This project is, and will remain under very tight wraps. I must say, the last time I shared a shower with so many hormones was at school. Looking around and seeing all these keyed up women pulling off tops, tugging down jeans, shrugging off underwear, it certainly reminded me of that time. If she found someone, they'd be made to stand naked by the doorway to the shower, hands upon head, until the rest of us were finished and dressed It was invigorating. It felt good, sexy, to feel the water rushing across my skin.
Should anyone be less than we expect what you've been dying to know. "These are appliances for processing carcasses of meat, particularly for large barbeques. I was surrounded by other beautiful women and we were all of one purpose, one mind, busily soaping our bodies and working to make ourselves beautiful. Howard had apparently decided not to bother with restyling. She was simply to tidy up what we had: apply some mousse, blow in the odd wave.
Happy with the result, I left them all to their speculation.
I walked steadily into the empty space in front of their table and turned confidently to face them. They always want you to undress when you're doing figure work: after all, it's your skin they're buying. When the inevitable happens, as it will, it isn't time for shyness or priggish uncertainty.
I was still very aware that I was naked and that this gave me an advantage. The woman with the pleated skirt handed us each a copy of the contract. There was bread and a toaster for those that wanted it, also tiny tubs of plum and strawberry jams.
The longer I could keep them looking at me the better my chances. It starts as a flicker and quickly develops into a mighty forest fire. While we casually flicked through the endless legal jargon the suit said: "We've also arranged for each of you to be examined by a local doctor for sexually transmitted diseases." He looked around the room for any signs of dissent. "I'd like to get that done as soon as possible so that we can finalize who is working tomorrow. Coming out, sipping at my coffee, I noticed two security guards. When the show starts, they'll whip off those pants and screw us silly."Thanks, I thought. The idea of being fucked by some strange man I didn't know in front of other people I didn't know was giving me stomach cramps.
For the moment, I can only point you towards the clues: we require you to be broad minded; the job has necessitated examine you top to toe so to speak, and boyfriends often tend to be jealous. So perhaps it would be wise for you to assume the need for protection, just in case. I did so patiently, grinding out my revenge, forcing them to look at me some more. That gave me plenty of opportunity to open my legs. While I waited I reflected on how the presentation had gone. They sat chatting and smoking, filling time while the so-called dishy man of the previous day checked that our papers were all okay.
After that, I must allow you to draw your own conclusions. I finished with my top so that the last thing they saw of me almost, as I went out the door, was my large, nice, buoyant breasts. I noticed that I wasn't the only one looking awful that morning. No one's going to be listening too hard to what you're saying.
But with my credit cards maxed out, I was wading in debt. I thought about making an appointment to see John Owen, the manager of the "Moulin Rouge". I could see him looking at me, thinking, imagining me rubbing my pussy against a long steel pole, smearing it with my juices and then transferring them to my breasts.
I own a collection, drawers of it, if you'll excuse the pun.
"If it bothers you, get out," the client told them. "We're paying to see your body and if you have qualms about that, you're not for us.
The camera sees everything, every nuance of your genitalia: everything, right to the very soul. Glimpses of the "Moulin Rouge" flashed through my mind. They read out the names, or rather, the older man did.
"We're making commercials specifically targeted at X-rated media. "It comes as a surprise to most people that nude models and actors have make up applied to far more than just their faces, for if that was all that was done the face would contrast very starkly to the rest of the body. Over the colour, Gladys painted strands of black, what looked like henna patterns.