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She's A Flasher Pt 1 - Photographer takes advantage of sexy model.

I was so nervous. Me! She selected me! Lola Tangiers was could have her pick of models for her photo shoots and she picked me! I still had no idea why, but I was pacing her office, waiting for her to call for me.

And what do you wear when auditioning for a world famous fashion photographer? I spent hours digging through my closets, deciding on an above-the-knee brown suede skirt, 3" matching suede pumps, and a cream colored silk blouse. Stopping to get a manicure on the way, I thought I looked good, but it didn't help quell my nerves one bit. The door opened and a drop-dead gorgeous blonde stuck her head out of the office. "Ms. Blaine?"

"Yes," I stammered, "that's me," I finished lamely, smiling self-consciously. She flashed me a 1,000,000 candlepower smile and said, "A pleasure to meet you in person. Ms. Tangiers has been very descriptive about your abilities. Please, come in and meet her." She opened the door, sweeping me in with a wave of a long, slender arm. "Um, thank you, Ms...?" I fumbled. "Jet. Marie Jet," she returned, smoothly. "Ms. Jet," I echoed, and strode into the room, attempting to regain my air of importance. The only problem was that my self-importance really wasn't in question. I really WAS a nobody.

The room was decorated plainly, a large, empty shell with good lighting and a backdrop area for the photo background. Lola, unmistakably, was maneuvering the lights to point at a spot in the "set" and turned when we walked in. Striking, in person, Lola was not classically beautiful. Shortish, a bit stocky, with wide-set, green eyes that seemed to sparkle, and a Cheshire grin made her fascinating to look at, and more fascinating when she looked at you. Dressed simply in a t-shirt, loose canvas shorts, and white tennis sneakers, she seemed the essence of being casual about your fame. I gawked for a moment before I managed to introduce myself. "Um, hello, Ms. Tangiers," I mumbled, "I just LOVE your work and am, um, honored that you, er...chose me to, um.." I sounded like an idiot and she let me finish for a bit before smirking and waving it all away.

"Hush, dear. You're a wonderful model and my work is only in bringing out the beauty that my models already possess inherently. Without you, I would be nothing." She smiled and I was immediately at ease, ready for anything. What an ability she had, I thought, to keep her models happy! "Why don't you get into some of the clothing I have here and we can begin. Marie, can you help Ms. Blaine?" "Oh, please call me Susan, Ms. Tangiers, Ms. Jet," I said, sheepishly, and started for the hangers. I picked out a short leather skirt, 4" black patent heels, and a white cashmere sweater, holding them out for both Lola's and Marie's approval. "Of course, Susan. I'm Lola and this is Marie." Lola smiled, waving vaguely to herself and her assistant. She watched me closely as I changed, and I suddenly realized that I felt a little uneasy. I'd never been anything of an exhibitionist, but it didn't occur to me to ask to change in private in front of two other women, but the way that they were looking at me was making me sweat a bit. I put it out of my mind, watched what I was doing more carefully, and ignored the feeling. It wouldn't do to insult Lola Tangiers. I finished changing, pushing my 5'10" frame up over 6' in the pumps. I towered over Lola, and was slightly taller than Marie, in her 4" spiked sandals. Standing up, brushing flat my shirt and skirt, throwing back my long, fire-colored hair out of my face and over my left shoulder, I cut quite a figure up there on the platform. I smiled as I heard a sharp intake of air from Lola. Looking her way, my gray-blue eyes caught her green ones and I asked "shall we begin?" Her smile split her entire face in a grin that I wasn't at all sure I liked. "Absolutely," she nearly cooed, "Marie?"

Marie stood and, taking two of the strobe-flashes that were typical in this kind of photography, helped me onto the "set." This consisted of a distressed brown-leather couch, and a large, soft rug. There was a small coffee table with a bowl of fake fruit on it. Otherwise, there was just background and lights. Having done this hundreds of times, with many photographers, I knew how to get juice into the shoot. I stood, looking at the camera like a lover, and raised my hands behind my head, pursing my lips. Pouting expressions, lustful glances, casual under-the-lids flirtations were the way to make your average male viewer stop in his tracks. Instructions poured form Lola's mouth to both Marie and I. "Susan, look left." "Marie, flash higher." "Susan, hands lower." "Susan, lift left leg."

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