stripped young body slowly from her bare thighs up to her breasts. She turned crimson with embarrassment. She very suddenly felt extremely naked, and it occurred to her that she was completely bared to their eyes, and that all of them were watching her as though they were ready to leap on her and devour her completely.
Hamilton pulled off his swim shorts, and stood naked also. Nicky braved a quick look at his body, pausing to examine his loins. His penis was not quite erect, but was beginning to puff and swell as it arched upward from the soft, curled pubic hair at its base. It was not very thick, but rather long, like a tapered saber. With two jerking movements, the long penis snapped to attention, standing out ramrod-straight from his body-a full eight or nine inches of rock-hard flesh. She glanced up and saw that he had seen her looking at his cock, but it didn't seem to embarrass her as she thought it should. In fact, she was finding it increasingly easy to stand there naked in front of these strangers.
Then, making a sudden decision, she stepped quickly toward him, and wound herself around him, her eyes tightly closed, her hands and arms all over him at once, in a fast flood of passion. It caught him by surprise.
Kissing her passionately, he felt her hand slide along his belly, and squeeze around his aching cock, sending tiny bursts of pleasure through his loins. She stroked her hand along its full length, pulling gently at the tip of it, as if to stretch it. Then she began to pump it with her clenched fist, crushing the spongy flesh in her grip.
He placed his opened hands under her buttocks, and picked her up. As he did, her legs lifted and curled around his body, locking at the ankles behind him. His long, now pulsating cock furrowed up the spread crevice of her buttocks, wedged between the soft, gently quivering mounds of flesh. She reached under and guided the hard, pulsing head to gently part the soft, sparse pubic hair between her open legs and slipped it easily into her moist, warm vagina. The lengthy penis burrowed willingly into the soft, clasping sheath, making her gasp as it wormed slowly up into the clinging fleshy passage. The angle must have been perfect, for she was already moaning with delight, squirming down on the stiff organ, forcing it up deeper and deeper into her belly.
Hamilton mentally measured the route to the mattress so conveniently placed in the corner of the set, for Nicky was bobbing up and down like a cork, impaled on his cock, bouncing as he walked. Her arms were locked around his neck, and her only movements were with her hips and buttocks as she wriggled onto the stiff shaft, desperately fighting to swallow more and more of it into the warm, soft confines of her tight, young pussy.
He eased her onto the bed, being careful not to slip from her moist, hungry grip, and began to screw her; plunging even deeper into her throbbing passage as he lowered her onto the mattress. Both of them had their eyes closed, as they ground out with wild passion, bucking at each other savagely.
"Oh, God that's good!" She was fully caught up in the act now, and forgot completely that there were any others in the room. She forgot the lights and the cameras, moaning in wild, abandoned ecstasy, digging her sharp fingernails into his back, her legs flailing wildly over them. Long red scratches appeared where her fingers had hungrily dug into his flesh.
He screwed his long cock up further and further into her soft passage, parting the moist walls of flesh as he probed deeper and deeper. He could tell that she wasn't used to getting it so deep, and her cuntal contractions pulled at his stiff penis with a clutching grip that nearly tore it from his crotch.
Her entire body twisted and writhed savagely, and she moaned a long, low moan straight from the soul, her face contorted with the aching delight that could come only from pain or a long, hard cock buried deep in her belly. Tiny beads of sweat burst out on her forehead, as she felt the raw flesh of her vagina holding him greedily, sucking and pulling him into her fevered passage.
He rose slightly off of his knees, and pushed even deeper into her cunt, shoving with his toes buried in the mattress, every inch of his long cock slithering down into her womb. Her eyes flew open, a wild abandoned look in them, as she helplessly moaned out her approval.
"Oh, that's it. Deeper. Fuck deeper! Oh, yes. Yes!"
He slipped the pillow under her buttocks, lifting her off the bed, never missing a stroke as he pistoned into her ravenous hair-lined hole, burying the fleshy shaft to the hilt with every forward lunge. The pillow pushed her crotch up at him steeply, and he was now plunging straight down, easing his glistening cock out to the tip, then dropping down again into the inviting tunnel, all his weight behind him as he squirmed into her.
He picked up the rhythm, his muscular loins smashing against her pelvis, driving his cock into the widening slit in its center. Her head was off the mattress, her hair spread like a fan behind her, as she jerked upward to meet his strong merciless thrusts. Her breasts stood up proudly, even while on her back, jutting up with youthful firmness like twin mounds, dancing white marble, her tiny, red nipples throbbing painfully. Her arms were now straight beside her, her hands clenched tightly in a fist, and she threw all of her body into it, coming completely off the mattress as she shamelessly ground her glistening, wet crotch up at Hamilton's driving cock.
He watched her bucking beneath him, her long, smooth legs bent, her pelvis twisting salaciously up at his loins. Her face was contorted with passion, a tiny trickle of blood coming from her lower lip, where her teeth were digging into it. He slipped one hand under her firm, rounded buttock, and teasingly circled with one finger the tight, muscular flesh of her anus. It held him out at first, then gave way, and his finger slid easily into the soft, unexplored passage. Nicky cried out at the sudden invasion. She wasn't used to having anyone's finger in the tight little opening, but the pain soon merged with the waves of ecstatic pleasure that were coming from her belly, and her whole crotch seemed aflame, consumed in an agonizing burning as he plundered her from both sides. Hamilton was gasping and trembling now as he screwed her, staring at her naked form in fascinated disbelief. None of the others were like this!
He ran his fingers from her anus down her soft thighs to feel his own cock sliding in and out, the elastic lips of her vagina gripping it greedily, wet with her own seeping fluids of passion as he sawed into her.
She grabbed his buttocks with both her hands, pulling him hard against her, forcing his cock even deeper inside her burning belly. Her knees were pulled back as far as they would go, and she urged him on, a savage she-beast twisting and tossing on the mattress beneath him.
He could feel that she was nearing her climax, for she had completely lost control, her mouth half-open in a continuous cry of pleasure, her eyes rolling in their sockets, her head tossing from side to side. Her fevered body was hot to the touch, as the fire inside her grew more and more intense. She clasped her legs around him, gripping him even tighter, thrusting her flaming hole up at him, waving her taut ass salaciously from side to side.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and her mouth locked open. "Oh, God, I'm cumming! I'm cummmming ... Ohhhhhhhh...."
She locked her arms and legs around him like a vise, jerking spasmodically as her orgasmic flood oozed down her upturned thighs, soaking her pubic hair. It flowed over her crotch and onto his, flooding his balls with the hot liquid flow.
He didn't have to hold back any longer, and he rammed his cock into her still-quivering cunt with renewed intensity, holding back the flood-gate in his balls as he strained to squeeze every last bit of pleasure from his aching, near-bursting penis. She didn't know quite how to react, for this was the first time she had been fucked so wildly past her own climax. But she was still turned-on, and she offered no resistance as he screwed into her, her knees still smashed back hard against her soft, jerking breasts.
"Oh, that's so good. Go ahead, split me open! Split me open!"
Her encouragement excited him even more, and soon he could hold back the aching flood no longer. His cock felt as though it would burst at any second. She gasped a sharp cry as he thrust harshly, far up into her soft, helplessly contracting vagina, smashing into her cervix, then pulling it out to the swollen tip for another hard, merciless thrust.
He knew he could stand no more, it had to come now or he would explode. He gasped and felt her arms tighten around him, and then it came-a scalding burst of the white sticky liquid as his sperm shot bullet-like into her, great hot spurts that flowed wetly like a rampaging flood through her hungry, throbbing pussy fining her belly to the stretching point with his lewd, hot load of semen.
The room was still spinning when Nicky pulled herself up. One of the crew members had her arm, and helped her to her feet. Her knees were still wobbly, and long, white trails of glistening white liquid streaked her smooth trembling thighs. She suddenly, in the returning shame at her wanton performance, became aware of another man in the room-one who hadn't been there when the shooting began. He was thick set and dark, almost ape-like in appearance and Nicky didn't like his looks.
Jefferson didn't waste any time, he was footing the bill and intended to get everything he could out of this hot little number.
"Nicky, straighten yourself up. You did very well. We have one more scene to shoot. It's from another film, but this is the only scene you have to worry about. Rocky here will be in it with you."
The crew members turned the set walls around. The other sides were painted to look like a girl's bedroom. One of them tossed some curtains over a rod at the top of the window opening. Then they brought out a bed frame, and with the mattress already on the set, they put together a very believable looking bed. Nicky had regained her composure enough to speak.
"Jefferson, what's this about shooting another scene?" she half whispered, as what he had said slowly penetrated her dazed mind.
"Do you really expect me to do that again with all these people watching?"
He put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about a thing. It's gonna be a bit different this time. Just relax and trust me ... and think about the money. I'll make it another fifty."
A small tear fell from her cheek and she resignedly took a robe from the lighting man and sat down off the set, visions of what the extra cash would mean to her and Clay.
"Okay, Nicky, let's go. Just a little more and well be through. I won't drag it out with lots of shots. Do it right and well have it in the can first time around."
Jefferson had the men tie her unresisting arms to the bedposts flat on her stomach with clothesline cord, stretching her arms across the top of the bed.
"Ready, now. All you have to do is be natural. Rocky knows the rest." He grinned with a lewdness that sent a tremor of foreboding down Nicky's naked spine.
They had her kneel on the bed, her buttocks turned directly at the camera. Then the lights came on, and she felt the bed shake as the man called Rocky, though she was sure it was not his real name, climbed onto it behind her. Suddenly she felt the head of his hardened prick against her naked buttocks, and his hands roaming all over her body.
She felt his tongue running down her back, and she couldn't hold back a nervous tremble as he began to lick at the base of her spine, pulling her soft buttocks widely apart by pressing his thumbs outward.
And then she realized his tongue was probing lewdly against the small puckered ring of her widely exposed anus. She groaned in horror and defensively clenched the soft, fleshy mounds together, and tried to squirm away. But that was just what they wanted-her buttocks twisting and wiggling in obscene invitation as though she were begging for it. Then, before she could react again, he had kneeled up and his knees were forcing her thighs apart, pressing the tender, soft flesh of the insides of her legs. She was suddenly overcome with humiliation, even more than at the beginning of the session. She felt completely helpless, the whole of her helpless loins stuck up in the air, completely exposed and available for anything they wanted to do. He grabbed her hips with his steely fingers and steered her up against his loins. Nicky could feel his pubic hair grazing against her sensitive flesh, and his long hard cock buried teasingly between her legs. She felt his fingers touch the soft hairless skin on either side of her anus, pulling the smooth flesh apart, followed by a painful, sharp jab into the tightly-clenched opening that sent cold shivers up her spine. Her whole body tensed with fear.
"No, not there. You didn't say anything about this ... No, I said!...." But the sharp probing continued. "Jefferson, make him stop. I can't take it there!" She was fighting wildly to escape, but the knots were real, and she couldn't pull free from the ropes.
She was frightened beyond belief. Getting screwed was one thing, but not this I She begged for someone to free her, but she could see in the eyes of the men watching that there was no hope. She could only give in and let this unspeakable act take place and pray that it ended soon.
The heavy set man grabbed her squirming body around the hips, and held her firmly in position as his long stiff cock slowly and begrudgingly entered the tight, bravely resisting little hole. The pain made her violently sick, and she could feel the nausea welling in her throat.
She fought back savagely, not so much because of the terrible humiliation, but rather, because the splitting pain was so unbearable. She felt as if her rectum would rip apart, splitting her like a piece of overly ripe fruit.
His cock was enormous inside her tender passage, and she could feel the long shaft sawing into her behind, bruising and tearing the soft flesh in its unrelenting path, for there were no lubricating fluids there to ease the pain.
The pain grew more and more intense as he thrust into her, burying the long penis deeper and deeper into her asshole. The taut bands of muscle gripped the hard shaft so tightly that on the out-stroke he had difficulty pulling his cock from its clasping grip.
Nicky's face was wet with tears-tears of humiliation, tears of anger, but mostly, tears of pain, for her buttocks felt like a gaping wound. She was sure that another few seconds would kill her.
Her dangling breasts heaved with her sobs. How could she ever face Clay again? She knew that she would never be able to forget this night, and that she would carry the memory of this terrible humiliation with her the rest of her life.
If only he would have his climax! Maybe then they will free me and the pain will go away. But as the pain got worse and worse, she wondered if it would ever go away as long as she lived.
She could feel his thrusts getting faster, and could hear his breaths coming in quick gasps. She knew the moment was near. She closed her eyes tightly, and bit away a scream in her lower lip. Harder and harder he bored into her, every stroke more painful than the last. The tender skin around her anus was bright red and raw.
"Oh, hurry, please hurry! Please!"
She felt him tighten, and heard a low gasp come from his lips. Then a burst of hot sperm ricocheting against the walls of her rectum told her it was all over. The sticky liquid spurted up deep in her lower intestine, fining her ravaged passage with its warm obscene wetness. It eased the pain a little, but the pain of humiliation grew worse.
Then, he slowly pulled his limp, deflating cock from her tiny, tortured hole with a wet, sucking sound, she collapsed on the bed, the pillow muffling her helpless sobs the most utter shame and humiliation she had ever known.
She lay there a long time, and finally grew chilly. The camera lights had been turned off, but she still lay there, convulsive sobs shaking her body. She couldn't bear to get up-to have to face those men, to face herself in the mirror. She felt like the lowest form of life on earth-nothing more than a helpless, willing receptacle for a horrible, lewd stranger's sperm. She tried once to climb to her knees, but the searing pain in her backside was still too much. Finally, the hurting grew a little less intense and she wobbled to her feet. Without a word to anyone, she pulled on all her clothes, fighting to hold back the tears. She was determined that they wouldn't see her cry any more. Her legs would barely move, but she climbed into her pants, and slipped her coat over her aching arms.
Jefferson stopped her at the door. None of the men, including Hamilton, would look her in the eye.
"Here, you've earned this," he said, her check in his outstretched hand. "If you want to make any more, you've got a standing offer."
Nicky only stared in disbelief, shook her head, and walked out into the lonely night....
CHAPTER TEN
It felt good to walk out of the Sweetheart Modeling School, knowing that the note was paid in full, and that Elliott no longer had any hold on her. Nicky laughed out loud thinking of the look on his face when she had pulled out eight crisp one hundred dollar bills and tossed them on his desk. He had been so stunned that he couldn't even make a sound.
Nicky felt as though a two-ton weight had been lifted from her shoulders. All of a sudden, in spite of what she had done to earn it, the sky seemed bluer, the trees greener. The whole world had become a beautiful place again. It had been so long she had nearly forgotten how wonderful it was just to be alive. She began to skip along the side street, toward the advertising district, like a school girl racing home from classes, with her composite tucked under her arm instead of books.
She had decided she would go straight to the Branner Agency. It had been a long time since that meeting with Mr. Carlton. She remembered his words...."you should be able to walk back in here in six months and name your price." She intended to see if he really meant it. Of course, she couldn't very well show him most of the shots she had posed for while working for Elliott. But there had been a fair number of legitimate modeling assignments, too; and she had copies of everything she had done in the past months to show Mr. Carlton.
This time the waiting room was not nearly as full-not like that crowd that had greeted her the first time. Mr. Carlton stuck his head through the doorway and told her he would be free in a few minutes. She made a last minute inspection of the photographs in her composite, checking to be sure everything was in its proper place. Everything had been arranged for just the right impact-so as not to give him the impression that she could only do one type of modeling. The prints were varied, and no two similar shots were placed together.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Nicky. Won't you come in," he asked after a while.
"I see you took my advice."
Nicky sat down across the desk from him. "I didn't think you would even remember me," she admitted.
"Don't be silly. It's only the ones without any hope that I try to forget. As I recall, you showed exceptional promise."
"Thank you, Mr. Carlton," she said. "I brought you quite a few more shots this time. I hope you still think I have promise after you take a look at them."
"Well, there's only one way to find out," he replied, "Let's see what you've been doing since our last little talk."
Nicky handed him the composite. If he only knew what I've been doing, she laughed to herself.
It didn't seem to take as long for him to leaf through the photos this time, and Nicky was a little worried as he put the heavy folder aside. He just sat there staring into space for a long few seconds.
"I think I know of something for you. It's a two-week assignment, all local," he said, "and you might fit it rather nicely. It's a bathing suit manufacturer from Florida. They want to expand into this market. They carry a line of way-out suits ... you know, see-through's and peek-a-boo's ... that sort of thing. You wouldn't mind posing for something like that, would you?"
"Oh, no sir," she replied quickly, choking back a self-knowing grin. "That would be all right with me.
"Fine, then. You start Monday. Miss Jones is handling this client. She'll give you all the details. Pay is forty-five dollars per day. Less our commission, of course."
"Thank you," said Nicky, "I'll see Miss Jones while I'm here and find out the rest ... and thank you, again." She got up and went down the hall to Miss Jones' office in the booking section.
As she walked down the corridor, she couldn't help thinking about the salary with a bit of disappointment.
Forty-five dollars a day. And that's for eight hours work. Jefferson's film took only four hours, and paid fifteen times as much!
But then she remembered what she had endured and the humiliation she had suffered to earn all that money and the forty-five didn't seem so bad after all. Still, it was a little disappointing; she hadn't bought any new clothes in months, and a few hundred dollars sure would be nice.
* * *
The assignment was definitely a rough one. Nicky wondered if maybe Mr. Carlton was testing her with this one; or worse yet, maybe it was just some sort of bad joke. The advertising agency wanted the shots in the wildest locations they could find, and the next two weeks were spent climbing rocky cliffs, balancing on tiny rock ledges over a crashing surf, suspended on a two-foot square platform from beneath a huge bridge, and even perched on the back of a sea turtle on the beach at midnight, illuminated with banks of blue floodlights. Nicky was barely able to make it home each day without collapsing from the exhaustive routine. The first two days she was able to fix something for Clay to eat before falling into bed, but after that it got worse; and she didn't even bother to undress. She just stumbled through the apartment and into bed.
On Tuesday of the second week of shooting, Clay was already home when she arrived.
"Honey, you look absolutely bushed," he said, offering his hand as she half-fell through the open door. "Did you have a rough day?"
She waited a few seconds to get her breath back. "Rough! Rough's not the word for it. It ought to be against the law to work so hard." She slipped off her boots, and wiggled her toes. "Oh, I don't think I can ever move again." She fell back on the bed, kicking her boots onto the floor.
Clay gently rubbed her shoulders, pressing the tired muscles with his strong hands.
"I can tell you're tired. Your shoulders feel like they're full of knots," he said. She was unable to say anything, just moan a little as the aching muscles loosened up.
"Maybe after a while, when things begin to look a little better for us financially, you won't have to work at all," he continued. "Or at least, maybe you can pick the assignments you want. You shouldn't be working so hard."
"Nonsense," replied Nicky. She pulled herself up, propping against the headboard for support. "Why shouldn't I work hard? You put in a hard eight hours every day. If it's all right for you, it's all right for me."
"That's nice of you to feel that way," he replied, "But it's my job to take care of you, not the other way around."
"Well, you're bringing in plenty of money now, Clay. As much as I make from modeling," she lied. She hadn't mentioned the film fee, and since it all went for the tuition, he hadn't even suspected.
Clay leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You've taken care of the two of us for an awfully long time. And don't think I've forgotten. It's about time for a few luxuries for you. What with my cameras and equipment, there hasn't been too much left. I can take care of the rent this month with no trouble at all. Why don't you take your money from this assignment and buy yourself some new clothes. I know you need some."
"Oh, honey, you're just the most wonderful person I know," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "And I'm the luckiest person I know for having you."
* * *
Nicky finished the bathing suit modeling on Saturday morning. She wasn't as tired when she got home, for the final session had been in the studio, and was a snap after the location shooting.
"Nicky, is that you?" shouted Clay as she turned the key in the door.
"Yeah. Give me a chance to get in, will you?"
Clay came out of the kitchen, holding an enamel tray filled with freshly washed prints from the kitchen sink. "I'm sorry. But I was hoping you'd get home early. I've got a great idea."
Nicky tossed her coat on the chair, and rifled through the pile of mail on the hall table. "Let's hear it. If it's all that good, I can hardly wait."
"How about a trip up to the lake? It's warm enough now, and we haven't been in ages. What d'ya say?"
"Just one thing, dear. How do we get there? We went with Jim and Ellen last time, remember? And we don't have any wheels," Nicky explained.
Clay shook his head. "I know all that. But it doesn't matter. I checked with the bus terminal. They have a bus up there at two-forty-five, and there's one back tonight at eight thirty. We'd have time for a picnic at that little spot we found last summer. And we can have a few beers at the tavern down by the boat docks. It shouldn't be too crowded this early in the season, either."
"Okay. Okay, you've sold me. Let's go." Clay still had a few more arguments ready, but he didn't mind. At least they were going to go. It was one of his favorite spots-an eight mile long lake, ringed with thick forests. And the sub-dividers hadn't discovered it yet, and moved in with their pre-fab homes and country clubs. They had gone along with Jim and Ellen Dickerson the summer before, and it had been love at first sight. Clay hoped it would still be as beautiful and tranquil as he remembered it.
They made the bus with only four minutes to spare, and settled back for the sixty-five minute ride up into the foothills, and the lake. Nicky remembered to bring a little extra food, so they could nibble on the bus ride, and still have plenty for the picnic when they arrived. The rolling countryside was beautiful-all the trees were bright spring-green, and the ground was a rainbow of colored wildflowers, every color imaginable as far as you could see.
"You know, we should do this more often," said Clay. "We really don't get out of the city enough. It does a person good to get up here and breathe a few lungfuls of this clean air. You can taste it ... you really can. It actually feels clean and pure." He had his window open, and his head poked out the side as the ancient bus wound around the ever-steepening hills toward the settlement at the south end of the lake.
They left the bus at the intersection, and hiked the remaining quarter-mile to the picnic site. It was everything they had remembered-maybe more. Spring came a little later to the lake area, for it was higher than the hills along the road from the city, and some of the trees were covered with the first buds of the new season.
Nicky fell asleep, her head resting in Clay's lap, as they rested there on the hilltop, bathed in the warm spring sun. She felt unusually secure and comfortable, and worries of assignments, overdue bills, and rent were temporarily forgotten.
* * *
Monday found her back in the city, among the first shoppers out on the sidewalks. She had cashed her paycheck from the two weeks of shooting, and at Clay's urging, was downtown to look for some new spring clothes. Actually she didn't really need too much urging, but it was nice to let him think it was his idea. Nicky took her time, strolling out of one and into another boutique. She was determined to get the most for her money-not just buy the first thing she liked, as she usually did.
Then, in a small place off the main street, she saw just what she wanted-a fabulous pant-suit outfit, straight from a Paris designer's drawing board. Everything was perfect-except the price. Three hundred and fifty dollars! That would take most of her paycheck by itself. For a fleeting moment, she thought about buying it anyway, but remembered her promise to herself to be realistic, so she passed it up. She took one last look at it as she walked out of the store.
Just one night of filming with Jefferson would buy two of those. What am I saying! I must'nt even think such a thing!
She decided that the department stores, rather than the exclusive boutiques, might fit her pocket-book better, so she reluctantly left all the latest fashions behind, and headed for Gimwell's Department Store.
Her arms loaded with packages and bags, Nicky paid the cab driver and climbed the stairs to their apartment. She rang the bell, but Clay didn't answer, so she put the packages down and found her key.
She decided to open everything up and spread it out on the bed-so Clay could see when he got back. The clothes looked better than she had expected, and she was glad she hadn't spent it all on one or two expensive items.
She went into the kitchen to fix a sandwich, and found a note on the refrigerator door, stuck with tape.
Nicky,
Bob Walder at Walder's Color Lab has offered to let me use his equipment to process some of my color shots. I'll probably be late. Don't worry about dinner, I'll grab something near the lab.
Clay
Walder's Color Lab. That rings a bell for some reason. I guess I must have heard someone mention the name at the agency or somewhere.
She finished putting together her sandwich and went back in the living room to put a few records on the stereo. It was going to be a long time before Clay got home, so she figured she would make the best of it. There was a book she had been meaning to read for weeks, but there never seemed to be enough time. She found it, and dropped into Clay's favorite chair, curling her legs under her.
Walder's Color Lab! Oh my God, of course! Bob Walder was at the filming. He's the guy who processes Jefferson's films for him!
Nicky could feel the cold sweat breaking out all over her body. She jumped up as if to do something, but there was absolutely nothing she could do. She would simply have to wait and hope that he didn't find out. She tried to reason it all away. Surely they don't just leave film like that lying around, she told herself. Clay couldn't know this Walder fellow very well, and Walder wouldn't risk getting in trouble by telling Clay about the films. Or would he?
She couldn't finish the book, or even finish her sandwich. All she could do was sweat it out and wait. Hours passed by and still no sign of Clay.
I could call him. No, that would only arouse suspicions, and besides, Walder might answer the phone. Around eleven, she finally dozed off.
* * *
A noise in the bathroom awoke her. She looked at her watch-two fifteen! "Clay, is that you. Clay?"
She waited an eternity, but no answer. Finally he stepped out into the light of the living room. But he didn't say a word. Just stood there with an unbelievable look of hatred and disgust on his face.
She couldn't stand it. Why doesn't he say something, anything! Don't just look at me like that.
Finally he broke the icy silence. "I saw your movie debut," was all he said. He had his coat in his hand.
He stared at her for another few seconds, then quietly turned and left the apartment without another word.
Nicky was too shaken to react for a moment, but then the flood of emotion ripped out of her soul. She ran screaming into the bedroom, hoping, pleading that it was all a terrible nightmare. For the one person in her life who meant something to her had just walked out the door, and she didn't know whether she would ever see him again.
Oh, God, why did I ever make that film? There's nothing I can do now to erase it-Clay has seen it and he'll never forgive me. Oh, God. Oh, God. Why?
She sobbed into her pillow until it was soaked with her tears, her body shaking convulsively. Every fiber of her body wanted him back, but she knew down deep that it was all over. She tried to convince herself that he'd forget all about it-that he would come back through that door and say that all was forgiven. But she knew better, and no matter how hard she tried to change it, that was the way it was.
Nicky never really fell asleep that night-just short little naps, only to awake feeling more depressed and more upset than before.
She awoke from the last of her fitful naps around seven, and dressed to go down to the agency. She had promised she would come by for a fitting before nine. She was barely able to make it through the short session, and she left immediately afterward. It was a long way home, completely across town, but she wanted to walk.
She tried to reason things out as she walked along, but it was hopeless. With Clay gone, nothing seemed to fit into place. All her goals, all her dreams were meaningless without the common denominator of Clay to pull them together. Her eyes were dry now, she had passed that point, but she was feeling no better. The whole world was a dark, ugly place for Nicky as she rounded the last corner, a few doors from the flat she and Clay had shared so long.
She knew something wasn't right the instant she opened the door. And then she noticed; all Clay's clothes, and all his camera gear were gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nicky put down the phone. It hadn't been an easy decision, but then nothing had been easy in these five days since Clay left without a word. Nothing seemed any brighter, but at least she had found that life does go on, even when you think it couldn't.
She had agreed to make another film for Jefferson. It had once been the furthest thing from her plans, but with Clay gone, nothing mattered. Maybe the money would make the hurt a little less painful. Maybe she could find another apartment, away from all the memories, and try to make a new fife for herself. And those things take money. Just one more, she had told herself. I can't do any more harm than I've done already. What difference does it make whether I've made one or two of his movies?
She arrived early at Jefferson's townhouse. A little reinforcement from his well-stocked bar might make the filming a lot easier. He hadn't told her anything about the subject of this one, and she really didn't care. She just wanted to get it over with, and get the money.
"Take it easy on that stuff," said Jefferson. Nicky hadn't even heard him come in. "You'll pass out under those hot lights with all that alcohol in your blood."
"Don't worry about me. You just run your little ole cameras, and let me take care of the rest. You do the filming and I'll do the fucking...." She was obviously getting drunk.
"Now come on, you've had more than enough. Let's go get started." He took her by both shoulders and pointed her in the direction of the living room, where two men already were taking light readings under the bright floodlights.
"By the way, Jefferson sweetie," she began, stopping in the doorway. "What's on the agenda tonight? Or maybe I should say menu."
"You're pretty funny when you're smashed. Don't worry, you'll see in just a minute."
She stumbled toward the stage, pulling off her sweater as she walked, oblivious to the stares from the two men adjusting the lights. She stopped dead center and pulled off her pants, leaving nothing but her sheer bikini panties beneath. It didn't matter to her anymore that she was nude in a room occupied by three men. She just stood there, making no effort to cover her jutting breasts, waiting for Jefferson's instructions.
"Nicky, I'd like you to meet your leading man," said Jefferson, coming from the bar. Nicky turned to see who he was bringing out.
The sight she met when she turned around would have sent her screaming from the house two weeks before, but tonight it didn't give her a second thought.
Jefferson was walking with the biggest Negro she had ever seen. He must have been at least six-foot-five, and he weighed two hundred and fifty if he weighed a pound. Nicky just stared at him through her alcohol-dulled eyes, barely able to make him out through the blur. He was wearing just a jock-strap, and already the beads of sweat were standing out on his rock-hard flesh, glistening like tiny jewels on the ebony bands of muscle that ringed his body.
He stepped onto the stage, and without any direction, pulled the tight jock-strap down over his enormous legs.
Nicky's eyes popped open, her face covered with a look of amazement that had somehow slipped through her stupor. He had the biggest penis on earth! She knew it had to be! It was a good ten inches long, and it was still hanging limply from his black-matted pelvis, like a tree stump growing out of his belly.
The lights seemed to flicker, and then to fade out entirely, and the blurred figures of the men fused into each other. Nicky obeyed instructions without a moment's hesitation. She couldn't understand Jefferson's directions, but a little shove was all she needed to get into position.
She could feel a thousand hands grabbing at the soft flesh of her breasts, hanging beneath her as she knelt before the camera; a rough tongue slithering along the crevice of her anus, pausing to lick at the nerve-filled bud of her clitoris. But she closed her mind to it all. She was a million miles away. With Clay in a new land, full of wonderful things-where everyone and everything was beautiful.
Her dream was shattered for a moment by a bolt of searing pain from her exposed crotch. The pain grew more and more intense, but she struggled to ignore it, her eyes closed tightly to shut out all the sordidness around her.
All the tender muscles of her soft, inviting vagina cried out. She could feel the enormous cudgel pounding its way into her unprotected cunt-like a huge wedge that threatened to split her in half. But it didn't matter. She knew she could take it. And anything else the huge black man or anyone else wanted to give her.
She thought of the money, and the false security and happiness that it could bring. And the enormous cock shoving its way into her belly became just another piece of flesh.
And she knew that she would be able to make it now. That life would go on ... that the glistening, black cock would be replaced with dozens more. That perhaps she could hide in the tinsel world of modeling. And buy her happiness at night with the money from Jefferson's films.
The great, bulging shaft exploded into her belly with a bone-shaking jerk, hot-white spurts poured into her insides. And then it was over. Another film made, another huge chunk of her self-respect torn away.
She climbed into Jefferson's waiting limousine, tearful and shivering in the chill night air, and started the long ride back to her empty apartment, her purse crammed full of the green happiness that perhaps ... just perhaps ... could buy her a thousand Clays ... anytime she wanted one....
