Filename: ImmodestProposal.txt Title: An Immodest Proposal Author: Knickers Universe: Nicola Adventures Keywords: FF exhib mc? rape? Summary: A debt is repaid, and a model finds a new direction in her career. Disclaimer: The following story contains sex scenes and rude words. It's fairly tame, and I'm pretty broad- minded, but the decency laws in most states would require it not be read by persons under 18. Also, if you're offended by adult themes, you should probably leave now. More importantly, this tale features women presented as sexual objects. There is nothing wrong with this as they are only fictional characters. I urge readers, especially young males, to not regard real women in this way. This work is © 2009 the author. Permission is granted to freely distribute, provided it is not altered in any way. It may not be posted to any website or included in any archive without the author's permission. There is no Nicola. All characters are fictitious. The situations are made-up. This is only a fantasy, and any similarity to real persons, events & institutions is pure coincidence. An Immodest Proposal (FF exhib mc? rape?) The moment she saw him waft in through the door, Margie knew it wasn't going to be an ordinary day. It was after 11. The office was busy, as always. Trevino Talent was the largest agency in Melbourne. The fourth floor of the Herald Building was buzzing with activity, phones ringing, people rushing to and fro, heated arguments and racous laughter as the entertainment industry rushed to churn out the constant stream of music and images our culture craves. And yet, the moment Margie saw him enter, smiling that ever-so-slight enigmatic smile of his, it seemed as if it all stopped. Just for a moment, the whole world ground to a halt. For all she knew, it really did. He strode toward her, ignoring the tumult of activity all around them, ignoring the slightly open-mouth gape of astonishment she gave him, even ignoring the big MARGIE TREVINO - MANAGING DIRECTOR sign engraved in crystal on the door of her private office. "Hello Margie," he murmured, softly, in that damned Manhattan accent of his. "What are you doing here?" Margie finally managed to speak. He grinned. "Time to pay the piper." ************ Margie always kept a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label stashed in her desk. There was always gossip about the licentious appetites of those in the talent biz, and in Margie's case they were pretty much untrue. However, there are always moments when a girl needs a good stiff drink. "Easy," he said, as she downed the second glass in a gulp. "It ain't even lunch time yet." She paused, glass poised midway to her lips, watching him warily, out of the corner of her eye, as a bird watches a cat. "Last I heard you were based in LA." "Still am. I've come down here to pay a visit, and see if I can't find some new and exciting talent." Margie made the connection instantly. "Oh no, you're not going to-" "You owe me," he cut her off sternly. For a moment his friendly American charm vanished. It was true, she did owe him. Owed him everything. Her career, her own agency... if it hadn't've been for her handsome, mysterious American friend, Margie would never have been able to create her own little empire. A sullen silence settled over Margie's office. Finally, he consented to sip the drink she had given him before knocking back a couple of her own. Margie always knew he'd come and collect on the debt someday. Or maybe she'd forgotten about it. New York had been so long ago and so far away. Back in her native Melbourne, Australia, Margie had grown older and wiser. "I'm looking for someone new. Young, gorgeous. Australian. Sexy foreign accents are very in in Hollywood right now. A hot Aussie babe with just the right attitude." "I can't," Margie murmured. "I know what kind of career she'd have." "It would be fun, I promise. First rule of being one of my clients: you gotta enjoy yourself." Margie shook her head. Reluctantly, she placed her empty glass back on her desk. Undettered, he tried a different tack. "I, ah, heard about Cathie." Cathie. Even after a year her name still had the power to squeeze Margie's heart like a vice. She tryed to shrug it off. "Yeah, well... yknow how it goes in this business." Well, he probably didn't, he wasn't normal. "Bad break?" Margie nodded. Cathie had been more than her girlfriend, more than her lover, she'd been a sizeable chunk of her personal reality. When she'd stormed out, gone to take the job in London... the words "bad break" didn't come close to describing the pain Margie had felt. Still felt. "I'm sure that whoever I choose to come back to LA with me would be very grateful to you for everything you've done. I'd bet that lucky girl would be very willing to make her departure very memorable for both of you." Margie's eyes flashed in anger. He was bribing her with sex?! Sure, it had been a long time since Margie had felt the gentle caress of a lover's hands across her body. But she was like a mother to her girls. They were more than clients. And no matter what, Margie had always been careful to keep it strictly business. But was there any point in arguing with him? He held all the cards, and they were probably marked as well. "Alright," Margie said. "I'll get you what you want. But you don't have to go that far. I've never taken advantage of my girls and I'm not about to start now." He smiled. Beamed. He always got his way. ************ They repaired to Conference Room 3. Margie ordered a mocca and they sat with the agency's books splashed out across the table. There were strict instructions not to disturb the boss. He flicked through the pages, pausing on each one with lips pursed. He was the eternal connisseuer of femininity. His requirements were, no younger than 19, no older then 22. Tall, slim, and a decent sized bust. That was the only criteria he gave to Margie, although she guessed he was looking for something more, something not normally stated on a talent card. His eyes eagerly devoured each headshot, assessing the vital qualities of each girl. Blonde, brunette, readhead. Black, white, asian. He looked at them all. Trevino was a big agency, and Margie had collected many clients, but despite the range she'd met them all, knew all of them on a personal level, and each and every time he paused to closely examin a candidate, Margie felt a twinge of guilt over who she was throwing to the lions. Abrupty he stopped and glared at her. "It's not like that," he rebuked her, as if reading Margie's mind. Hell, for all she knew, he could read her mind. But Margie had repped enough TV psychics to know that an eye for detail and a keen sense of human nature were all it really took. "What kind of work exactly can she expect?" Margie shot back. "Glamour modelling," he replied, industry code for nudity. "Softcore direct-to-video movies. All above board. No porn, at least, not hardcore. And I can assure you that whoever the lucky girl is, she will enjoy it." "Yeah? How do you know that?" "Because it's one of the qualities that I'm looking for." Margie sniffed. He was describing some kind of slut. There were none of them on Trevino's books. All good girls. Sure, some of them modelled for the men's magazines. People, Picture, Penthouse, Playboy. But Margie worked hard to make sure that it was all kept clean and legitimate. Just because a girl takes her clothes off for a living didn't make her a whore. Margie had a certain distaste for that kind of work (and she liked to think it wasn't just because she was a lesbian), but, as Cathie had always argued, it didn't make good business sense to cut out such a large part of the market. "Hmmm..." he murmured. Margie leaned over to see who it was had caught his keen eye. "Nicola Baron?" Sure, she was ravishingly beautiful, but not exactly what Margie would think he was after. "Nicola doesn't do nude. Some lingerie, but that's it." Margie almost laughed, she'd always imagined him as infallible and all-knowing. That he would think Nicola Baron was a suitable candidate for the kind of career he was planning was absurd. But he was right about how stunning Nicola was. Margie had first met Nicola when she was 17, and had been instantly struck by her special kind of beauty, her laid back girl-next-door charm and a sophisication that belied her youth. "Yes," he breathed, as if savoring Nicola's beauty already. "She definitely has potential." Margie buzzed on the intercom and had her assistant bring through Nicola's portfolio. He took his time, lingering over every picture. Nicola had been modelling professionally since she was 15, starting out in the dregs of Kmart catalogues. But fashion was her forte, she possessed the grace, the poise, the liquid elegance of a catwalk model, and by 16 Nicola's lithe figure was gliding along the runways of fashion shows in Melbourne, Sydney and even London. But there was more to Nicola's repoitre than that. Swimwear, lingerie, and even a few acting classes rounded off her talents. Just because Nicola didn't do any nude modelling, though, didn't mean there was nothing erotic in her portfolio. Margie allowed her eyes to wander across a revealing photo of Nicola wearing a silk blouse open to reveal her breasts wrapped in a lacy Elle brassiere. The garment bulged, attempting to keep her cleavage in place. Nicola stared out of the picture, a slight smile dancing on her lips, as if teasing the viewer to lean and look closer at her scarely-concealed charms. Another page, another picture. Nicola in a bikini, rolling across a beach. Wet sand plastered against her flesh, eyes closed, head thrown back as if captured at the moment of orgasm. "She definitely possesses a sexual quality. It's tempered by her shyness, and that make her all the more enticing. Yes, I'll need to meet this Nicola, in person." Margie felt just the slightest twinge of guilt as she replied, "I'll set it up." ************ Nicola was at a shoot that day, so the meeting wasn't until the next day. Margie greeted the delay with a mixture of anxiety and longing. She was nervous about how her mysterious old friend would handle the beautiful young Nicola, but at the same time Margie couldn't help but wonder what the end result of this experiment would be. As to be expected, he was at the office early. Even earlier than Margie. She'd known him for years, they were old friends, but still there was something about this strange, powerful man that made Margie uncomfortable. Here, at Trevino Talent, she was empress of all she surveyed, and she wasn't used to feeling this way. There was a small studio in the office. He'd brought a camera to take some test shots. The atmosphere was very professional as he checked the lights and positioned the reflectors. And once again, he seemed to know what she was thinking. "Cold feet?" Margie shook her head, but it wasn't too convincing. He set aside the tripod and glided alongside the agent. "You don't think this will be a great adventure for her?" "I'm sure it'll be all good fun," Margie replied with heavy sarcasm. He laughed. "Didn't you enjoy yourself?" "That was different," Margie replied. "Nicola's not like that, she's not that kind of girl." He raised an eyebrow. "And you are?" "No! That's not what I mean. It's just... this isn't her." "We'll see," he replied, grinning like a wolf. The studio door burst open and in marched the most breath-taking young woman you could ever hope to meet. She was young, barely out of her teens, but still possessing an air of maturity. She was tall, statuesque, and carried her self with a firm confidence in her own sexuality. He'd been in this industry for years, but never had he laid eyes on a model quite like this girl. The young woman tossed her long, straight chestnut- coloured tresses and greeted her agent with a warm smile. "Margie!" The older woman greeted her warmly, exchanging an affectionate peck on the cheek (did she know Margie was a lesbian, he wondered. Interesting...) She was so bright and sparkling, even the pure white walls of the studio looked pale next to the model's dazzling smile. "Nicola Baron, there's someone here who wants to meet you very much..." As Margie introduced them, he appriased her beauty up close. Nicola had a wonderful bosom, only a B-cup, but on her slim figure she looked stacked. She was dressed in a white blouse, open at the neck to reveal her copper-toned throat and just the smallest hint of her chest. The ensemble was rounded off with a pair of Guess jeans, the fit snug around her hips. Nicola's wardrobe was casual, everyday, but on her it seemed as sexy as hell. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Baron," he smiled warmly as he extended his hand. "Likewise," Nicola replied, gently enveloping his hand with her own as they shook. There was a definite excitement to her voice, and he could feel his blood rising at being so close to such an enchanting youg woman. "I represent an agency in Los Angeles, looking for a beautiful young woman who may be interested in relocating. Margie and I were going through Trevino's books and your lovely face seemed to be perfect." "Oh, thank-you," Nicola gushed. "Yes, I'd love to go and work overseas." They took a seat, Nicola looking ever-so-elegant as she sat down and crossed her legs. "The work will primarily be print modelling, to begin with, and we'll look for suitable movie parts. But broadly speaking you may be required to fulfil a variety of roles in the entertainment industry." "Sounds great!" "First, I'd like to interview you though, get to know you very well. Find out all the intimate details of Miss Nicola Baron." Margie raised an eyebrow. In this situation, if that line had come from anyone else but him, Margie would've guessed in an instant what was really going on. But that kind of sleaze was not his style. Whatever else her friend was, he was gentleman who sold fantasy but did nothing else. Nicola, however, just laughed. "No worries!" Was she naive? Or perhaps something else was going on... They began with her stats. He'd read them before, in her card, but it was always more stimulating to hear the lady in question spell it out. "I just turned 20 three weeks ago. I'm 5'9", and my measurements are 38B-24-35. I've been modelling since I was 15. Mostly fashion, runway modelling and shows, catalogues, but I'm also taking acting classes." Without so much as clearing his throat, he asked, "Have you ever posed nude?" Nicola's didn't bat an eyelid. "No, I've done some fairly revealing bikini and lingerie shoots, but never nude." He continued in a similarly probing vein. "Do you have a boyfriend right now?" "No, I haven't really had a steady boyfriend for a while. Just random guys I like to see every now and then." Nicola blushed, ever so slightly, the closest thing to discomfort she'd shown so far. "Are you a virgin?" Again, Nicola didn't seem to mind, or even notice, the incredibly personal nature of his questions. "No, my first time when I was 16. I've slept with three guys since then." "Do you enjoy sex?" "Sure! I just gotta find the right guy to be with." "And what kind of guy is that?" Nicola shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Dunno. I can fancy just about any man. Young, old, slim... a little overweight even. Last bloke I slept with was 35." He grinned. "Do you fancy me?" Nicola giggled. "Tall, handsome stranger from America. Yeah, you're pretty cute." "Have you ever performed oral sex?" "No. A couple of the guys have been down on me, but I've never returned the favour." Margie was slightly stunned but the brazen nature of his inquiry, and no less stunned by the young Nicola's nonchalant answers. Of course, knowing him, she shouldn't be that surprised, but to see him working his magic, right before her eyes, was breathtaking, in more ways than one. "Excellent, thank-you Nicola. If you don't mind, I'd like to take some test shots now." "Sure," Nicola replied. "Where do you want me?" He indicated the white screen, as Margie fired up the battery of lights. "Can you lose the shoes please?" Nicola complied, kicking off the flats she was wearing, standing barefoot in front of the camera. They ran through a few poses. Nicola threw her head back, running her fingers through her luxurious hair. He murmured encouragement, snapping away on the digial camera. After only a short time, he instructed Nicola to undo the top three buttons of her blouse. Nicola's elegant fingers nimbly unbottoned her shirt and gave it a flick so that it opened far enough to let her Bendon-clad breasts fall forward with an enticing blouse. Margie felt hot. She'd done this a thousand times, been backstage at countless fashion shows and seen many of her girls (including Nicola) speed-stripping off one outfit before throwing on another, and she'd always maintained her professional cool. But this time, Margie could feel her body responding. She could feel herself getting turned on by the sight of the incredibly sexy young model stripping before the camera. Once again, he seemed to know what she was thinking. Without even looking in Margie's direction, he began to talk: "That's what our business's all about, really. Sex. Not the actual act itself, but the appearance. Sex appeal. Sexiness. When we say a girl is hot, we're saying we want to fuck her. We won't, of course. But we want to, and she, knowing that we'll never have her, wants us to go on wanting her. And that's what we're trying to do, capture on the film the absolute, pure look of sex. But not the act itself." "Yeah, I know," Nicola replied. "There are times when I'm on a shoot and I get turned on. I dunno if it's the situation, or if it's me, but there are moments where I just get aroused. And my nipples are as hard as anything. And everyone around me knows what I'm thinking about but they don't say anything. Or the photographer will say, 'yeah, that's great, keep doing that,' like it's just an act, to get a great picture with my nipples poking through a lacy bra, or whatever." He paused in his snapping and smirked at her. "And whatabout now? Are you aroused now, Nicola?" She blushed, and dissolved into giggles. Her elegant palms grazed across her boobs. "Yeah, little nipple action going on." It made for a great shot. "You are very sexy, Nicola. What you need is a sexy nickname." Nicola posed with her shoulders back, her hands on her head, her chest thrust forward. "I've never had a nickname before. Do I need one?" "It would be a great asset in LA. If you have a cute name it's more likely to stick in the head of a producer or a director." "Hmmm..." Nicola struck an exaggerative thoughtful pose, her head turned upwards and to the left, her index finger pressed into her right cheek. A flash captured this stance on camera. "Any ideas?" "I represent a rather busty Russian girl named Titania. She likes to be called 'Tits'." Nicola burst out laughing, cupping her own breasts with her hands. "I'm glad that one's taken!" They settled back into a business-like routine, him reeling off instructions and Nicola obeying as more pictures were snapped. Margie melted into the background alittle, watching Nicola do what she did best. It was easy to sneer at the business of modelling, to be paid vast sums of money to stand there and have your picture taken, but this gorgeous young girl demonstrated why not everyone can do it. She was enchanting, alluring, it was hard not to stare at her beauty, and in staring at her Margie felt her heart grow warm. Margie even found her gaze drifting down to Nicola's bare feet, which looked stunningly erotic. She was developing feelings for her protege (or ex- protege, she should say). Feelings no agent should have for her talent. Margie wanted to wrap her arms around Nicola and smother her perfect face in kisses. Embarassed by that sudden, licentious thought, Margie glanced away, but moments later her gaze drifted back to the model. "Could you remove your jeans, please," he said softly. It wasn't a request. With a faint ripping sound, Nicola tugged down the zipper. Thrusting her fingers into the waistband, Nicola pushed the garment over her hips, down her shapely legs, letting them slide to her feet. Deftly, Nicola kicked them out of frame. "Good, excellent," he murmured. The words of encouragement were punctuated by more camera flashes. Nicola's crisp white blouse barely covered her white Bendon bikini briefs. Margie smiled, Nicola could make even the homliest of lingerie brands as sexy as hell. There was just the slightest hint of dark, betraying the presense of her pubic hair beneath the thin veil of material. "Now undo all the buttons." Again, there wasn't a mumur of protest from the model. But, of course, this wasn't quite uncharted territory for Nicola, who had modelled in her underwear before. As if performing a chaste striptease, Nicola slipped open each of the buttons. The matching bra was on display now, the cups cut low enough to show her luscious bosom to good effect, the fabric light enough to should the outline of her dark nipples. "Nice tan," he commented. "How do you keep it?" "Regular salon sessions." "No nude sunbathing, then?" Again, Nicola dissolved into a fit of giggles. "No!" she squealed through the laughter. "You're obsessed with seeing me naked." He shrugged. "What's wrong with seeing you naked? You've got a beautiful body." Nicola recovered her poise. "Thank-you," she said, pulling the shirt sleeves down her arms and tossing the garment aside. The photo session continued, with Nicola posing in nothing more than the Elle-brand lingerie she had worn to the shoot. If she was uncomfortable showing off her body like this, Nicola certainly didn't show it, and was ever the professional as the camera flashed on. Margie found herself wondering how far would it go. Nicola had never posed nude before. Would he push her into that so quickly? "Excellent!" he proclaimed at last. "Thank-you, Nicola." He smiled, the camera dangling her his hand. "It was my pleasure," Nicola beamed, reaching for her clothes. Margie experienced a slight tremor of regret that Nicola wouldn't be showing any more of herself again today. ************ Margie was on the pheriphery for the next couple of days. She was vaguely aware of her old friend making numerous calls back to LA, and the selection of photos emailed across the Pacific to god-knows-who Stateside. Meanwhile, Nicola was wrapping things up in Melbourne as she prepared herself for the great leap into the unknown. Only, it wasn't that unknown to Margie. In a different decade and a different city, Margie had lived the life Nicola was about to embark upon. And the worst part of it was she had loved it. The sex, the excitement, the glamour, Margie had done everything she had warned her own little flock never to do. And she had never regretted a moment of it, until her mysterious former mentor had breezed back into her life and told her to even the score. So Margie passed the time gnawing on her guilt, until the last night the three of them were to have dinner together. ************ When Margie arrived, he was already there. He stood up from the private booth and greeted her with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Margie ran her fingers across the smooth black lapels of his Pierre Cardin jacket. "Very nice." She ordered a glass of white wine. He was already drinking, Jack Daniels (of course). The conversation drifted back to their shared past. Margie still had fond memories of her time in New York. She wistfully remembered those days, living a carefree life in a plush Upper East Side apartment, her life a blur of parties, photoshoots and almost continual sex. Although she had already come out, young Margie the up-and-coming model had slid easily into the role of sexual plaything to New York's glitterati. Men, women, she didn't seem to care too much who fucked her, just as long as her cravings were satisfied. It wasn't just about having sex; it was as if Margie became sex itself. Just to think of the luscious young Aussie was enough to bring a shiver of delight to those who knew her. They laughed together, remembering the stories. The young model had entertained rich bankers, serving as hostess as they jetted out to California or sailed on their private yachts down to the Carribean. Many of these episodes had begun with Margie gorgeously packaged in a stewardess's outfit, or if travelling by sea, she was deliciously decked out in a revealing bikini. Not long into the trip, the delighted men (and/or women!) would relieve Margie of the burden of her clothes, baring her beautiful body and leaving her a giggling mass of naked female flesh for all to enjoy. More than a few of these encounters had been captured on video, and occassionally Margie worried that her past might come back to haunt her. She recalled a very provocative sales brochure she had posed for, advertising an exclusive gentleman's club on St Lucia. Margie, dressed in a skimpy t-shirt and short skirt, smiling as she caddied two men's golf game, laughed as she served them drinks in the bar wearing considerably less, and finally epotimising the establishment's concept of service, down on her knees in their private bedroom. What would happen to her career if that suddenly surfaced? But it never had. Margie had done her dash, had her fill of sex and adventure, and returned home to Australia to launch her own agency. A nice plan, one that had originally envisioned Catherine playing a major role. A discernable ripple ran through the restaurant. Margie looked around to see Nicola making an entrance, stunning in a black cocktail dress, the hem slit up to her thigh and and the neckline slung low over her smooth bosom. Everyone nearby stopped to stare at this vision, but Nicola, smiling as if in a dream, didn't notice them. He stood and greeted his new protege with a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. Margie stood as well, and to her slight surprise Nicola flung her arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "I took a taxi," Nicola explained breathlessly as they seated themselves. "I am going to get soooo drunk tonight!" "Not too much," Margie chided her. "You mustn't lose control." "Oh come on," rumbled the very masculine American voice. "It's a celebration." And, being a celebration, they ordered a bottle of Barossa Valley champagne. The three crystal glasses gave a distinctive chime as they pinged together. "To the future," he toasted. "To the future," Nicola repeated. "And the past," added Margie. Nicola slurped at her drink. "So what happens now?" He produced a sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket and a gold plated fountain pen. "First, I need to officially sign you up as a client." It took but a moment for Nicola to scribble her signature on the document. Margie watched, sipping her champagne. "I've booked you a nude photoshoot. It's a local photographer, Philip Thee." "Phil?" Nicola laughed. "I met him about nine months ago at a party. He's been trying to get me to pose nude for him ever since." "Well, he's going to get his wish. I've booked a session for Tuesday morning. We're going to increase the range of your portfolio, with more of an emphasis upon your body." Margie frowned. "Phil Thee's got a bad reputation. My girls don't usually pose for him." "Well, Nicola isn't one of your girls anymore, is she?" came the firm reply. Margie took the hint and let it drop. "My first nude shoot!" Nicola breathed. "Oooh, I hope I do OK. Don't want to blow my big chance at the first hurdle." "Don't worry," he breezed. "You're a natural in front of the camera no matter what you're wearing. Just remember to not be shy, and the fewer clothes you've got on the more you flirt." Again with the wolfishly grin. "I remember your first nude shoot." A bikini ski-trip in Aspen, that had evolved into a bikini-less ski trip. Margie's nipples had never been colder. "You posed nude?" Nicola squealed. A few other diners glanced in their direction. "There's nothing wrong with glamour photography," Margie defended herself. "I just think it needs to be done tastefully." The waiter hovered politely. They ordered, and for a while the conversation remained decent. "You'll need to invest in a good bikini. And by 'good', I mean one that doesn't cover up too much. A bikini is not swimwear, a bikini is for showing off your tits and ass. And you'll need to learn how to tie it correctly, so that your boobs bounce just right whenever you move." "Uh-huh," Nicola was making mental notes of all his wisdom. She'd need it in Hollywood. "Always remember to smile and make eye contact. Always. You can have the best tits in the world, you can be completely naked, but unless you're smiling and enjoying yourself it's not completely sexy." "Flirt alot. Men love that. Laugh and make physical contact, yknow, like a light brush of his arm. Always be aware of your own body, how you're moving, what you're wearing (or not wearing). Make sexy small talk. American guys are going to love your accent, play it up." "Don't be shy to show off your body. If men are staring at your cleavage, it's a good sign. With your warbrobe, don't think about what you're covering up, think about what you're showing off. Leg. Thigh. A hint of nipple." The waiter returned with their mains. As he placed Nicola's scallops before you, she caught him peeking down her dress, getting an eyeful of her spectacular tits. "Thank-you," she purred, pushing out her chest for his benefit. He blushed and bustled away. Nicola giggled at her first taste of the power she was destinied to have in Hollywood. "Have you given any more thought to your nickname?" he asked, as a sliver of calamari disappeared between several thousand US dollars worth of dentristy. Nicola schrunched up her face (looking adorable). "I haven't been able to think of anything. I wish 'Tits' was still free." "Other girls in Hollywood go by Angel, Dizzy, Jugs, Pussy, Perky, Kitten..." "Did you have one?" Nicola asked Margie. She nodded. "Most of my clients knew me as Muffy." In moments of intimacy, she'd loved it when Cathie had called her that, although her lover never knew the full story why. Nicola shook her head. "I'll have to think on that one." "Don't think too long. Within a day of you getting off the plane in LA I'll have you at an audition. You'll need to be as sexy as possible when the casting director meets you." Nicola battered her eyelashes coyly. "I'm sure he'll find me memorable enough." She leant forward, her hand snaking under the table to his thigh. The front of her dress fell open, affording Margie a spectacular view of a single brown nipple, slightly erect. He patted her questing hand. "I bet you will, sweetheart." His cellphone rang. Fishing it out, he made his apologies and stood up. Alone with Nicola, Margie found herself growing uncomfortable. It wasn't the thought of where Nicola was heading, but rather it was where she herself was going. Margie felt a definite warmth coursing through her body, the hum of expectant sexual desire. Nicola drained her glass and reached for the bottle. A very merry smile spread across her pretty lips, and it looked like she was having difficulty getting her eyes to focus. He returned with an apologetic look. "Sorry, something's come up. I need to fly back to LA tonight." "A problem?" "Not with this. Look, sorry to leave you ladies short like this but I need to go." He tossed a hundred dollar on the table to cover the meal, then gently kissed Nicola on the cheek. "I'll see you in LA in two weeks time. Good luck with the shoot," he whispered in her ear. Nicola, tipsy, giggled. ************ By the time they left the restaurant, Nicola was serverly drunk. One of the spaghetti straps on her dress had slipped down her shoulder, and the whole outfit looked on the verge of sliding off her body althogether. Still giggling, and unable to stand, Nicola draped her luscious body across Margie, entwining her limbs around her former agent. "Mmmm, Margie, let's go to a club," Nicola slurred. "Sorry, honey, the only place you're going is to bed." Nicola gasped in mock surprise. "Margie! You're so forward!" Margie knew she was joking but it didn't stop her from blushing furiously. On the car trip back to Nicola's flat, the model slipped in a sleepy state, resting her head on Margie's shoulder. She tried to concentrate on the road, but all she could smell was the musky aroma of Nicola's perfume. When they arrived, Margie carried her out of the car, fished her keys out of her purse and took her inside. Nicola flatted with two other models, although Margie knew one of them was in a shoot in New Zealand. It wasn't even ten yet, so the other must be out for the evening. Margie quickly deduced which room was Nicola's and guided her in. As the model flopped backwards onto her bed, her cocktail dress, which had been struggling all night to keep her privates covered, finally gave up and splashed open to reveal Nicola's perfectly trimmed pubic hair framing a deliciously open pussy, lips parted, labia riding obscenely high on her pelvis. It was hard not to stare at the sight. Margie had been celibate for longer than she cared to remember, and here was the most beautiful girl on earth splaying her charms before her. True, Nicola was almost senselessly intoxicated and probably unaware of what she was doing. "Let's get you ready for bed." Margie did her best to sound professional, but it didn't help that Nicola's only reply was a dreamy moan. Margie pulled off Nicola's shoes, her fingers sliding across the model's delicate feet. "Tickles!" she squealed without opening her eyes. Next came the dress. Margie seized the gauzy black garmet and pulled it upwards, sliding it off Nicola's body. Through the fog of booze, Nicola did her best to comply, raising her arms, before slumping back on her bed completely naked. Margie hung up the dress. There was no longer any reason for her to stay, Nicola had been seen safely home and was tucked up in bed (well, on bed, but it was an unusually warm August night anyway), but still Margie lingered. She looked down at the nude Nicola draped across her bed, legs parted wantonly, her pert boobs standing firm and proud on her chest. She'll do well, Margie mused. She's got fantastic tits. This is what he'd promised her. Not in so many words, but the pleasure of enjoying Nicola's body with no strings attached is pretty much what he'd offered her if she played her part and helped entice Nicola into signing. Margie's gaze settled on Nicola's stomach, perfectly flat and toned. She bent down, her lips moist, and allowed herself the luxury of planting a small kiss just above Nicola's bellybutton. Nicola responded with a moan and a wiggle that set her body undulating on the bed. Margie bit her lip. Would she do it? Would she really take advantage of one of her girls? It was like he said, Nicola wasn't one of her girls anymore. Margie kicked off her own shoes. Carefully, she knelt down on the bed, planting one knee on the duvet, maneouvring her body across Nicola's to prop herself up with her elbows. Another kiss, this time higher up, just below Nicola's right breast and accompanied by a slight brush of the tongue against Nicola's skin. Her eyes were still closed, but Nicola's lips curled into a lazy smile. Emboldened, Margie kissed her body again, this time right between her breasts. Margie's long hair trailed across Nicola, tickling her slightly. This was going too far, getting to the point where Margie couldn't stop even if she wanted it. Another kiss, planted right on the softness of Nicola's throat. There could be no mistaking the girl's reaction now, she was groaning in ectasy. Margie adjusted her position on the bed, gingerly moving her thigh and planting it on the opposite side of her would-be lover, so that she now straddled the model, although her ass still maintained a chaste few inches of clearance from Nicola's exposed vagina. Did Nicola really know what was going on? Although her body betrayed the obvious signs of arousal (nipples taut, cunt moist), Nicola's face still seemed to float on an alcohol-induced sea of bliss. Margie's lips lowered for another kiss, this time directly onto Nicola's. Her mouth opened, tongue slithering into Nicola's. The model responded warmly to the intrusion, opening wide to admit her lover, sucking greedily on Margie's tongue. God it felt good! Finally, to feel the moist goodness of a woman's mouth after such a long time. Breaking off the deep kiss, Margie sat back, allowing her ass to press into Nicola's now-grinding crotch. She pulled her own blouse over her head and threw it aside. Nicola, as if missing what she had just had in her mouth, opened her lips. A line of drool trickled out. As if her life depended on it, Margie yanked open the clasp on her bra before it too joined her blouse in a crumpled pile on Nicola's bedroom floor. Then she fell face forward into Nicola's chest, her teeth seizing the very same nipple that had teased her in the restaurant, nibbling her teat with gentle bites. Nicola's body was trembling in delight. Margie knew that Nicola was straight, and would never pick her for bi either. So this would probably be her first girl-on-girl encounter. It would be a shame if she was too drunk to remember it. Her lips still planted firmly on Nicola's body, Margie slithered her way crotch-wards, leaving a trail of saliva across Nicola's perfect stomach. The smell of Nicola's natural perfume filled her nostrils, telling her the would-be starlet was primed and ready. Margie nudged apart Nicola's thighs, positioning herself inches from her most intimate treasure. Nicola let out a moan, and writhed slightly on her bed. Margie froze, thinking she was about to wake up. But her lover slumbered on, blissfully unaware of what was taking place at her crotch. Gently, Margie slid her fingers inside Nicola, teasing apart the lips of her cunt. If Margie only suspected Nicola's unconscious arousal a moment ago, now she was absolutely sure. Nicola was soaking wet, and her clitoris stood out pink and moist. Margie's tongue flickered forth, diving into the fold of Nicola's cunt and slithering along her clit. The reaction was instant: a deep sigh of contentment, but still Nicola slumbered on, emboldening Margie to continue the assault. Again, her tongue ventured deep into Nicola's pussy, questing to find her sweet nub. The licking had an instant effect on the model, Nicola's sighs and moans continued to build, but Margie carried on, either knowing she was fast asleep or not caring that she might wake and find what was going on. Margie's licking strokes increased, and as they did the tempo of Nicola's gasps grew sharper. An orgasm was building in her trembling, slumbering body. Margie jammed her face tighter into Nicola's pussy and was finally rewarded with a shuddering climax that sent strands of sticky girl-cum squirting into Margie's mouth. For a moment they lay together, locked cunt-to-lips, as Margie caught her breath and listened to the rising and falling of Nicola's hefty breasts. Now, it was her turn to return the favour. Nicola's arms were still splayed across the bedspread over her head. Gingerly, Margie grasped her right wrist and laid it across Nicola's tummy, fanning out her fingers as she did so. Next, she knelt just to one side of her lover, gently cooing and teasing her fingers across Nicola's face, while with her other hand she positioned Nicola's digits at the entrance to her own steaming pussy. With a sigh, Margie scooted her pelvis forward, letting three of Nicola's fingers slide inside her with just the slightest squelching noise. Slowly, she began to work her hips, back and forth, slowly at first but quickly rising with passion, so that Nicola unwittingly delivered a vigorous finger-fuck to her former agent. Margie was already trembling with emotion. Part of her screamed to stop it now, to at least leave her violation of Nicola's scrumptuous body before crossing this one, final line, but she continued to thrust, fucking away on Nicola's fingers, caring for nothing but the pleasure building in her own cunt. At last she came, slamming her thighs together in a vice-like grip on Nicola's hand and stifling a banshee- scream of pleasure that left the agent panting. Reason once more began to creep across her skull. Margie looked down, gazing upon Nicola's sleeping body. So beautiful, so innocent. Had Margie really defiled her like that? With a slurp she disengaged her cunt from Nicola's fingers, leaving them coated in slime. She wanted to blame him, of course. He had manipulated Margie, manipulated both of them, to the point where this unthinkable act had happened. And Margie almost convinced herself this was true, if it wasn't for the fact that Margie had always fancied Nicola, and buried somewhere deep and dark within herself had been the monstrous desire to have her way with the model. Margie blinked back the tears. Shame and humiliation blushed across her bare chest. Nicola, innocent, slumbered on, a smile across her tender lips. There was really nothing left for Margie but to gather her clothes together and slink out, hoping never to see Nicola again. From somewhere in the flat came the bang of a door closing. Margie's head snapped up in panic. "Nicola?" a voice called out. English accent, Margie recognised it at the other flatmate. The agent froze, hoping the darkness of Nicola's bedroom would conceal her. More footsteps. "Oi! Nicola, you 'ome?" Margie held her breath. The girl was marching through the house, great hammering footfalls, yelling Nicola's name out. "Nic! Nic, you 'ere?" She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Petrified. What to do, what to do, what to do???? "'ere Nic Nic Nicky!" There was a male voice, as well, much quieter, and some shared giggling. The footsteps approached the door. The handle turned. Finally, at the last moment, Margie's wobbling legs moved, and she quietly drove behind the bed. The door opened. A young female head popped in. "Nickers, is you asleep?" Margie stuffed her fist into her mouth to silence the pounding of her heart. In the gloom, all Nicola's flatmate could make out was the shape of her friend, naked and passed out on her bed. "I bet someone had a good-night," she murmured with a smirk. Then she softly closed the door behind her. It was at least an hour before the terror finally subsided within Margie. She waited until the yelling and banging in the next bedroom was at its loudest before getting dressed and sheepishly letting herself out. END