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Disclaimer: This is just a story! I like murder mysteries yet I've never killed anyone and I also like Tom Clancys' work even though I've never nuked Denver, crashed a 747 into the United States Capitol, sunk a missile submarine, or tried to wipe out the entire human race with biological weapons. I'm trying to say that I would NEVER do any of the things portrayed in this nor did I write this to compel or inspire someone else to do such a thing.
I also love to hear from my readers so feel free to write to me with comments, compliments, suggestions, or criticisms - it's all welcomed.
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MF romance
Working for a living - Copyright 2001 by Patrick Flanagan
The ad I placed was rather simple;
"MODELS, fresh faces needed for winter ad campaign. Send recent and sizes. $20 to $100 per hour depending on assignment. Send to PO Box
188034 Sacramento, CA 95818"
With the current labor market I figured I'd be lucky to get the four or
five responses I'd need to fill out the order for poses. I gave it a week
before I drove up to Sacramento and checked my PO Box and then there were
only three envelopes waiting for me. On the way back to San Francisco I
knew I'd have to hire them no matter what they looked like or what sizes
they were. I had a deadline to meet if I wanted to make any money.
All three were amateurs who had never modeled before and I realized I'd
have some long hours ahead if I wanted to make this work. The who was
sixteen would be okay for the juniors outfits. The would be great
for the dresses with her long legs and elegant facial features. The
brunette with the short hair and the sassy looks would be my lingerie since she was the only one of the three who'd fit the crap that the agency
had sent over with the courier.
The first two shoots were a pain in the ass. The of the sixteen
year bitched and whined the whole damn time about wanting my negatives
(fat fucking chance on that one!) and that the loft was too cold. I shot
three rolls and then gave the bitch her money and told the kid to come
back and see me when she was eighteen and I'd work with her then. The
mother cussed me off and slammed the door behind them. The yammered
on and on about how she was doing my shoot to help pay off her credit card
bills and, if it wasn't any trouble, could she keep the clothes? At least
I got a good laugh out of that one. I also got some damn good shots when
she finally shut her trap and let me do my job. Hell, I may even call her
back for another job someday.
The last shoot was completely different. I knew the was
something special the moment she walked in the door. She had this achingly
beautiful innocence about her, the kind that makes you want to cry just
looking at her, you know what I mean? Tall, perfectly proportioned,
excellent posture, and the grace of a dancer were immediately evident after
just looking at her for, what, twenty seconds? I dream of just meeting
women like her, let alone having them in my studio. Oh, man, she was so
perfect...
"Um, are you okay?"
Her question woke me out of the adolescent fantasy that had been running
in my head at fast-forward.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Shit. Sorry, I mean!"
I was really fucking this up and I felt so goddamn lame realizing that I
was acting like some assbite teenager in front of this woman who was here
for a job.
"Here's the paperwork. Go ahead and fill it out and then go in the
dressing room, you'll find the outfits waiting for you. I need you to put
them on in order, okay?"
"Sure."
Just as simple as that, she disappeared into the dressing room with her
releases, just like a pro.
She came out just a few minutes later in the white terry robe I provided
for modesty.
"I'm ready. What do you want me to do?"
If she only knew.
"Okay, leave the robe on and we'll start by the window, good enough?"
I always worked my lingerie models up to getting undressed with a half
hour of fake shots. I'd just let the shutter click, the motor wind, and
the strobes flash for an empty camera. The models always thought they were
modeling the ensemble and then they'd ease up by the time we got down to
the bra and I was actually paying them to model. This time I
regretted the empty thing since I think I would've kept the shots
for myself.
She did her thing and I did mine and when we got to where I told her to
ease the robe down off of her shoulders I could see her hesitate.
Hesitation in a is absolutely fucking priceless since it is the one
thing they just can't fake. Sure, they can fake looking seductive and they
can even fake looking innocent, but hesitation is something they lose after
they've put it all on display a couple times. Once they realize that a
hundred million people have seen them in their underwear they get this,
'what-the-fuck?', attitude and the hesitation is lost. No kidding, I've
told models to grab their in the middle of a shoot (it's a shitty
little trick I like to pull on them) and they'll grab their without
even thinking about it.
"Gimme a second to pop in another roll."
I loaded the camera. Fuck me if I was going to miss this Kodak moment!
"Okay, baby, let's see that shoulder!"
I spent the next two hours in heaven as I shot sixty rolls of film of
her just getting out of that freaking robe. I could sell a billion goddamn
dollars worth of terry robes with those pictures, and no one other than me,
myself, and I would ever see them! By the time I got her to drop the robe
she was as innocent as a newborn kitten and each I shot was total
fucking gold!
She was the perfect and I was in the Zone shooting her! Other
photogs had told me about these magic moments and I had never lived one
until this perfect lttle angel walked through my door. She was the of my dreams and she was also starting to get into my heart. I never
thought I'd break my "Meat Rule": Never ask for their name, just treat them
like meat and do the shoot. This was more than just another slab of
flesh for me to hang clothes on and play dress-up with. She really was
something special.
So I broke the rule.
"Baby, what's your name?"
"Lisa."
Lisa and I finished the shoot eight hours later. I was exhausted and
she was passing out from being under the lights. I got her some cranberry
juice with a splash of vodka and I got a priceless smile when I asked her
if she wanted to let me make dinner for her.
"Oh, that would be wonderful! I'm doing this to try to get caught up on
the rent and I haven't had a decent meal since...well, I don't remember.
That would really be great...er,...?"
"Patrick, my name is Patrick, Lisa."
I was pretty hungry myself and had no trouble whipping up some good
'model food'; low-fat and high carbo couscous with tuna. The 1989 St.
Amand Vintage Port was just an add-on.
I made it all the way through dinner and a great conversation when I
realized that Lisa was sitting across from me in just the bra and we'd last shot her in. It would have been inappropriate for me to get up
from the table right at that moment, get my drift?
"Oh, crap!"
What the fuck did I do?
"It's two in the morning! The last BART train ran two hours ago, I
won't get home until morning!"
Let's see: nearly naked angel who can't get home till tomorrow in my
loft tonight. Gee, what should I do?
"You could stay here, if you wanted."
Okay, now this is the part where the cusses out the perverted
photographer and calls the police.
"Really? You don't mind?"
Okay, now this is the part where the perverted photographer calls an
ambulance!
"No problem. You take the bedroom and I'll take the futon in the
studio, okay?"
Lisa gave me a hug and said goodnight and then bounced off to my bedroom
and closed the door behind her. I walked over to the corner of the loft
that was my studio and then stripped and crashed on the futon. Simple
enough, right?
Well, I had just managed to tell my dick to settle down so I could get
some sleep when the most ungodly screams came out of my room! I launched
myself out of the futon to my hidey-hole where I grabbed my .45 and then I
slammed into the bedroom where I found Lisa screaming for her life because
of the...
Nothing.
"What the fuck are you screaming about?"
I was pissed. You gotta understand it just ain't my thing to stand
around naked with a loaded .45 and all set to kill whoever...whatever the
fuck is making this woman scream.
"I was all alone and then this guy comes..."
So I sat down on the side of the bed and listened to her go on about her
nightmare. It turned out her nightmare had a lot to do with the real
nightmare of her landlord, her family, her job, the assholes at her school,
and the nightmare of life in general. Lisa's world was pretty fucked up.
"Aren't you cold?"
"Well, yeah."
She lifted the covers and invited me in.
So guess who hesitated now?
"What do you mean?"
"Come in here where it's warm and we can keep talking, silly!"
That little voice in my head came on and said, Hey, moron, this isn't
happening! Shit like this happens to other guys, not you!
You know the little voice I'm talking about, don't you? The one that
tells you that job you were offered, the dream job, is too good for you?
The voice that told you you weren't good enough to ask Nancy Pierce to the
prom? The voice that told you back in 1986 that Microsoft stock was just
way too risky?
For once in my miserable life I told that little voice to go fuck
itself!
I slipped right in there and had the best night of my life listening to
the life of Lisa McKellen. We stayed up until dawn just talking and
only surrendering to sleep when the sun poked up over the Oakland hills.
It was just after noon when I woke up. I remembered the night before
and figured I'd roll over and find Lisa had left. I really hated to look
because at least in my ignorance I could still pretend that she was still
next to me. Oh, well, I might as well deal with reality, I figured, so I
rolled over.
Lisa was looking me straight in the eyes.
I couldn't help it. I kissed her ever so softly on the lips and just
watched as her eyes went wide. I backed off and just looked at her and she
just stared back with the most incredible doe-eyed look I'd ever seen.
This time I kissed her and reached a hand under the covers and found her
body, naked, warm, and waiting for me. I lost all sense of control and
kissed her with all the passion I could muster as I lay her back on the
pillow. I kissed her neck and nibbled her ears as I mounted her supple
body.
She spread her legs without even a question to allow me to bring my
now-swollen dick up to her warm, wanting pussy. The feeling was simply
magical as I slipped my dick into her wetness and we started to make love
for the first time in my life.
I was no virgin to sex, and neither was she, but I was a virgin to
making love and Lisa made me love her and I made love to her.
Each stroke of my dick into her soft body felt like I was slipping into
the woman I was meant to be with. We fit each other perfectly and answered
each others needs with perfectly matched needs of our own. Her soft thighs
spread further and I pushed myself as deep into her body as I possibly
could. I wanted to be a part of this woman.
I couldn't believe it when I felt her tense underneath me with the onset
of her pleasure. Her began to massage and throb around my thrusting
dick and I was just amazed as this woman who had just seized my soul came
in my arms. I gently rocked myself into her to prolong her joy and was
rewarded by her gasps of delight and the sudden arching of her back as
waves of pleasure crashed on her shores once again.
When Lisa arched her back I slipped into her just a little bit more and
felt the resistance of her womb with the head of my dick. Just knowing
that I was as deep as I could be in her body was enough for me. The
welling tide in my balls rushed up my dick to shoot against her womb. My
balls ached from the severity of the force of my pumping so much into
her waiting pussy. I felt our mixed run out past my dick while we just
held each other and caught our breath.
It took a few minutes, but we both soon were looking in each others'
eyes again and I felt my dick ask for more. Then I could feel Lisa asking
for more and we silently made love for at least another half hour before we
both succumbed to our pleasure again.
"Lisa, you have to marry me, I can't have you out of my life, please!"
The tears welled up in her eyes. I thought the worst for a brief
second. She regretted making love to me. She wished she'd never met me.
She was going to tell me she was a slut for having sex on the first date...
"Really?" She snuffled,"You really want to marry me?"
I swallowed. "Yes, I do. I don't want to live my life without you,
please say yes."
I know my eyes were pleading and begging and that little voice was back,
telling me what an asshole I had become.
"Yes. I'll marry you!"
She broke down in tears and kept crying until I found her tears to be a
strange turn-on and I felt my dick swell up again. I was kissing the tears
off her face when I slipped into her body again and the tears soon gave way
to moans.
Six and a half hours of driving later I my one true love in a
little chapel in Reno.
Our marriage may not be white picket fences and all that crap, but we
are both content knowing that we each found the person we both needed.
It's like we knew each other even before we met.
I love her.
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