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Subject: {ASSM} Anniv-Party: A Model Payback (F/M+, exhib) ~ by DrSpin
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Aniv - Party: A Model Payback (F/M+, exhib)
by DrSpin
10 November 2000
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He looked at her gloomily across the table. "I don't
suppose," he said without any effort at persuasion, "you'd
feel like posing for the guys at the Camera Club."
She turned in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, I promised I'd ask," he said. "There now, it's
done."
"Trevor, what are you talking about?"
He ran his hands through his hair. "We lost another model
tonight. She left in high dudgeon and won't be coming
back." He sighed. "You can't blame her. It's not as though
we pay any modelling fees, and it beats me how the guys
can expect her to pose for glamour shots when she's just an
amateur doing us a favour."
"Then perhaps you should be paying for a professional
model."
"That's what I said. But the fees are pretty steep and the
guys like to spend their spare cash on equipment."
"So how do I come into it?"
"The guys said we should ask our wives to help out. They
said you were the best looking and I should ask you first."
She sat down at the table and looked at him with her cool
pale eyes. "I suppose I should be flattered."
"Well, you are the best, no doubt about that. Much better
than the model who left us tonight. I mean, she was pretty
enough but what you could see of her figure didn't nearly
compare to you."
"What's a glamour shot?"
"You know, something less than fully clothed."
"I see. How much less?"
He shrugged. "It would range from not much less to
everything less, I guess. It would depend on how far the
model was prepared to go."
"What's not much less? Spell it out."
He shrugged again. "Depends on the model. Some buttons
undone, maybe. A bare shoulder, flashes of underwear, lots
of leg. That sort of thing."
"How far would the guys want the model to go?"
"If they thought she'd do it they'd want her to go all the
way."
"Complete nudity?"
"Sure. If they thought she would. In the name of art, you
know."
"Wait a minute here. Let me get this straight. The guys
asked you to ask me whether I'd come to the Camera Club and
take my clothes off?"
"No, they didn't ask that. They just asked whether you
would help us out one night and pose for some glamour
shots."
"What did you say?"
"I told them there was absolutely no way you would do it."
"I see. So how come you asked?"
"Well, I promised I would."
"Knowing that I'd say no."
"Yes. I promised."
"What makes you so sure I'd say no?"
"Come on, Eileen, don't kid me. You wouldn't do a thing
like that. I know you too well."
"Do you?" She looked at him hard and sharp. "Well, you can
tell the guys I'll think about it."
His mouth actually dropped open. He looked back at her in
astonishment.
"You think I'm joking," she said. "I might be. Then again,
I might not."
Two days later she brought up the subject. "Did you ring
the Camera Club guys and tell them what I said?"
"I certainly did not."
"Why not?"
"You weren't serious. You'd never do it."
"Then you had better think again, because I've decided I
will. Just once, mind you, and to the not-much-less stage
you described. You'd better get on the phone and tell
them."
"I don't believe it."
"You're way too fond of taking me for granted."
"I thought it would be the last thing you'd do. It's just not
you. I mean, you don't even like those guys."
She considered. "I guess I'm flattered to have been asked.
Anyway, they won't be seeing much. Why, will I embarrass
you?"
"Of course not. I'm just really surprised."
"One condition. I have to be in control and I call the
shots."
"Of course."
"Tell them that."
"Of course."
"One more condition."
"What's that?"
"Whatever I do, you have to go along with it."
"Okay."
"I mean it. You don't interfere."
"Sure."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"At any time. Under any circumstances. No matter what."
"Eileen, I swear it. I promise."
"I'll hold you to that." She smiled suddenly. "This could
be interesting."
She took to it like a duck to water, and he was amazed. She
wore a black dress he'd never seen with thin shoulder
straps and a low, scooped neckline, and black stockings.
She stood and posed effortlessly, unsmiling, while the
cameras whirred and clicked. She sat gracefully on a high
stool, on a bentwood chair set back to front, and on a
battered couch covered with a white throw-sheet, crossing
and recrossing her legs. She moved untutored from one
position to the next, apparently at whim but with an easy
natural flow until the activity started to falter.
She stood and looked at her audience reflectively. "Time
for something different?" she asked, and without waiting
for an answer, she bent slightly forward from the waist and
slowly raised the hem of her dress. The men picked up their
cameras again as the dress climbed higher. She paused only
when her white thighs showed above the stocking tops. She
held the pose and changed her expression, smiling wickedly.
Abruptly she dropped the hem, turned around, and walked to
the back of the lit semi-circle area. She then turned
around to face them and lowered herself to the floor. On
all fours, down on her forearms, she crawled towards them,
the neckline of her dress gaping and showing abundant
cleavage and the top of her black bra. She glared at them
fiercely for a moment, then slowly poked out her tongue as
if to lick the floor. Once more she smiled suggestively and
then stood up, brushing her elbows and her arms.
"You like that?" she asked the men.
"Fantastic," somebody shouted. "Give us more."
"I know what you guys want," she said. Facing them, she
reached behind her, unfastened the strapless bra, and with
judicious workings and a wriggle or two she drew it out of
her dress and tossed it on the couch. "Now let's do that
again."
She crawled towards them, her breasts hanging heavily and
barely contained in the dress. She held the position
directly in front of them, and again flashed her
mischievous smile. She stood again and announced one more
pose for the night. "It's a one-off special and you'd
better be ready for it, " she said, "because it won't last
long."
She moved back a bit, turned her back, pulled down the
shoulder straps and dragged the dress down. Her back was
bare to her waist. "Ready?" she asked. "Here we go, 3-2-1."
She turned and faced them, the fingers of her hands
covering her nipples but showing the curve and shape of her
full breasts. She had on her serious look, and then once
more the wicked glinting smile. She turned away from them
and pulled and tugged the dress back into position.
"That's all, folks," she said, facing them. "Thanks for
inviting me. It's been fun."
Trevor didn't have much of a chance to discuss it with her
until they were driving home. The Camera Club members all
wanted to talk to her, to thank her personally, to
congratulate her on her performance. She talked animatedly
to them, wineglass in one hand and her black bra swinging
in the other. He watched his club colleagues position
themselves and manoeuvre so they could look down the
neckline of her dress. "Well," he said, driving out of the
carpark, "you were certainly a big hit."
"It was fun," she said. "More than I realised."
"You were amazing."
"They want me to come back next week. I said I'd think
about it."
"You'd have another go? What about your repertoire? It was
fantastic, but you'd probably have to boost the stakes a
bit."
"That's what I want to think about. Maybe a few lingerie
shots wouldn't do any harm. What do you think?"
"Hey, I learned my lesson. It's up to you."
"You know I did this because you said I wouldn't."
"I gathered that."
"I've been missing out on things lately, I think. But I
really had a good time and maybe I'll go once more."
"Should be interesting," he said.
"Yeah, that's what I think." And after a pause. "Were you
ashamed of me? You know, showing that much?"
"Hell no."
"Were you embarrassed?"
"Of course not."
"Maybe it turned you on, then. All those guys looking at
your wife."
"Maybe."
"I knew that. I read it in your face."
"I didn't know you were watching me."
"Did you get some good shots?"
"You bet I did."
"Good. I'd like to see them."
"Eileen, you are amazing."
"I'm beginning to think so," she said.
Next time she wore faded and torn jeans, a plain white tee-
shirt, a denim jacket, and sneakers. "Not too glamorous,"
he said, as she presented herself for the trip down to the
community hall.
"Wait and see," she said. "There's a plan."
She revealed it quickly in front of the cameras, soon
discarding the jacket and then the tee-shirt. The guys
crouched, jostled, and shifted around her in a semi-circle
as she stood in the sharp light, hand on hip and the other
on her head, upper body bare but for a sea green satiny bra
with lacy cups that showed the suggestion of nipples. After
three or four minutes, she shucked off the sneakers,
unzipped the jeans, shrugged them down her legs, and kicked
them away. Now she stood again for them, almost arrogantly,
in matching sea green pants cut high at the sides.
Trevor had never seen her in green underwear but he knew
why she wore this matching set. Apart from the fact the
lingerie was obviously new and purchased for the occasion,
he knew from experience that evidence of Eileen's black,
lush, and wiry pubic thicket would show clearly through
these light-coloured pants. As it was, he could see the
prominent mound, and she must have done some trimming to
hold it in at the high cut sides. Still, several hairs
escaped to show the close match in colour of her pubic hair
to the hair on her head.
Green underwear also contrasted well with her pale skin.
Eileen was no sun goddess and generally she dressed to keep
herself covered when she was outdoors. He knew from
experience she could burn easily and often severely. Her
hair was wild black, her eyes cold grey-green, and her skin
fresh white. Above all, he loved the milky sheen of her
flesh.
He watched her performance closely, noting the rapt
expressions on the faces of the guys in the Camera Club.
Her face was strong and striking rather than pretty and the
combination of her long nose, high cheekbones, and arched
eyebrows gave her a severe, even disapproving, look that
was only half-true. Her hair massed abundantly, with cable-
like strands twisting, curling and stretching over her
forehead, her cheeks, and wildly away in all directions
like a rampant vine. Her buttocks were not so much heavy as
broad, and he'd always thought she was too wide across the
hips to come close to perfection. Fortunately her breasts
had grown fuller and heavier with age and the result was
that, at 28, she looked better now -- less bottom heavy --
than when they had married five years earlier. Maturity had
brought a bounty of power and consequence to her physique.
She was moving on in her presentation and he focused his
Nikon on the performance. She sat on the floor to pull her
jeans back up her legs and the guy next to him groaned in
disappointment as she climbed to her feet and reached for
the denim jacket. He thought it was all over. But she
turned her back to them, swiftly unclasped her bra, and
threw it on the sheet-covered couch. She slipped on the
jacket and swung to face them, her breasts swaying
beneath the rough fabric.
She made a mock attempt to tug the jacket together to cover
her chest and, with a shrug and a smile, appeared to accept
the failure of it. She leaned to her left and extended an
arm, pointing a finger at a distant object, and the jacket
fell open to expose one breast completely. Then the
reverse, and then, with her hands clasped on the top of her
head, she bared most of both. A series of poses and
positions followed, including sweeping away one side of
the jacket and placing a hand on her hip, purposefully and
aggressively displaying each of her breasts.
"I guess we're coming to the end of it," she said. "I guess
I'd better take this jacket off for a final round." She
shrugged it off her shoulders and threw it behind her with
an exaggerated fling of her arms. She crossed her arms over
her breasts, clasping her shoulders, and looked
provocatively at them. Slowly she took her arms away and
posed brazenly, hands on hips, eyes cold, eyebrows starkly
defined, and her small mouth red and set. Trevor had never
seen her look so good. It was as though she were a
stranger.
Finally she bowed from the waist, breasts hanging, and
stood there immobile while the cameras clicked. She
straightened. "That's all there is, guys," she said. "The
show is over."
"Hey, Eileen," somebody shouted. "What about tonight's one-
off special?"
"You want a special?" She looked around the group and
pointed to Max. "You'll do," she said. "Get up here."
He was 60 if he was a day, tall, white-haired, gaunt, and
angular with a grim visage. She whispered in his ear and he
grinned. She faced her audience and backed into him. He put
his arms around her and filled his big hands with her
breasts. Trevor took pictures urgently.
Max whispered sentences into her ear and she listened while
his hands caressed her breasts. She nodded and his right
hand curled down her stomach and flipped open the button of
her jeans. He worked his hand inside and the zipper parted
under pressure. His hand, visible by its shape under the
jeans, went to her crotch. She held the pose for a couple
of minutes, her hips moving languidly, her expression
unsmiling, even severe. She looked directly at her husband,
held his gaze for a moment, and then removed Max's hand.
She buttoned the jeans, put on the jacket, leaned up to
kiss Max on the cheek, and pushed him away.
Everybody knew the show was over.
"You did it again," he said in the car. "You went further
than you planned."
"Possibly," she said provocatively.
"Come on, Eileen. You said you were only going to do
lingerie shots. That's what we agreed."
"We didn't agree on anything," she said. "It's my show. I
decide what I will do. That's what we agreed on, Trevor."
"So you did plan to take your bra off."
"More or less, depending on the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
"Whether I was having fun, I guess."
He swung the wheel hard and dropped the clutch to pass a
car in an engine-roaring burst of speed.
"Was that necessary?" she murmured. "What's the big hurry?"
"Never mind that," he said. "What the hell is going on with
you?"
"I hope you're not going to say you disapprove," she said.
"Not after the deal we struck."
"Shit, Eileeen, it looked to me like you got excited."
"I guess I did. What about you? All those guys looking at
your wife's tits."
"Somebody did more than look. Why did you let him put his
hands all over you?"
"I didn't let him. I told him to do it. I call the shots,
remember?"
"But why him? He's really old."
"Yeah, should make quite a photo, don't you think? I mean,
you're the photographer and I shouldn't have to tell you
about contrasts."
"You mean, horny old bastard fondles fresh female flesh."
"He sure was horny. He kept prodding me with something that
felt like the branch of a tree."
"Shit. And you let him get into your pants. Did you call
the shots on that one too?"
She giggled. "He asked so I let him."
"It's a wonder he didn't try to finger you."
"It slipped straight in, actually. All the way up to the
knuckle."
"Jesus. The horny old bastard. I'll kill him."
"You will not. Besides, he wasn't the only one."
"What? Who?"
"I was walking around afterwards and a few guys kissed me
on the cheek to say thanks and a couple sort of copped a
bit of a semi-accidental feel and then this one guy reached
in and deliberately pinched my nipple. Quite hard, too."
He groaned. "What do you expect when you walk around with
an open jacket over your bare tits?"
"Didn't seem much point in getting dressed after standing
around topless."
"Eileen, two weeks ago you wouldn't have given these guys
the time of day. Now you're letting them finger you and
grope your tits. What's come over you?"
She laughed, giving every appearance of enjoying the
conversation. "Yes, it's all been a bit mad."
"What did you do when that guy put his hand under your
jacket and pinched you?"
"Nothing."
"Why not?"
"I guess I liked it."
"Eileen, I'd say you were behaving like a slut."
"I'm just having some fun. Everybody gets to have some fun
sometimes. Even me."
"Look, that's gotta be the end of it. I can't take any
more."
Agreed," she said. "That's it. Definitely. If I go any
further I'll be crossing the border into another country."
"I'm still amazed at how far you went."
"Never mind that. Did you get all the shots?"
"I didn't miss a thing."
A few days later she came in from work tired and irritable.
Trevor's friend, Jack, was sitting in the living-room, a
cold beer in his hand. She kicked off her shoes with noisy
exaggeration. "Lovely to see you," she said to Jack,
entirely unconvincingly. He'd been their best man but he
didn't come around much because they all knew she never
really liked him nor his bitch ex-wife, Jenny. Trevor made
her a drink and she sipped at it distractedly for a time.
She broke in suddenly on their conversation. "So tell me,"
she said to Jack. "You're his oldest friend. Did he tell
you about his little affair with Jenny?" Jack flicked his
eyes between them, stumped for a response.
"Now is not the time," Trevor said to her, shaken, and thus
with much less of a warning tone than he intended. He
didn't know she knew, and he knew that Jack didn't.
"Don't worry, I know it's over," she said to Jack. "I'm
just curious. I mean, did you have any idea at all? He
never told me, of course, and I wondered whether he told
you."
"Eileen." Trevor tried hard to insert the necessary stern
inflection.
She turned her head to him. "It's all right," she said with
a dismissive hand wave. "I've known about it for quite some
time. Friends of friends tell you these sorts of things. I
know it's well over."
Their eyes met. "It's all right," she said again. "You had
a little fun. It was your hobby for a few months. Have you
told Jack about my new hobby?"
"What's that?" asked Jack cautiously.
"I've been having fun too. Taking my clothes off for the
guys at the Camera Club. Glamour photography, they call
it."
"You?" Jack was too surprised to be cautious. He'd always
regarded Eileen as somewhat haughty, pretentious, and
definitely holier-than-him. "I don't believe it."
"Jack doesn't believe it," she said to Trevor. "Show him
the pictures."
"Eileen, I don't think this is appropriate."
"Show him the pictures."
She watched Jack closely as he looked through Trevor's
folder, hands folded in her lap and her mouth curved in a
little smile. He came to the last photograph, looked up at
her briefly, and then went through them again backwards,
pausing longer at two or three of them. He closed the
folder, handed it back to Trevor and sat back in the chair,
his face expressionless. He knew he was playing some sort
of secondary role in some sort of intricate domestic game.
"Well?" she said impatiently, the question imperative.
"Sensational," Jack said. "I never would have believed it
without seeing the evidence."
"So what do you think?"
"Sensational. You sure do have the figure for it, Eileen."
"Better than Jenny?"
He flicked his eyes nervously at Trevor. "I'd say there's
no comparison."
"Trevor?" she asked. "What do you say?"
"No comparison," said Trevor.
"And you'd know."
"Yes."
"Pity, though," said Jack, misjudging the situation and
trying to be clever. "I didn't see quite enough of you to
make a complete comparison."
"You want more?" she asked, standing up and facing him
squarely. "Let's ask Trevor if you can see more. What do
you say, Trevor? How broadminded do you feel tonight?"
"Eileen, don't do this to me."
"What do you think, Jack? Was that a yes or a no?"
"Eileen," said Trevor again, "you made me promise not to
interfere. I don't know why you're doing this, but you
can't put the responsibility on me."
"He's still not saying yes or no," she said. "Let's raise
the stakes a little." She hiked up her skirt, reached
beneath, and drew her pants down her legs. She stepped out
of them, bent over to pick them up, and tossed them at
Jack. "A souvenir," she said, as he caught them reflexively
in his left hand.
"Jesus, Eileen," Trevor muttered.
"Looks like I have to make the decision after all," she
said. "I saw this in a movie once." She grasped the hem of
her skirt and drew it slowly up her legs, over the top of
her stockings, until her entire pubic domain was exposed.
"So tell me," she said to Jack, who had his eyes fixed on
the display. "How's the comparison with that skinny,
washed-out, bony blonde now?"
Jack audibly let out his breath. "Holy smoke," he said. "No
comparison, Eileen. None at all."
"Good boy," she said, and dropped the skirt. "Just for
that, I'll take it off." She undid a button and the skirt
slid to the floor. She stepped out, twirled once in front
of him, and returned to her drink. She sipped from the
glass, dressed only in her blouse, white long-sleeved
jacket, and stockings, her black pubic hair unruly and
starkly contrasted. She leaned casually with an arm against
the bookcase. "So," she said to Jack, "are you staying for
dinner?"
"Uh, no," he said. "I have to go, unfortunately."
"Don't forget your souvenir."
He stuffed her pants in his coat pocket. "I won't."
"Trevor used to prejudge me. Now you won't either."
"Right."
"Don't count on this happening again, Jack."
"No."
"But you can look at Trevor's photos whenever you like. He
might make up your own set if you ask him."
"Perhaps I will."
"Come," she said, extending her hand. "I'll walk you to
your car."
"Dressed like that?"
"It's dark outside. Who cares anyway."
Jack drove away down the street and Eileen stood next to
Trevor in their driveway at the edge of the pool of porch
light. "You know," she said, idly scratching at the inside
of her thigh, "maybe I might do one more photo shoot. It
needs finishing, I think."
He sighed. "Is there no stopping you?"
"You hurt me, Trevor."
"I know. When does the payback stop?"
"Soon, I think. Not quite yet, though. Tell the guys I'm up
for a final session."
"Christ Almighty."
"But I don't want to do it in that grubby old hall.
Outdoors might be pleasant, on a weekend. You ought to pick
out a nice private spot near some running water. Something
like that."
"Eileen, this is dangerous."
She chuckled quietly. "I know."
It was a mid-Sunday morning at the height of summer, hot,
and breezeless. Thirteen cars were parked at the end of the
sandy track, and when we walked further into the bush we
came across a crowd of guys from the club waiting at the
clearing near the creek. "Hey Eileen," one of them called
to her immediately. "What's in store today?"
She stopped and looked over at him, shading her eyes with a
saluting hand. She dropped her sports bag and, with a whirl
of clothing, vaulted into a slow cartwheel. The dress fell
away from her thighs as she reached a handstand, revealing
the thick line of black pubic hair running between the
junction of her splayed legs. Jesus, Trevor realised with a
shock. She wasn't wearing pants.
Eileen catapulted into an upright position and looked again
at the guy who had called out to her. "You know," she said
with a mischievous glint, "I have this feeling I left
something vital behind today."
"Holy smoke," someone said. "Can you do that again? I
wasn't ready yet."
"Plenty of time and opportunity," she said. She looked
around. "Nice place. How about we start at that big old
tree over there?" She leaned back against the broad trunk
and waited while they settled around her. "Let's do it,"
she said.
She undid the lower buttons on the flower printed cotton
dress, leaned back with her hands in her hair, and pushed
out her pelvis. The dress fell away from her thighs and her
pubic hair came into view. Cameras clicked in silence.
After a time she undid a few top buttons and leaned forward
so her breasts emerged. She propped one foot back against
the tree and Trevor, once again, was amazed by her
effortless and natural talent.
"You know," somebody said loudly, "this is the sexiest
looking lady on the planet. God, what a honey. What a
glorious fucking body."
Trevor lifted his head from the camera to look for her
reaction. She was laughing happily, her head up and her
teeth bright. "You think?" She undid the remaining couple
of buttons and swept open the dress, now held in place
only by a matching cotton belt. She leaned back and closed
her eyes, revelling in her power.
She pushed away from the tree and stood close to them,
striking attitudes. Then she untied the belt, threw the
dress over her bag, and stretched up into the sun like a
nudist. "Only a couple of minutes of this," she said. "I
don't want to burn."
Totally nude, totally relaxed, Eileen moved between sun and
shade and placed her body at the disposal of nineteen
amateur photographers. For half an hour she took requests
without an apparent care in the world. Then, abruptly, she
announced it was over. She gathered her dress and put it
on. It had been her final session, she said. There would be
no more.
The guys were drifting away when she grabbed her husband by
the arm. "Trevor," she said quietly. "There's one more
thing I really want to do. Pick somebody to stay behind."
"Pick somebody? Anybody? What do you want to do?"
"Anybody. I've already asked old Max."
"That'll make two."
"Plus you."
He approached a guy he barely knew. "Sure," he said. His
name was Tim. "What's up?"
"No idea. It's her call."
She explained it to the three of them. A bit of a fantasy,
she said. Too scary to do in a crowd. She delved into her
bag and produced four short lengths of rope and four wooden
stakes. She wanted to be staked out and tied down. She
thought the photographs would be interesting.
She took off her dress and spread herself on the grass.
They tied her wrists and her ankles and beat the stakes
into the soft ground with a thick branch. "Wow," she said,
looking up at them and testing the strength of the bonds.
"Helpless. This is so wild."
They photographed her from many angles. The urgency of the
shoot died away. "Trevor," she said. "It's time for you to
go home."
He caught the nuance but pretended not to. "Sure," he said.
"I'll just untie you then."
"I'm fine like this. What I want you to do is to collect
all the camera gear and go home. Get Tim's cameras, get
Max's cameras and get in the car and take the gear home
with you."
"Uh, and leave you here?"
"That's what I want. These guys can get their cameras from
you later. They'll give me a ride home. Won't you?"
"Sure," said Max. "No problem."
Trevor looked down at her. "Eileen, you don't need to do
this."
"But I do. Be good to me and do as I ask. Final chapter.
The books will be balanced at last."
He sighed heavily. "I see."
"Tim will help you carry the gear to the car and see you
off."
Two hours later she came home. He was watching football on
television. She stood in the doorway. "I'm home," she said.
"I'm glad," he said carefully. He turned back to the
television. "To say I was worried is an understatement."
"I'm fine."
"I'm glad."
"You're not going to ask?"
"No. Or think about it, either."
"Whatever works best for you."
He looked at her. "It's all over?"
"Yes."
He gestured at the television. "My side's getting
hammered."
"Let's hope they learn something from it."
He said nothing. She stretched her arms. "It's been a long,
hard day," she said. "I think I'll take a nice hot bath."
ENDS
===========================================================
* The author welcomes (and gets blood transfusions from)
comments and opinions from readers and is invariably
motivated to respond. Write to: drspin@newsguy.com
The Stories of DrSpin are at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/DrSpin/www
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